For the past week, I have tried three times to work out on my elliptical. All three times I have been completely dressed, I-pod and water in hand, on my way to the den with every intention of burning calories and getting sweaty. And all three times I have been stopped by my husband, and instead of working out, and argument and shouting match takes place. Does yelling and crying burn calories? Probably not that many...
Yesterday I had it all planned out. Since I did not have to work job #2, I planned on eating an early dinner, and doing at least 30 minutes on the elliptical during Biggest Loser. It was gonna be great! Yeah, right. After guzzling a 40 oz. of beer, my husband decided it was time to argue. I tried to ignore him, but ended up arguing with him, and even missed the WI on Biggest Loser because I could not hear the TV over his yelling (I was trying). He just wouldn't let up. Yesterday I found an apartment that I liked, but he doesn't like it. He wants to move into a rental house that is more expensive. I don't know what I want to do; I'm still so overwhelmed by everything that is happening.
What really upset me last night is when he suggested that I leave, since I'm the one who is unhappy. He told me that he wasn't leaving his children, and that I needed to just deal with things. But I know this man is crazy and needs help. He went from a screaming lunatic to laughing and trying to grope me within an hour's time. WTH! I feel like my life is falling apart before my eyes, and I am either too stupid or to weak to stop it.
After the argument I wanted to eat so bad. I just stood in front of the refrigerator trying to convince myself not to do it. There was leftover chili that I wanted to eat with corn chips, sour cream, and melted cheese. Then I wanted a big bowl of cereal. Then I thought about making a pan of brownies, and eating the whole thing. But while one part of me was trying to convince the other part that this was the perfectly normal response to stress, the other part of me knew that I would feel like shit afterward. Not only that crappy feeling you get when you eat too much and go to bed, but the feeling that you've lost control and failed. I didn't eat - I drank a Slim Fast because I honestly felt a little hungry (it was 10 p.m. and I ate dinner at 5 p.m.). Then I went to bed feeling confused.
The one thing my husband kept saying to me was how my children were going to hate me for taking away their father. Deep down, I'm afraid he'll be right. My children LOVE him so much. They would be devastated if we got a divorce. Even if we shared custody, their lives would not be the same. I grew up without a father, and I blamed my mother for making poor decisions. I don't want my children to feel that way about me. As much as I want to be happy, I don't know if I'm strong enough or willing to sacrifice my children's happiness for my own. Like I said, I'm so confused.
And on top of this, I have to start the process of packing and selling off my belongings to move into a smaller house or apartment. I love my gas grill, but can't have it in an apartment. I have three couches and a huge recliner (one couch is in my den, 2 couches and a recliner in my living room). I am giving my den couch to my mom, but will most likely have to get rid of one of my matching couches because it will be hard to find a living room in an apartment or rental they'll fit in. And what about my elliptical...it's HUGE! I also won't need a riding lawn mower and all the lawn and garden equipment at an apartment... Thinking about moving makes me nauseous.
Gotta go take a student to math class...