Today seems like a good day to talk about anxiety - starving off a panic attack isn't for the faint-hearted.

Surea and I were sitting having breakfast at my dining room table, it was a Sunday morning, all my animals were happy and healthy, the day was beautiful, I was in my favourite place - my home - and one of my best friends was with me, there was nothing to be obviously anxious about. 

The longer I live the harder it is to discern between the stronger emotions. They all spill into each other where they begin. The longer I go, though, the more I can tell between not feeling and feeling. For this is all that seems to matter. 

You can't give people what they want but you can give them something else. You can give them understanding - of yourself - there's truth and connection there and, as women, we need to more honest with ourselves and our loves, everything depends on that. 

I don't imagine my princesses in the same way as others do, either kissing their husband in marital perfection or the cynical version where they are drunk in the kitchen, living out their happily ever after in a haze of poor decisions.