TPA 79 Misery

I had three days off due to a schedule conflict and the weather. I couldn't go in thanks to the harsh winter snow frosting the roads. I fish tailed my way home once, I'm not doing it twice in one year. But that's not what I wanted to write about. I've got a mountain of anxiety. I had all that time and I told myself I would use that time to write. And I did write, but not the stuff I wanted. I wanted to work on my Cain story. But there's so much fear in it that I can't help but stop sometimes. I look at it the way I would look at a circuit board, I have no clue what I'm looking at. And with that realization comes fear and freezing. I freeze under my own pressure. I can't write because I don't know what to do next. I know how the beginning starts and how I want the story to end, but the middle, that's the hard part. I tell myself that there needs to be more happening but I don't know what to put in there. This is supposed to be a short story, how is it that it's imobilizing me like this? If I'm this bad with a small story, there's no way I can write a novel. It's a fantasy that will remain in my head and I won't be able to get it out. I tried answering some of the questions my writing friend gave me to help me flesh out the story and I had to write "I don't know" for a lot of them. I'm tied up in fear, like a storm that's passing by and all I can do is huddle in the basement until it passes. I don't feel well. I feel like my stomach is in knots and that I'll throw up. All this pressure on a writer who's never published a work. At this rate, I doubt I'll ever publish something. Maybe my therapist can help. I'm in such misery that I asked my writing friend to meet with me twice this week. We meet online since she's in Florida and I'm in Ohio. But I don't know if I can get over my fear like this. I need to do better and that's the whip I keep hitting myself with. I'm tired of whipping myself. It serves no purpose but it feels like it's the only thing I can do. I'm willing to work hard but I don't know what I'm working on. It frustrates me that I feel this way when I want to do so much work. I exhaust myself with my own worries. Will it be good enough? How can I get better if I don't put something out for others to critique? I wallow in self pity.