Within a moment of strength, I am weak. From the powers that be, I let love lie. Knowing I have loved, is fortune in itself. But where is the love among a world so unkind? I find it in those most unsuspecting, unbeknownst souls that stand here before me waiting to be unveiled. I’ve told every boyfriend that I’ve loved them. But the truth is that only a few did I really go to that place. I confused love with a love lost in my own soul. Finding it underneath my piles of debris from an unsettled heart. And so far there has been nothing like that of your first love. And that’s what I’m looking for. To feel the pitter patter of heart. The clammy hands in an anxiety of wonderment. We’re always told that we can only know love if we know love within. But then how can we truly love if we are ever evolving, ever growing and ever understanding ourselves? It must mean that love is more powerful. That to find it is beyond all other gifts bestowed upon. I may love easily because I look at people with their gas tank on full and it’s up to them to burn it dry. Maybe it’s not a good way to look at people by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that’s giving them too much credit. But I don’t look at love as too much credit, I look at it as an overload of fulfillment. I yearn to be whisked away. Not to be stood up as I once was, not to be abused, but to find an everpowerful thing in an even more powerful being. Did I go the wrong way in love? Of course I did, as we all do. Because when you mix love with life it can add up to an equation any atlas would find lost to. To be someone’s everything may in fact be the greatest gift one could ever know. And some of us will even walk around for a lifetime not knowing they were someone’s end all in the wonderment at the fair. Broken hearts are undoubted. But the lessons in each are as well, so why does it hurt so much? Even when we know the loss is upon us. Even when I left my ex-husband it felt like cutting my arm off. I didn’t know what to do anymore. But that’s because he confused love for control and was always out for the conquering. I had to give him my paychecks. If I needed money he’d want me to find it out of the piggy bank we had kept. He took my car to work as I took three buses to mine. I’d shatter like glass each time he’d take off. Leaving for entire weekends as I’d sit alone to worry. Always going back to Seattle where my true home was. Where I’d secretly wanted to be the entire time. Getting out of that relationship was hell to because I never knew what he was capable of when I would break up with him. If we can live with loss and love in life why can’t we let love die when we need to? Is it the lessons it’ll bring because all mine did from my relationship with him was to always err on the side of caution in every way. I can’t trust men. I’m so afraid they’ll take my control once more, that I will get out of relationships if I see control in flight. Now I fight to the death for myself, at least in that regard. I will not be taken advantage of in that way again. I will be raped no more. From the powers that be, in this weakened moment I stand strong. I will find who I am one day. But it won’t stop me from wondering what true love is, because that is forgotten by me. But unforgotten is the yearn for it. Yearning for all else to fall by the wayside and to stop running in place waiting for things to happen. And get these feet to move around the neighborhood. Maybe only to stop and watch as love walks too.
At first it was the nightmares that would come because dreams were something only a positive world could bring. I never thought I’d get a visit. A little boy would stand staring at me with those big brown eyes longing for something. I assume now what it was but I could just be adding to my selfish layer that it could be me. The way he stared so intently like he was waiting for someone or something to come get him. Then he reached his hand out to me squinting his eyes to get a closer look. I awoke right after. Crying to realize my baby would have been born this month, I chalk it up to being just another dream. Like the recurring one I have about my ex husband standing me up at the alter. It wasn’t until a year later would I stop thinking it was just another dream because it happened again. Only this time he was a little older. Still he reached out. Still those brown eyes I knew it was the same little boy. You wonder where we manifest our dreams from. Whether we manifest our thoughts in transformation or our thoughts are manifested by ourselves transforming. I never knew a dream like this and when it happened for a third year he, again looking just a bit older. I’d weep.
People don’t tell you that abortions are painful. You think there might be some emotional trauma expected but even that they don’t prepare you for. I never knew an aftermath more deadly than that of the world of death I then created. This whole time I’d felt such a weird connection with the child I’d never know that I also never realized how much I’d miss it. Miss being pregnant and miss the possibilities of the world that could ensue. I didn’t feel okay with bringing a child into a world where the world was something I could not give. To this day I haven’t forgiven myself. I can’t believe what a stupid decision I made. It’s aftermath was unforseen, forlorn and so unforgotten. I also didn’t want to pass down who I was because I hated myself so much. So in all the pain inflicted it would never compare to the pain I’d inflict now. I was determined to punish myself but instead I just punished an innocent child. For doing nothing but come to visit even after I took away all visiting rights. Today I doubt I’ll have children. Because nothing could compare to the little boy who reached out to me those three nights in a world unknown. I need to be with my child and not have my child come back to be with me. All in the matter of more than a daydream. In a world I’d never know. Where manifestations grow.
Getting an abortion was never something I planned on doing. It’s not like you live your life with that kind of thing on your bucket list. But I did get pregnant, I was 19 and I was scared to death.
I’m such a lover of kids you’d think it natural when I would eventually get pregnant, I’d be so excited and not be able to wait to have a baby. And yes, albeit babies are adorable, you don’t really look that deep into the picture beyond the cuteness until you really get pregnant. In staring at those lines that appeared on the pregnancy test, I remember staring at it for so long you would of thought I was trying some sort of magical mind trick or something. Hell, maybe I was. Maybe in staring at it longer I thought that faded second line would disappear just as fast, or slowly, as it appeared in the first place. What am I going to do? All of the sudden I’m thinking about how much money it’s going to cost, how much time I’d be able to spend with it being I’d have to get another job, and how much would I really be able to give to a child at the age that I’m at. All of the sudden at 19, I felt so aged.
The morning I of the Doctor’s appointment, I went to throw something away in my garbage and noticed it had been rustled through. “Oh, shit,” I thought. What now? I couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever want to rustle through garbage. Geez, I was feeling so low that if anyone needed garbage in their life they could just come and talk to me. In being pregnant I knew I needed to have the abortion early, if I was going to have it. Not that it makes it any better or easier I just couldn’t imagine doing it later in the term. I still can’t believe these words that I write knowing what I was about to do. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, it’s what I thought I was put on this Earth to do. What WAS I put on this Earth to do? Man, I have no idea why anymore. I thought there would be no evidence that I was pregnant to anyone. I thought that it would be my story to tell, if I ever chose to tell it. Well, I wasn’t off to a very good start. For instance, leaving the pregnancy test in the garbage probably wasn’t a good idea if I didn’t want to get caught. But like I said, who rustles through garbage anyway? It turns out, I’d started giving my mom evidence of her own. The reason I thought I might be pregnant was when I lit up a smoke one day. I wasn’t a consistent smoker but liked them from time to time, and all of the sudden when I went to inhale I felt so nauseated I couldn’t believe it. “This isn’t right,” I’d tell myself. “I’m not even feeling sick.” I thought about it for a minute and realized It’d be perfect timing for me to be pregnant. But that was also a distant thought at best. Then I became nauseated all of the time, and my boobs got really sensitive. I never knew what women meant when they’d say they’re boobs got sensitive until mine did. It was like my awful aha moment. Then I was constantly on the verge of puking. And thinking my mother would just think I was sick, was never a second thought. But I didn’t realize she’d put two and two together when I was craving a pickle one day and was vocal about it. You think you have cravings, then realize you never had a craving until you crave something while pregnant. I had to have that pickle, the thoughts of it were all consuming. I never thought she’d put those moments together. To think women before me had been showing these signs all along! Geez, I really didn’t get it. Of course, I was too young to.
When I was little my mom always would ask me if I wanted english muffins. “Yes,” I’d always say. Then I’d hide them under the couch cushions for her to find later. I must’ve loved hide and go seek then. She’d find them in about a week and there was never just one in there. I’d ask for two every day so she’d find about a dozen in there. She still laughs about it. I love when kids do stuff that you can’t get mad at because you start laughing. I think that’s what I miss the doing the most, is laughing. I used to always be joking around and having fun and then everything got so damn serious. Do we turn a certain age where the world just seems different all of the sudden? Or are we following the world that is constantly teaching us to to be different towards them? I always promised myself I wouldn’t cave. That I’d keep my light heart and would laugh uncontrollably for ten minutes once more. It hasn’t happened yet but I have hope that it will. I hate things that are too serious! Why am I so serious now?! I sit with a blank stare trying to think of things in life that make me smile and it used to be just the simplest thing! I’m quite klutzy and am always tripping and falling, or like I mentioned in another post when I was taken on a blind date horseback riding. Not paying attention and getting hit in the face by a branch. “Whoopsie!” Was one of my favorite words. Looking back from today, I think my most popular saying is “I’m sorry” now. What?! That can’t be. It is though. I got married when I was 21 to an abusive guy and I think all I ever did was apologize just because. Then, I knew that when I apologized we could move on. That was his routine when we’d fight. He had to hear me say “I’m sorry” all of the time. Nothing else was routine about our fighting either except that it was all routine of domestic violence. And I paid a heavy price for it in the way he treated me, and I also grew distant from many of my friends. He was this secret I had to keep because it was my mistake and I couldn’t admit how mean he was to me and how he was one of the biggest regrets of my life. So I sucked it up and stayed.
I grew up in a close knit group of friends, I think in 7th grade was when I started to get to know many more of my classmates and would soon think of them as family growing up. I love my own family so damn much too but growing up was more stressful than it should’ve been. Shit, this whole life seems like that. As if this is my hell on Earth and I have to work my way back to Heaven. But like all of us, no one gave me directions. And while my family and friends were on one train I was too busy trying to stand in front of it too realize that it had already passed through. Without a horn they all went on to live their lives unsure about what I was doing in my own that nobody stopped to ask…”Are you doing ok?” Some did while others’ stare or silence showed judgement with each wake. Wake of a wave I unknowingly created. I thought I was just here to be me. And If I do anything it’s to stay genuine to who I am, I’d tell myself. But my actions would show a different sort. The kind of person I’d not know, the kind that would’ve been deaf to any horn to begin with. I wish I could go back. Back to the days of the muffins. The simple pleasures that make glee in a day. I want glee. Even a genuine smile would be nice. So I wouldn’t have fear in the night. For the nightmares would surely come.
We were on our way to see Eva. Keith my Great Uncle had seemed more nervous than I’d ever seen him. He was always such a dapper, strong, respectful human being and so was his wife. Eva and him met at her seventeen years old and him eighteen and they never let go. He was high up in the military flying jets and they were both from Canada. Eva had never even gotten her driver’s license because they were always together and he was going to take her. Eva was always so elegant with her salt and pepper hair with bright blue eyes you couldn’t miss. All I knew was that she was on the seventh floor of the hospital.
“Oh, Keith! You just drove through the stop sign!” My mom exclaimed to him. “Oh , did I?” “Huh.,” was all he had to say with his beret on that I stare at in the back seat. It’s got a little red ball of yarn on the top making it so cute for him. Typical Keith, I think he’d had it the entire time we had them in our lives. He was the type where you would see one of those red “Canada flowers,” that pins on your shirt…he had a plethora of.
Keith and Eva were all about respect and they earned it from everyone they came across. But it’s the little things that are so humbling when I think of Eva and her boisterous laugh at the movie, Dumb and Dumber. Her mouth opened just wide enough to show her teeth but her grace in her hand trying to cover her mouth told of her beauty right there. I wanted to be just like her. “Such a shame,” I thought she’d think after her death. “Such a shame I am to her, I must be.”
“Can you come in here a minute?” I shouted to my brother eating dinner with my folks. I just stand in the bathroom in disbelief. I’d waited the three minutes it told me to wait and there was nothing. But, something inside told me to wait just like something inside knew I was pregnant.
The weeks following I’d just felt different in a way I can’t explain. And what they say is definitely correct. You’re breasts get tender. I didn’t know what “tender” would feel like until they finally were and I got it. I got nauseous one day after I’d had something to eat also. And man could I eat all of the sudden. I’d always had an appetite being I was a swimmer but I literally felt like I was eating for two people, and as it turned out, I was.
“I have to be,” I thought. And there it was, light pink at first and faint to both my brother and I as my pregnancy test deepened in color.”Wait, what?! What are you going to do Andrea?” He asked. “I have no idea,” I said. Suddenly my mind traveled back to when my best friend gave me a ride home. “Someone once told me that when you know you just know,” after I told her my period was late. “What do you honestly think, Andrea?” She asked. “I think that I am,” I said, terrified. I couldn’t believe that I just became a statistic. A number on a sheet like the census of fuck-ups or something.
“Do you want to keep it?” my brother asked, “It seems like you want to.” Of course I wanted to. I loved kids more than I loved myself even back then. At my last job I started babysitting for a family just because I got along so well with their son and they were regulars at work. I didn’t have any purpose in life after the depression started. But the one I had before was that I thought I was put on this Earth to have children. I really couldn’t see straight anymore and things were coming at me too fast. My fault or not, I had the biggest decision of my life to make and the saddest part was that it made me want to take my life even more in a way, and then gave me a reason to live in another way.
There was so much fighting in that house it was a lot to take. And then I’d start to notice patterns of the way my parents would talk about their parents and it was the first sign of the cycle beginning. And I could never figure out what it was over. It would just start and explode with stones at the glass house and no one realized it. But my brother and I were called unfortunate names and at least for me, I took them with me until a couple of years ago when I finally somehow let it go. I knew I resented them growing up for certain things. Like, she shouldn’t have come to me to ask whether or not I felt they should get a divorce. Huh? That’s your question? Shit. “I don’t know,” I told her. That’s not between my mom and dad, that’s between your husband and you. But I could never get that question out of my mind. What DO I think? The fighting really had gotten that bad. There was always name calling to each other and to my brother and I. “How could you be SO stupid?” was one. “You’re helpless,” and “hopeless,” another. It was to the point that I was convinced I was stupid. Then when I was in high school both of them told me they had something to tell me when I got older. I had a feeling I knew what it was but it wasn’t my place yet. And it shouldn’t have been my place to choose who I was going to live with. They shouldn’t have declared divorce on my birthday. It got to the point where on one hand things were a great time, in a great family. And there were times where I felt like I was around the drill sergeant. I always knew when to talk and when to shut the hell up. Suddenly, I became my mother’s shoulder to cry on. It was a time I was so thankful to have my brother, though. Then, right as the depression was hitting, him and I got close but then pulled apart. The apart world, is where we’ve been ever since. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you miss someone until you realize you need the chance you once had to miss them in the first place. But I just want to scream that I’m not myself. To wait for me and when I come back you’ll see how different I can be when I’m normal again. I’m always impulsive, I’m sleepy and I think things that are harsher than what they should be. There’s things about depression that doesn’t go in a handbook. No one talks about the fact that you’re so lost that even when you have everything, it can feel like nothing. And my nothing has become my everything.