Sometimes I think about how miserable I make myself to find a man and then think about how useless it all would have been if I find out I can’t have kids.

I could have spent my 20s bluepilled and relaxed but instead I spend them constantly trying to fix my appearance, crying about how I look, or sad because I’m thinking about how the bad things in my life are due to my looks. If I find out I’m infertile I don’t know what I’ll do. I understand sunk cost theory and that I can’t get the time back but at that point I wouldn’t know where to go with life. To have spent my best years suffering and never get the reward. When I’m laying in bed hungry, or when I feel like I can’t push out that extra mile of my run, I think to myself “it’s for your kids” but what if I never get them?

Tbh it makes me think that finding out I’m infertile would be my life’s greatest sorrow and it’s greatest relief. I would never achieve my life’s purpose, but I also wouldn’t have to worry about men anymore. My life would be about me instead of how I look. But would my life be for anything if not for my kids? I have a book collection worth thousands of dollars with every one I’ve read delicately annotated; would my books mean anything to me if I didn’t want to pas them down? I’ve saved all my art projects, but they’d be collecting dust if I couldn’t use them to teach my kids how to draw later. So part of me thinks my life wouldn’t even be fulfilling without thinking I’ll have children one day. Everything I do is enriched with the knowledge it may make my children better.

Is this a normal anxiety to have for women of childbearing age? I am 21.