"The lie I tell myself..." - character free-write
...is that things will get better. Because the truth is, I don’t really think that.
I used to.
Every move, even just to a new room in the house, and I’d think, yeah, my new life is going to be so much better.
I’d reorganize, redecorate, come up with a new system of planning, recommit to something I felt I was doing poorly.
But nothing ever changed. Not really.
And that was embarrassing.
I’ve always been a failure, at least in those ways that mattered to me. I stopped telling my mom about my plans. She’d just be disappointed when I failed. No sense in us both being disappointed.
I thought that when Greg and I got married that I’d feel some sense of security. Not security, validation? Contentment? Something.
I sort of tricked myself into believing it a bit at the beginning. But I’m not all that good at fooling myself in the long run.
I thought that when I got to this point career-wise it would make a difference, but it didn’t. I’m just more stressed out. There are just more things that can go wrong every day.
And then we decided we’d have a baby. Everyone says, "it's the best thing that could ever happen to you." "It changes you." "You never regret it."
I didn’t really believe it. I was mostly past hope.
But Greg believed it. He’s so good.
It took us a while. My body was just one more failure on top of it all. But then it happened and I was just terrified. Terrified that this baby would come and that my last hope would be dashed.
And then it happened.