Depressed

I've been having a super hard time this weekend. I think it was that I expected to get some rest, or fun, or something and then didn't. (Obv, because I didn't make it happen, but still.) On top of going to FOGcon and expecting it to help the loneliness and it didn't. (Because I was too stressed out to really connect with anyone. I have a half-written, long, whiny post about it I may finish sometime.) It's interesting how I feel awful when the thing I'd been hoping for is over, like the looking forward to con or the weekend is what kept me going.

While I was nursing the intermittently screaming baby tonight (I started putting him to bed too late so he was super hungry and overtired), I had this half of a suicidal thought. Like, along the lines of, "Oh wouldn't it be so much easier if--" and then I mind-scrubbed it. It wasn't like suicidal ideation or anything, more of a wisp of a thought. It concerned me a little; I think if I were less depressed it would have scared me. I'm sensitive about that stuff, since it's been a not-unreasonable fear of mine that my mom's going to off herself since I was about twelve. Also, I'm the one in the family who isn't bipolar, who is cheerful and bubbly, you know? So it's kind of disturbing to not be holding that. But, like I said, it's hard to actually care too much about that right now.

I had a plan to find a freakin' night nurse for the baby so I could sleep, like, eight hours for a month. Then I was going to feel better and be able to figure out a long-term plan to get the stupid way-too-old-for-this-shit baby to sleep. And to deal with my big kid's school issues. And all my freaking out about my unintentional weight loss. And all the other shit.

But Spouse is opposed to the idea. Because it would be incredibly expensive, but also because he doesn't like the idea of someone else doing it. And I'm like, why don't you not sleep for eight months and then tell me about what a bad idea this is? But then I get all fair and remember that we operate on consensus and that I get to veto letting the baby cry it out so I guess it makes sense that he gets to veto the night nurse idea. But honestly? I'm still pissed off at him.

And why do I even have the energy to be pissed when I'm having trouble giving a crap about the things that, intellectually anyway, seem important?

I have no wrap-up thought here. I guess I can't give a crap about thinking of one.