I wish I could say that things are better. I wish I could say that the anger was abating, that I was feeling better, that the tears were far from the surface. I wish I could say those things. But if I did, it would be a lie. I'm not feeling better. The anger and irritability continue. The depression is growing ever stronger. I feel trapped - nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
The anger is all consuming. It saps my energy, leaving me a drained husk. When the anger is dull, the depression takes over, making me feel worthless and helpless for not being able to reign in the anger. Back and forth the two go, weaving a spiderweb of despair around me. I'm trying my best to counteract it. I'm at the gym, staying busy, talking, doing my readings . . .but the silken strands pull tighter, ever tighter.
I'm not really feeling joy or happiness. Not now. I can fake that I am. Quite well. But I'm not - and even when I try, it's not genuine. I'm going through the motions, doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Work, clean, dinner, gym . . .nothing has much meaning.
I don't know why I can't cope. I don't know what changed. I don't know what's brought on these feelings. And I don't know how to stop it.
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