The weekend felt irritating for some reason.  I spent most of Saturday in a foul mood and K wasn't able to pull me out of it, nor was I able to fully understand why I was in such a nasty mood in the first place.  Sunday improved, but still wasn't great.  Then today, I worked out, but then felt ill prior to leaving for the office.  So I dropped K off and went back home to bed.  The only good part is that I felt better upon waking up and the cleaning lesbians (actually the lesbian team, who run a cleaning business) started on the house today. 

Yippeee!  It means minimal cleaning for us, which is good.  It isn't that we can't clean, but rather that we don't clean.  K's therapist told us that more relationships have been saved by hiring cleaning services than anything else.  It wasn't dividing us, but it was sucking up time that we preferred to use otherwise.  Basically, I have little interest in cleaning and too high a tolerance for dirt. 

The switch of this weekend was that K was worried about me for the entire weekend instead of the other way around.  And she didn't feel physically all too well with a cold and bladder infection.  She did get up and go to the office this morning.

If being in a blah mood for a day or two can send my world spinning, I can't imagine what would happen if I suffered from mental illness.  (I'm usually disgustingly happy with life and happily bounce along.)  My respect for K increases immensely when I feel icky and I want to let it overwhelm me.  This is nothing compared to her fight, and I can't even handle a day of it. 

The other part about feeling bad is that I get to be the one getting cared for instead of doing the caring.  I hate writing it and it makes me somewhat dislike myself, but I get tired of caring for K.  I want to not have these responsibilities at times.   Truly, I don't believe that I get sick to abdicate, but it is a relief. 

The other thing, which may have kicked in today to help me feel better, is that I made it to the gym this morning.  On weekdays, I drag myself out of bed after anywhere from 2 minutes to 10 minutes of internal arguments (and that's on the days I make it) and head to the gym at 5 am. 

During the worst times last year, I worked out 3-5 times a week.  It made survival possible for me and brought my stress down to manageable levels.  I've been less good recently, only working about 2-3 times a week.  The end result is identical in that I am flooded with stress relieving, happy hormones.  I'm trying to up my frequency of workouts, since I know it is one of the best things I can do.  But I hate the 5 am thing, it's just that there isn't any other time.

K continues to do well.


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