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I wake again in the middle of the night with intense agitation in my heart.

I think it’s a result of my subconscious turning over our attempt to give our youngest some independence.

Perhaps we are overprotective and overly restrictive parents, but my anxiety seems to have shot through the roof on their return.

We convinced ourselves an evening out with sensible friends, enjoying semi-freedom, would help inculcate a sense of responsibility.

But on their return, I’m just left wondering about their impulse control, and how they behave amongst a group.

This probably says a lot more about me than it does about them, however. We’ve always been keen to protect them from harm, sheltering them from vices much more than their peers.

Have we made our kids like a coiled spring, just waiting for release as soon as they’re out of our sight?

Or is this just the natural response of any parent taking those first steps to granting their children more autonomy, worrying about the decisions they will make?

Perhaps it’s even deeper than that: subconscious reflections on my own behaviour once granted such freedoms much later. The choices I made, the company I kept, dubious decisions.

What is known: that I have an anxious heart, easily agitated, manifesting in physical reactions that rip me from my sleep in the middle of the night.

Perhaps it’s linked to the season, the dark days, the perpetual nausea, or waning hormones. Certainly these feelings are familiar. Let’s face it: anxiety overwhelms me.