Yesterday was an overwhelming day. I’m afraid I became a little obsessed, going back and forth from Elizabeth’s and Perdito’s blogs, posting comments and reading what others had to say.
I’ve never witnessed such a lengthy and civil debate about abortion. While I doubt anyone’s mind was changed, I do think everyone listened to each other. And at the end of the day a funny thing happened—Elizabeth and I became friends.
The only bad thing, of course, was the arrival of the infamous Holly. I cannot BELIEVE she was waiting in the wings all this time to tell me, ONCE AGAIN, that my son died needlessly and I heartlessly killed him. Elizabeth was appalled and immediately pulled all of her comments and the comments that responded to her, including mine (which I requested--I don't like being that nasty).
Throughout the day, no one questioned the fact that my pregnancy had to be terminated. The only disagreement was about how—the dilation and extraction procedure vs. labor and delivery. Catherine (sorry I couldn’t find the link to your blog—send it to me if you’d like me to link) mentioned that perhaps that argument has more to do with euthanasia than abortion, which is a very valid point.
Interesting fact, by the way—last night, Charlie told me that if his memory serves him correctly, labor and delivery was not an option for me. My health was too fragile to endure the rigors of labor at that point. He’d never mentioned that to me before. Throws yet another light on the situation doesn’t it?
When I began blogging, I was deeply inspired by Julia and her bravery in talking about her son Thomas and fighting for the right to choose. I decided after my sons died that I would also take up that banner and carry on the fight.
I’m glad I did. I don’t personally know many people who have had a “partial birth abortion.” I knew it was a major weapon in the anti-choice arsenal and I thought I could maybe sway some points of view.
And I have. But, not surprisingly, I’m tired. It’s hard to be called a murderer over and over, either directly or indirectly. I bent my fairly brash and pushy personality over backwards yesterday to remain civil to everyone at Elizabeth’s, and even posted a reasonably worded response on Perdito’s blog in the entry he directed to me.
But when Holly showed up, I lost it. I actually threatened her. I was shaking with rage. Charlie was here and he was worried about me.
In recovery, we talk about how “righteous indignation is the dubious luxury of normal men.” It’s true, anger can poison you, especially if you are an alcoholic. It can make taking a drink seem like a reasonable thing to do. At best, anger knocks me off my spiritual center. Since my spiritual center is pretty goddamned flimsy these days, it doesn’t take much to knock me down.
I realized I spent most of yesterday feeling toxic. So I’m going to set the banner of a woman’s right to choose aside until I have regained some trust in my higher power and a little smidgen of faith again. And because anger can be so toxic, I’m going to utilize a tried and true spiritual trick to help rid me of my anger toward Holly.
I’m going to pray for her. I’m going to pray that she receives everything in her life that I want in mine—health, peace, happiness, financial security, unending love. I’m going to do it every day for two weeks. If I still have the anger to her at that point, I’ll do it for another two weeks. Not because she deserves it—but because I deserve to be free of her.
Tune in tomorrow for a fun-filled post about my fucking weight. I will even post some photos of me from the 80’s. OK?
