I want to talk to you about anger.
I want to talk about that simmering, unexpected overflow of rage that happens in those silent lonely spaces and results in bitter words.
That same rage that brutalises your mind and exhausts your body.
I want to talk about the rage that refuses to “relax” and demands you shut the f*ck up and listen to it.
That other face of anxiety that we don’t hear much about, but is alive and well.
Anger.
Irrational, aggressive, explosive, depressive. Anger.
The anger that overcame me when (after holding my newborn baby in my arms and on my breast from sunset to sunrise) only to have her scream murder when I tried to put her in her cot and take a 10 minute break.