DEPRESSION IS (NOT ALWAYS) ANGER TURNED INWARDS Some of us deal with depression by easily becoming irritated. I am guilty of that. I pick on my kids, and the person ahead of me in traffic. I recognize this failing in myself and feel (more) guilty (than I've a right to feel). Some of us are so swamped by despair that we take out our anger on anything that crosses our path. I am one of those. I am consumed by regret for my actions and words, but still they come out unbidden, always at the wrong time and always towards the wrong persons. I mean my anger to be towards myself and myself alone, as I am the worst criminal ever simply for drawing breath. I mean no harm to anyone else but just my being alive brings harm to others. There is no justice anywhere anymore. No rightful payback, only hurtful actions and words mostly directed at those least deserving of my anger. Rage is such an ugly, though familiar thing. I sleep with it, live with it, talk to it: wondering how I came to be so intimate with such an unfriendly entity. My fault. My sorrow. My mistake. Please forgive me if I strayed from the boundaries of decency. I cannot see very well anymore and am not always responsible for my actions.