Today I was trying to get into “Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell” by Susanna Clarke. It’s filled with “ravishing lyricism and tart satire” and is “intoxicating and impressive” according to its recommendations.  So why am I writing this blog post instead of being captivated by a book that is clearly a page turner?

I’m anxious. My mind is completely clouded by self doubt. Questions luring me deeper into a maze of contemplation. “Who am I?” … “What do I want from my life?” … “Is my career on track?” … “Will future me be happy” … “Should I be doing something differently?” … “Is this it?”. It’s exasperating.

I’ve always had anxious tendencies, but have managed to outgrow most of them. When I was a teenager, I went through a long spell where it would be 30 degrees outside and I’d be wearing a jersey because I hated my arms. It was a long, hot summer with many a “But aren’t you hot in that jersey?”.

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I have no answer or words of wisdom, only the comfort of companionship for those who fret with me. You are not alone.