There are no words for this. He's worried about me obsessing about my weight, so what he does is he argues with me about it for hours until I'm screaming, crying, and throwing shit, all the while knowing that freaking out that much could land me in the hospital again because that level of stress is bound to make my crohn's (which is already bad enough that I have to get surgery in June) worse. And yet he continues doing what he's doing despite what it's obviously causing. And again, this being because of me obsessing about my weight - being depressed about it, counting calories, weighing myself, etc. So it's not even because of anything life threateningly serious like not eating at all, it's about calorie-counting, which granted is still unhealthy maybe but definitely not worth that much fucking grief, and 100% not worth me ending up in the hospital from having to argue about it with him. And now this fucking asshole just leaves and doesn't tell me where the fuck he's going. Yeah, so much for no stress. That's fucking impossible being in my head and living with the people I live with.