I've been plagued with bad days recently. Not diet bad days, just emotional ones.
Starting with the argument with my mom the other day. Which really wasn't an argument. That's the worst part of it, you know, is that I just can't bring myself to tell my mom to piss off, stop being a bitch, could she possibly think before she opens her damn mouth? Just once? Maybe? Get off the cross, build a bridge and get over it. (Yeah, yeah, I know. I should just get a stepladder and get over myself.)
Then I'm on my MMO of choice and find out about Heath Ledger. I'm sure you've all heard about that already. Well, I was devastated. I've always really liked him; The Order is one of my favorite movies. Brothers Grimm is fun, and I was really looking forward to the next Batman movie. Anyway, despite the fact that the coroner hadn't even started an autopsy and there was no note, someone in my guild decided he must have committed suicide, and was very, very virulent about how he was a waste of space and suicides are idiots and selfish and...
Argh, I'm not even going to go into it in detail, but that really pisses me off. Suicidal people need help, not condemnation. Unless you've been there, with the pills or the razor or the gun, and you know what it's like, you've got no right at all to judge.
Anyway, I ended up logging off in a huff, and apparently said individual made a vile comment to Thomas about me having the hots for gay cowboys (... aside from the fact that I DO! And what's it to you, anyway? Did you hate him so much because he might have been a suicide, or did you hate him because he makes you question your masculinity?) and he logged off too.
Doesn't matter, but too many of my friends and people I talk to are being complete shits about this, and on top of losing a great actor that I admired, I have to deal with assholes? Come on, people, give me a break.
And then Darcy's being very hostile about learning. I've been trying to do some pre-K stuff with her and she's really fighting me about it. I know she can count, and I know she knows her alphabet, but getting her to actually answer questions, or try to write, or anything, and she starts this weird Exorcist routine. She's not usually a hostile or violent child, but yesterday she was just insane about not wanting to work with me. Not on counting or alphabet or colors or anything. She ended the lesson with throwing her crayons across the room and declaring, "I don't like anymore ONE. I don't want anymore TWO! I hate THREE! I can't be happy anymore!" and started sobbing so hard I thought she was going to throw up.
I'm completely at wits end, and she can't seem to explain to me why this is making her so upset.
By the time Thomas got home, I was so frazzled I couldn't see straight. And yesterday was supposed to be my RELAXING day. Fuck.
I had my shoes on by the time he was home, ready for our walk. We've recently upped our walk to 2 miles, and - much as it pains me to admit it - I was really looking forward to it. I actually wanted to walk in shifts - it was cold as all hell yesterday and I didn't think Darcy should be out in it. But she insisted on coming with me, so we may as well make it the whole group of us... (which sucked, because I really, really needed some alone time.)
About halfway through our walk, she wanted to be carried the rest of the way, so Thomas put her up on his shoulders and walked that way. On the plus side, we could pick up our pace quite a bit when she wasn't weaving a line around us and making both of us pull up short every few steps. We finished 2 miles in just a smidge over half an hour.
I still wanted some alone time - of course, I didn't get it - but I did feel lots better after the walk. Cold. And my legs hurt around my thigh and the back of one calf. But better. Less angry and frustrated. Maybe walking helps, maybe it only gives me a channel for my anger and frustration. Does it really matter why? It did help.
It's hard to admit that, you know. That little cynic, he doesn't really want me to feel better. He doesn't like that - while the lifestyle changes are hard, they're not impossible. I'm a little hungry, I'm a little tired. But I'm not cheating. I'm not lying. I'm not prevaricating, or putting off, or making excuses. Or even when I am, I'm not doing it anyway. A little taste of Darcy's chocolate milk won't hurt anything. But I don't steal a sip. Oh, who would know if you ate that? I would. I did snitch a bite of hamburger the other day, when I was grilling them up for Thomas. But I wrote it down. I gave into a snack attack yesterday. The cheese and crackers? But I wrote it down. I compensated for the rest of the day.
My inner cynic is not happy with all this. He wants - desperately wants - to be able to say he told me so, that he was right all along, that I can't be thin, I can't exercise, I can't do this. And god forbid that I should ever actually want to.