Lies, Honesty, Self-Preservation

This post will be brutally honest. It might be too honest for some so I’m warning you now.

I am Pro Choice and always have been. When I was young I always pictured myself married with a house and children. That was not to be.

I didn’t know the path my life was to take. One of self destruction. I couldn’t have known.

Some of you know that I started drinking heavily at the age of 17 to self-medicate an illness I didn’t know I had. I continued to do so for 20 years.

What no one really talks about with Bipolar Disorder and Addiction is the promiscuity that sometimes goes with it. The need to prove that you are human, that you exist, that you’re alive, that someone wants you. Even if it’s for a night. Also a need to feel like you’re not garbage. This is a Catch 22. You wind up feeling like garbage anyway.

I never had a boyfriend, I just had people I drank with that I slept with or guys I met in bars to prove my self worth. I can say there were a few I thought I loved but was so overwhelmingly hurt by them it made me worse.

At the age of 19 I became pregnant. I was pressured by my family to terminate the pregnancy. Considering I wasn’t sure who the father was and I was drinking at the time it was for the best. The father would have been an alcoholic or drug addict. I was selfish and not willing to stop drinking. I would’ve been on public assistance in an apartment with just me and a baby. This would not have been a good idea at the time.

The experience itself was demeaning, horrific, and one I’ll never forget. Someone had superglued all the locks to the clinic doors, I had things thrown at me on the way in and of course religious things shouted at me as I entered the building. I do not regret what I did at the time. I wasn’t ready and I was ill.

I regret lying to myself later in life whenever the subject of children would come up. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I couldn’t handle it. I was resentful of my sister for being able to have children and be a good mother.

At first it was the drinking, then it was my inability to find someone to be with. I didn’t want to admit the damage that had been done by men in my past. I am easily startled by loud boisterous men. Most men frighten me. Part of my Conversion Disorder is linked to this I think.

So the years went by and my body changed. I stopped getting my period 2 years ago at 40. I no longer have a choice. Part of this makes me sad. But I can honestly say that I as much as I love my nephews and other children I don’t think I could I raise one on my own. It would be unfair to the child and the people around me who would have to help.

This doesn’t mean I don’t feel an ache sometimes, I do. I also feel at times it’s a form of punishment for years ago. I have to deal with that. There is so much inside me I would like to forget but can’t. There is a never ending sadness. I can only deal with it a little at a time. Some days are worse than others. I do try. Some days I’m just too tired. I can only hope the next day will be better.