Everyone is going through their own version of lockdown and honestly, I feel like my quarantine reality has gone abnormally well, leaving me with a guilty feeling every time I go to moan about it.

I live in the countryside so I’ve got plenty of opportunities to get fresh air and go on long walks. No one I know has become ill and my work life has carried on pretty much as normal. I’ve kept in good contact with my family and friends, and living with my boyfriend has meant I’ve always got someone to pick me up when I’m having a flat day.

But as the weeks drone on I’ve noticed a peculiar feeling. Every morning, it’s like a grumpy, grey cloud hanging over me. As I open my eyes each day something is clinging to me, a foreboding sense of dread that just won’t go away.

It doesn’t feel as gripping as anxiety and hasn’t affected me so much as to throw my day off course, but it’s there; nipping and nagging, telling me something isn’t right.

Lockdown: “why planning for when we can travel again is helping my mental health”