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"!

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...

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!