It was a struggle to simply get out of the bed everyday. My boyfriend would have to literally scream and drag me out of the bed as apart of his own morning routine. Sometimes that included threats of pouring water on me. By the time I would get out of the bed, I only had fifteen minutes to spare before it was time to leave for work. To no surprise, I looked like I got ready in fifteen minutes for the remainder of the day. I would walk past mirrors and windows to see a reflection that scared me. disappointed me. My heart would be so saddened by my reflection that I would look away just as fast I looked at the mirror. To see myself and not know who I was looking at. My hair was never combed. Nothing about my appearance showcased pride in myself.
I was so disappointed watching my body build a home for someone I would never meet. I was haunted by my stretch marks that showcased the decision I made. Looking at my partner terrorized me by reminding me that our love created a bundle of joy that grew inside of me, who would never have a name. When I got an abortion, I also killed apart of myself. My baby was a manifestation of me growing inside of me. By killing it, I also killed apart of myself. The depression was so severe that it became an out of body experience. It hurt so bad that I took myself out of the situation by somehow taking myself out of my body. It was almost as if I was watching myself in a movie denying that it was me on the screen.
My soul was so tainted. I became very irresponsible in regards to being accountable for myself and my own decisions pertaining to my abortion. For almost a year, I externalized my pain instead of internalizing it. Meaning, I would point fingers and lash out, and make everyone else a problem by becoming the victim of everything because I couldn’t look at the woman in the mirror. I hated her too much. My boyfriend was the victim of my internal chaos and invisible war with my demons. He was apart of a war that he didn’t even know existed, but he surely felt the effects of it. Often times, I would feel like I was drowning in a pool gasping for air and fighting for my life but wanting to give up at the same time. Not knowing how to swim, he would dive into this whirlpool to rescue me, the woman he loves. He would put his life on the line to bring me to safety, to meet an ungrateful woman complaining about drowning instead of being appreciative of this man for saving her life. He saved me everyday from myself not knowing that secretly I wanted to drown in that pool. I didn’t commit suicide because I had already died. I was a zombie. A body with no soul. The only love I knew was the love he tried to pour into me daily like an oxygen machine provides oxygen to patients who can't breathe on their own. He was pouring love into a tea cup with a hole at the bottom. I’m sure the traumatic experience of watching someone you love lose their lust for my life and not being able to do anything about it left scratches and scars on his soul as well.
Simply put, my abortion killed me for a long time. That one day surgery had long term effects that I was not prepared for at all. My relationship was murdered. I wasn’t alive to be an active loving participant. These are things they don’t tell you about at the clinic. It wasn’t included in the waiver, the release forms, or the short counseling period they provide.
Luckily, my soul is intact, full, and I’m completely happy again. I’m alive to tell about my healing process too! & if i could change anything, I wouldn't. I gave myself the opportunity to live for me as a young woman, and I deserve that.