When I look back I think this was shortly before my insomnia started. I felt ungrounded in the extreme. I was often frightened. My mind was trying to think its way into stability and was finding only an edgeless expanse. What is real? What can I cling to? What can I rely on? I was always a worrier, but I didn’t used to be anxious in this way. Worry is sensible to an extent, it has a practical dimension. I can’t understand the advice so often given: no point worrying about things that are out of your control. Of course there’s a point in worrying about these things. They are exactly the things
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