on anxiety

This weekend was better than I expected thanks to two unexpected meetings with friends.

But now my head is panicking about too much work to do (hello, T S Eliot and Daniel Defoe) and not preparing enough for the future. Should I be doing more creative things? Should I be writing more? Should I be putting writing out there, vulnerable, to be pushed into the hands of the right people? This last question already feels presumptuous and though rhetorical, they are questions always at the back of my mind. I think they spend too much time there, festering, and rarely translate themselves into actions.

Another thing that is bothering me today is the unforgiving way the scales informed me of the downside to my baking. It is such a shame I often favour that hobby the most. I think that if I write this here I am more likely to stick to it so I vow, now, to cut down on sugar and eat much more healthily. It is a shame, too, because the next three weeks will cater for a lot of baking...