I think all parents of young children know what I mean. Everybody is delightful and happy and giggly and cooperative until you blink your eyes and they are screaming and exhausted and completely illogical.
I am on alert, staying above a veneer of calm capability. I suspect that when the week is over I will be exhausted from the effort of this, but I cannot find a way to avoid it.
On occasion, I am reminded of the sadness that lies beneath. The other day someone asked me about my husband's work, and I described very generally how difficult things are for us. The conversation was less than ten minutes long, but I felt agitated after. Later, when I couldn't find the hat one of the kids needed, I was so distressed that I wanted to go to my room and cry.
Episodes like that make me feel crazy. I know they happen because I am trying to control things that are beyond me and am ignoring the emotional limitations of depression. I might need to a control-freak support group.