One line or two?

A wave of nausea crashes over me in the middle of a dinner rush, while my back simultaneously starts to cramp up. These long days of working 2 jobs are killing my body, I think to myself. "I suddenly don't feel very well" I decide to announce while waiting at the bar, staring at my beer order [im]patiently lying in the printer. Almost willing it to jump into the hands of some new bartender, who's name I've failed to learn since I doubt she'll still be employed here by next Monday.

"Maybe you're pregnant" I hear one of the other servers deduce as he catches the end of my whining.  Such the standard answer for a woman in her 20s. "I don't think soooo" I sing-song back to him, laughing to myself at the ridiculous notion. Finally my beer's up and I can get back to the endless loop of greetings, drink orders, dinner orders, drink reorders, dropping food, mising tables, clearing plates, "Did you save room for dessert??", dropping checks, running credit cards, searching for pens, clearing tables, resetting and starting all over again. The days are long, and the nights are always longer, except for the part where I'm allowed to sleep. Those hours pass like minutes.

After an eternity my shift ends and I can retire my multicolored notepad and black apron and get some fresh air, because the nausea hasn't exactly passed, it's just become a dull nagging. Lingering just far enough away that I could get through the night, but still surface enough that if I think about it too much I have visions of running away from tables, mouth covered tightly with both hands, hoping to make it out of eye shot before losing it. Ok maybe I didn't feel THAT bad, but my imagination tends to be a bit overactive at times. Needless to say, I made it home just fine and fell asleep completely unconcerned about my aches and pains, considering the abuse this body takes from my need to be as efficient as possible at all points in time. Probably just strain from being overworked.

Fast forward a week. Nothing exciting going on, except that I still feel...off. That's the only way that I could think to describe it and now that I think about it, it's not really all that exciting. Except that I keep hearing "maybe you're pregnant?" As previously stated, I have an overactive imagination, so this definitely wasn't the first time that I've had this concern. Let the games begin! And by games I'm referring to the constant "oh no what if I actually AM pregnant? How will I tell my parents? How will I afford to take time off of work? How will we do this living in 2 different states? Where will I find the time?" But then something happened that was completely new to my standard pessimistic reaction to this potential situation. It's as if the wheels that were spinning and grinding so quickly forward, generating all of the anxiety, stopped, and slowly started cranking in the other direction. "I am 26 not 17, in high school with no degree or life experience. I'm in a committed relationship. We have jobs. His son is almost 2 making the age difference almost ideal for a planned pregnancy, never mind an unplanned one." Would it really be the worst thing in the world? I really don't think so. Is it the most ideal circumstances? Certainly not. Would it complicate life? Absolutely, but for the first time I thought, "If I am, I am." Nothing can change that now, so why focus on the complications of it all?

I sat down with a calendar and tried to count the days since my last cycle. I researched symptoms that I thought I had. Whether real or psychosomatic, I searched anyway. Finding, as always, that the symptoms of early pregnancy and the start of a menstrual cycle are almost identical. There was really only one thing to do... wait. Any crazy woman having unprotected sex knows that the best time to take a test is first thing in the morning. So I did just that. I waited, despite the fact that the only thing on my mind was running to the bathroom and taking the test right then and there. Knowing for sure, one way or the other. But I also wanted the most accurate results possible and didn't want to jeopardize the final verdict with my impatience, so I painfully watched the clock tick. Minute by minute, passing the time until I could get into bed and justify going to sleep, without question.

There's the alarm. Typical gripes danced through my pseudo conscious mind, begging me not to leave my warm cocoon of sheets, blankets and pillows. Not quite ready to succumb to the cool bedroom air, dismissing the fanciful dreams of my subconscious, I reached for my alarm, gearing up for a battle of the wills. Who will win? My alarm clock, persistently ringing every 5 minutes like some kind of machine or my need for sleep? Alas there was a 3rd factor that would inevitably tip the scales. That little twinge reminding you that sleep doesn't stop your body from processing all of the fluids that you ingested the day before. And with that thought all battles were off, because this wasn't any ordinary morning. Today, this morning, my future would be laid out in front of me...at least the next 9+ months of it.

More waiting. "Wait 3 minutes before reading results." One line or two? One line means nothing's changed, even though all of this thinking means EVERYTHING's changed, regardless of the outcome. Two lines means everything will be changing. When and how soon, I'm not sure. How will I tell everyone? Will I send him a picture message with the news? Will I plan some kind of elaborate dinner or gesture to show him? Will he be as excited as I am? Will he think this is a horrible set of circumstances and wish it wasn't so? One line or two? I can see the liquid moving across the window, filling the field, reading the results and readying itself to offer up what could be some of the most life changing information I've ever received. One line or two? I can see something starting to form. How does this work? Does it generate both lines simultaneously or one at a time? Does it always generate the first line immediately, while reading the sample to decide the necessity of a second line? There always has to be at least one line, right? One or two? One or Two?? The window fills completely and one line appears. I wait. Has it been 3 minutes? Is this the final result? One line? I think i'll brush my teeth and wash my face. When that's over, it will definitely have been 3 minutes. Trying not to steal glances, I finish rinsing the toothbrush and dry my face. Alright. This is it. I pick up the test. One line. One lonely line. And even though there was never anything there to lose, it somehow feels like I just lost someone.

"I write for me," she said.

And with that, she was gone.

Stalking is never flattering

I know you're reading this...

Relationships are like cleaning the bathroom. Sometimes.

Cleaning. When I'm in the right mood, I love to do it. I get a sick satisfaction out of tackling the bathroom armed with bleach, a scrub brush, Clorox wipes, paper towels, Windex, whatever else you can imagine and making what is presumably the most disgusting room in the house sparkle from floor to ceiling. I know that I'm not alone in this. You don't have to admit it, but just know that I know. For me, the most gratifying part of the entire escapade is the shower after the fact. This my friends, as you all know, is no ordinary shower. No, no. This is one of those soul cleansing showers. Cleaning the bathroom is one of those tasks that you only take on when you absolutely NEED to accomplish something. Work is stressful, your mom is driving you nuts, you're having writers block, whatever the case may be you NEED to feel as if you can still accomplish something. So this shower isn't only ridding you of the grime that you can feel under your finger nails and in your hair but of whatever inner turmoil you've been struggling with. And no matter how daunting the project seemed when you began the cleansing ritual, you step out of that shower with your head high with the feeling of satisfaction.

How could this possibly relate to anyone's relationship? It's kind of like that phrase "sometimes you have to have a breakdown to have a breakthrough." Sometimes you have to really get in there and scrub the dirt out of all the nooks and crannies before you can make any progress. You've got to get out all of the insecurities, concerns, feelings, thoughts, assumptions, everything and just lay it out on the table. I recently had some experience with that, hence the post, and it was both one of the worst and one of the best days that our relationship has seen.

It was supposed to be a night of celebration. New jobs, new beginnings, the closing of chapters, the opening of new ones, etc. But somewhere between 2 beers and a tequila shot and 4 beers and 2 tequila shots something went awry. Like any relationship, we aren't immune to having issues. The problem for us is that we've got a lot of additional outside factors that we hold no control over but are affected by: an ex that will be there forever, a baby, some legal proceedings, general childishness and immaturity that when all put together can be a stressful combination. Not to mention we're both highly sensitive. I guess after 5 months of dancing around feelings, and thoughts, and "what does this mean" and "why would he say that" it all came to a head. I wish that I could remember more of the nuts and bolts of the conversation but thanks to the Belgian beer and jose cuervo everything is a little blurry. Bit of a catch 22 though, because w/out the alcohol the conversation may have never taken place. The thing about all of this that's particularly interesting is that it wasn't some big blowout that happened in the middle of the living room at 2am (trust me we've had those too) but it was a civil, public conversation that took place at a bar where we both just let go and put everything out there on the table. Feelings, questions, concerns, misunderstandings, insecurities, everything and hashed it out. Was it pretty? No. Were hurtful things said? Yes, but not in a way to try and BE hurtful but in an open and honest, "we need to work on this and it's because of you," kind of way. It's really hard to not just listen to someone tell you your character flaws, but to actually hear them and come to grips with the fact that some things are in fact, your fault. Kinda sucks.

We came to some kind of resolution and decided to head home. Both physically and mentally exhausted we got home and passed out...letting sleep wash over us and letting our subconscious sort through hours of discussions. Sleep was the equivalent to the post bathroom cleansing shower. I woke up the next morning happy, uplifted, genuinely positive about our relationship. I felt good. And so did he. We needed, more than either of us a knew, time to just spout out everything that's been on our minds for so long. We needed to clean out all of the nooks and crannies of our relationship. Life is hard and it's grimey and it piles up on us like dirty socks, used q-tips that have missed the trashcan and soap scum. It's important to recognize that it wasn't always like that. That it started clean and fresh and new, and that if you work hard enough at it, you can get back there, no matter how dirty and grimy it gets. It's worth it.