choices

i just realized i never finished or posted last week's whisky wednesday post.

it was in the middle of all the news about alabama (among several other states) and their push to cut back (eliminate) abortions.

i processed A LOT while working through the piece i was writing. i was really, really struggling trying to find what to say and how to say it. the piece kept morphing and shifting on me and it never did get finished.

during the process through i realized a few big things, like i finaly noticed the difference language can make. i was raised in a "pro-life" or "not pro-life" town and never heard the word "pro-choice" until well after both my kids were born and i was permanently sterilized via double tubal ligation. full truth: when i finally heard the word "pro-choice" i was SO CONFUSED. THERE'S A THIRD OPTION? no. there's just a horrible, guilt and shame soaked way of saying things or an empowering, educated way of saying things.

i finally noticed the full impact of things like "you have to wait three months before you REALLY know if you're pregnant, you might miscarry." that false hope (and admittedly incredibly twisted hope) of miscarriage pushes any teen girl (or any woman) outside the window of legal abortion.

i finally realized the FULL impact of extremely, EXTREMELY limited sex education. i was in the abstinence only education classes ALL THE WAY through school, yes, even when i was 8 months pregnant.

i processed a LOT of the trauma that went with different aspects of being pregnant at 17, in a small, extremely religious town. like, for instance, how it was ok that i was pregnant to some of the ladies at church because i "...must have been raped, you're not promiscious like that." THAT WAS THE ONLY OPTION. rape or whore. RAPE. OR. WHORE.

not that it matters, but i had sex the very first time in october of 1997. my son was born in july of 1998. that math on that works out to roughly EXACTLY nine months.

i wasn't raped. i wasn't a whore. i was a 17 year old kid denied access to basic birth control, sex education, even the mere existence of abortion.

and that's what really got to me.

all over social media were stories of women struggling with the choice of abortion and whatever path their life took from there.

I NEVER EVEN HAD THE OPTION. abortion wasn't even a word i knew, let alone WHAT it was, where to get one, how to get one (does insurance cover that?).

my life changed FOREVER.

my trajectory altered in one single decision.

because i didn't even know what i didn't know.

to this day, i've never taken birth control. couldn't tell you how it works. by some miracle i made it 5 years after my son was born until i was married and planned my second child. by the time that one was done cooking i knew my marriage was shit and i really, really, REALLY didn't want three babies with three daddy's. two was embarrassing and shameful enough, there was NO WAY i was going to risk a trailer park hat trick. so i asked my doctor to make sure i couldn't have any more babies and he did.

i learned LATER, much after the fact, that because i was under 25, my doctor had to petition the state medical board for me. i don't know how i was lucky enough to be granted permission. maybe it was the domestic violence during my pregnancy. maybe it was my doctor seeing my then husband yelling at me in the delivery room for taking too long to give birth. i don't know how, but i do know that my doctor did a damn good job and 16+ years later the baby factory has remained permanently closed. if i could finalize the decommissioning with a total removal, you bet your ass i would in two shakes of a lambs tail. something about causing early onset menopause at 22 made them not want to do that.

now? BRING ON THE MENOPAUSE. better than dealing with tampons every month.

 
i'm a slightly (just a touch) opinionated person. i study topics. i read both sides. i make informed, careful decisions based on counsel with people in the know, my own research, though and consideration.

and for the biggest decision in my life, the decision that changed EVERYTHING, ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, i was denied that. i was denied the information. i was denied the research. i was denied the opportunity to make a decision.

how many girls now face the same thing?

if you have two choices and you remove one choice you have NO choice left.

how many trajectories are going to change? how many girls are now just...having a baby?

i did get to make a decision about adoption. i wrote in a journal every day during the entire pregnancy. i had letters from families that i read and re-read. i carefully weighed all the options, all the variables. i talked to the families, i discussed parenting and why they wanted to adopt and what it would like like for them with EACH. DIFFERENT. FAMILY. i weighed and measured my decision. i still, to this day, have the letters and the journals and the worksheets.

the decision i WAS allowed to make was a VERY, VERY conscientious, thought out, painfully, painfully decided one.

how different would or could things have been if i had been allowed the same for ALL decisions?

abortion isn't always about rape or incest or failed birth control.

sometimes it's about 17 year old kids that didn't know. they make ONE choice. ONE. and things change forever.

there's no point speculating about what i *would* have done. that's done and gone. that's 21 years ago. there's no point in wondering what life would have been like, how different, the path not taken. there's no shame of "but then your son's wouldn't have been born" because they WERE born.

being mad NOW that i wasn't given a choice THEN doesn't change then.

it sure as fuck makes me want to fight for other women though NOW. it makes me want to grab and shake every person spouting abstinence only teaching. it makes me want to scream in the face of people saying "providing birth control just makes teens have sex." it makes me want take every person saying "what about adoption" and have them read through my journals and the process of making that decision.

mostly, at the end of the day, it makes me want to say WOMEN ARE PEOPLE TOO. we deserve to know about our bodies. we deserve to make fully informed decisions, FOR OURSELVES. we shouldn't have to slit our wrists and bleed out our stories of struggle and decisions and trajectory changes to make people realize...ANY. FUCKING. THING. we deserve education. we deserve the right to make choices for our bodies. =

for all the men saying they are one way or the other about abortion: how many of those statements HAD TO, ABSOLUTELY HAD TO be prefaced with a personal experience? a gut punch of pain and misery to be dissected and weighed in on by everyone, whether they agree or not?

so. there's my whisky wednesday on a monday.

GIVE WOMEN EDUCATION. GIVE WOMEN A CHOICE.

MY BODY. MY FUCKING CHOICE.

when i WAS finally given a choice about birth control?

best decision i ever made.

whisky wednesdays

i've made myself a deal: whisky wednesdays require writing.

the hardest part for writing, for me, is when there isn't anything in particular scratching to get out.

all the writing advice things and stuff say to just WRITE. to focus. no purpose. just WRITE. get words on a page.

that's all well and good unless you're a crazy person who needs a purpose. you need to be saying SOMETHING. you can't just blather on.

and you REALLY can't post something that's just random blathering. why would i subject anyone to that?

and i know, most of the time it probably seems like that's exactly what i'm doing anyway. just rattling on and on and on like i did when i was a kid and they called me motor-mouth.

shocking revelation, i know.

i was a motor mouth.

but writing...it's different. i feel like i need to have a purpose.

maybe it's like meditation, if you just let all the thoughts wander on by without focusing on any one in particular then you'll be better equipped and have more brain space to handle a big thought when it comes. if it's really that simple i'm going to be SO MAD at myself.

i'm not great at meditating yet. i keep trying. but my brain just doesn't like quiet. i noticed that last week- i don't do quiet well. suuuuuuper great thing to discover just as you're living alone for the first time.

quiet is scary. if there's nothing OUTSIDE to listen to that means you have to listen to INSIDE and inside is where all the dark and scary and hard things are. like feelings. and really, who wants to deal with feelings?

but i'm working on it. fuck. i'm working on everything it seems like lately. there isn't one area that i'm handling well.  everything is an "i'm working on it" which is so. fucking. incredibly. exhausting. can you blame me for shelving the quiet thing as much as possible?

but i am working on it. one day last week was a complete tv free day. music only. it made a big difference. i'm slowly working my way towards maybe an evening of just silence. that seems daunting. i mean, for fucks sake, i even use sleep sounds at night. complete silence? fuuuuuck. what is this? a whoppie goldberg movie? i would make a terrible nun. mostly the silence. but some of the other stuff too.

i did a card reading with one of my best people the other day. long story short, there's massive changes ahead (shocker) and those changes require meditation and a not insignificant amount of thought and listening. because when the universe is trying to get my attention it REALLY tries to get my attention.

not like i'm stubborn or anything.

so. here we go. whisky wednesday writings. my form of meditation. and listening.

or something like that. 

a new chapter

so. i'm a few weeks post move now. i'm settling in-ish. there's only one box left and its the shit i'm not sure why i packed anyway. still need to hang up artwork and do a few more things in the kitchen, then the decorating is done. i have yet to venture to the laundry room, but that can only last so long. eventually i'll need underwear.

moving was hard. well, moving is always hard. moving sucks. no matter what. rain and third floor REALLY sucks. but i did it, i made it in.

and now i'm there.

and i'm really...there. this is it. this is the start of the new chapter. i am officially an empty nester. i'm done being mom.

and i know, maybe they'll come back in a few years. i don't know. there's a lot of pain and trauma to get over. i'm not sure how to get over being called an iv cocaine user with 5 pimps. that's a hard one.

and if they do come back, it won't be as my kids. those years are over. i'm done momming.  they might come back as young adults, maybe as peers, but the kids part is over.

that's been a shift. it's taken me a while to process that one. it's the only thing i've ever known. i went straight from being a kid to having a kid. i've never lived alone. ever. it's fucking quiet. 

i mean, i've been living alone since november, but now...this is different. this is permanent alone. this is....this is really alone. there's no space for someone else. there's no "used to be" bedroom.

there's just me. and stella. and a tv that i can see from my bed and control with my phone.

that part is kinda great.

and stella and i are settling in. we have a routine going. she's finally figured out the stairs up AND DOWN. not sure how i gained weight after moving in AND carrying her fourty pound backside down the stairs for a week...but i did. yaaaaaaaaaaay (emphasized with all the sarcasm in the world.)

and it's lovely and new to me. and terrifying. and exciting. and i love it. and i'm scared of it.

but here it is. the new chapter. 

it is what i make of it.

and i'm trying. i've been doing things. i've gone out on dates. i've popped out to meet friends for a drink. i've taken stella to brunch and walks at the park and out to the pub.

and i'm writing! look! i'm writing!

a attended a get lit! event last week that really inspired me and kicked my ass. 

there's no excuses left. this is it. this is my chance to BE. 

and i want to take a minute to acknowledge this moment and the power of it. i'm really proud of myself for getting here. i'm working so hard on growing and changing and not listening to the negative voice in my head anymore. and it's fucking hard y'all. but i'm not giving up.

and i really mean that. i'm not giving up.

and i did the move. it was hard but i did it. and i did what i said i was going to do. i downsized. i went through books and movies and closets. i let things go that i've been holding onto FOREVER. the cradle that my dad made me in 1988 for christmas? it has a happy new home with a little girl who LOVES to play with her dolls. the first table i bought that i didn't have to put together myself? my first "grown up" piece of furniture? it's in a happy new home of a young couple that just bought their first house together. there's some things i can't let go of yet...i still have my brother's bowling ball. i don't bowl. it would be to heavy for me if i did, but i kept it anyway. the cedar chest? the insanely heavy cedar chest that has moved with me over 15 times? still hanging on to that one. it was a graduation present from my dad. you can't just let that go. the cheer-leading uniform that doesn't hold any particular happy or good memories? gotta keep that! sure, what used to fit on my itty bitty waist (i swear i was never that small) fits on my THIGH now. ouch. but i'll keep packing the fucking thing around with me and stuffing it in the top of a closet. 

but i did it. i went through things. i purged. i let things go. some things are still a work in progress. but there is progress being made. and that's a good thing. 

so. this is it. this is my new chapter. 

here we go.