Today I drove to Northwest Arkansas with the intent of settling the hospital bill from my sinus surgery. The bill was several thousand dollars—after insurance—and I was hoping to get a discount by paying it all at once. (Thank God for credit cards.) My other goal for the afternoon was to call my dentist’s office and schedule ANOTHER appointment to deal with residual sensitivity and pain after I had two fillings a month ago.

Things like this always make me nervous. It’s like anyone who sits behind a desk reminds me of a principal or a judge and brings up all my authority issues. (Have I mentioned that Dad went to prison?) So I spent the entire drive to the hospital this afternoon feeling like I’d just had half a pot of coffee, going over in my head how I would turn on my charm and what I could say to the nice billing officer.

Well, there were two ladies working in the billing department, and as I sized both of them up, I figured neither one had been laid in a year (but maybe that’s just me projecting). And since I always end up in the wrong lane at the grocery store, I was convinced neither lady was going to make my day any better.

Only one lady was moving people through her office, and eventually it was my turn. After I sat down, I introduced myself, showed her my bill, and asked what the options were. Specifically, I asked about the note at the bottom of the bill that said there was a discount if the balance was paid in full. Then rather matter-of-factly, she told me that specific offer was no longer valid. She said there was a new sheriff in town and he was pretty strict about deadlines, and I’d missed mine by a few days.

Shit.

My therapist says that money is a real “sticky wicket” for me, that I have a “poverty mentality.” She also says that considering my background, it’s understandable, but that it doesn’t apply to my life now. It’s like I’ve been running old software and need a new program. “The universe is abundant,” she says. That’s the new program I can’t quite get to load. (To better explain why I can’t quite load it, here’s a picture of what happened to our house when I was four.)

Back in the billing office, just as I thought everything was going south and that I’d have to pay the bill in full, the lady starts talking to me about an assistance program they have for people who live with their parents (at least that’s what I thought she said). She asked, “Do you make less than $35,000 a year?”

I tried not to laugh. “Yes, I certainly do.”

So the lady just goes to work filling out forms and asking me questions about my income and my bank account. Well, I immediately go back to being nervous because I hate anything official, and that includes forms and paperwork and bank statements. Again, I’m going to blame that on Dad.

I’ve talked to my therapist about situations like these, the way I flip shit inside whenever something involves authority AND money. And this was her response: “Would you STOP IT with your FUCKING Blair Witch Project?”

“Are you saying I’m overreacting?”

So I took a deep breath today, answered all the lady’s questions, and signed all the forms. And when it was over, she said that it would take thirty days to know for sure, but the program would most likely pay for seventy to ninety percent of my hospital bill, and I’d just be responsible for the rest.

Holy crap. Major “living with your parents” silver lining.

Well, I really wanted to hug her, but decided that wouldn’t be appropriate. So I just said, “Thank you. You’re my new best friend.”

I realize nothing is settled yet, and I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, but wow. I went in hoping for a ten to twenty percent discount and potentially ended up with something much, much better. I mean, the whole time I was sitting there thinking, This won’t work, I’m screwed, and this lady just kept plowing through, like, “I am going to help you, damn it.”

There’s an affirmation I wrote down from a book I read once that says, “The universe is on my side. It pushes good to me.” And whereas I’ve always thought that sounded nice, I definitely experienced it today. So maybe the universe is abundant. And fine, I admit it. I was wrong.

Back in the car, I called the dentist’s office and made another appointment—like an adult. Despite my nervousness, it went fine. My therapist told me once that nervousness is basically excitement turned upside down—or inside out—I can’t remember which. But we were talking about my having a confrontation with a friend, and that’s what she said. Like, I know you think you’re about to soil your pants because you don’t want to do this, but the truth is that your subconscious is excited about it, and that’s why your bowels are about to evacuate.

I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes.

Well, it turns out she was right. (I hate that.) I had the confrontation and felt like a million bucks. And today after talking to the billing lady and calling the dentist’s office, I also felt like a million bucks. Okay, so maybe I felt like eighteen dollars and seventy-nine cents, but all my nervousness disappeared, and I was really proud of myself for “feeling the fear and doing it anyway.” And maybe from now on, I won’t look at nervousness as “something bad’s about to happen,” but rather “something good’s about to happen.” Why shouldn’t it? The universe is on my side.