Today was a bad day

Today was a bad day and I’m having a hard time pretending that it wasn’t.

Everyone seemed much happier and more relaxed once I left the living room and went upstairs.

I guess the problem was me. It usually is.

*

I haven’t been posting a whole lot because I don’t want to bring everybody down. In my depressed moments, there’s a gaping well of blackness inside me, a bottomless drop ready to pull in anyone that’s not ready for it. Then things cycle, and while the complaint still lingers on my lips I’m laughing about something and I forget all the reasons why I was so angry and upset.

Realizing that you’re spiraling doesn’t help. Especially when everyone around you is picking you apart at every moment.

It’s exhausting.

*

Everybody’s so unhappy. It’s like the house is full of poison.

No matter what direction I turn, there’s only frowning faces. And being me, I can’t help switching to Appeasement Mode, which means receiving tons of abuse and not having the emotional wherewithal to deal with it.

There’s a lot of anxiety involved when you’re driven to make unhappy people happy. Especially when they don’t want to be happy.

Because even knowing that it’s all fake–that none of the anxiety, the dread, or the overwhelming sense of despair are real–they feel real.

And if you live something deep enough, long enough, doesn’t it become real?

Maybe I’m projecting my unhappiness to some degree, but not completely. It’s a fact: I am not the only unhappy person in my family.

I’m just the only one willing to admit it.