Everyone is addicted to something.
On a good day, chocolate mint chip ice cream sandwiches become endangered species in my freezer.
On a bad day, I just can’t seem to stop worrying.
Although I suspect my love affair with worry started since I was wee tall, I only recently realized how serious my guilty pleasure had become.
My penchant for coming up with things to worry about was masked by more (ahem) positive terms for worryaholism: good planning, control, and self-reliance.
The truth behind all this, however, is a different story…
To read the rest, head on over to (in)Courage, where I am guest posting today. Comments are turned off here so you can join the conversation there!