Life seems to cycle. It goes from being dynamic highs to feeling like I am trudging through the mud. It's hard; I feel beat down. I want to stay inside, beneath the covers and cry.
There is nominal comfort in the knowledge that things cannot stay this way. In the moment, in the muck, when all I can feel is anger and my short tempered flaring and increasing isolation, that is of little comfort.
What is going on? I feel alone and scared and exhausted. There was no catalyst. Nothing "happened." I am just having a bad week and for now that needs to be enough.
So I am trying to stay small, to stay out of people's way, to be detached. It's not your fault things are this way and I won't take it out on you.
It's days like this I think of Rwanda, of being on that hillside and watching the sunset and wondering if life could not always be so simple.