So you know how when you were growing up people said you’d understand why your parents acted a certain way once you grow up and become an adult? When you move out and have your own kids you’ll understand?

Um. Yea.


The more I think about it, the more and more the exact opposite becomes true. What I accepted as “the way it is, I’ll understand when I’m a grownup” Now leaves me looking back and being like “What the barely metaphorical fuck?” And I’m not even talking about the acting like I never had depression, refusing to acknowledge my self-harm besides the occasional why would you try to hurt us like that?!? and the ever present “it’s a phase, believe me you’ll grow out of it in two years” because I’ve already ranted about those. Nope. Now I’m fast-forwarding to about a year and a half two years ago. Specifically barely 17 year old me, and 18 year old Josh telling them about the upcoming miracle of life. One of their many huge insistence’s that never came to pass was that after the Smidge was born we would have to take a marriage counseling course. Obviously this didn’t happen. And at the time, I didn’t think much of it. Religious parents demanding ridiculous unnecessary things, I was mostly just glad to still be alive after breaking that little piece of news, and was too hormonal (and honestly immature) to question it besides strongly objecting on the grounds that it was highly unnecessary.

But now that I’m approaching the ripe ancient age of 19, living in my apartment, with my almost 1 year old, and husband. I can’t help but look back and say “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

So to start from the absolute beginning:

1. I didn’t have to have the child, abortion is legal in Va, as long as you get an ultrasound (In my opinion this is the best way of handling it because your reminding pregnant mums of the fact that that is indeed a tiny life, without forcing *a religious opinion that I share* down their throats, so while I personally believe abortion is wrong, I believe that this is a good compromise that is fair to both parties.)

So even though I don’t believe in abortion (talk about practicing what you preach, ugh) IT WAS MY FUCKING CHOICE I had a debit card that was supposed to be for school but ultimately mine to do what I chose with, I could’ve gone and dealt with it. They had no right to act like I couldn’t, and like I had to keep my baby.

2. I didn’t have to keep the child. I could’ve put her up for adoption, and I will concede that they acknowledged this, but seriously I was planning on marrying Josh anyway.

3. They acted like Josh and I had to get married. Which, again, I was planning on doing anyway. But that was our decision, not theirs. We could’ve waited, and gotten married in 2 or 3 or more years or *gasps at the horror* We could’ve just never gotten married and moved in together at some point in the future. It was our choice. We also could have decided that we just didn’t feel like being together anymore and split up and shared custody. OUR CHOICE, not theirs. The more I think about it the more I think it was completely unfair of them to put that level of pressure on us, because of their personal beliefs. (beliefs that I share, but hey, I don’t go shoving my opinions down every person I disagree with’s throat.)

And then 4. Assuming we were completely incapable of being in a relationship that we’d maintained since we were 15, and demanded that we go to couple’s counseling?!? What the fuck??? It’s insulting. Just because you guys were fucked up and can’t talk to each other without wanting to kill each other doesn’t mean we need a class on communicating. Why should we have to go take a class that reminds us that the person we’re having sex with, is our friend not our enemy, and shows us how to talk to each other when we’re feeling upset, just because ya’ll (I get rednecky when I’m pissed, sue me) can’t fucking act like grown ups.


Two hormonal, immature, adolescents maintained a two-almost-three year relationship, while dealing with hormone surges, lack of sleep, lack of communication, basically every thing that goes on in fucking highschool, but you know, we’re gosh darn kids who don’t know how to talk to each other. Despite daily phone calls ranging from 5 minutes to *literally* 16 hours. Yes. we talked on the phone for 16 hours straight. But *Boom* I’m having a baby, and forgot how to talk. Like you’re seriously shitting me right?

Yes, it was hard, and yes, it was stressful, and yes, we did learn a lot more about communicating with each other openly while I was pregnant and when smidge was a newborn, but those “breakthroughs” were the results of the progress we’d both been working really fucking hard on for a really long time. Implying that after we made it through all that, together, by ourselves, with no help, that *now* we needed help? Fucking offensive.

I guess what really pisses me off about the whole thing is that I was so scared and exhausted at the time, that I’m only just now realizing how utterly douchey that was.

So I’m sorry for ranting, I’m just still trying to gauge whether I truly hate my parents, or I just have an extreme distaste. Honestly the more I think about everything, The more I kindof hate them. Like their my family and stuff, but they only ever did the bare minimum to save face, and they used my pregnancy and Josh’s moving in as a big way to gain sympathy and happy points with their friends. And I’m always going to resent them for that. And several other big things (reread that intro for valuable insights as to what those are.) Damn….

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