Tag Archives: freedom

May 15, 2012 · 10:45 am

The first time I told my dad I’d just had an abortion

It was last Christmas Eve. I arrived at my dad’s house in the afternoon having found out I was pregnant four days earlier, gone to a doctor, had an ultrasound and started the course for a medical abortion three days earlier and gone through the actual purging the day before. You can find that story here.

Image from pinterest.com

Now, I walked into a home just concluding lunch: my step-mum clearing up, my brother and my sister-in-law lounging in the sun, my four-year-old-nephew, shirtless, undertaking the very important task of holding nails in his pockets while my dad, equally shirtless, was up a ladder nailing some shade cloth over several beams for more coolth around the outside eating table.

I felt empty in my abdomen. I felt like I should feel different, not really sure how though. I was grateful for my snug denim shorts muffling the big old sanitary pad in my underwear which stuck to my inner thigh, made a plasticky sound and felt like it stuck out behind me like a surfboard.

I had a chat with the family, not quite feeling like the same person I was last time I saw them. Then I hopped up the ladder and helped my dad nail the shade cloth, each of us pulling the fabric taut at opposite ends. By the time we were done my nephew and his parents were fading and retreated from the afternoon sun for a nap. My step-mum was off in the kitchen. I decided that this was my moment; I didn’t want to go through Christmas with this though on my heart.

“Dad, can I talk to you. Alone?”
“Sure love, shall we go sit under the tree?”
“Ja, okay.”

We strolled across the little lawn to the white, cast-iron table and four chairs. As we were sitting down I said:

“Okay there are some rules to this conversation. 1: You can’t interrupt me, I just want you to listen. 2: You’re not allowed to shout, but you can hug me afterwards if you want.”

Grinning, my dad responded, “Okay.”

Image from pinterest.com

To which I replied “Oooh, you’re not going to like this.”

I don’t remember the moment before I said the words but I can see the moment afterwards clearly, even now.

“Four days ago, I found out I was pregnant. I’m not anymore.”

The words bore straight to his centre and his face went lax. Suddenly he looked like an old man, not my dad. His eyes seemed to collapse with concern and the want to protect, letting the tears rise. I started babbling:

“I did it the best way, I promise, it was safe and I did all the tests and I’m healthy and it’s finished now and I found out really early. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I didn’t want to seem like a knocked up teenager wanting money or anything. I’m sorry dad, I’m so sorry…”

I don’t remember the movement but I was standing hugging him tightly, and he was saying:

“You brave, brave girl.”

About these ads

1 Comment

Filed under Loss, love, Relationships

Tagged as , , , , , , ,

January 23, 2012 · 12:00 pm

My first one night stands

I have always been a “good girl”.  Never played hooky, got good grades, generally polite, sweet, innocent … those are the sorts of words that come to mind when I think back to my younger years.  I was also a bit of a “late bloomer”. I wasn’t really interested in boys until about 16, only had my first kiss at 18, got drunk for the first time at 18 and so the list goes on.  When I went to University I carried on along a similar path. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I definitely did things I probably “shouldn’t do”, but *gasp* I never, you know, slept with anyone I shouldn’t have.

I only slept with two guys at University – both my boyfriends, although the first one wasn’t at the time, and I can hardly say that it was memorable (I’m not sure I did actually sleep with him, which may sound weird, but we were both so drunk, I didn’t feel ‘sore’ the following day, and I don’t recall any blood (that may however have been due to my inebriated state)).

Anyway, enter boyfriend number 2.  We slept together (enough in a two year period) but I never actually enjoyed it. It was a chore. How lame is that? I loved him; he loved me, but sexually? I just don’t think we were compatible.  I used to think it was me, that I was just destined to not enjoy sex, and that was that. (This may have also been because when I first went for a pap smear the University doctor mentioned I was ‘built differently’ which I suppose lingered at the back of my mind.) Anyway, in time we broke up (which ironically was not because of the sex, but that’s a story for another day) and I started my life in anew city.

A few months passed and I had to go and see my doctor for my annual pap smear (never fun, but important nonetheless) and while there I got to talking to her and queried whether there was anything, you know, wrong with me. She laughed and told me to stop being silly and that there was nothing wrong with me.  I told her what the other doctor had said. She said that what the other doctor probably meant was that my lady parts are usually found in girls that are very tall (I’m not – I’m about average height). So then I queried, well why hadn’t I enjoyed sex with my long term boyfriend? So she asked a number of questions, one being how often we had had sex. I replied, not often (who wants to have sex often when it’s uncomfortable!?) and she responded and said that that was the problem and that the next boyfriend I found I should lock myself in a bedroom with him for days on end and get used to sex and then I should, in all probability, enjoy it.

Great! Now to just find that elusive boyfriend…  Well two years went by and nothing happened.  In this time I heard my ex had moved on and would be getting married. Great.  I had no inclination to have him as the last guy I had had sex with, but at the same time, no one was presenting themselves as someone I necessarily wanted to date. Just great.

I then went to this party and boy what a party it was. Bright lights, fun clothes, awesome people, too much alcohol.  Well, anyway, as I suppose things happen, I met this guy, partied with him and ended up going home with him.  It was great, he was great, minus the fact he was about 4 years younger than me and we probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as we had. We laughed, talked, had some good sex, laughed some more and he dropped me off at home in the morning.  I knew him through someone else that knew him and we had fun. I had fun. Fun having sex.  Awesome.  Then the doubt started creeping in. I had had sex with someone I didn’t know and didn’t care about. Was this a problem? I did struggle with this for a while, but then got over it.  I had had sex with someone I’d wanted to have sex with, it was good, and I had had fun. Added bonus? My ex wasn’t the last person I had had sex with.

Fast forward 5 months, and it was the same sort of situation. Too much alcohol, love was in the air, very, very sexy man and me.  Suffice to say sex happened and when I say happened, I mean OMG mind blowing, out of this world, crazy, fun, phenomenal sex. Now THIS was a problem … on so many levels. 1. It was great that I found out I was capable of having mind blowing, amazing sex (twice) but 2. I felt like I had done something wrong when I hadn’t, because I had now slept with two men that weren’t my boyfriends.

This I struggle, and continue to struggle with.  I think it also has to do with the fact I do actually want someone in my life, but don’t really have the time to commit and, in all honesty, haven’t really met anyone yet.  What further compounds my problem is that I can’t get this man out of my head. We talk (a little) but don’t stay in the same province (which is probably a good thing) because I worry that I’m probably making out our evening in my head to be far more than it actually was. I know that it was just sex, but it scares me that I can have such amazing sex with someone I don’t know. It also scares me that I can now and seem to “just have sex”. What I do know, and have gotten from these experiences, is that I can’t continue to have sex with “random” guys – the guilt eats me up inside (for no reason – I’m young, single, use protection, and enjoy myself – I can tell myself this, but I still feel dirty). So then I realise, I need to meet someone, to trust them, to date them, to have sex.

New conundrum. When will I meet said person? I’m either destined to be celibate, or hopefully, sometime soon, Mr Right (or even Mr Right Now) will come along and he and I can have mind-blowing, amazing sex, that I now know I’m more than capable of having.

2 Comments

Filed under Freedom, Sex, Sexual Experimentation, sexual health, Sexuality

Tagged as , , , , ,

December 13, 2011 · 1:00 pm

The first time I do it

The first time I do it… It will be right. It will be smooth and well crafted. It will not take a toll on me that hangs. Tugging down my shoulders keeping my chin from pushing my eyes up to see the layers of building tops touch the sky.

The first time I do it… finally to a man. Finally, to feel equal and stand up to him, to talk back, to call him out. To be assertive. The first time I do it… it will be authentic.

The first time will be quickly forgotten as it will be the first day that I step into that skin. The skin that I have been crafting in my mind. This skin will suit me, it has come from my mind, representing my heart, what I think and feel and especially what I know.  The first time will befinally; and then, yes, then forgotten.

It simply becomes the way that I am. Every day. Not that one significant time that I acted the way that I would love for every woman to act. Every day, for every woman to feel free to act out against any one, especially men. To act out without fear of ridicule because we have the right. Just as one knows they are innocent.. I know that I am powerful. I have the right to be, feel and act equal.

I have the greatest desire to, for the first time… not cow-toe in inferiority, not be afraid of disapproval, not feel dizzy with the conflict between mind and behavior. I won’t care if I hurt his feelings nor will I be concerned with the interpretations of others of me: abrasive, harsh, bitchy, extreme, angry, bitter, cold, childish, pushy, touchy. I will be proud of my authentic assertion, and not ony the first time.

I know that finally, and for the first time, I finally will have found so much of me that I have been searching to know.

The part that woke me up from slumber inside of a relationship where the part of me that makes people laugh had vanished. The part that stands up for the women I know and love. The part of me that loves and trusts her womanhood. That part of me that has come out fiercely and courageously in the company of women.

Only was I able to stand up and confront the pick pocketer and the crafty thief on the bus when it was a woman and her son. Only was I able to take charge that time we were lost out on a mountain and the headlights went out.. when I was with my best friend a beautiful and successful woman. I know I have a Sergeant inside. I know she is there and she is GOOD and she has come around in the presence of women, but she has been trained so well to take her subordinate place in the presence of men.

After the first time my behavior catches up with what I know, I will for the first time stand up courageously without regard to gender. After the first time, I will not ignore the man’s hand quickly groping me on the street (again). I will not be reluctant, worrying about embarrassing him or the woman he is with. That poor old creep who sees me as the parts of my body that he has a desire to abuse will not be ignored by me. Nor will I again be quiet and polite to the man following me, inappropriate with his words about MY body. I will not tell him that “Today, I just want to be alone,” or “Yes, it’s because I have a boyfriend, sorry”.

The first time I do it I will finally be saying goodbye to the path of least resistance.

2 Comments

Filed under Inspirational Messages, Power

Tagged as , , , , , , , , ,