Pro-Life or Pro-Choice……Part Three


 

There was another abortion.  I would like to say that there had only been one but no, there had been a second abortion two or three years later.

I had broken up with the first boyfriend. He had the audacity to tell me that we “almost’ had a baby together. “ Really…did you just say that to me”.  How dare he?!  He did not have the right to say that to me when it was his choice not mine.

Well, boyfriend number two was an alcoholic but I did not know it.  I hadn’t’ known any alcoholics before him.  Breakfast for him was a beer and a joint.

Then the cocaine started.  One night he was so high that he came into the bedroom and started choking me.  I got away from him…grabbed my car keys and barefoot in my flannel pajamas drove to my mother’s home at 3:00 o’clock in the morning.  That was it I was done. 

Shortly after that I found out that I was pregnant.  There was no way I could have a baby with a man who was an alcoholic and addicted to drugs.   This was not what I had envisioned for the father of my child.

This abortion was done in the doctor’s office on a local anesthetic , which meant I felt it.  I felt the baby being ripped out of my body.

It haunts me to this day…….  to be continued……

Pro-Life or Pro-Choice….Part Two


 

PART  TWO

Women were having abortions left and right that day.  One woman was on her 7th–abortion is not a form of birth control.  It felt like I was being part of a meat market that day.  There was no physical pain because I was put under….but the emotional scars I carry with me to this day.

I remember going to a restaurant with my then boyfriend and there was a baby in a high chair…I started crying I could not control myself.  For a long time every time I saw a baby or a pregnant woman I would start to cry. 

When my first nephew was born I went t the hospital but after my sister went home with her baby I could not bring myself to visit her.  I avoided her for at least a month.  This is the same sister who called me a murderer when I had my abortion. 

My mother of course, was upset that I had not seen my sister or nephew since the birth.  I just couldn’t.  I could not face her or the baby. But the day came when I could not avoid it any longer.  I told her that I was sorry that I had not been around and she said, “I know”.  She understood why I could not come around.  I did not think it was fair.  Why did she get to have her baby when I couldn’t?  This was my reasoning at the time, however illogical it may have been.

My child would have been twenty-eight years old.  It is hard to imagine being the mother of a twenty-eight year old or a twenty-six year old right now…..to be continued

Pro Life or Pro Choice……


PART ONE

Our country seems to be divided on this issue. But, Is it possible to be both pro-life and pro-choice?  I think so.   In order to explain that paradoxical statement I will have to tell you a story…my story….few people know this story.  It is something that is not easily shared with the world.

You see most people seem to think that when a woman makes a choice to have an abortion that it is done candidly and light-hearted.  And that once the act is committed you never think about it again…but that is not true.

My very first T.V acting job was in a CBS Afterschool Special called,” I think I’m Having a Baby”.  Jennifer Jason Leigh played the lead and I was one of the classmates along with Ally Sheedy.  One of my lines was, “Abortion is just another word for murder”.  And at the age of 17 I really believed that. 

And then I was 19 and found out I was pregnant.  My boyfriend said to me that if I had the baby I would never see him again—nice huh?  We had only been dating 3 months but it was long enough for me to get pregnant.  In those days I used the diaphragm–not the most effective birth control as you can see.

I went to the doctor office on a Friday—I was 8 weeks pregnant . If I wanted an abortion it had to be on Monday or I could not have it.  I was in shock and my actions were pretty robotic. I made an appointment for Monday.

What did my mother say?  She said nothing. She was with me at the doctor’s office and she said absolutely nothing one way or the other.

I was alone…emotionally alone.  My mother had moved out and took my younger sister to live with her and her boyfriend and had left me with my aunt and my aunt’s nephew.  My Catholic grandmother lived next door, and my uncle lived next door to her and my other uncle lived in the house next door.  No one had known that I had a boyfriend, let alone that I was pregnant.

And so my mother said nothing.  Monday came my boyfriend picked me up and we went to the hospital. That was over 28 years ago and to this day I can picture the lobby, the waiting room—sitting there waiting for my name to be called as if I was waiting for the executioner and I was. 

I did not want to be there.  I did not want to have the abortion.  I just wanted to run away but instead I asked my boyfriend if he was sure about this? He, of course said yes.  I would have been so happy if he had so no, let’s go but that was not the case.  And my name was called—and off to the gallows I went……TO BE CONTINUED

..hunting for a roach…


PLEASE BE FORWARNED THE FOLLOWING MAY BE GRAPHIC !!!!!!!!

 

I call myself the “ROACH HUNTER”, No, not that kind….the creepy crawly kind….

The kind that makes grown  women scream and stop in their tracks.

I envisioned living close to the ocean…. I envisioned a little back yard..but what I did not envision creepy crawlies…

Unbeknown to me when I moved into my two bedroom apt only 8 blocks from the ocean with my own little patio/backyard is that there were roaches.

Now, I’m not unfamiliar with roaches.  I did live in the Bronx, N.Y till the age of five.

We used to visit my family in Puerto Rico as a child, and with hot and humid you not only get bugs you get BIG BUGS.

And you get BIG BUGS THAT FLY. I remember one of those flying aliens getting into my hair at the age of 12.

My PHOBIAS are very real.

In the Caribbean roaches are 3-4 ” long.  Now, that a roach.  I have a very weak bladder and get up to go to the bathroom a gazillion times a night. However, as a small child visiting my homeland, oh hell no!!!!.  To get up in the middle of the night would be to encounter Giganta-Roach.  Needless to say I would stay put in bed and would get up pretty early to go pee in the safety of daylight.

Not since those childhood days have I experienced roaches in my home.

I do remember a vacation in Jamaica in which I saw one of those Giganta-Roaches in my hotel room.  There was no way I would get a nights sleep in that room.

So I head off to the front desk and very politely say to the gentlemen on duty.  ” I’m from Puerto Rico ( I don’t want him to think I am being a judgemental American), so I’m familiar with Giganta -Roach and there is one in my room.  I don’t want to kill it but could you send someone to get it out?”  He sent one of the service guys who arrived with an empty video box (remember those?).

He caught not one but TWO.   Dear GOD, there were TWO of them in my room.  I nearly had a heart attack when he told me that.

I’m told that the roaches in India are a foot long..won’t be going there any time soon!

So, as you can see I have quite a history with bugs.

Did you know that there are “white roaches”? They are even more horrific than a dark roach, like something out of a Hollywood Apocalypse -Horror film.  I kid you not.  I really freaked when I saw my first white roach.

So, why haven’t I RAIDED  them or used a FOGGER,  you ask.

Two reasons, very simply..I am allergic to Raid, so I will get killed before the roaches with a raid-induced asthma attack.

I have 3 cats and a dog and in order to fog you must be off premises for at least 4 hours.

Have you ever had a cat in a pet carrier? That hour drive moving was a lot of fun with three cats screaming bloody murder in the back.

So I have had to resort to natural and organic ways to get rid of the buggers.

The internet search was on……

The answer was…….are you ready?……….ORANGE OIL !!!!!!!!!!

Yup, it seems that there is something about orange oil that starts to melt their exoskeleton and they start to suffocate.

So in an old fantastic bottle I have a concoction of water,vinegar and orange oil.

Guess what it works!!!!!  You spray them and they slow down or stop long enough for me to get a paper towel and crunch them.

I love that sound…the crunching sound of one dead roach..pure heaven to my ears. The small ones I just swat with my bare hands.

I have gotten really good with that trigger.  I can’t wait to go to Disneyland again and get on the Buzz Lightyear ride–I’m sure my score will be a lot higher.

Too bad my spray does not work on ants or spider… I have them too.

I no longer fear the roach..the fight is on and I intend to win the war.

You can call me “The Cockroach Hunter”.

…. ¡OH NO !, he DIDN’T (snap …snap…)


..oh yes, he did….

oh yeah, I got a text message today from Jackson, you remember him?, “Hit & Run” guy….

this conversation was much shorter and went something like this…..

Jackson: Are you by chance on Campus?

Ivonne: not yet my class is at 7…why what do you want now….(I’m still a bit p’d over the hit and run thing)

Jackson: Nada. Lo Siento (translation: nothing I’m sorry).

Oh no, you do not get to do that to me.

You don’t get to text me and then NOT tell me why you called.

So I called him and I asked him, what do you want?

And he gets all defensive on me.  I, of course point out, that the only time he ever calls is when HE wants something and that is not very friendly…

¿ Are you aware of this? , I say to him.  Jackson is still defensive says something like, point taken or some such thing.

¿What did he want you ask?…he wanted to know if I could pick up his thesis at the school library.

Ok, so here’s the thing…Campus is in Long Beach…I live in Long Beach…Jackson lives and hour away.

Either way he still has to drive to Long Beach to pick it up.

Does that even make any sense?

I’m open to input.

…little blue pills……


 

I was at my mom’s a few months ago and she was laughing and smiling, which is rather unusual for my mom.

I commented to my step-dad and he said she was on anti-depressant.

I took an interest because I had been pondering if anti-depressants really have an effect on those taking them.

Well, I finally had evidence in the form of my mother.  I was shocked at the difference in her behavior.  I had been contemplating anti-depressants because I’m tired.

I’m tired of not being happy.

I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed.

I’m tired of wishing I was dead.

I’m tired of not wanting to get up out of bed because I dreaded the day.

Because everything on my to-do list sucked as far as I was concerned.

I needed something to get me past the point of feeling like a broken record, repeating the same sad feelings over and over.

Now, you have to understand I have done therapy.  I have done self-help, self-analysis.  I have mediated, I have prayed, I have affirmed but this underlying wish to not exist never really goes away.

My life in many ways has had a lot of blessings among the pitfalls but it seems as if they stand out more.  I do not know what joy feels like.  I have moments, seconds of feeling good but they are overshadowed by aeons of sadness.

A couple of months ago I found out that my great-grand parents on my mother’s side (married to each other) had each committed suicide by hanging themselves ( at different points in time).

I wish I had known that growing up.  I always felt like there was something so wrong with me.

I remember at the age of 8 or 9, sitting in the shower stall hugging my knees rocking back and forth and wishing that I was dead.  but I don’t remember what had occurred to make me feel that way.  To this day there is a black spot on my memory, but I do remember wishing that I was dead at the age of 8 or 9.

The light bulb went off for me when my mom told me about the suicides.  all of a sudden it made so much more sense to me.

Depression, like alcoholism is hereditary.  I no longer felt like I was some alien..  Like a failure because all the therapy, all the seminars ultimately left me back at square one.

So, I take a little blue pill every morning and I wonder is it really working?  I think it is because I don’t feel so overwhelmed.  I still get angry , I still get sad but I don’t go into death mood like I used to so easily.

“I think I need a higher dosage”, I had said to my mother.  She said “Me too!”.

I thought she was talking about herself but she meant she agreed with me that I should be on a higher dosage….thanks mom….

I often wonder what it would have been like to have had a happy mother that enjoyed life…would I still need meds or would I have been a happier child?

I am tired of being the sad one.  I want to be known as the woman who is living life to the utmost.

 

😉

..a good ole country song…


 

in this moment, in this instant, my heart cries out for a good ole country song…..

nothing quite expresses the angst you are feeling like a good ole country song..

Pastsy Cline—” Crazy..crazy for feeling so blue…”

Pasty Cline—-“I’ve got your picture…she’s got you…”

Tammy Wynette—–“…stand by your man and show the world you love him…..if you love him you’ll forgive him….”

Reba McEntire—” the world didn’t wait for my broken heart…”

Barbra Mandrell—“…if loving you is wrong, then I don’t want to be right…”

Barbra Mandrell—” sleeping single in a double bed trying to forget…”

Loretta Lynn—” I gotta lotta love left in me, so I wanna be free…”

And so I raise my Mango Ice, to the Queens of Country who in their song have exposed my bruised and trampled heart and may God bless them as tonight they exorcise the shadows and demons that have been left behind in my heart and in my bed ……..

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