I felt a bit wobbly earlier today, just kind of lightheaded because I guess I skipped breakfast, and my immediate, almost automatic thought was "This is it. This is the onset of some chronic debilitating condition that will render me completely incapable of holding down a job, ever." It's like my brain just defaults to catastrophe now, and I don't know if it's a sort of learned helplessness from being a stay-at-home parent for so long, or if humans are just wired for this kind of existential dread when faced with even the most minor physiological fluctuation. I mean, it was just hunger—but the GUILT I felt for even *thinking* about needing to step away from the kids, for wanting to be somewhere else, for wanting to be functional in an office again... it's just a lot, you know?