Me: Despite this, I still feel like my thirties are better than my twenties…

Ex:  Well, of course!  You’re not in the hospital!

This was the end of one of my conversations with my ex when I was telling him about my abortion.  My twenties had some great times, but also some really horrible times spent in panic mode as I struggled to make the periods between hospitalization and recovery programs farther apart.  Some of the times in hospitals and other programs were horrible, but certainly not all.  And it certainly could have been worse-I could have been dead.

I used what my ex  said to comfort me for a while, but then, whoops!-I landed back in a hospital program to deal with the postpartum depression.  Fortunately, I did not use his words to ruin my recovery, but they would surface every once in a while and bother me. Sometimes I did comfort myself by saying that I was not inpatient.  I cannot say that anymore.  After my last post, I was discharged from the hospital program.  I did very well for a few days and then I started to become overwhelmed by an incredibly intense sense of loneliness.  Panic set in and negative thoughts clouded my brain.  By the time I saw my doctor, the negative thoughts had turned to voices. I knew my medications needed to be adjusted, so I agreed with my doctor when he said he would like me to go inpatient for a little while.  I needed a major med overhaul and the quickest and safest place to do so would be at an inpatient facility, where I could see him everyday and also be monitored myself for any medication side effects, my own safety, and to make sure my symptoms decreased.

I just got discharged last Tuesday night and ultimately, I am glad that I went.  At first, my disease tried to make me feel bad about coming back, but it was worth it, for I am feeling so much better.  My medications are almost completely changed and I feel like a new person-at times.  I am back in the intensive outpatient program at the same hospital, to make sure that I stay stable and to work on decreasing the pressure on my panic button by learning how to reframe my thoughts.

But now I am angry when I think of my ex’s words.  So you’re telling me that going to the hospital is worse than aborting a fetus?!  How stigmatizing and how untrue!  Life is sacred.  My fetus was a sacred bundle of life and is not to be dismissed.  The way he said those words were very dismissive of Her sacredness.  (For some reason, I have assigned my fetus female status.  I have also named her Ariel.  I will talk about why in another posting.)  Yes, I aborted her, but it was to save my own life-it was NOT because I dismissed her own sacred being.  Another thing-going to the hospital is not a bad thing.  Like I said in my last posting, it is not something to be ashamed of and statements like this certainly reinforce feelings of shame.  I needed to be there, because I need to be here.  There is nothing wrong in asking for help in the quest to stay alive.  For some people, like my ex, the quest to stay alive is not so hard, but for me it is an almost constant struggle against my diseased and depressed brain and yet, I have a purpose that requires I stay alive for as long as I am needed.  My purpose is to bring Heaven to Earth.  It is to be kind and loving and to be embrace and celebrate Life’s Sacredness.  Ariel and I will not be shamed into submitting to the patriarchy.  We will survive and thrive and help make the world a better place.

By the way, I still think my thirties are gonna be better than my twenties, but with a twist.  My twenties were not bad, because they helped make me the person I am today.  But my thirties are where I am now and my intentions for them are great.

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