I remember when I was seven years old and I hurt myself and I went into the bathroom to get a band-aid. We had this plastic storage thing underneath the medicine cabinet and I decided I should climb it to get a band-aid. Well, it wasn't a very sturdy thing and just as I got to the top, it broke and I slid down and cut myself from my knee to my ankle. To this day I have no clue why I didn't just ask someone to get me the band-aid. There were a thousand people in that house at all times and yet I decided to do it on my own and not ask for help, even though I knew I couldn't reach the cabinet.
Unfortunately, this has become a recurring theme every now and then in my life. It's something I didn't even realize I did until recently. I know during the "dark ages" the past few years, I haven't asked for help much. Mostly because I want to run things through my own head before I get anyone else's opinions. But sometimes just because I don't think I need the help or I just don't want to hear the lecture that comes with it.
This weekend has been an unexpectedly eventful one. It started out with everything going well, or as well as it could be under the circumstances, and quickly turned ugly. This time, I've taken almost the entire weekend to think and I haven't come up with one good reason as to why things should change. She's right and I need to deal with it and move on. It amazes me how I can consistently back myself into a corner. But some clarity has come through in the past few days. I've decided that I want to pursue this relationship and try and be a traditional family. We owe it to each other and to the baby to give it a shot. Is it the ideal situation to bring a baby into? Yes and no. Yes because we really do care about each other and have tremendous respect for each other. And no for the obvious reasons that we're in no way settled in our lives. But ready or not, the kid is coming. Three months...
