Frustration and Irritation

Given the dark cloud that has followed me around this week, it's probably no surprise that I've been faily irritable. The least bit of frustration, be it traffic, lines, shortcomings, having to wait, errors, etc., have brought me to the brink of tears, swearing, or shouting. I hate feeling this way, as I generally consider myself a pretty pleasant, flexible person. Ask my friends ... they'll tell you that I normally don't care what we do as a group when we all go out, just as long as we're together.

Though I have to say, after enduring a whole week of "what are you doing this weekend?" And "my friends and I are so excited about the beach house this weekend," it has made me endlessly frustrated. For one thing, I'm not going to the beach this weekend. I'm going down to Atlanta to do housework on my house all weekend with my parents and best friend there. It's the practical choice, of course, given that I'm getting ready to put it on the market (yippee, something else to be stressed about). But I'm also irritated because despite us all talking about going to the beach this summer, my close friends and I didn't get anything planned. And as someone who loves the beach, that leaves me none too pleased. I even turned down a share with a group of other guys because of the house sale and my friends' forthcoming plans. Not everyone loves the beach like I do, nor does everyone make the same money or have the same amount of vacation time. So that I get. But it's little consolation as we approach the jumping-off point of the summer.

I sure hope I can figure out my issues. Things have felt exceptionally dark this week. I can't seem to find pleasure in anything. Nothing that I normally look forward to interests me. I can't think of anything that will take my mind off of my depression besides medication or sleep. I hate it. I'm afraid that it's going to start affecting my job in short order. I can see that coming. I just don't feel motivated to do anything. Worst of all, I just don't think anyone cares. Who can blame them, though? I spent a long time last fall talking about this to the few who would bother listening then. They've paid their dues. Now I just have to learn to deal with this on my own somehow. That's why I am going to a professional tomorrow. I don't know what else is left.


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