Microblog Mondays: When Stress Relief Isn't Relieving

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My workout time is my primary stress-relief time. Forty-five minutes (more on weekends) of hard sweating, heart-pumping, endorphin-generating cardio seems to make everything better. I feel better about my body, I sleep better, and I feel relatively confident that my cardiovascular system approves, even if my acupuncturist doesn't. 

My workout time is also when I watch crap on Netflix. In the summer, I'll be outside on my bike, but in the winter, stuck in the gym, it's all about the Netflix. I've been watching this show called Travelers. I like sci-fi, I like action, this is a decent combo of both. But, (**spoilers ahead**), one of the main characters has a wife who lost a baby in the past due to placental abruption. This was all "in the past", and not re-enacted on the show, so while it's hit a bit too close to home, I've kept watching. Then the couple get pregnant again and thanks to the miracles of un-realistic TV writing and sci-fi, although there's some worry early on, everything seems to be going swimmingly. Until the episode I watched today. Where the bleeding starts in the bathroom one afternoon. And the wife ends up in the hospital. And the doctors are telling her it's a partial abruption, so they'll monitor her, but she and the baby should be ok. Until suddenly she isn't ok and the baby is gone and she's almost gone, too. And now I'm chugging along on my elliptical sobbing my eyes out, especially during the scene with her in the hospital bed and the doctor telling them they'll just have to wait and see, and they're terrified and holding hands. . . and, holy shit, that's familiar. 


Good enough show, but I think tomorrow I'll be watching an episode of the Great British Bake Off, because today was not a stress-relieving workout, it was a stress-reliving workout.