You can't win a marathon without putting a few bandaids on your nipples!

I gave it all up! My job, apartment, life, it's all in the past now. I've moved on and I'm working on making good changes for my future. Problem is, it's really hard to see any of this in a positive light. I trusted someone, cared for them, welcomed them into my family and heart, and they just screwed me over and took off. Why do people feel the need to destroy other people to make themselves feel better? He's off living his life the way he wants, free of any commitment or infant growing in his stomach. I didn't want this either, but I don't have a choice; it's not fair that he does.
But this mind set is dangerous, these thoughts are poisonous and harmful. Change is good, and when I really think about it, what did I really give up? An abusive job, part-time friends, and the same life I've been living for years.
This will be so good; a new chapter.

This is a mess.

I tried to drive home today to spend a few days with my family. But after needing to pull over every fifteen minutes to violently vomit into a bag, I turned around an hour in and had to come back to my apartment. So aside from being miserably sick, I'm also alone and so depressed. I was looking forward to little hugs and little kisses and little voices. But all I have is some movies and my toilet bowl. I'm beginning to think I got food poisoning from something, because I haven't been this sick since I found out I was gonna be a mama.
I'm tryin to focus on the good stuff; the future. Having a little person with me at all times, teaching it to read and write and swim, taking it for ice cream and trips to the lake. Picking out little outfits, and feeling the weight of it as it falls asleep in my arms. Little curls and small sockies.
Focus.

This is one diddle that can't be undid, homeskillet!

So here it goes. I'm going to be a mother. A single mother. I don't think I've ever been so torn or stressed about anything to this level. When my parents got divorced, I had a good friend circle and plenty of whiskey. Now I have very few friends (though the few I do have are phenomenal) and I can't have a drink. So I'm going to blog about my experience being a 23-year-old expecting mama. I'm almost 11 weeks today, I found out at roughly 3-4 weeks. Which sucks, I wish I could've been one of those women who don't notice til 7-9 weeks. Not so lucky here. So far, it's been quite miserable. The nausea is very consistant, every single day I feel it. Not always to the vomit stage but that's very common too. I work and lay in bed. I bought a fish and named him Vladimir. Small things make me happy, like when I happen to eat a food that feels AND tastes good (rare). So far I've had that experience with tomato soup and a Nicks Special from Timoleons. I'm sick of people telling me how beautiful and great pregnancy is; it fucking sucks.