More of the same--Updated

I called in sick to work again today.

I made an appointment with my psych for Monday to talk about how my depression is uncontrolled. That is the word that came to me today, and that is how I'm going to describe it to her. Uncontrolled. I feel like the antidepressant I'm on is doing nothing--but then, I don't know how bad it would be if I wasn't taking it, right?

I don't know how much is my mental illness and how much is my marriage.

I got the name of another marriage counselor from my therapist. I told her what we were looking for and she recommended this guy, and to be truthful, I was kind of glad it was a guy because I think that might work better for J. and hopefully he won't be so fucking sappy. I know I'm making assumptions here, but sometimes they're right. I gave J. the name and number and asked him to make the appointment since his schedule is always so busy.

I spent the day cleaning the house, which was a disaster even though J. had just had two days off (he went to a concert Wednesday night that was 2 hours away so apparently, that was worth two days off, even though he had to go back to work Tuesday night, leaving me alone with Bubba again, to finish up all the work he had to do). I packed up all his books, CDs, DVDs, and other crap that is always just stacked around the house in disarray and dumped it in a big box and set it on his bed. I know he'll be pissed, because I've disrupted his "organization" method...but my answer is going to be that if I have to clean the house, I'm cleaning it my way. If he doesn't like it, then he can find a place to put this crap so I don't have to look at it all the time. In an admittedly immature move, I also dumped all of his clean laundry into a basket without folding it and put it on his bed as well. I know that's petty, but it made me feel better at the time. Wow, not folding his laundry! What a bold move there! Jesus. I am pathetic.

I called J. and asked him to take Bubba out to dinner tonight because I don't want to deal with either of them. Really, I don't want to deal with anything.

I'm thinking about starting another blog just to bitch about my marriage, because I worry that people will just get really sick of reading about how my life sucks and I never do anything about it. Then I worry that if I did that, I wouldn't have anything to write here. What do you think? Is this getting just too fucking depressing to read?

Updated to add: Tonight when J. and Bubba got home, I did my best to be "okay" and volunteered to do Bubba's bedtime. Bubba and I were reading a book about emotions. We got to the "angry" page which shows a little cartoon face all red and angry, and Bubba said, "That look like you, mommy. I don't like that page." I lost it, I really lost it. I couldn't talk. I started shaking. I choked out the last two pages then told Bubba my tummy hurt a little bit so I was going to have his Daddy come in. I haven't gone to bed at all tonight; it's 5:30 a.m. I'm just shaken. I'm so disappointed in myself.