Wow, I'm so, so, so glad it's Friday. It has been an incredibly stressful week and I'm exhausted. Trying to wake up this morning felt like swimming through mud. Last night I left work and took C to t-ball practice. I had brought a snack for each of us, and we bolted it down in the 10 minutes we had before practice. T showed up with the dog, looking cranky and not kissing me hello. He seemed pretty distant and told me he'd stay with C if I wanted to take R home.
On the way home, my mind was racing with doubts I haven't had for a while. Was T upset or angry with me? Was he starting to feel emotionally detached from me again? Were we headed for divorce? (no one ever accused me of underplaying things). At home, I ate a smallish dinner, did the dishes, and fretted. T and C arrived home, still no kiss, and my worries escalated as he barely said three words to me. I sat there eating a small piece of chocolate, watching C eat ice cream, while plotting and scheming my binge to come. As soon as T left to walk the dog, I would start with Cheetos. I'd continue with Pop Tarts. Somehow I'd get some ice cream in there....
I stopped. I asked myself exactly what I had to gain by bingeing -- or eating anything, since I wasn't hungry? What would I gain besides misery and self-hatred with a side of guilt? Even if T came back from walking the dog to announce, "I'm in love with someone else, she's pregnant with my baby, and I'm leaving right now!", would having a full stomach help my emotional agony? No. Not so much. Or at all. Probably quite the opposite.
I left C to finish on her own, went upstairs, went through my nighttime routine, and got into bed. T came home, we talked for a bit (no dramatic announcements), and I fell asleep after some further fretting. This morning T called to warn me that he'd knocked over the beer bottles on his way to work, told me he loved me, and sounded totally normal. Go figure. All the same, I'm glad we have a date tomorrow. I feel as though I haven't really talked to him for weeks.