I've always been an anxious person, an over-thinker, a catastrophiser, expecting the worst, then accepting less than the best. It's how I've always operated, it's how my parents encouraged me to think and be and feel.
But lately, I've been wondering if there's something more to it.
Because the blah moments seem to always be peeking around a corner, sneaking in quietly for a quick visit, then wandering away.
Then I rationalise and think "I'm bored, I'm lonely" and head for the kitchen and the stash of chocolate that the kids can't reach.
But in the quiet of the night, when I crawl into bed by myself again, I wonder, is there something wrong with me? Am I ignoring something that I shouldn't be?
And then the sun shines, and I deal with kids arguing as they get ready for school, and Sophie cutting another tooth, and I head out to walk them to school in the sunshine, and I take the time to notice the blue sky and the sun shining, and I think, is it all in my head?
When did you know the feeling was a problem?