Before I went to the hospital in late October or early November, I wrote some posts on abortion. Some Pro-Life posts about my own experience of abortion.
I had realized that I had an abortion and possibly a miscarriage as well before I went away to Boarding School and when I went there I completely blocked it all out and went through a personality change. I cut myself off from all my old relationships. And some of them cut themselves off from me.
I had a terrible time at Boarding School, even though it was exciting it was also really overwhelming and I didn’t really fit there and I didn’t know then what I know now about my organic personality disorder existing since birth and more since early childhood. There were others there like me, stowed away; but I didn’t want to think of myself like that, I knew there was a problem but to me it wasn’t obvious like that. Most of the girls were gorgeous with perfect hair, teeth, nails, and clothing that I did not understand. The boys didn’t like me. They were 4.5 miles down the mountain road so I managed to go through four years without talking to them much. It felt sort of like a convent to me; most of the other young women flocked there at every opportunity.
I didn’t really even understand about sex. I had a close relationship with a male English teacher, mostly in my head but he did take an interest; he and his wife became my guidance counselors. I talked to him in my mind all day long.
Then, all of a sudden, Junior Year I aced the SAT’s and not long afterward I was on my way to Harvard-Radcliffe. In the midst of this there was some silly business with my family that queered everything and I felt nauseous when I saw about 8 fat envelopes in my mailbox April 1st, 1979–all acceptances from all the top colleges. Well, there was no way but forward.
So, how does this relate to abortions and a mushroom cloud?
I’ve talked all my life about all the between stuff here and I don’t feel I need to belabor it again.
I just want to say that, looking backward, I am seeing stepping stones through all that to the importance of the likelihood of an abortion and/or a miscarriage before leaving for boarding school. Obviously!
And why my first psychotherapy tanked in the most dangerous and desperate way within the first month or so when my psychologist stated broadly, “Talk to my about your mother.” My mother was a dangerous woman in the way of the mentally ill English. She was seen for this but discontinued the doctor and the meds and opted for treatment with thyroid medication.
As the therapy–off the rails–progressed–she said to me one afternoon as I passed by her on the phone to my father in the hall, she looked at me and said, “Keep it in your head.”
Three years later, after true HELL happened to me in the wake of the move from New Jersey to PA, they were undressing me in their bedroom to try to control me and I said, “Is this what you used to do to me when I was little?” and my mother replied, “It happened when you were 13.”
Some things had happened. Next thing I know I was screaming and thrashing around on the guerney from the ambulence into the ER the next morning. After that the State Hospital, where I had already been once for 3 months. became semi-permanent. 4 years later I met
Alex; it all happened too fast. I got pregnant and had an abortion for health reasons; We married. I got pregnant again and had another abortion because I was still too ill to have the baby; and/or, the baby would have been too ill. By the time I was pregnant with the child I did have, everything looked good…..I had the child….that is a long, long story that is part of what the nearly-a-year long hospitalization was just about and I pray that I can tell it some day but I am still at risk for my life. The main thing is that HE is safe and also SAVED!
Now, about the mushroom cloud.
It is just so incredible to me that in the midst of this denouement in my own personal family life,
ROE VS. WADE IS OVERTURNED!!!
It is scary as anything but so incredibly beautiful.
When I was getting ready to have to leave the home last year, I was starting to write about the presumed aborted child by family rape when I was 13.
I wrote that I finally saw his soul go up like a mushroom cloud and break though the ozone layer.
I saw him. I finally saw him after 46 years.
Just now I was crying over both children. Real tears for real children.
And now I can laugh with my son. A real 28 year old son who I could never really hold because I was blocked by 3 abortions and a miscarriage that I couldn’t let go of because I didn’t know if it really happened or not. That one didn’t poison me because it was a natural death and resolved in a natural way; but, it was suppressed through secrecy.
It has been a life of the most joyful things that I couldn’t appreciate because of my pain.
Somehow I was someone to undergo this sick situation and talk about it because of this echoing pain of the simplex on the side of my face and the other sexual pain that made me a “leader in suffering”–that’s taken from a comment on a t.v, show I watched in Florida a long time ago.
Now it is going off of me.
Un.Bon.Mot 