I’m anxious again. Not a thing I can put my finger on and work through. Not a conversation or a meeting I’m worried about. But a slow, creepy, dready feeling, filling my belly and dragging around my soul.
My thoughts are racing, my hormones surging in nauseating waves of adrenaline and cortisol. My fingers are rubbing and picking.
My forehead creases into an achey headthump which, when I realise, I try to smooth away with my thumb and forefinger
I’m full of apology and concern. Not sure if my reactions are appropriate.
I’m overthinking simple things and worrying that the meaning I meant was heard as I meant it.
I slept last night. It only crawled up into me this morning.
I know I’m in trouble when the sleep goes.