I’m trying to become more self-aware: to notice my thoughts and reactions.

As I went through yesterday, I noted all the times I thought about husband’s reaction to what I was doing: his approval or disapproval. Crazy, because he wasn’t even at home, yet I still reacted as if he were, so ingrained am I.

So I steam-cleaned the floors because he’d said they were looking dirty (which they weren’t) but I anticipated his disapproval if I didn’t do it.

And I thought, as I put a squeezed lemon in the table-top compost bin that I should I put it straight into the main compost bin.

And I panicked when I realised I hadn’t sent a birthday card to one of his family members so I quickly made one and remedied that.

And I felt guilty every time I didn’t put something straight into the dishwasher, but left things to accumulate and then did them all in one go.

And I felt guilty when I texted a friend to suggest we meet for coffee today because he disapproves of this friend (even though he’s never met her).

And I felt guilty as I prepared dinner, knowing we would eat before he came home and he would have to heat it up (although I never know what time he’s coming home from work).

And I felt guilty as I got ready to go out and my daughter said how nice I looked, because I wasn’t going out with him (because he won’t come) but I still want to dress up and look nice.

And I…no, that’s enough.

I must be crazy to allow this to happen.

Mustn’t I?

So I didn’t feel guilty when I danced with one of my favourite dancer friends, the one who wants to talk with me and dance with me and hold me in his arms.

And I know it’s not the answer.

But it’s my guilty pleasure.