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!