White girl problems

There's nothing like a funky white girl

0 notes

Here’s to 2014

So, about a year ago, almost to the day, I woke up next to my boyfriend and we almost immediately started arguing.  I can’t remember what it was about, but as I stared into his eyes, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore.  In the midst of our heated argument, I said “I just can’t fight with you anymore.”  

I’m sure the argument was due to the fact that his best friend from Phoenix had recently moved in with his parents and that meant that I had to be around him a lot more.  I never got a good vibe from his best friend.  He seemed like a fair weather friend and was like a parasite.

Anyway, this may have caught my boyfriend off guard, but he didn’t fight me on it.  I can honestly say, I wish there had been a little fight.  I felt like I was worth fighting for. We both cried for a little while, but I knew this was the right thing to do.  I was twenty-four, a college-graduate, and had been independent for 2 years.  He was a 28-year-old, still pursuing his undergraduate degree, had two DUIs, and lived with his parents.  This description is harsh, but it’s true.  My boyfriend was not an adult yet.  I was ready for an adult relationship.

The next few days, I remember crying a lot, questioning my decision.  I even questioned if I was lovable.  

The days turned into a week, a week into two weeks, and I started to feel like maybe I could be happy again.  Then, my worst nightmare happened. My period was late.  Having been on birth control since I was 16, my monthly cycle worked like clockwork.  I panicked.  I told myself that this was due to stress, but I knew something was wrong.  

After my period was officially ten days late, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.  Looking back, I should have taken a pregnancy test before I even contacted my ex, but I was feeling extremely anxious and needed someone to feel anxious with me.  

At first, he was extremely supportive.  He said that no matter what, we’d get through this.  I believed him.  I felt like for a brief moment, I would be okay.  I told him I would take the pregnancy test the next day.  

I woke up the next day and drove to the grocery store to pick up a pregnancy test.  It was a really chilly morning, even for Tucson.  I felt like everyone knew what I was purchasing and could tell from the look on my face that I was single and alone.  It felt like every look from every woman was saying “I’d never get into this situation.  I’m married and my kids have a responsible father.”

I went home and read the instructions about 9 times… I somehow thought I would mess up this test.  I waited, sitting on the toilet lid, clutching my countertop, praying to whatever higher power that the result would be negative.  I looked at the stick when the time was up. Positive.  My world came crashing down in one moment.  ”What will people think?” “They will say, ‘oh, she got pregnant on purpose.’ or ‘Doesn’t she know how to take birth control pills?’” I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.  I never missed a pill.  No, I wasn’t on antibiotics.  No! THIS WAS NOT MY FAULT!

My ex called in between his class periods and could probably tell from me crying that the result was not good.  I can’t remember what our conversation was about because I couldn’t focus.  In about 40 weeks, a baby would enter the world.  I was going to be a single mom.  This baby’s father was an adult-child. I couldn’t do this alone.

In the next couple days, I hoped that my ex would show some emotion, whether it was anxiety, hope, anger, etc.  I just wanted to know that someone else was experiencing this with me.  When I texted him, I got a lot of distracted, late responses. Maybe this was his way of dealing with having a pregnant ex girlfriend? I’m not really sure, but either way, it was a really shitty way to treat a person you once said you loved.  

I remember texting him and asking if we could meet up on a weekend day and discuss our situation.  He was very busy… His weekend plans included going up to Phoenix to sell his BMW (no use for it when you can’t drive after your SECOND DUI) and getting drunk with his friends. I lost it.  I completely lost it at that point.  I knew this was not a serious situation for him.  How could I have been with someone so selfish?  There’s a lot to be said about the stereotype of rich, only children. 

I woke up in the middle of the night one Saturday evening with a strange feeling in my lower abdomen.  I had no one to give play-by-plays to, so in a last stitch effort, I told my ex that something felt wrong.  He texted me back from a bar in Phoenix and told me to take an advil. He could not be bothered while out drinking with his buddies. 

A few hours later, I had a sharp pain in my back.  I went to the bathroom and I noticed there was blood.  I won’t get into the details, but I knew I was probably miscarrying my fetus. My baby. 

In my life, I have never felt more alone than this moment.  I crawled into a ball on my bathroom floor and began crying.  I cried for this fetus that was so incredibly small.  But, mostly, I cried for myself.  I cried that I was experiencing this terrible thing all by myself.  The events to follow that night are unimportant.  I called my ex to yell at him, but it didn’t make me feel better.  You can’t make someone grow up and you certainly cannot make someone care.  My ex was able to continue his life like nothing happened to him. 

In the following months, I felt like a zombie.  Life was whirling around me, and I felt like I was sinking in sand.  This pregnancy was unexpected, unplanned.  Somehow I had still cared about that unborn baby.  It was impossible to not wonder about what he or she would have looked like, what he/she would have enjoyed doing, what he/she would have grown up to accomplish.  No one knew about this pregnancy until recently.  I was so ashamed.  

After the miscarriage, my days off were full of hangovers caused by my binge drinking from the previous night.  I had sex with a few guys hoping I would feel a sense of intimacy, or maybe just feel alive. I felt nothing; which is worse than feeling sad or used.

Something changed in the middle of November.  I made a deal with myself to not have sex with anyone for a while.  I didn’t put a time stamp on it because it really doesn’t matter.  All I can hope for is the next guy I’m with is someone who can love unselfishly and be supportive.  Maybe he can also make me laugh from time to time… that would be good.   

I have a renewed sense of hope.  Something about the holidays and the new year can do that to you.  2014, please be awesome because 2013 sucked.