Today I published my second book. Everyone keeps saying congratulations, as if this moment should be filled with something other than dread. 

My thoughts are getting jumbled; I'm excited, proud, anxious, and incredibly nervous. That's what it's like living with AVPD. I wrote this fantastic book, and I can't enjoy it, because I'm worried it isn't good enough. 

I want to go out and celebrate, but I'll probably sit at home instead, hitting refresh a million times on my laptop. I'll watch the icon swirl, hoping that eventually, when it's finished chasing its tail, it will show a sale, or two, or three. What if this last year of my life was meaningless? What if my books don't sell? What if they do, but nobody likes them? 

I smile, I nod, I say thank you, and I hold it in. But until you read it, I will never know. Even if you tell me how great it is...I will most likely doubt your words. They're just being nice. It's impolite to be honest. 

But in all honesty. I didn't write this series for you. For them. For anyone but myself. I wrote this series to find peace. Self-doubt doesn't go away when you escape the abuse; it intensifies. 

I'm scared for you to read my novel, as much as I fear you not reading my novel. 

Sincerely, 

S. Huffman