There's a bitch fight going on inside me. My hormones are blaming my neurotransmitters for my emotional instability. My neurotransmitters are saying it's the hormones' fault. Briefly, they agreed that is was the outside influence of stress, but when the neurotransmitters pointed out that stress releases cortisol, the primary stress hormone, the hormones as a group got defensive and they continue battling it out.
I left class early last night. I just couldn't do it. I should have stayed, but I would have been in tears and distracting everyone the entire time so I just came home. We were discussing the early and middle adult years of life span development and the topic was about children. Some people said they were glad to have had their kids early so they can enjoy their middle aged years without having to take care of young ones. I disagreed. I wish I had waited. When I pointed out that I had pretty much ruined my life by having kids so soon, everyone tried to comfort me by telling me how much my kids will respect me for my sacrifices to raise them and how the fact that I'm in school and working hard will set a good example for them. I'd have probably said the same thing to someone in that situation. Being on the recieving end of that advice, though, I don't see it that way. My kids, especially Jacob, take advantage of every opportunity to remind me that I'm neglecting them. I'm not meaning to. And I wish I could stop. I know what I'm doing to them and how they see me, but what can I do about it?
I don't resent my children for the fact that I had them young. I resent myself. I hate myself for not seeing the big picture. I'm disappointed in myself for not having the sense to make a backup plan in case the life I wanted and was working toward didn't happen. It didn't happen. I was foolish to think it would. But who doesn't see the world through rose colored glasses when they're 19? Eight years ago, I knew everything there was to know about life. I knew that it would be hard, but that I could handle it and everything would turn out like I planned for it to. I was the center of the universe and anything I wanted would happen.
I was in the 2nd semester of my freshman year of college. I was in love with the same guy I'd been in love with for the previous 6 years. We were young and carefree and we could conquer the world if we wanted to. We were better than our parents. We had learned from their mistakes. We were smarter. We got pregnant on purpose and got married within a week. We learned about the pregnancy 3 days after we tied the knot and we were happy.
What the fuck was I thinking? I was thinking that it would last forever, that ignorant sense of security. I was thinking that if any problems arose, we'd cross that bridge when we got to it. I don't know how I could have been so stupid.
I was planning to stay in school. I was supposed to have delivered the baby during the break between the 1st and 2nd semester of the following school year, and I was going to start back in January like I was supposed to. No break. I don't know what I was planning as far as childcare. As far as I remember, the thought never even crossed my mind. William was in Iraq, not that it mattered because I had lost my mind and hated him at that time. It didn't work out that way at all. Jacob came in late August, 15 weeks early, 2 days into the fall semester of my sophomore year. I withdrew from the university. What choice did I have?
I tried to go back, completed a few classes here and there, but I was never able to stick it out. I wasn't ready to devote myself to it. I'd had another baby and I didn't have the time or the motivation for school. Why did I need a degree? I was a stay-at-home-mom and planned to keep it that way. I'd go back to school when both of the kids were in school. I believed that my marriage was indestructable. We had some issues, but we loved each other so much and we communicated effectively so we'd work it out and everything would be fine. We agreed early on that divorce would never be an option. We both thought we would feel that way forever. I was certain that he would always take care of me so going back to school wasn't a priority.
People change so much in so little time. Or maybe the problem was that people don't change enough. People don't change enough, but their way of thinking changes too much. Our minds and our actions don't evolve together.
It didn't take long for William and I to realize that we'd jumped into life together way too soon. Too late. We tried to make lemonade, we really did. And I don't regret that it didn't work out. I'm thankful to have finally had the opportunity to figure out who I really am. When I was with him, everything was for him. Everything. The thought of losing William was more than I could fathom. He was my world and everything else was second, even the kids. I tried to justify that by saying that our marriage was the foundation for their happiness so that was the most important thing to focus on. As long as William and I were together and happy, the kids would be happy. Every ounce of my energy went into that relationship. I fucked up a lot. He fucked up a lot. We did it over and over again, every time committing to change the cycle. I have learned a lot about who I was then. I have realized what I was doing and why. I don't know what his thought process was and I never will. That's for him to figure out and it doesn't affect me anymore.
Since he and I split, I have backtracked my life. I noticed a pattern to my behavior throughout the marriage, but the pattern went back further. I now know that because of the deep rooted cause of my behavior, no relationship would have worked for me. I now know that resolving that one issue that caused all of this is what it would take for me to be happy.
I was never happy because I was never good enough. I was never worth anything. I was never loved the way I needed to be loved. My first taste of the attention I craved came when I was 11 years old. A family friend, who I had known my whole life, commented on how beautiful I was and how I didn't look my age. I looked at least 15, he said. My body was developing faster than most girls my age and he pointed that out to me with flirty comments and inappropriate touching. He was in his mid to late 20s and attractive. Of course I liked the attention. Here I am, young and inexperienced and he's attracted to me...I must be worth something.
The day came when he went too far and I got nervous and asked him to stop. He didn't at first, but my mother was asleep in another room and I threatened to scream and wake her up. He left me alone. I didn't tell. (several months later, I did end up telling my mom and it caused more drama than I wanted to deal with. nothing ever came of the accusations except a wedge between me and my family members closest to him)
When I made him stop that day, he never tried anything again. He never gave me that attention again either. That single experience shaped me into the teenager and young woman I would become. I craved the attention. I got it anywhere I could. When boys looked at me, I made sure they kept looking. And when I walked, I made sure they followed. Only 2 months later, someone else tried to take it farther than I was ready to go. This time it was a boyfriend, 14 years old to my 11. I remembered what happened when I blocked the progress, so I didn't stop it this time. And I continued to get the attention. As long as I was willing to go where I never should have gone, the boys would always follow. I always had spare. I would have a boyfriend, but there would be 1 or 2 more waiting in line. I never didn't have a boyfriend. This is the pattern that repeated throughout my life.
Being without William forced me to realize who I was and decide what I wanted to be. I never wanted to be who I was...dependent upon someone else for my happiness, pathetically trying to please someone else so that they would want me, clinging to fragments of attention that I confused as affection...I hated that girl.
I don't regret my failed marriage. I needed it, to teach me the truth about myself. To give me the opportunity to redefine myself, to LOVE myself. That's the love I had needed all along, the love I craved, but didn't know where to find.
What I regret is not living. I regret quitting school to have a family. I regret not having anything to show for the past decade of my life. People say, "you do have something to show, you have 2 beautiful kids." Yes, there are 2 beautiful kids that exist, in part, because of me. But I don't have them. I don't tuck them into bed every night and get them ready for school every morning. I don't greet them at the door when they get home and cook them dinner and help them with their homework and participate in school activities. I see them as often as I can, which is nowhere near enough. And they know it. What must they think of me? Do they wonder why I choose work and school over precious time with them? Do they think that they must not be worth anything since I never seem to want to see them? Do they know how much it kills me? Do they know how much I hate myself for not being the mother that they need and deserve?
And we've come full circle. The whole point of all of that was I should have waited to have kids. Not just for myself. I ruined my life by starting too soon, but that I can deal with. That was my fuck up so I deserve to suffer for it. What I can't stand about it is I've affected the lives of those kids negatively. If I had waited, maybe I would have known who I was and what I was worth. If I had waited, I would have had my career in gear and been prepared to take care of myself if the family fell apart. If I had waited, maybe the family wouldn't have fallen apart. If I had waited to bring those children into this world, then they would have had a better life than they will ever have because I was stupid and brought them too soon.
I hope someday I do live up to my own expectations. I hope more than anything that I can live up to Jacob's and Baileigh's.
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