Father's Day Blues

I've been battling with fury recently.  Deep burning, frustrated fury.  As a result I've been drinking too much wine and beating myself up for failing.  Then crying at small bits of sadness in deep and heavy gulps.  Why the dramatics?  My long suffering and relatively recently acquired boyfriend is bewildered by the madness I'm sure.  Which, of course, turns me back to the paranoia of 'when he finds out what I'm really like I won't see him for dust'.  A state of mind that insults his intelligence and belittles his affection for me, and could indeed set up a need for an escape on his part.  The one thing I haven't been able to do is write.  The muse has deserted me.  No pictures in my mind to form  into words, just pain and loneliness within.  A empty vessel making rather a lot of sound.