Depression: or the State of my Kitchen

This could also be titled the State of My Marriage.  Jakobe and I are both depressed, and if you know anyone who likes to clean when they're depressed, the certainly don't live in our house.  Jakobe and I may deal with depression in different ways, but neither one of us has learned to channel it into housework.  He plays video games, avoids me, and sinks ever deeper into his world of Role Playing games.

I - I get irritable, I want Jakobe to spend more time with me - distracting me from the fact that I feel like shit about the universe, and I read (mostly extremely crappy romance novels - a large number of which are available for free on the kindle at the moment.)

Neither of us cleans.  this means that until today - our kitchen was approaching the definition of national disaster zone, and in fact, while trying to unload the dishwasher, I brushed a box of random crap, that was stacked on top of an empty box, that was in turn stacked on top of a chair.  Yep - all over the floor.  That that sent me into a cupboard door slamming, cleaning, swearing, completely unreasonable rage.  Thankfully - I get home about an hour before he does, and although he may not realize it, the worst of the rage had passed well before he got home.

Unfortunately, I feel a little bit like our marriage is in the same state that the kitchen was in - sadly in need of basic maintenance and care.  We've been trying, both of us, but it's like we just can't quite bridge the gap.  We've had some really good moments, but they're much farther apart than is good for us, and the rest of the time is like right now - he's hiding in the bedroom, and I'm letting him.  Also - going into a crazy rage is certainly not going to fix whatever apathy and depression has done to our relationship, it's just going to make it even worse.

Plus - we have this conversation hanging over our heads.  A conversation about IVF and our next attempt.  I'm trying not to assume I know what Jakobe is going to have to say, but I have this feeling in my gut that it's going to be the same song and dance all over again.  Mostly, that feeling cones from how he told me we needed to talk, but that he didn't want to do it right now.  Since I'm coping with this failure better than he is (and I'm not doing that great) I don't think that he wants to try again any time soon.  I don't want to wait too long.  I'm also falling out of love with our RE - but since he's the only option within 300 miles, and we paid to try three times with him, we're just going to have to keep with the plan.  Yay.

I'm still putting off the conversation.  I don't think we're ready yet.  and I certainly can do without the crying that will almost certainly result.  It never gets easier.  It never gets better.  It just keeps going on, hurting like hell and finding new ways to make us unhappy.

This is us - warts and all.  And I may have cleaned the kitchen in a fit today - but there's still the whole rest of the house looming.