I say, 'It's going to be fine; I don't need a coat. And if it rains I'll just get wet.'
And that's usually my attitude to most things: it'll be fine. I might panic and rush like a crazy person but I nearly always expect things, small or big, to turn out okay.
But lately I've been so busy I think I've been forgetting to take my happy pill meaning as well as the odd sudden dip in my state of mind I'm finding the world in general a bit of a gloomy place.
I can't listen to the news any more. As with everything else I've had the 'It'll be okay' mentality when people start talking about the end days and how everything's going bad, but suddenly I find myself in a mire of misery.
In the car I foolishly put on the news and the item was about national insurance fraud - okay, I can cope with that - but it went on to migrants and the underlying sense of us and them, and aggression was palpable and I switched over.
To Nation Gold, 'playing Wales' favourite oldies', and to Eleanor Rigby. All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
I turned off the radio.
Elder Son and family had just gone home after a lovely few days with us (well, I enjoyed it!) and I was undeniably suffering from grandchild deprivation but I began thinking, 'What if I die before I see them again? Or what if I die before they grow up, graduate, get married, have babies? Will they remember me? And it won't be long before this lovely closeness we have becomes a teenager's off-handedness. I don't want to die. Ever.'
It's okay; don't worry: I'm making sure I take my pill regularly now. It'll be fine.