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truth and fiction. lately my mind has been 100% consumed with what i had always pictured my life to be. i always thought that at 18, i would be able to do almost whatever i wanted. i was never off the wall crazy, i would still be the same person who liked home better than being out, but i would have that assurance of adulthood. but i would only have that adulthood when i wanted. and i would take the sat's and get a decent score on it, but i would still tell myself it wasn't good enough, maybe take them again. then i would go to college. i probably would have still ended up starting out at the community college just so i could figure out what i wanted to do. and then i could graduate. i would meet the guy i would marry in high school, and we'd break up a few times throughout college, and i'd be devastated, but we'd always get back together with the assurance that, really, we were meant to be. and we would graduate college. and i would be a writer, that's what i would be. i wouldn't have any money worries because it was just me and i lived on my own, and my boyfriend lived on his own. and he would propose to me in a big, huge romantic way, and the ring would be just the right size, not one of those goddy things so many women seem to like. and then we would get married at 25 or 26. and we would live our lives together, eventually buy a house. and just enjoy living together, just the two of us. and then when i was around 30, we were finacially stable, i would get pregnant with our first baby. and it would be a decent pregnancy (i've always had very romantic ideas about pregnancy). i wouldn't throw up for as long as i did during this pregnancy. i would feel morning sickness, just enough to be annoying, but not bad enough to keep me from going to work. at a job i liked. and i would come home around 5 and my husband would come home at 5:30-6 and we would either eat dinner or start to make it. and we would talk about our days. and we would prepare for the baby. i wouldn't know the sex of the baby until he/she got here, so the mystery was still there. and we would have names picked out. sarah for a girl, and something for a boy. and we would prepare the dream nursery. it would be all baby-ish and cute and adorable. we would be able to buy the crib, changing table, bed set, and everything the way we wanted it becuase money wasn't a problem. and we would have it set up before the baby was here. and on the days i felt like crap and my back hurt and my feet hurt, my husband would rub my back without even asking if i wanted him to. and he would take care of me as i got bigger. and he would listen to me whine about being pregnant, knowing that deep down i was loving every second of it. and i wouldn't have to worry about whether i was too unattractive for him because i knew he loved me, and we were married. i never had to worry when he mentioned another girls name. or anything. because i felt secure. and then i would go through labor that was hell, because let's be realistic, labor is hell. and we would bring home our baby to our house and we would be a perfect little family. i would be able to quit work and take care of the baby, and we would have 2 or 3 more kids, 2 of which would be twins. and i wouldn't work until they were all in school, then i would go back to work, but i would be home whenever they got home from school, because i don't like babysitters or anything like that. and life would be nice. but instead i get the reality of pregnancy that those stupid pregnancy books never warn you about. they talk about emotional stuff as if it's nothing big. what about something plunging me into a sadness that makes me feel like the smallest thing will set me off and ruin my day? or the fact that your nipples get so huge. or that your boobs grow so much, i mean, i knew they grew, but holy shit. or that you get stretch marks. and you feel fat, and ugly, and undesirable. and things that didn't used to bother you bother you now. and sometimes you just want to scream at everyone and make their lives hell. and how much your back really does hurt. and how sometimes it feels like your uterus is going through a paper shredder. and that sometimes when the baby kicks or moves, you almost pee yourself. or when you laugh or sneeze or cough, sometimes you do pee yourself. not a lot, just enough to let you know that it happened. and the truth about morning sickness, and the fact that some people do throw up like crazy. and it's not just in the morning. it's all day, all night, all the time. and that sometimes, the mention of another females name (no matter in what context, what relationship to josh she is, no matter what) sends my mind into a tailspin of 'who is she? why was he talking to her? did i do something wrong? i knew i should have... (insert something here)...' and so on and so forth. and when he mentions plans with someone else, a guy, my mind goes into a completely different tailspin, saying 'see, now your not good enough.' and i have to talk myself out of it. becuase it's ridiculous. and i know it's ridiculous. and it used to never bother me. when josh would hang out with his friends. i liked when he did. even though i missed him and wished he were with me instead, but i liked it when he did. because it helped me learn the whole trust thing. and it helped me learn that it was ok for a boyfriend to have friends. and unlike every other relationship in my life, whether it be dating or just friends, just because he makes friends or has friends does not mean i get tossed aside, or forgotten, or suddenly become not good enough. which is something i've been struggling with for years, and it seems the pregnancy destroyed every step of confidence, every step of progress i made. though, at least now, the majority of the time, i know it's just my mind being stupid. though, sometimes it does make me want to cry. sometimes going to bed is too lonely. i have a big huge bed with just me in a freezing cold room. i don't have someone to help me warm up the covers or make sure i'm feeling ok. i have me and my bed and a closed door with my brother, sister-in-law, and niece in the rooms next to me. with my parents on the other end of the house. and my other brother in the basement. and my nursery? there is none. my room is full of baby stuff. and the crib? i'll be lucky if i get one, my mom talks about it. but the way money is going, i won't. i'll have to borrow the ugly one from nickie. and i know the baby is a girl, so we only have one name picked out. and i don't have the security, even though i know there's no reason not to trust josh. i guess it's just the fact that we're teenagers, and god knows what could happen. and the fact that i'm struggling through high school. and i'm 18. and i'm not as free as i want to be. and i can't sleep well anymore because my back hurts, and from the bad balance i have i hurt my ankle. and my niece wakes me up screaming every morning. and there's just. eh. that's probably why i've been so easily upsetted this past week. why i had a huge blowout. because i think of how i wanted my life, and how it's going, and how still, i wouldn't change it if i could redo it, and it makes me sick. it makes me sick that i fucked up. and i'm still dealing with that. i have a huge fear of fucking up. i have a huge fear of things failing, and i always take things too hard when they do, even if there was nothing i could do about it. add on top of all of that, the fact that i get super lonely. for no apparent reason, mostly when josh works night time. but i get lonely. and then i don't know what to do with myself. but then there are the times when i want to tell everyone to go away and let me do my own thing. i don't even think the crib or any of that matters to me all that much. it's the fact that i didn't get the part of my life that i wanted. someone to curl up next to at night. someone to share my bed with. someone to help comfort me when the darkness gets to be too much. a therapist once said that having trouble sleeping alone is common with anxiety and depression problems, and the best way to combat them is to sleep alone. but i think that's bullshit. my dog won't even stay in my room at night anymore. and before, i at least had her. but now, it's even worse. it just seems to retarded to me. saying goodnight to josh when he leaves is really hard. i feel like i've been seeing less and less and less of him, which is somewhat true. he's been working a lot. which is good and bad. he loves working, he'd go out of his mind if he didn't work. it's just hard because he's gone so much. and eh. it's after 2 in the morning. i'm tired. i sleep like shit now. i'm going to go lay down and sleep. and in a week, none of this will probably matter half as much as it does now. 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