"I wouldn't think twice about tweeting about how I'd been stuck in bed all day because of a cold, so why should I treat this any differently?"

I had a really nice day on Saturday. I'd woken up and put on an outfit that I really really liked and I had Wagamama for lunch and went to see La La Land (and admittedly cried) and was generally just in a very good mood.

Yet something that should perfectly normal behaviour, seemed oddly unnatural to me, because I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so OK. It seemed that I'd forgotten what it feels like to go a whole day without some sort of feelings of anxiety or sadness creeping up on me, and I don't think I am OK anymore. 

I've always been an over-thinker, but towards the end of last year, my somewhat anxious thoughts seemed to spiral into full blown and far too often bouts of anxiety. I found myself on edge a lot of the time, worrying about things that, logically, I didn't need to be worrying about at all. It got really hard to concentrate on things and I managed to turn any minor niggle my brain may have had, into something ten times the size.

And then I got sad. Except I couldn't work out why I was sad. Because it was a different kind of sad to the sad I felt when something had happened to upset me, or I'd read a sad news story, or I hadn't quite got what I wanted (hello only child). It was the kind of sadness that didn't have a reason, and it didn't care that it didn't have a reason, because it was here to stay. I can only describe it as though someone had put a very heavy weight in my chest, so heavy that I couldn't pick it up to move it off.  It's not all of the time. Some days, the weight is lighter than others and I can look past it and get on with my day. Yet other days, and these other days usually come out of nowhere, it gets heavy again and I'm constantly on the verge of tears for no logical reason.

If you know me at all, you'll know that I like to have an answer for things. I like to be able to fix things and explain things and have a solution. But I couldn't with this. Because you can't fix something when you don't know what's causing it. 

It's not like I didn't try either. I tried doing things I enjoy to take my mind off it. But you see, I don't enjoy the things that are supposed to make me happy anymore. And that has to be saying something when the unopened ASOS/Topshop/H&M parcels in the hallway are of absolutely no interest to me.

I've been somewhat wary about sharing this, but I try to be as honest as possible, and I can't bring myself to write cheery posts about my month and the things I've been wearing, when this feeling actually consumes most of my time. Besides, I wouldn't think twice about tweeting about how I'd been stuck in bed all day because of a cold, so why should I treat this any differently?

And yes, I phoned the doctors and I have a triage appointment lined up, but whilst the NHS is fantastic it's also slow. So now all I have to do is wait, and that's really hard.