At two in the morning, I was seen by a doctor who gave me a handout that told me to try to reduce my anxiety. Several more doctors’ visits later, I was diagnosed with both a viral and staph infection. It took months to clear up.

As my thumb healed, I decided to try to make some personality changes of my own, through a social-anxiety app I had heard about called Joyable. The hope was that it would help me stop picking my skin, but also more generally help me feel calmer and more confident. I was ready, in short, to be free of the feeling that I was the worst person alive, and that everyone would soon discover this.

The app involved setting goals and doing experiments that would be likely to provoke anxiety. Then I would process how the experiments made me feel both through the app and through weekly calls with the not-a-licensed-therapist that Joyable assigned to me, whom I’ll call Chloe.

The first step was an introductory call with Chloe, who had a voice so soothing it will one day be implanted in robot nannies, once those get advanced enough. Before she said anything, Chloe would ask me if it’s okay, as in, “If it’s okay with you, can I share a tip that might help?”

Chloe told me that everyone experiences social anxiety; it’s what makes us human. I told her about the specific elements of my anxiety I’d like to change. I would like to dwell less on whether I’ve said something that might have sounded dumb, to feel more relaxed about certain work situations, and to not get as upset when I feel socially excluded. I would also like to let up on my poor thumbs.

The early exercises went something like this: I would put forth an anxious thought, or “cognitive distortion.” (“X person hates me,” or the like.) Then I’d have to come up with a thought that was more realistic than that one. (“They were just busy, that’s why they were short with me.”) I told Chloe that I do this all the time, even without Joyable. The problem is that I never believe the replacement thought. You can’t lie to yourself if you’re not a very good liar.

The key, she said, was to come up with an alternate thought that’s more believable. So, something like, “Maybe they were annoyed with me, but they still like me.”

This entire process is codified in what Joyable calls the “three Cs”—catch the thought that’s making you anxious, check that thought, and change the thought to something that’s “more accurate,” which is likely to be something less anxiety-inducing.

Once, Chloe asked me how I would remember my new, less anxious thought, and when I said I had no idea, she told me to write a note to myself on a sticky note on my computer.