Monday, September 11, 2017

Monday Book Reads - Her Choice to Heal

I have mentioned before that soon after the memories came to light I started reading books regarding post abortion healing. I would like to share some of those books in which have helped me in my healing journey. I am thinking of doing a weekly book spotlight. I have chosen Monday. Seems a good day as any. The best way to give a description of the books is to do a copy/paste of the Amazon.com description. It would be the best way to give credit to what the author is trying to convey through their writings. I may reread the book and give quick short review, within the week. It may be interesting to reread with fresh eyes.
Perhaps, you dear reader, are post-abortive and/or know someone who is. The abortion may have been recent. Perhaps happened a few years ago. Maybe even a few decades. And the woman is just now remembering, as is what happened with me. You are trying to figure out what's going on, within yourself. Or you want to help your friend/family member. But you don't know how. While most of these books are written with the post abortive woman as the reader in mind, they can also help others to understand the thoughts and actions of the post abortive woman. They can be a suggestion for the post abortive woman in your life. But do not, I repeat DO NOT suggest any book to her UNLESS and only unless she has shown interest in getting healing information.
Most books on the subject are Christian based. A few are non religious in nature. The Christian based books are not so overt as to be of uninterest to non Christians.
Whether you are the post abortive woman or she is someone you know, the healing may come right away, or it may take a while, even a few years. Please do not begin reading with a healing timeline. Just give to God in prayer and let Him do his work in you.

That being said, the inauguration book for this new series is Her Choice to Heal by Sydna Masse. The title itself says it all. The choice to heal needs to be the woman's herself. She does not need anybody to be "helpful," as it can seem a bit pushy, putting her on the spot.

Description from Amazon.com;

What do 33% of American women have in common?  They've experienced abortion.

You might be one of these women. Or maybe it's your friend, sister, coworker, or the woman sitting next to you at church. Regardless, post-abortive women are in pain, and at some point, most will experience post-abortion syndrome (PAS), a form of post traumatic stress disorder. But they may never talk about it. Many are silent because they are filled with shame, grief and guilt, afraid of judgment and condemnation.  Few realize that peace is attainable through Christ's mourning process and the knowledge that because of His grace, they will reunite with their lost loved ones in Heaven.
Her Choice to Heal is designed to help women find a way to God's healing after this devastating choice.  Written by a post-abortive woman, it includes testimonies of strength, healing and hope.  Sydna compassionately leads you on the difficult journey through denial, anger, and grief, to forgiveness, redemption, and letting go.  Her Choice to Heal offers a roadmap to healing - practical suggestions, resources for help, space to journal, with the encouragement and hope found in Christ alone. 

Can be purchased at this link.

Ready to Forgive my Grandmother

"Forgive and forget" or "Forgive, but you don't have to forget." Oh that's easy for *you* (You as in society in general) to say. Maybe it's not. Have *you* taken your own advice? Has someone told you those words, after someone else hurt you and/or you learned new information about a situation that changed everything as you thought you knew it? Did *you* make a snap decision to forgive immediately? Or are *you* using your hearer as a social guinea pig, of sorts? Perhaps *you* want to see whether or not the hearer will forgive the other person. Maybe *you* are "timing" them. To see how long it will take for them to forgive. Then you can validate your own slothfulness.

Now let's get to the subject. Early last year I learned, from my mother, that the abortion was my grandma's idea. You can read about it here and here. Perhaps I said some things that were a bit cruel and crossed a line. At the time I was in a fog. It all seemed like a dream. A dream where you know the characters and think you know the story while simultaneously not knowing the story.

The wounds have now been healed. I am in different place. My state of mind is changed.

Since the flashbacks started and I was searching for information, through online articles and books,to help understand what was going on forgiveness was one the focuses. At the time of reading, I didn't know the extent of my grandma's involvement. So it never even crossed my mind to forgive her.

A few things happened, before and after, since learning the information about my grandma. Soon after the breakdown I had confessed and received absolution from a (denomination redacted) pastor, in regards to the sin of the abortions; and a few related things. That should go into a post all of its own. Then at some point I was able to forgive myself for the abortions.
My grandmother is the oldest daughter of six children. Two of her siblings passed away many years ago. Recently she lost her oldest brother and a sister. Both within a couple months. Her and one sister are the only two remaining "children" of her parents. She is over ninety years old. Our family is dying out. There are many carrying out future generations on her brothers' side. There aren't many of us able to carry out future generations on the sisters' side.

With this I am realizing my grandma probably won't be with the family much longer. Maybe a few more years left for her. A decade, tops. Having been forgiven from God, of this and many other sins, I should also extend forgiveness towards her. But how do I do this? I have already told my mother that I am at this stage in my healing. Should I just forgive in my heart? Let her know? How I would I go about that when she hasn't asked forgiveness? Obviously I can't tell her over the phone. When seeing next do I bring it up casually "Grandma, I forgive you in your role in the abortion. Pass the peas."

The books and articles never said it would be easy. The authors, who have been in the same situation and/or talked with those who have, admit to that. It takes prayer and contemplation. It must be worked out with time. For some it takes longer than others.




Thursday, September 7, 2017

Get Up and Dust Off

No, that's not like telling someone to "forget and move on." Nor is it asking of anyone to do this. Simply talking to myself. Been about half a year since my last posting. Was busy with work and gardening most of the spring and summer. More on that later. Yes, it is true that I stated I had a breakthrough. And yes I really did.

But does it mean that everything is hunky-dory, happy, smiley all the time? No. Does it mean I will sometimes have setbacks? Yes. Does it mean I will sometimes memory recalls? Yes. Does it mean I will sometimes have bouts of anxiety? Yes.

Look, I am a realist. I can never be positive NOR negative at all times. It's just not within me. My mantra is like the line from The Facts of Life theme song; "You take the good, you take the bad. The facts of life, the facts of life."



During the past six months I've had ups and downs. Nothing extreme, one way or the other. Started gardening. Or should I say the first time I have actually stuck with it? Was all excited; ordering seeds, imagining the yummy veggies that would grow in my own yard, the happy arrival, sowing some seeds indoors, waiting for better weather to direct sow the rest outside. But not everything went as planned; unpredictable weather, wind storm taking down greenhouse and with it quite a few seedlings, bugs and slugs.
The negativity of gardening would bring me down. Sometimes wanting to give up. From which I would take a break. Sometimes I had to force myself to do the simple things like watering the plants. Wondering why I even bothered. Would have tight knots of anxiety at the thought of wandering out into the garden. But once I got over the hump my enthusiasm would come back. Would stay outside as long as I could to make the yard and garden all pretty.
As I posted a couple years ago, the neighbors' lawn equipment would give me anxiety. Not much of a problem this year. There were a few times I would pace about, wanting the noise to stop. But all in all, no big deal.

Some stress at work. But nothing beyond normal. Mostly, it's a job. Would be too tired to partake in local summer festivities. Took part in a few church activities. Everything about church is terrific.

While majority of the time wasn't bothered with much in regard to the abortion. I do recall a setback on the Fourth of July. As long time readers recall, this was the date I broke up with "Matt" just before the second abortion. Not that I was dwelling on it before the anxiety. The anxiety happened first. Was pretty much fine before that, and then *whomp*! Let it ride out. Then I was fine again.
Anxiety showed up again around Labor Day weekend. This would be the anniversary of having one of my cats put down. Of all the cats that have passed on his death I took the hardest. Sometimes, looking back, I think transposed my feelings of the abortion onto the grieving of his death. Though this happened before the flashbacks, the memories were readying to bubble up.

I am still healing. I will probably always be in some sort of state of healing. I don't think this is something you can totally forget once you remember. The thing to do is move forward. Not "move on." Trying to "move on" can be futile. Causes nothing but frustration when memory recalls come up. I think that was one of my biggest mistakes for the first year or so after the flashbacks.
Sometimes I will fall. I will get back up. Dust myself off. Move forward on my journey. I will probably fall again and get back up again. With many repeats for the rest of my time on this earth. I have just learned to take that prospect in stride.

I really couldn't get through this without faith in God. Mostly I do my daily devotional routine and read from scripture, keeping my focus on Jesus. But if I am having a particular rough time with things I will take time to pray and ask God respite from my anxiety.
One comfort I receive is from the "Categories of the Psalms" in the back of "Reading the Psalms with Luther." I will choose a few suggested verses from a category that matches with my current thoughts and what's going on at the moment. This was a suggestion by someone I consider a friend and confidant. Oh "The Golden Girls"!


Thursday, March 9, 2017

From Breakdown to Breakthrough

This is the post I have been wanting to write ever since the memories flooded my mind three years ago. Or at least since I wrote the "Introduction" piece. I truly believe I have come a long way since that time. I knew one day I would be healed. It just took longer than I expected. Perhaps the timing was right for me.

As of recently, from January of this year until about the beginning March, I had the most craptastic of a time. Quite a bit of that can be attributed to the fact that the first pregnancy happened at the beginning of January 1995. While I can never be sure as to when the "intervention" took place, I am recalling it happening in March of 1995. I truly believe that my body and mind were working in tandem to trigger the recent grieving and mourning.

As of recent a friend took me aside to tell me that mutual friends were concerned about a few Facebook outbursts. It was nice for said friend to talk with me. But where I disagreed was with them was telling me to forget about it and put it out of my mind.
See, that's the root of my problem. I was told 22 years to forget about it and pretend it never happened because hey, "(I) can have another baby." I was told the abortion wasn't shameful, but that talking about it would be shameful. Thus, I put everything in the "closet." Tightly packed those memories. Locked the door; with many chains and padlocks. Certain they would never see the light of the day.
I am sure the friend was well meaning to tell me to forget and not talk about it.

Looking back, I do think maybe it was wrong to have the outbursts online. I recall my mindset during the time of forgetting. I had once written in the post "I Was Once Pro-Choice..."
...
Fast forward a decade or so. I started getting involved politically. I identified as a Republican. Got involved with political meetings. Did some volunteering for a few campaigns. Went to conventions and such.
Did quite a bit of conservative blogging. No, I will not reveal the old blog. It has been taken down, no more to be written there. One of the Republican and conservative issues is the Pro-Life cause, more or less. Again, remember, I was thinking myself Pro-Life. Yet in a few of my posts I was lamenting "why is everyone so obsessed with abortion."
It is rather hard to explain, but I had forgotten my abortions yet simultaneously remembering I had had abortions. My attitude toward those talking about Pro-Life was "stop obsessing," "yeah, abortion is bad," "but it's going to happen anyways," "it's been going on since just about the beginning of time," "focus on the economy."
I still believe there is a correlation between economy and abortion. But both need to be focused on. Believe it or not, I still considered myself Pro-Life. I don't even know if I supported making abortion illegal at the time.
... 
I was basically in denial during this period of my life. If upon meeting a new person and they would ask basic "getting to know you" questions; such as "Are you married?" "Do you have any children?" I could answer without remembering diddly. I would answer that I almost was married. I remembered "Matt." But I wouldn't remember why we didn't marry. I could answer that I had no children. Not once thinking about Anastasia or Hanelore. Not even of the mindset of thinking I need to hide my "secret."
Perhaps some of those reading my outbursts are still in some state of denial. And no, that is not a put down. Denial of such trauma, within oneself is simply a coping mechanism. And that's OK. Not everyone should reveal a past abortion, whether they consider themself pro-life or pro-choice.

Not only do I not wish abortion upon my worst enemy, I also do not wish the smacking of long forgotten memories upon anyone. Although I do think I have seriously grown and learned within this journey. I just do not believe one's trigger point should be reading someone's online outburst. If someone's trigger point should come, it should be on another venue. Yeah, that made about as much sense to me as it did to you.

Yesterday's Breakthrough Point: 

So after all that long rambling and self promotional linking; I shall get to the point. As I said above; the friend claiming that I had should not speak out about my abortions. Out of respect to friends who were upset about my outbursts, I was trying to be quiet. Didn't give my opinions. Haven't been sharing posts from pro-life pages I follow. 

As most know, unless you live under a rock or are completely oblivious to the world around you, the "Day without Women" happened yesterday. I could say a lot about that and my thoughts. But I will try to stay focused, here. 
One of my male Facebook friends posted about it. In his post he made mention to women having the right kill a baby and eluded to the "poor men" who have no choice. Well, as someone who had dealt with a boyfriend/baby daddy who was ambivalent about my pregnancy, this is a big pet peeve of me. In no way am I dismissing men who have had their unborn children aborted without their consent or even knowledge. I won't go into details of the conversation. But I will say that he claimed that I supported Roe v. Wade because I focused on men being able to coerce a woman into aborting their child. Yeah, I don't know either... 
Basically I was telling him that not all, actually most post abortive women, are like the feminist protestors we see in the media. And that he shouldn't let the liberals convince him that the protestors are like the women who do abort. Combined with having this disagreement and the fact that he knows about my abortion, there was a bit of a shaking within me. We do know a couple of mutual people, going back to my formal political/blogging involvement, whom are not Facebook friends of mine. I was a bit afraid he may "out" me. I was thinking of my friend who told me to think about the abortion subject. 
But I decided to persevere and respond with my view. I think of how long I was held prisoner within myself by staying silent. Even though I didn't know I was staying silent; or even why. I refuse to go back to that prison or shove the secrets back in their closet. They really can't be put back. Nor can I go back to that emotional prison.

Despite the shaking. Once I spoke out I felt such a release and relaxation. It was the bust out I have been yearning for since the moment I remembered everything. While not happy smiley, I did have a sense of exhilaration. Almost like the scene with Maria from The Sound of Music, carelessly twirling in the meadow. 

It was like I finally had my chance to bust out of my skin, that I have been feeling for the past three years. Is everything all better? Am I finally fully healed? Will I have any moments of grief again? I don't know. Probably so. But I think, no I know, I am much farther in my journey. 
Continually to be updated...


Wednesday, January 18, 2017

I am Responsible

I am sure to some readers the writing of my abortion experience may seem as though I am bragging about it. Or maybe that I am not taking responsibility for my part. Maybe I am placing blame on others.

It is a delicate balancing act for me. I do take responsibility for my part. But that is just it, my part. I was the one who was pregnant. I was the last in line to choose to have my children sucked out of me. I should have stood up for the sake of my daughters. The blame for the second abortion lies more on part than the first. That is a hard reality to take, but I take it. In the middle of the night I find myself saying aloud "I killed my children." Completely audible.

Am I the only one to blame? No. When the first pregnancy was confirmed I may not have been elated, but abortion sure as hell didn't come across my mind! There were others who led, maybe even manipulated me into relenting to the abortion. "Matt" for his non committal attitude. My mother for the turn around in support. My grandmother for the deception.

The common consensus is that people need to take the blame for their own actions. Yes, that is true. While the woman is the ultimate decider in whether to have the abortion; those who influence, coerce, or even at times force her, should accept their culpability in the death of the woman's child.
A few days ago I did a Google search about the statistics regarding the percentage of women who are coerced into abortion. Many websites and pro-life books state around 64%. Personally, I would believe the statistics to be at a much higher rate. From a website, The UnChoice, is this;
 Up to 64 percent of abortions involve feelings of being pressured to have an abortion, and other factors, such as rushed, deceptive, negligent or conflicted or profit-driven counseling, can also have a significant and often synergistic coercive effect.4 Furthermore, based on even the most minimal standards of care and human rights, such assembly-line care is exploitative at best and a recognized human rights abuse, even under liberal abortion laws.

Full article of How Common is Coercion, here.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Does He Even Remember Me?

That's a question I asked myself last night while trying to sleep.

I sometimes have dreams about getting back together with "Matt." Many times it comes to fruition. But then he disappears. Or one of us we will try to contact each other, yet missing a connection. We are never parents in any of the dreams. I never really gave much thought to any of these dreams, other than wonder where that came from after waking up.

Until last night. I was thinking about him. Thought about the good times and the bad times. And yes, there were good times. But does he remember any of them? Does he remember the woman he dated for a year and a half? Does he remember the woman whom he impregnated? Does he ever wonder if the child really was lost to miscarriage? Did he ever wonder if she was pregnant before breaking up with him? If he thought yes, did he wonder what happened to that child?

Does he even remember her name? Does he remember what she looks like? Does he remember that he was her first...everything?
I remember the first time he kissed me. I giggled. It was nothing against him. I wasn't laughing at him. I was almost twenty years old, and had never been kissed! Heck, I had never even dated anyone! It was a nervous reaction. I remember when he first told me he loved me. I just couldn't bring myself to say it back. He was rather offended by that. I wasn't sure if I did love him. I didn't know what love is. Perhaps I still don't. I did end up reciprocating the sentiment. But did I mean it? Did he mean it? I don't know. Perhaps, on both accounts.
I remember the first time he tried to have sex with me. I remember being swept away and taken in. Almost relenting. Then pulling back. I remember the first time of surrendering to him. The details of which would not be appropriate to speak of.

During the breakdown of 2014 I did check on Facebook to see if he had a profile set up. Not really that I wanted to reconnect, just checking to see if he was on there. What would I even say to him? Why would I tell him that I was contacting him after all this time? At that time he was in a relationship. He may or may not still be.

I have since found out that he now has a son. Doing the math, that son is less than a year younger than what Hanelore would be. Because I don't know the exact mathematics of that boy's birth month or even when Hanelore's due date would have been; I am not sure if "Matt" impregnated another woman towards the end of our relationship or soon after my breaking up with him.
There is a bit of hurt in that. Whether he was cheating on me or started a relationship soon after the break up. I can't help but wonder what was so special about the mother of his son that she was "allowed to" give birth to his child, but I wasn't. Did she have support from "Matt"? Did she have support from her family? Or was she stronger than me and stood up to them all? Is she the woman "Matt" is in a relationship with, or was recently? Does "Matt" look at his son and think that the son may or may not have a sister? Does he regret his non committal attitude toward my pregnancy with Anastasia? 

Sunday, January 15, 2017

The Crying Child Within

There's a perpetual child within me. She cries. Not all the time. But she's crying now. Why is there a child in me? Why is she crying? I want to let her out. Yet, I want to keep her within me.

It's been three years since my breakdown of January 2014. I am not sure where to start. As the breadown did not just happen at once out of the blue. But rather gradually, until it just blew.

While I do try to avoid mentioning identifiers about myself. I think I need to mention that I used to do seamstress work from out of my home. I think that may be a good place to start.

I had left my full time job to do sewing and alterations work from home. I had been doing that during my off time from work. Business had been picking up, before quitting the regular job. There were a few lulls and pick ups.
Sometimes the lulls would be quite long. Being short on money and not knowing where my next meal was coming from could cause little breakdowns themselves. When I had the good pick ups and would be paid well it would be a balancing act between purchasing quality supplies for future projects and food.

My specialty was alterations on bridal and formal. Though I did work on most any type of sewing; from lightweight simple repairs to heavy-duty heavyweight fabrics.
The formal work was the best. I thoroughly enjoyed working with the clients, their friends and mothers.

Yet, I think the connections with the clients may have been the lead in to my break down. Ever since the abortions, in certain ways, I was perpetually young. On a subconscious way I didn't see myself aging into someone old enough to have a teen child.
Yet it was while I would be having conversations with the mothers. We would talking about basic news, local issues, politics, music from when we were younger, how things were different when we were kids and teens. Then it hit me, I was older than I felt.

It still took a while to make the connection that not only was I old enough to have children who were teenagers. I was supposed to have teenage children! I can pinpoint the moment it dawned on me that I should have teenage girls. There I was standing at the kitchen sink. Washing dishes.
All of a sudden I found myself saying something to the effect of "my child is going to college." Where did that come from? Can't remember if I said it aloud, mumbled under my breath, moved my lips without vocalization, or just a strong thought. But there it was. Not only was I talking to myself, I was talking nonsense that wasn't even relevant to my life! Then I said, "my daughter is getting ready for prom." Still didn't click yet, in regards to my past.

This would have been about January of 2014. I ended up catching a cold or the flu. Or something. Decided to rest up on the sofa. Even after coming over the sickness, I still just couldn't do anything. If I got the snow shoveled, I was good for the day. Didn't even have the desire to do any sewing.
Fortunately I didn't have any customer projects that needed done. Oddly, before this time I would be all excited to take a call for a new project. Not anymore. When the phone would ring I would avoid answering and letting it go straight to voicemail. Figuring I would listen to the message later. Couldn't feel up to that. I did not want to deal with people.

There was this feeling I couldn't explain. I felt as though I were trapped within myself. I wanted to jump out of my body and run far away from myself. Yet, I wanted to hide farther within myself. I felt as though I was crying within myself. While no physical tears were released. It was as if there was a small child within me crying.

Then, it was while laying on the sofa, for some reason I decided to Google D&C abortions. Not sure what compelled me to do that. That, that, that is the moment EVERYTHING finally clicked! No, this was not a happy moment. Not at all. D&C was the type of procedure for the second abortion.
All the memories kept flooding back. It all came full circle. I remembered the abortions. It still did not feel like a memory of something that happened to me. More in the vein of being outside of myself. Remembering that it happened to a young twenty something woman I once knew.

I began to search for as much information about abortion as I could. Still can't say why. I knew I needed help and healing. But where to look? I knew about pro-life organizations that want to end abortion. Was using all kinds of search words. In my searching I did find a few sites for healing. Some were of words of encouragement. Some gave words of help to healing. There were even a few organizations that helped directly, such as Rachel's Vineyard. Some where one could write and/or call to talk with someone.
I was not ready to take that step. What would I say? How would I even begin?

This is not the end...

I'm Mad at God!

Well, not really. Well, yes, maybe. I don't know.

I am coming up over a cold that had me bed ridden for a while, other than going to work. But not only that, it is around about the time my first child (Anastasia) would have been conceived twenty years ago. Funny thing about when you are sick in bed; not much you can do except sleep, read, watch online movies, and think. The thinking is what can sometimes knock you down. Heck, even the sleeping, if you are notorious for weird dreams. Which I am.

Been having buttload of baby and young child dreams. Nothing I can really remember much of. Sometimes it can just be simply giving birth. Having the baby in my life, yet being kept at arms lengths from being able to hold her. An older child being introduced to her new sibling. Being at an airport or some sort of transportation center; handing children over to some random woman and saying goodbye.

OK. That being said; let's get to the title of this post. The phrase "hindsight is 20/20" seems to be fitting for my current situation. When I have been awake I am just mopey. Hard to clean house, fix a meal, or do any regular household chores. Just sit and stare. While not technically a thing, I would call it "conception mourning." I already Googled to see if the description existed. Nope. I guess there is a rock band by that name, or a song.
I have read that women who have had abortions will mourn many anniversaries surrounding the abortion(s). One of those times could be in regard to the time the child was conceived. Probably true for women who have experienced miscarriages.
Looking back, that could be consciously or sub-consciously. In my case, I think it is leaning more towards the sub-contentiously. January has always been a sucky month for me. Never knew why. Always attributed to coming down from the holidays. Which could easily be true. But not the complete picture.
It was about this time three years ago, in 2014, in which I had my first break down. I felt like absolute crap! Yet I didn't know why. Oh, this has got to be a whole separate post as to when my break down and memories started. I will get to that soon. Hopefully sooner than later.

In the looking back, I feel as though I am mad at God. Where was He during the "family intervention"? Why didn't He give me the words to convince my family that abortion was wrong? Why didn't He smite my family; mom, aunt, grandmother? OK, maybe that's a bit harsh. Why didn't He at least temporarily incapacitate them, to give me time to get away from them? I could have run off and hid until I could find something resembling a nineties version of a crisis pregnancy center. Where was He the night before the abortion? Where was He when I walked into that clinic? Where was He just before the abortion happened? Where was He afterward?
Actually, come to think of it, where was God when I first met "Matt"? Where was He when"Matt" was first trying to seduce me? Where was He the night I finally did relent?

As has been stated in the post about the abortion itself, I came to a "conclusion" "that there is no God." But the reality is; I rejected God before the abortion. Sure, I had been baptized as a toddler. Sure, my mother occasionally took me to Sunday school, sometimes keeping me with her during church services. Sure, I did attend church during high school. Even belonging to the teen club at church and joining the teen choir. Of course calling myself a Christian. But I didn't really have much of a prayer life, nor attended church after graduating high school.
So, basically I didn't turn to Him during any of the moments leading up to the abortion. Didn't pray for the relationship between "Matt" and myself. Didn't pray about my child after I became pregnant. Don't remember much about what I was doing or thinking in the time between the "intervention" and the abortion. But I do know I didn't pray about it.

So in the end, it is myself I am mad at me. Not God.

(Since the time of the abortion I have since came back to church. It has been a journey. Becoming a member of a denomination different than that which I grew up. Joining a church of another denomination, once again. But this time I am sticking to it to the end. Have a much stronger prayer life. Perhaps I will talk about that at a later time.)


Sunday, December 18, 2016

Sewing the Seams of Healing

Way back in April of this year I wrote about my teddy bear with the seam rip in the neck. He's been fixed! Probably about a couple weeks ago. I hand stitched the seams together. It was rather bittersweet while I was sewing. There was a feeling of happiness that he would be all fixed up and better. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness. I couldn't pinpoint the cause or why.

Teddy bear all fixed and better!

Perhaps my bittersweet feelings are due to my own broken seams. My broken and busted seams. Yes, after 20 years I have finally pinpointed the hurt and despair caused by the abortions. And really, knowing the cause is not only the first step in healing, but it is also three quarters or more of the healing. Once the cause of deep seated old hurt is located, the healing can be begin.

Not saying it is sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, roses, and pink unicorns flying out my butt. In fact more like a Generation X kid scraping their knee and grandpa putting Mercurochrome on it. All the while telling you "it won't hurt. I used this as a kid, fought in World War II and I'm still alive. You'll survive." Yeah, no. It stings. It stings like hell.
Back to the healing. That first moment of realizing what has been "wrong with you" for all those years is a definite sting. You could be in the middle of the most mundane household chore or running errands and bam! out of nowhere the memory hits. Smacks you up like you have been smacked in the face by an anvil. Or at least that's how it happened for me.

As you can see from the photo above of the teddy bear (still no name for him). He still has a few places that need some more repairs. Those are his scars. Those scars give him character. They show the many years of love. I too have scars. Perhaps my scars give me character too. But those scars sure as hell ain't from love. Lust, maybe, but most definitely not love.

I have more thoughts on my healing process, but I can't really bring them to focus and arrange in a cohesive manner. Plus it might run off to be a bit off topic from this post. I will add a part two or three or four or more to this. Let the healing begin!

Friday, September 9, 2016

Run, Run Away!

So I was in bed, reading. More than halfway through the book "The Case for Life" by Scott Klusendorf on my Kindle. While the book is about how to speak the pro-life message, and not really personal stories or healing, an unrelated thought popped in my head. That happens to me quite often. I felt the need to stop reading and share said thought.

See, I still have trouble connecting twenty year old me to fortysomething year old me. It is hard to explain, but the best I can do is to describe it in that memories related to the pregnancy(ies) don't quite feel like memories; as in I remember them as through myself. Almost as if I know this deep dark secret about someone I once knew. But that someone I knew was not me. I hope that makes sense.

Anyways, I had this overwhelming thought that if I could go back in time to meet "this pregnant young woman" I knew twenty years ago, and after hearing of the "family intervention" I would shake her at the shoulders. I would tell her to run away from her family. I would tell her to cut off all contact with them. Maybe even tell her to cut contact with "Matt." I would tell her to be like Lot's wife and not look back...

Look her in the eye. Tell her, "Look at me, really look at me. I am you. You, who you will be in more than twenty years. When your family made known their desire to abort your child; you are wondering if this was your only chance to have a child. You are wondering what your life would be like if you give birth or if you abort. You are trying to picture yourself in the future. I have sad news for you. You will get pregnant again. Next time, it will be your "choice." There is more, much more I can tell you. Things that won't be pretty. Your life won't go too smoothly. You won't ever have children. Your not going to meet any men worthy of marrying. I don't know what will happen should you decide to take my advice and keep your child. There are no guarantees. But I truly believe your life will be more fulfilling should you keep your baby, or at least put her up for adoption. I can tell you for certain you will spend the rest of your life hurting should you carry on with an abortion."