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

Homework: write list of affirmation (I am, Liz is, Lizzie, you are)

Lara wants me to write lists of affirmations, and she said by using different ways to access the brain new things can come to light. so, first person, third person, second person.

I've done something similar before in exercises to access my subconscious mind. Feri calls that part of us, Fetch, also known as Child-self. Fetch is the part of ourselves that cannot be accessed by words or logic, it's nonverbal, responds to and communicates by way of sensory input and feelings: colors, smells, texture, I like, I don't like, crying, laughing.

anyway. that's kind of a digression, but not entirely so.

and welp, I don't really have any idea how to do affirmations. We were doing some short breathing meditations on Thursday and she was talking me through it and one thing she said was to "celebrate your successes" and my brain just... like a needle scratch across a 45 record. Like those words, they didn't parse.

1) Celebrate ME?
and
2) I don't even know what success IS. How can I grasp it long enough to celebrate it, and note 1).

*sour face*

I know that is entirely the wrong way to go about this assignment. I'm okay with being stuck for the moment.

Arbitrarily I'm picking TEN as how many genuine affirmations I have to come up with. I'm going to go look up the proper definition, and I'm going to promise myself to not be weasel worded with my list.

I want to be authentic, and to really give myself a frame.

I spend entirely too much time in my head, chewing over all the ways I'm certain I've fucked up, broken things, made irredeemable or unforgivable mistakes. I'm not even very good at faking that I think I'm all that.

The one thing I have going for me right now with regard to my mental health, is my vivid memories of how shitty the inside of my head used to be, before therapy, before beloved friends taught me about community and ritual, before I learned some new coping skills and strategies to get around my constant mental noise and chaos.

I do know that I'm LOTS better than I was 20 years ago.
that can be my first affirmation, because it's definitely true.

I am healthier stronger and I cope much better with my life and my stress than I did 20 years ago (@ age 27)
I am proud of myself for my commitment to my own physical fitness, health and well being. Go me!
I am in love with moving my body in beautiful and pleasurable ways.
I am looking forward to growing older in strength, passion, and my hopes to help fix the world.

Liz is learning to balance generosity with self care and not be a fucking martyr.
Liz is no longer in love with or clinging to her own pain.
Liz is worth someone wanting to get to know her and share dreams together.
Liz is getting over her fear of trying new things that she nonetheless WANTS (yay ukelele! yay dating!)

Lizzie, you are kind and generous and you're learning to be gentle.
Lizzie, you are welcome in the world, there is space for you to contribute and be useful and loved.
Lizzie, you are big hearted and creative, with a million ideas and possible solutions.
Lizzie, you are continuing to forge your own path and it's gonna be hard, but you can definitely do this thing.

I have a community. I have a safe home. I have ... security. And that's all still hard to believe sometimes, since I know there are old riverbeds in which it's easy to let the waters run... but I've chosen a new watercourse, and I'm using what I have to try to make a difference, instead of dwelling and staying stuck in my old crapola. I'm strong enough. I'm flexible enough. I'm determined enough, and I'm creative enough.

I wrote a poem on May 4.
it looks better in the handwriting but here it is:

SELF LOVE
is a
RADICAL ACT
of
REBELLION
against
THE POWERS THAT BE
who want you and us to
FEEL HELPLESS
TRAPPED
POWERLESS
LONELY, UNLOVED
WORTHLESS STUCK

LOVING YOURSELF
FEELS GOOD and is
GOOD FOR YOU and can
LET YOU HEAL all your WOUNDS

as seen on apocalypticbob's Livejournal.

15 years ago I was 25. That was the "existential birthday" because after 25, I hadn't imagined at all what my life would be like. I had detailed expectations for every year up till 25, then 26? No clue what I should be doing with myself. Interesting, I haven't thought of that in a long time.

At 25, 15 years ago, I was back living at home with my mom. My dad had just died, about 6 months earlier. We were living in a house we rented, very near to the school that she worked at (also my old junior high). Our house had a little cement and stones waterfall-pond in the backyard, and mom spent hours dredging out that pond, shortly after we moved in. We wanted to put some goldfish in it. We discovered, once it started raining, why it needed mud dredged out of it: the rest of the yard was on a slight upslope, and the dirt from the lawn and garden flowed down hill when the waterlogged dirt... yeah. =) I loved that yard: spending time watching the fish, practicing kata on the back porch. I had just started the librarian job in the Grant district, was doing taekwondo at the community college, and feeling physically strong for the first time in my life. Emotionally, not so strong, though.

Advice for the Me of Fifteen Years Ago: (Granted if I had taken it I wouldn't be where I am today:)

* Gods, DITCH Francis already. He's not emotionally available, he's sarcastic and unsupportive, his parents are clutterholics, and so is he. He wants to keep everything the same. This is not a relationship that will help you to grow.

* Keep up with the Taekwondo. But: find a mentor who you feel comfortable going to for help in breaking down complicated moves, find someone who you can ask stupid questions of, regularly (and get used to asking uncomfortable, stupid questions). Practice jumping kicks at home, and ask for specific drills involving falling and getting over the fear of falling. And if this Do-jang doesn't do that, find another class to take, because it was the fear of asking for help/looking foolish and the fear of falling and hurting yourself that caused the knee-sprain. Twice.

* When you realize after about a year that you are still PISSED at dad for dying and everything else, give a call to that 800 number for employee mental health, and find someone to talk to about this, keep calling till you find someone. It's not natural nor good for you to be angry for six years and to be unable to remember any of the good things about your father. Also, that headspace puts you as a good match for another emotionally unavailable, sarcastic first husband. =( Talking to people is a Good Thing, and asking for help, well, you won't get help unless you do, and you won't know if you'll get help UNTIL you do ask, so talk to people.

* In that same vein, say yes more often to social events with people you like and who like you. It's good for you and builds your self-esteem and the friendships with those people as well. (The number of social events I flaked on, to have a date with a boy who didn't really make me happy...!)

* Make more stuff. Actually USE your craft supplies, you'll be sorry you didn't. Make gifts for friends and family, even if you "don't think it's good enough". The pillow that Scotty saved the dog's hair to stuff? Make that first. =(

* Do more professional development in the librarian gig, and find more ways to interact with the kids. Follow up on the mobile mini-library idea for classroom projects. Pick the brains of the English and history teachers more. Go do social stuff with Sandy and Cathy and ask Regina and Sharon out to tea. Knowing smart, experienced, older ladies is Good. Also, look into academic counseling at Sac State, you won't finish the teaching credential your first time through, but they'll understand, what with dad dying. They might be able to help you stay on track or find support services, bereavement counseling, stuff like that.

* Call your brother more. Find out more about his life, his girlfriend Sarah, have him tell you more tacky fraternity stories and explain why his fraternity was so important to him. Ask him about the trip to Hawaii, and about coaching his baseball team. Find a way to get down there and go out to dinner with him and Sarah.

* Call your sister more. Even awkward conversation is better than no conversation. Get to know Matt, and you and Jen can learn ways to support each other, and to support mom (and Scott) as well, through the grieving period. (I don't have any memories of spending time with my sister during the first year after dad died. I may be misremembering but yeah.)

* Try casual dating, and dates-with-friends. Also, dates-with-self. Strengthen the muscles of independence and self-sufficiency.

* I'd say "purge the clutter" or "get rid of the crap" but I know the crap is a security blanket that isn't going anywhere till you feel better about yourself. In addition to working on your social skills and other crafty things, try going to Al-anon, and hell, learn more about being an Adult Child of Alcoholics. Fran gave you that book because she recognized where you were, even if you didn't. Believe her. Try a meeting.

* Learn to give yourself manicures and pedicures. Seriously, you ARE worth the effort to learn to do such small things that make you happy, make you feel pretty.

* Hug your mom more. Take her along when you go out to walk the dog. Talk to her more, ask for stories of your dad from college and when they were early dating.

* Take your mom out on social events as often as she will let you. She was very very lonely for a very long time, even married to your dad and with you kids and the social life she did have... and she was primary caretaker of your dad during his final illness, even if you helped. She deserves some good times with loving, friendly people, and she won't meet them on her own for over 10 years. Help her out, it'll help you out as well.

* Enjoy the pagan community you're on the verge of joining. Talk with those folks more often, they'll be good for you. Read the books they recommend, seriously, READ them. All the way through. And read some more original sources, too, and as much other mythology as you can lay your hands on. This will be more fun and more useful than getting lost in crappy romance novels. They're good people. If you have to be shy, be shy, but ask them about themselves, learn more about who they are, how they problem solve, and the obstacles they've had in their own lives. This will help you problems-solve, and overcome your own obstacles, and again, give you confidence in your friendship-building skills, coincidentally more friends as well. =)

* Just so you know, you are sexy, and there are often people who think you are cute and want to see more of you. Don't grip so hard onto a relationship because you are worried no more are going to come around. There is enough, you have enough, you are enough. Feed yourself before you feed EVERYBODY else around you. You know about being alone, it hurts but it's not the worst pain ever.

* BTW, the worst pain ever? It's yet to come. You will handle it, and you will learn what you're made of, and it will open your eyes to who and what you are, where you are, and what your path is. It's a kind of birth. Remember that, and treat it as such.

* Be honorable, and be honest. Live by those two rules as much as you can, and treat yourself with kindness and respect.


... If you like, write a letter to the Yourself of Fifteen Years Ago, (assuming you're old enough to have figured out some life-lessons to share with that Yourself), and share with me.