I'm lying here wide awake and incapable of sleeping right now. Maybe it's just hormones or maybe it's the fact that I can't stop thinking about writing. Maybe it's the fact that I'm freaking out about what will happen in three weeks time when I no longer have a steady paycheck and I have yet to buy any baby things (no point until after the baby shower) or fully pay the midwives.
I'm a little stressed.
It's supposed to be bad for the baby.
When people tell me that, I can't help but think, "Yeah, so give me a way to destroy those stressors and I'll be able to sleep at night!"
I would love to not have to think about such things as how I'll pay for food, baby gear, or continue to make payments towards my stupidly sized educational debt, but I can't help it. It keeps coming back to me like a plague and there's no known cure. I don't know what to do except keep doing what I'm doing in an effort to hopefully overcome my situation.
I have these moments of crazy - literally - that involve breaking down everything to the most awful conclusion. They involve highlighting negative feelings and faults in those around me and my life generally. These are horrible times, usually when I'm tired, and I feel like I haven't done enough.
I don't know if it's the nesting thing or if it's my life expectations combined with hormones, but I look at pictures of people from my pregnancy forums and Facebook and strangers in magazines and I feel inferior. I feel like I have somehow failed because I live in a loft which I rent. I live too near a freeway in a concrete jungle. I have a car that needs about a thousand things replaced to look even remotely decent and not make odd noises when I drive it. I have fat upper arms and cellulite on my thighs that makes me doubt my attractiveness every time I see a picture or video of an unpregnant woman. I paid too much money for two degrees that I haven't used and continue to cause me financial hardship. I haven't lived up to my professional potential. A night out on the town right now involves going to a chain restaurant and shopping at Target.
And when I look at things in this way, I am disguested and ashamed and utterly embarrassed. I was supposed to be that amazing person that everyone wanted to be able to say, "I knew her when..." I was supposed to be the person who made something of herself - who was spectacular and did things that other people only fantasized about doing in their wildest dreams.
So I'm left wondering what I've been doing with my time and feeling like I have failed myself and all those people who had such high hopes for me. I feel like I may as well have been flipping burgers or stocking shelves all this time.
That's how I feel in those moments when I take stock of my life and compare it to the huge dreams and expectations I have for myself.
And I want to wallow in it. I really do. I want to wallow and whine and complain and have a full on pity party in the most teenage whiney way possible. I actually do.
Except I hate people like that and I am disgusted by people who won't help themselves. Thankfully this is a strong part of who I am - big enough to counteract all the ridiculous bitching and moaning with some reason.
I haven't been wasting my time. I've learned a lot. Things went weird, some were unexpected, and I had some bad luck. That is for sure. However, life isn't over. Things change in a moment. I'm spending a lot of time on a dream I just can't shake, and that's more than a lot of people do in their whole lives. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth doing. My success wouldn't be nearly so satisfying. The achievement of publishing 7 or 8 books from my writing challenge in a matter of months wouldn't mean nearly as much. The fact that I'm doing it in my second and third trimesters just makes it that much more awesome. I'm not a failure. I'm fricking amazing.
So yes, I can't buy things I want right now. I have to sacrifice a little comfort for a dream. Yes I have to be a little creative and forgo some things that if I had any extra money at all I would buy (like a shiny steering wheel or new shocks or more importantly, a house big enough to grow into). But just like this on again off again pregnancy anxiety I'm feeling, this situation is temporary. It's not forever. A person doesn't publish 7 or 8 books at once without getting a little attention (or at least a little more name recognition).
The moral of this is, hang in there. This uncomfortable time doesn't last long. And when it's over, you're going to be so amazed at what you were able to do, and probably others will too.