I think you need help

Mammogram went fine. In and out in about ten minutes and definitely not as squished as I have been on previous occasions.

I didn't wear my fitbit in case it affected the scanner. I would hate to be responsible for breaking the NHS in Swansea.

And I've sent off both my Bay article and my radio talk so feeling fairly on top of things. (Until Saturday night when I will go into full panic mode at the thought of speaking in a church the next day.)

Incidentally I had a lovely email from a woman who always reads my articles in the Bay. She said how she loved my honesty and vulnerability, but was sorry to know that my happy pill stopped me experiencing great highs or lows. She went on to say that, if I felt like investigating other methods of dealing with my anxiety, her husband had a lot of experience in herbal medicine.

It was very kind of her but it did make me chuckle in a sort of 'she thinks I need help' way: perhaps I should be more considered in what I write in my articles in future. The men in white coats might be waiting just around the corner.

Something else struck me recently too.

There is a person whose company I sort of enjoy but with whom I always feel slightly uneasy. It's not that I'm scared of this person exactly but I come away feeling less.

I realise this person undermines me. It's done very subtly but it's undermining nevertheless. Whatever I've done is less than what they've done, whatever I know, they know more. It's all done in an amicable and friendly fashion so you probably don't realise at first. Indeed it's taken me years to work it out.

I don't think this person is necessarily aware that they do it. My guess is that it's a subconscious attempt at boosting their own self-esteem. But I'm sorry, not at my cost.