Confession: Roe vs. Wade

Confession time. This is something that I haven’t shared with many, I haven’t even shared with few. My family doesn’t know, as it is something I’ve kept to myself, something that for years I was deeply ashamed of due to social norm… due to acceptance, self-rejection and all else in between.

I was 19 years old when I had my abortion, no one knew about it. Just me and my boyfriend. My boyfriend of four years, abusive and toxic. I meet him at 15 years old, I grew with him, he grew with me. And as the relationship progressed he became controlling to the point, I couldn’t have friends, I couldn’t speak to anyone, I couldn’t wear certain things. I was under his control. He could only do whatever he wanted, anything else I wasn’t allowed. And should I have stepped outside of what was accepted… it was scary.

There were so many times that my life flashed before my eyes. Times where I would kiss ground, thankful that I didn’t die on the ride. He threatened me. He hurt me. He abused me. Scars that weren’t only on the outside, but on the inside. I was nothing, and I was treated as object of his possession. To service him in the way he deemed. I treated me like a princess, I was spoiled…. I could have whatever I wanted, do what I wanted, so long is it was within his approval. And I didn’t know any better. I thought that was love. I was 17 when it started… one year in, abused for three… as we stayed together for four… six maybe… if you count the back and forth during the last two years.

It started in increments… psychological, mental and emotional and before I knew it, it got physical. He never directly hit me, I was lucky, but he did throw me… throw things at me. Threaten my life, his life… he grabbed me hard enough to bruise me… threw me hard enough to cause swelling. He was sweetheart when he wasn’t angry, but whole other person when he was… I guess you could say that’s why I stayed. I saw the good, had faith…

But when I got pregnant, all I could remember where the bruises he left me… my hand swollen and my ribs blackened, after him grabbing and throwing me against a speaker in a club… in front of everyone. It was one thing when the abuse happened behind closed doors, another when it happened in public. I remembered when he punched the car window and kicked in the car door as his sister drove me home to take me away. I remembered screaming for him to slow down, while driving 140km in and out of traffic yelling and screaming… I remembered it all.

I was alone. I had no one. I was pregnant. And I was ashamed. Ashamed of myself… because I should have known better, I should have protected myself more… but I didn’t. I couldn’t go to my family, they would have disowned me… 19 and pregnant?! Yeah, right?! Because if I’m honest, my family always prioritized how things all looked over how it all was… for it didn’t matter how it was, it always mattered how it looked. I guess you can say that’s why I’ve rebelled, or partially, as it matters how it feels and how it is. Right?! I mean who cares if something looks good, it matter if it feels good… and growing that environment I suppressed a lot.

And don’t get me wrong, love my family, and they stood beside me for a lot, and I think partially because they knew… not so much about the abortion, but about the abuse. They knew the disaster behind closed doors, that not only was in direct relation to them, but also that which consisted outside of them. I mean… it is what it is?! Life. It’s not easy.

Anywho, here I was carrying the child of my abuser, with no one by me. I scared. I was alone. Without anyone. Forced to make one of the hardest decisions of my life, and I chose to abort. Imagining the life of the child… my life, forever tied to this human. This human that destroyed high school graduation for me… first year of university… walking into exams, telling me that if hung up he would tell my mom everything… he would run his car into a wall… kill himself… plus more.

And the sad part, was he the only one I had to stand by me. The day I got my abortion, he came, drove me, grabbed food and did what a good supportive boyfriend would do… until he left me in his room and went to snort some drugs with his friends. Which later, of course he blamed me. Because I mean, I held a gun and told him to do it…

And you know, to give him the benefit of the doubt, I get it, it was hard… regardless of his abusive nature, he wasn’t a heartless person. He was angry. He had demons and didn’t know how to deal with them. We were very much raised by same cloth, so I understood, again another reason for why I probably stayed longer than I should have… I got the pressures, I got the expectations.

Both our families were traditional old school type new-age Portuguese, known in the community, well-rounded, respected… involved. There was pressure. He was hardworking, smart, intellectual, ambitious, savvy… everything, he was *** … if you know you, you know. He had has demons. The same as I had mine. We just dealt with them differently. And I tried standing beside him to help for as long as I could, until I couldn’t…

Until it happened… because once it happened, all was lost. As fucked up as our relationship was, we actually were the best together. We loved and understood each other to the core. He was me and I was him. As much as we fucked with each other, because there were times I pushed his buttons, he always had me. He always stood for me. Always had my back, especially with my family. No one could fuck with me or he would fuck with them. He always stood to protect my innocence… and I stood to protect his hatred.

Call it crazy love. But it worked aside from the abuse -it was gold. Like I said he was me and I was him. There was a different level understanding… a level which allowed safety for both… comfort… he was my everything… he was ***…. that one…

But would it haven’t gotten worst… yes! Better… no! Once abuse starts it doesn’t end… you tolerate and tolerate, the line gets lost… and you lose yourself in the middle of discovering yourself… teenage years…

So the decision… was a hard one. An unwanted one. But a necessary one. And what came after proved just how necessary it was…

Because he never let me forget it… ‘you killed my baby’… those words haunting… they haunted me for years. More than the torment he caused. Because I killed my baby… and I had no one. I was so ashamed that even the friends I spoke to in secret, I didn’t tell.

Super fucked up. I was so alone. Dealing with it all… the common opinion that abortion is disgraceful… teenage pregnancy disgraceful. Frowned and not accepted. Damn if you and damn if you don’t… fucked either way, just matter of deciding which was the better position?!

And I decided… and the decision left me numb. People think it is easy having an abortion, as though it’s like ordering food and canceling it, it so much more… people think as though, abortion is wanted… like birthday party on a Saturday night. NO! It is very much not something anyone wants to ever find themselves in… I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Never. The psychological fuckery that comes… especially on top of the prior abuse… fuck that! No… never.

Not only do you feel ashamed, used goods tossed away… not wanted.. tainted. You feel responsible. It’s a life whether in or out of the womb… it is the potentiality of something. Regardless of religion or not, it’s something… it’s not nothing. And that is what makes it something… something that takes everything. As you are literally cutting the cord, burning a bridge, throwing away a key… it’s a big deal. Psychologically it is impactful. Mentally… and emotionally…

I mean… I did run myself into a downward spiral thereafter… drugs, alcohol, parties… I didn’t want to feel the pain. And I never expressed what led me down a dark path, because I never wanted to excuse being led. Because in the end, it is our decision whether or not we follow. And I followed, so to excuse my darkness wouldn’t be owning it, it would be avoiding it. And to avoid it, one isn’t able to change it… to blame something on something, would be to blame nothing on nothing. Hence why I always look to myself… so that I know what needs changing and why…

Anyways…

This misconception that abortions are careless actions, irresponsible and shameful is out of this world ridiculous. Some times… most time, abortions are done for the exact opposite, they are responsible and affirmative action, action on something that takes everything. Because it’s not nothing. It’s very much something, which is why it is taken as seriously as it is, affecting us as much as it does, regardless if wanted or not. It is impactful.

For I could birthed, gave life and watched them hurt as I was, or I could take that hurt upon myself and save it from ever having to experience what I was experiencing… that is something. Not only it is your life, but the life of something else… I mean, would you willingly subject yourself to a terrible life, let alone someone else?! Because that is what it is, most often than not in abortion cases. Quality of life.

And of course, there are situations much worst than mine. This is like icing.. it is the surface of how bad it can get. And to be honest, probably not even. There are much more scarier situations, than mine. Much more abusive than mine. And there are cases where it is necessary but wanted (the pregnancy that is), miscarriages and other kinds of life risking pregnancies that require that hard decision…

But people still seem to think that it’s this easy peezy lemon squeezey kind of decision… it isn’t. As person with uterus, giving birth, having the power to give birth… bring life into this world… it’s probably three times as hard to decide not too. Nevermind what is happening in the background, the fact that you hold the possibility of something, but cut everything is a next level kind of realization… next level kind of wound. The loss of potentially… deeply embedded in the soul. A piece gone… forever.

Imagine… a chunk of the world missing. Gone and lost forever. There one minute and gone the next. Almost like it never existed, but it did. Regardless of how it lost its’ chunk, the piece the gone. It doesn’t matter what cause it, it matters that it was caused… it matters it was lost. And gone forever.

It sucks an astroid hit, but it hurts more what the astroid took. And that goes for all reasons for abortion, whether health issues, quality of life concerns, the cause (rape)… it sucks it happened… but what kills most isn’t what happened, it’s what is lost because of what happened. Innocence stripped away, worth and value stripped away… not because of beliefs, but because of self. We are so demeaning of ourselves, to the point that when we need love the most, is when we torture ourselves beyond limitations.

It is so easy to blame ourselves. We’re the only ones there majority of the time. Looking in the mirror at the very thing that disappoints us… everyday… it’s a real thing… to be disgusted by our own image. Believing that all the terrible things that happened fall on you… you are somehow to blame, regardless if at fault. You are somehow the reason… the cause… the one.

Not only shame, but guilt

I used to feel guilty, selfish in sense. But imagine, 19… how could I provide?! We provide?! Financially maybe, given both of our natures, we have made magic. Built an empire, no doubt. But I was still learning, as was he… still growing, as was he. Plus the relationship… toxic AF. Financial stability may have been fine, so emotional and mental… not at all. And that… that’s the most important. Could you imagine the potential suffering of an innocent?!

It was already bad what I was enduring, never mind an innocent child… witnessing?! The thing is, I wouldn’t let them witness… as my mom didn’t let us witness. As any good mom… or rather, good soul wouldn’t let witness. You shield and you endure… you don’t let anyone see. Pretend everything is okay. Tragic. The acceptance of abuse… emotional and mental. Physical. Did I want that to be my life?! Because I mean, it kind of already was, in more ways than one. Fucked up?!

But yet, I felt guilt… even though, I knew what I knew. I knew it was for the best, it didn’t make it any better. It made it worst, in that it made it about me. Child trauma. Abuse. Self-worth. Everything and more. And so I buried it, deep… real, real deep. Never spoke about it. The first person I told was five years later, I sat alone with all of it for five years… no one knew. I was fucked up for two years… branching on three because of it…

NUMB.

Didn’t have anyone to speak too… no one around. I lost everyone. The last two-three years of the relationship was me and him. I didn’t have friends I wasn’t allowed. And I wasn’t going to call after it all… so I was alone. And I hated it, because I felt it and so I numbed it…

And I never really dealt with it. I got through my self-infliction… but never revisited it. Left it aside and moved on. Acting as though it never existed, never happened. Until recently, when I was faced with it. Not even realizing it was there… I had buried it so deep, I hadn’t a clue it even existed.

And so, my soul finally feels free in that I can speak my truth and not feel judged. Because for the longest time, I never spoke on the pain that resided underneath in all, thinking that others wouldn’t understand. But in this overturn of Roe vs. Wade it has shown me that I’m not alone. And as much as it sucks, that as women we are losing our rights, it showing women that others have been too. For we are not alone. We might think we are, but there are always others like us.

We just have to stay strong and stand together. As abortion isn’t careless, it isn’t the covering of a mistake, it often is the opposite. It is the caring of life, the quality of life… for what is life, if not something worth living?! And if one is a position of knowing that more harm will come for birthing than it would from aborting… then why would you not?! Why would you not save an innocent life?!

And so, though this is sad, unfortunate that all is going backwards. It’s allowed women who like me, have felt alone and ashamed, to stand together and know others are standing with them. And that, is a beautiful thing. Because never would I ever think I could have shared this until now. So I’m thankful in one regard, but destroyed in another…

Grateful I’m not alone, but saddened I’m not. Bitter sweet. And what more bitter sweet is that those that have made the ruling forcing the birth of a child, are the ones that have make it unsafe to birth one… and so how does that make sense?! For not only have I been damaged, to give up my unborn for safe haven, but now I’m not entitled to a safe haven?!I Punished for seeking one.

And yes, I’m Canadian, and this overturn may not affect me directly… it does affect me as a women. As a women who knows the pain of what it takes but did it any way… a women who knows that self-sacrifice is part of what it means to be a parent… as someone who knows the responsibility of what it means to birth a being. It isn’t something to take likely…

Because Lord know what would have turned out should I have kept it… so no pro-life isn’t pro-life if it doesn’t entail quality of life. Because is life, if not… life?!