Be the change you want to see.

old ghosts (tw: termination of pregnancy)

I was looking in the mirror one day and thought, "I would have none of this if I hadn't ended the pregnancy."

I was 25 years old when I got pregnant.
Can't decide if I should phrase that as "had an unwanted pregnancy", "got impregnated", or what. "got knocked up" isn't quite appropriate for the situation, because I can't afford in telling this story to be too flippant.

it was 1995. My dad had been dead less than a year, after being sick from diabetes and liver damage for several years, declining worse each year.
Mom and I were living together, in the house on Papaya Drive with the 1970's Spanish tile floors and the little fish pond and waterfall in the back yard. I had a great view of the green green green backyard, and had the constant waterfall noise in my ears every night as I fell asleep.


The smell and the feel of that house inform my memories of the time.

Brian and I were having sex and he didn't tell me that the condom broke, till after. Like, it still puzzles me, he says he felt it tearing, he says it was actually kind of painful for him, but he kept going.

He told me afterwards that he thought I wanted him to, to keep going, which yeah, who doesn't wanna get off, but seriously WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE DOESN'T TELL HIS GIRLFRIEND THAT THE CONDOM BROKE. I still ... *makes incoherent rage noises*

You know how I learned that the condom broke? I reached down to hold the top of the condom when he went to pull out, and the horror of it was that all there was to hold was the ring that was the top of it. That was all that was left. … we had to dig inside my vagina and find it to pull it back out….

I could try to put possible reasons on what he was thinking, maybe it was as simple as HE wanted to get off too so he kept going even without the condom.

But I don't really wanna think about his alleged motivations because **I** was the one who wound up pregnant.

I felt the change in my body almost immediately. Within just a few days after the "accident," my boobs got bigger, the nipples got softer and more tender. My pussy and labia were constantly hot and tender, and I just had this internal *awareness* low in my pelvis and belly. And I had so many feelings about all of it.

mostly I came to a sudden and crystallized awareness that, more than not wanting to have to raise a child, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with BRIAN. And I knew immediately, at a gut level, that in some way or another, no matter what else, I'd have to deal with Brian forever if I chose to have this kid.

and it was almost inconceivable anyway, (heh, yeah I went there) to think of having a kid. You spend so much of your early adolescence and twenties controlling your fertility really tightly, worried about the what-if. And sex is mostly fun, mostly meant to be fun, when you're not in a serious relationship and *planning* to have a kid…*

I had done research for a paper in college into medical side effects of being pregnant, it's no kind of easy walk in the park! There's real risk of gestational diabetes, blood pressure problems, varicose veins, digestion issues, likelihood of daily vomiting over months, *massive* mood swings and hormone changes, I mean the number of side effects you have to suffer through for a WANTED pregnancy, not to mention the non-zero risk of DEATH, or single parenthood, or ... all the different ways your children hurt you or break your heart.

That little... blue line on the pregnancy test. Oh my god. Possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen, and I already even KNEW. Like, there was no MISTAKING what my body was doing. I had this swirl of emotions going through my brain and body.


And I left the test on the bathroom counter, under a sheet of newspaper.(back when we still took the paper) Like I had zero idea how to talk to my mom about this. I was terrified I was going to be a disappointment to her, but I knew without thinking that if I *didn't* conceal this test, she would find it and know and help me. (and it turned out that she did find it, and she did help me, which I'll talk about at the end)

I can't even tell you about all the other things I was feeling then because even now, 25 years later, it's still hard thinking about that time in my life; emotional chaos and turmoil, still angry and grieving my father's death, along with everything else. I know I haven't quite forgiven myself for my own ignorance (and what feel like bad-choices when I am being hard on myself).

Though, trust me I do know all about the extenuating circumstances. I know why I made those bad choices especially because I have gotten therapy and done a lot of self work over the last two decades. I can see my own patterns and recognize where those impulses arose from and I don't let that part of myself drive the bus anymore, because I've healed a lot of those childhood injuries, or at least mostly healed them. Largely through talking and writing, both writing the blog and longhand and poetry. All kinds of ways.

I was 25, and Brian was 28. Theoretically that was old enough to know what we wanted, but both of us were dumb and inexperienced in relationships. We'd not really thought and especially not talked about what we wanted at the time or at any time in the future. We were just slinging along together because I think both of us thought we were the best we could do.

But we were old enough to decide if we wanted to have a child together and we met at Tower Cafe in downtown Sacramento to talk about it. about two weeks after the condom broke and a few days after I had taken the test. I'd said "we need to get together and to talk face to face" and he said yes, so we scheduled it. We hadn't even sat down properly at the patio table when Brian said, "You're pregnant, aren't you?" and I said yes. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went but I remember it wasn't a difficult or stressful one.

We were unanimous, that we didn't want to have a child (together), and we were both relieved to find that out. That neither of us had to try and convince the other to keep or to terminate. We were agreed to terminate.

I made the appointment. I had to stay pregnant for a total of eight weeks before the hospital could perform the procedure. I don't remember why that was.

To his credit,(Brian) did take me to the appointment, and did get me home safely.

My mom, and this makes my eyes fill up with tears, had a heating pad, an extra blanket, and she'd set up her bed, the big bed, for me to have a nap. She brought me a bed tray with my favorite tea, some toast with jam, and a little rose-bud in a little vase. I absolutely did cry from that, and everything else.

Brian stayed with me there on the bed until I had the snack and fell asleep. It was dark when I woke up, and he wasn't there anymore, and I was disappointed and angry, but realized there was really only so much I could expect from the guy.

Mom was good to me. No judgment, no anger, just support. She had my back. I had her back. We were a good team back then.

I don't like contemplating alternate universes for this story. Like, the what-if game doesn't work out well for me.

in 1995 I hadn't gone back to school to get a teaching credential.

I hadn't met my first husband, or even the boyfriend before him (who was and is a better human being and more thoughtful and kind than either Brian or my first husband).
I hadn't started my spiritual journey that gives me so much richness and meaning in my life (and which I was turned on to by the boyfriend I mention above)///
I hadn't started getting therapy for my relationship with my dad and my inability to grieve him or to get out of the anger stage of the grief.

My mind shudders away from the idea of having had to raise a kid in the conditions we were living in. Not that those were horrible, but it would have been stressful, hard work. And while I know motherhood is supposed to have its rewards, I just don't even know how I would have coped, without the skills that I have been able to acquire BECAUSE I didn't have a kid...

It's this fork in the road that my life took, and I DEFINITIVELY chose the one path and left the other path behind.

I'm glad I am HERE. I'm glad that THIS is what it is. I'm glad to have Eeyore and my priesthood and Burning Man and a lot of beloved friends. I'm glad to have the writing, and the making and the sewing and the dancing, and the work toward social justice.

The ability to choose when and whether to have a child is HUGE in your ability to determine your life's path. HUGE./// 12 Minutes

I don't have any kind of snappy ending, except that I am grateful that I got the chance to have the choice about whether or not to have a kid, and I will continue to fight for other people's right to chose whether to have a kid or not.

NOTES Performed this on the spoken word stage at center camp, Burning Man 2019 Mon August 26. One woman thanked me and cried. One man told me about, before he knew he was gay, his girlfriend got pregnant, and when she miscarried, they also cuddled in bed with the heating pad. And a couple that were pregnant (8 months) and beautiful "the first one I've carried to term"
But the last person said, "did you do this as a TED talk? It feels familiar" and I said no, it was a blog post and he said "huh well I guess we know what comes next"
SQUEEEEEEEEE

TAGS abortion, actions have consequences, anger, becoming, challenge, children, choice, dad, death, designing my own life, feeling some feelings, feelings, guilt, karma, life is good, making things, mom, open hearted, pagan practice in everyday life, paradigm shift, parent, past lives, pathwork, personal cartography, pregnancy, probably more than you really wanted to , sad, self, self-worth, spirituality, state of the liz, stomping brain weasels, stream of consciousness, taking care of business., truth falling out of my mouth, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, words, spoken word, burning man

I am an artist.
*smirk*
Yeah, and HOW many years has it taken me of Making Things to be willing to say that? Too damn many.
Too many years of judging myself harshly, of getting in my own way, of "saving" art supplies and fabric and my time, energy and engagement for "some other time", some time when I was "worthy" of using them.

*shaking head*

Recently I grokked that destruction is a necessary part of creation.
I must destroy the beautiful clean lines of that shrink wrapped notebook if I am to use the notebook.
To make something useful from that gorgeous kelly green silk, I have to cut into it, not leave it stored up in a box in the garage.
If I cut that t-shirt to fit me, and sew it back together? It will look SO much better on me than if I schlump around in a Men's XXL, no matter how cute the graphic.

I have to tear the paper. I have to write on the canvas. I have to stick my hands in the wet clay and PUSH. I have to get out the hammer and the anvil, the beads and the copper and the pliers and the wire cutters, put my hands on the project and CHANGE THINGS.

.
.
.
I'm going to have to learn and relearn this for the rest of my life, aren't I?
Because it's so easy to sit on my ass and just absorb how amazing everything is, without making my own mark.

Chop wood, carry water. Every day. Enlightenment isn't a one time deal. It's invented and created and realized over and over again.
Because I'm human, and I fall asleep sometimes into life but I don't WANNA walk through the world asleep!

I have to keep waking myself up. It's not easy to stay awake to this truth right now.
I'm largely contented, and let's face it: my life is really simple, as Scalzi says, I'm playing in Easy Mode, despite the ways I am weird and not mainstream.

so here is my goal: do one thing everyday that makes me uncomfortable. Destroy something. Make something new from the remains. Speak truth somewhere that it needs spoken. LEAVE MY HOUSE more often, god can I get out of my comfort zone more, please? I won't learn very damn much staying at home reading and writing on the computer. Poke at people until they agree to do things with me.

Take some damn risks. Do something new. Open up wider. Say yes more often, solicit chances to say yes more often.

Say Yes. Get my hands dirty. Get off my ass and MOVE.

Writing is one of my art forms, that's why I've been loving this writing competition so damn much. Someone ELSE is kicking my ass by giving out prompts that I have to challenge myself to meet. It has forced me to try thinking and writing about totally new things, and I've been taking the chance to write in totally new styles as well.

Make the thing. Do the thing. Wake up, wake up WAKE UP!

So here's the thing: people pick on other people. They call people mean names, hit, shove, intimidate, say and do horrible things.

I know we usually soothe the people who've suffered such things with declarations of no-fault: "that girl is insecure and lashing out" "that guy was bullied as a child and he's continuing the cycle" "it's not about you, it's about THEM."

I'm about to say something that may get people pissed off at me. I've come to believe that we look at this situation, of bullying and harassment, and folks often say, it's all the bully's fault. Or perhaps that it's society's fault, or that parents have failed, or schools didn't provide proper guidance.

Believe me, I understand that bullying, harassment, domineering and controlling, assholish behavior has a bewildering complexity of causes.

And people also will point out (because often times the media and some individuals need reminding) that "victim-blaming", as a thing, is unfair, wrong, or bad.

Unfair, I grant. Unhelpful, I concede, and bad? Victim blaming is a mark of both lazy thinking and dishonest, delusional assumptions about interpersonal dynamics.

Wrong it may be to say the victim was at blame for their victimhood, but is it entirely incorrect?

I was alternately bullied and ignored throughout school. I entered into relationships with sarcastic, belittling partners and stayed there for years. I know now that patterns of behavior I learned at home shaped my childhood social experiences, my choices of romantic partners, and my willingness to trust... Actually to trust anyone at all, was a huge struggle, for many years.

I gained confidence and life experience, learned to thrive in nourishing relationships, and learned to survive and end verbally abusive relationships in work and romantic life.

What I eventually learned was that my assumptions influenced how my reality manifested. If you feel insecure, it shows in how you move, stand, hold yourself. Confidence or insecurity show in tone of voice and in your word choices too.

Humans everywhere in the world read body language fluently. Bullies and predators, consciously (or unconsciously) select people for body language that shows insecurity or wishy-washiness.

Radical honesty and being an adult demands that we must look deeply and unflinchingly at ourselves so we can solve the problem with accurate information, not self delusion.

* Am I complicit in being picked on, in any way?
* Do my assumptions about how I will be treated, or how the world works, affect how I AM treated, or how the world responds to me?
* If either of these are true, what can I do to recognize and change my habits of behavior and thought?

Suppose you've done serious reflection on your life and your attitudes or expectations to recognize that you contribute(d) to your own victimhood in some ways. You may expect people in your life to be rude, dismissive, disparaging, or sarcastic. You may have internal voices telling you you aren't good enough, aren't worth the effort.

And then you realize that you would NEVER speak even to your worst enemy with the language and tone you hear in your head. (The moment I realized this is clear in my head, even eight years later.)

Please be welcome to feel feelings about this discovery, but try to just feel them, not to judge yourself or beat yourself up for it. That helps nobody figure it out, it just gets in the way of discovery and change to a better paradigm for your inner sanctum.

It's definitely possible to start learning to present a more confident façade.
Think about the truism "fake it till you make it." Look around at people you know, or people you see, who look confident and calm, people who move happy, if that makes sense. People who move fluently and with purpose. If you're like I was at this stage, you're probably envious of those people. Use that. You want what they've got, start emulating them.

One of the first things I consciously did to conquer my fears was change how I walked. I lived in a not-great neighborhood, and so I thought about how to look like a not-target. I started to walk big, wear shoes that let me walk stompy, fast, strong. I stopped walking while reading or while checking my phone. I looked at people around me, and kept my chin up. Made eye contact occasionally, when I felt like it. That started happening more often as I built confidence. Nodding or waving or smiling slightly at neighbors started feeling comfortable. I worked on having straighter posture, and open, relaxed body language.

Now I look at the process as giving myself acting lessons. Really, they're acting lessons for your life, rather like the advice I've heard of dressing up to the job you want to have.

As an adult who's working to solve a problem, you'll immediately start to recognize victim body language or posture as you observe others, and how different it looks from confident body language or posture. And if your goal is to change your own behavior, you can start selecting habits that work better for your life, and work to change how you present yourself to the world.

The best part of fake it till you make it? As your body learns, your brain comes to believe what the body tells it. As you practice confident stances and postures, a strong movement style, aware and alert reactions to the people in your environment, not only will people treat you differently, YOU will start to feel differently about yourself. And that's a really big part of the solution.

Start research on techniques to build up your own resilience, tough mindedness, and compassion for yourself. This kind of interior remodeling job is worth the effort. And, if you already possess these skills? Please think about reaching out and lending a hand to someone who needs them.

(And let me say THANK you to all the families and teachers out there who are consciously working to raise strong, self confident children. You give me hope for the future.)



This has been my Week Four entry for therealljidol, and the prompt was a quotation from Dr.Martin Luther King Jr:
“Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent”.

Beta-readings done by alycewilson !

Please go read and enjoy my colleagues' entries here. To vote for my entry, link is *here* scroll down to Tribe 5. soon after Monday April 7th, once the poll's posted.

Thank you for reading!


My Recommended reading list on this topic:
Oriah Mountain Dreamer's The Invitation
Trina Paulus' Hope For The Flowers
Dr. Patricia Evans' The Verbally Abusive Relationship
SARK's Bodacious Book of Succulence (and all her other books)
Dr. Jean Shinoda Bolen's Goddesses in Everywoman and Gods in Everyman
Osho's COURAGE: The Joy of Living Dangerously