I've had a few days of reflection while on my beach holiday, and one thing I've decided is that I need to get outside more.
This never used to be a problem. As a child, I practically lived outside. I remember the time when that changed and I started staying inside more. It was after the birth of my first baby. I remember feeling so much resentment because now I had to stay home while my husband continued much as before; playing ball several nights a week and going out into the world every day to work.
Not that I wanted to have a job outside our home. I didn't. But we were used to playing together, and all of a sudden that stopped. It was a very hard adjustment to make.
Thirty years later, home is my favorite place to be. I don't want to get out much at all anymore. But occasionally the walls start closing in and I need to get away from the constant work that a home requires. So I'll take a slow walk around the field, down the road, or through the woods, and all is right again.
I think I get overly introspective if I stay inside too much, and that's not good. I tend to think too much anyway....overanalyzing things to the point of depression and futility.