I had a real shit day. So I went to yoga tonight. I went...I didn't teach. I often forget how important it is to go to a class, and take it in. To be pushed outside what I think I want to do.
My body holds on so damn tight. If I am home practicing alone, when I get to the brink of release, I will hop off my mat and my body doesn't get the release it needs.
I could feel it but I didn't know what "it" was. I needed to get into my body and let it tell me some stories.
About halfway through the class, I noticed I felt angry at Aly - who is both my friend and one of my favourite teachers. It wasn't a logical angry and it didn't have a concrete thought like "I don't like this class" or what she is teaching. It was more like she was pushing me a bit and I didn't want to be pushed. My body was trying to protect me...cause what needed to come up was big. Deep down I knew it, so I resisted it hard. It was sneaky as hell.
It was like, reluctantly reaching down to unclog the drain and getting much much more than you bargained for. You pull up a string of hair and then some big old nasty ball of who-fucking-knows jumps up at you.
I know this resistance well, but it still tricks me all the time.
Earlier today I was talking to my friend and coach - Gillian Rowinski - about some stuff I felt like I was sucking at. The theme of forgiveness surfaced and I said "I really don't know what I am not forgiving myself for, I've worked so hard on moving through my shit...how can there still be more I don't know about?".
I noticed that when we (the collective we) don't admit we've fucked up - we really can't move towards forgiveness. It's like leaving out a pertinent step. We haven't confronted the shame so it festers. I realized that giving some space to "I am shitting the bed" allowed for me to then say - yeah AND I forgive myself for that.
Back to yoga: we finally got to a point where she had us push the energy out and breathe deeply with force. We tightened our hands into fists and then pushed our arms away from our bodies. I felt silly at first, but I let go and felt into it. Then we punched the air in warrior for a few breaths and the crap started to bubble and become unstuck. It didn't have a face or a name but I knew it had become dislodged.
It wasn't until I laid still in savasana, in stillness at the end, breathing and quieting my mind that it hit me like a fucking tonne of bricks.
"They" would have been turning 11 this year.
I say they because it was too early to tell when I went for my ultrasound, if it was a boy or a girl. The lady was so excited for me "everything looks good!" she said with a lift in her voice. I stared at the ground, wishing I could just melt into the table and disappear. She didn't know. She was trying her best to be happy for me - as most mother's would want at their first ultrasound. She asked if I wanted to bring anyone in to see...I said "no, I'm here alone".
I'm not talking about a miscarriage.
I'm talking about the abortion I had when I was 22.
It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I did it.
The details don't matter much (here on this blog) because there would likely be some finger pointing and blaming involved.
And the only thing that needs to happen now is forgiveness - mostly to myself.
It was 11 years ago, that I sat in the stark waiting room of the hospital in Toronto with another young woman. She had a couple of kids already. She said she was already struggling and "just couldn't do it again, I can barely take care of the two I have now. It wouldn't be fair."
I saw the pain and sadness in her eyes. She the saw the same in mine. We tried to convince ourselves through our back and forth it was what we wanted - "it made sense", "it was best for everyone". It's clear to me that we both felt it was best for everyone - Everyone but us...the ones who already loved that little being growing inside.
I am extremely thankful for where my life has taken me. I love my fucked up life. I love my man even when I hate him. I love my kids when I wanna scream and run away.
I'm exactly where I should be.
I think what happened tonight actually started to crack open earlier this week when I saw someone's post about "how we all know the ages of the babies we lost"
"Ask any woman" it said...she knows how old her baby would be.
I dodged it. I read it and I dodged the hell out of it - I pushed it down. I distracted myself so I didn't do the calculation...
I've carried that around, 11 years strong - deep in my body. Ignoring it, hoping it would just go away.
I've felt like an a-class asshole - bad person and royal piece of shit because I am "that girl" - who didn't want her baby. I did want that baby, more than anything - but the circumstances were strong, and I had to make a choice that I didn't want to make.
The messages are everywhere. I have been terrified to admit it.
I can sit with it now and say - it was not what I wanted to do. It wasn't right - but it wasn't wrong either. I am not going to rage against myself anymore.
I'm going to acknowledge the pain, the judgement and the shame and I'm going to forgive the hell out of it - because what other choice do I have?
I cannot be whole, with this giant fucking hole I've carved into myself.
I can't continue to punish myself in subtle, and not so subtle ways anymore. I don't think I realized until tonight - 11 years later - that I am still angry at myself. That I still believed I am a "bad person" for what I did. That I will burn in hell. That Jesus...or whoever won't love me or "let me in" to heaven. Yeah - it might sound absurd to some of you - but I grew up in a Christian household and those ideas can be hard to shake. I like to think I am a Spiritual person. But then I realize there is this belief that I can't be because I have sinned the ultimate sin.
I feel ashamed because I know so many of you who read this will taste the rust of anger in your mouths - for all the babies you lost and for all the months or years you tried to make a baby to no avail.
I do not discount that and for that I am sorry.
My story is not meant to cause you to feel anger - but if it does, you are allowed to feel that way. I hope you too, can forgive me. I know your pain, I've had two ectopic pregnancies as well. One before the abortion and one after Lilly and Oliver were born.
I consider Lilly and Oliver miracles - they happened by chance and they were enormous and healthy. I only had one fallopian tube as one was taken when I had the ectopic pregnancy in 2002.
If you read this and it resonates and you know this pain or something similar I hope you can take a moment like I did tonight - put a hand on your belly and a hand on your heart and feel into your own forgiveness.
I am not a bad person. 11 years ago, when I was 22, I made a decision that I didn't want to make. I regretted it before it even happened. I have been angry with myself - indirectly and directly - for 11 years. Even at times when I didn't know why, I felt a deep seeded anger towards myself.
It has never not been there.
I can't say that it's gone. I can say that something new is there.
As I laid there in savasana tonight, the tears welling in my eyes, I instinctively put my hands over my womb and I rested my palms gently. Holding myself like this, in a new loving way. In a compassionate way. Just to bring a physically connection to my healing. Feeling the loose skin on my body from the twins and simultaneously feeling the void from the baby(s) who never was (were).
What's there now is new space - an openness, and honouring. A oneness with myself. Even though, I did something I felt was horrible, I love and accept myself - and I can be whole again, that is a choice.
I love you Grace, I forgive you. You are not a bad person.
Thanks Alyson. You are a such a wonderful teacher.
You may not know the power in your teachings and if not, I am here to tell you.
You said something about moving the crap, getting out the anger and maybe it was a dirty toilet, or a boyfriend or a cranky toddler...
Well for me it was grieving the loss, a loss that I chose
and then forgiving myself.
I cannot ever thank you enough.
Part of this journey to self-care is forgiveness. We all have things we need to forgive ourselves for. When that flicker of a memory comes up - make some space for it. That's all that happened to me tonight - it was a flicker, it was a searching of the date and suddenly I was back in that hospital waiting room, scared shitless and furious with myself for being there.
Carrying around is as heavy as a tonne of bricks.
As always,
With Love and Gratitude
Grace Karyn
Please reserve your judgments for your own private experience, they are not welcome here.
Only compassionate responses please.
Namaste
My body holds on so damn tight. If I am home practicing alone, when I get to the brink of release, I will hop off my mat and my body doesn't get the release it needs.
I could feel it but I didn't know what "it" was. I needed to get into my body and let it tell me some stories.
About halfway through the class, I noticed I felt angry at Aly - who is both my friend and one of my favourite teachers. It wasn't a logical angry and it didn't have a concrete thought like "I don't like this class" or what she is teaching. It was more like she was pushing me a bit and I didn't want to be pushed. My body was trying to protect me...cause what needed to come up was big. Deep down I knew it, so I resisted it hard. It was sneaky as hell.
It was like, reluctantly reaching down to unclog the drain and getting much much more than you bargained for. You pull up a string of hair and then some big old nasty ball of who-fucking-knows jumps up at you.
I know this resistance well, but it still tricks me all the time.
Earlier today I was talking to my friend and coach - Gillian Rowinski - about some stuff I felt like I was sucking at. The theme of forgiveness surfaced and I said "I really don't know what I am not forgiving myself for, I've worked so hard on moving through my shit...how can there still be more I don't know about?".
I noticed that when we (the collective we) don't admit we've fucked up - we really can't move towards forgiveness. It's like leaving out a pertinent step. We haven't confronted the shame so it festers. I realized that giving some space to "I am shitting the bed" allowed for me to then say - yeah AND I forgive myself for that.
Back to yoga: we finally got to a point where she had us push the energy out and breathe deeply with force. We tightened our hands into fists and then pushed our arms away from our bodies. I felt silly at first, but I let go and felt into it. Then we punched the air in warrior for a few breaths and the crap started to bubble and become unstuck. It didn't have a face or a name but I knew it had become dislodged.
It wasn't until I laid still in savasana, in stillness at the end, breathing and quieting my mind that it hit me like a fucking tonne of bricks.
"They" would have been turning 11 this year.
I say they because it was too early to tell when I went for my ultrasound, if it was a boy or a girl. The lady was so excited for me "everything looks good!" she said with a lift in her voice. I stared at the ground, wishing I could just melt into the table and disappear. She didn't know. She was trying her best to be happy for me - as most mother's would want at their first ultrasound. She asked if I wanted to bring anyone in to see...I said "no, I'm here alone".
I'm not talking about a miscarriage.
I'm talking about the abortion I had when I was 22.
It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I did it.
The details don't matter much (here on this blog) because there would likely be some finger pointing and blaming involved.
And the only thing that needs to happen now is forgiveness - mostly to myself.
It was 11 years ago, that I sat in the stark waiting room of the hospital in Toronto with another young woman. She had a couple of kids already. She said she was already struggling and "just couldn't do it again, I can barely take care of the two I have now. It wouldn't be fair."
I saw the pain and sadness in her eyes. She the saw the same in mine. We tried to convince ourselves through our back and forth it was what we wanted - "it made sense", "it was best for everyone". It's clear to me that we both felt it was best for everyone - Everyone but us...the ones who already loved that little being growing inside.
I am extremely thankful for where my life has taken me. I love my fucked up life. I love my man even when I hate him. I love my kids when I wanna scream and run away.
I'm exactly where I should be.
I think what happened tonight actually started to crack open earlier this week when I saw someone's post about "how we all know the ages of the babies we lost"
"Ask any woman" it said...she knows how old her baby would be.
I dodged it. I read it and I dodged the hell out of it - I pushed it down. I distracted myself so I didn't do the calculation...
I've carried that around, 11 years strong - deep in my body. Ignoring it, hoping it would just go away.
I've felt like an a-class asshole - bad person and royal piece of shit because I am "that girl" - who didn't want her baby. I did want that baby, more than anything - but the circumstances were strong, and I had to make a choice that I didn't want to make.
The messages are everywhere. I have been terrified to admit it.
I can sit with it now and say - it was not what I wanted to do. It wasn't right - but it wasn't wrong either. I am not going to rage against myself anymore.
I'm going to acknowledge the pain, the judgement and the shame and I'm going to forgive the hell out of it - because what other choice do I have?
I cannot be whole, with this giant fucking hole I've carved into myself.
I can't continue to punish myself in subtle, and not so subtle ways anymore. I don't think I realized until tonight - 11 years later - that I am still angry at myself. That I still believed I am a "bad person" for what I did. That I will burn in hell. That Jesus...or whoever won't love me or "let me in" to heaven. Yeah - it might sound absurd to some of you - but I grew up in a Christian household and those ideas can be hard to shake. I like to think I am a Spiritual person. But then I realize there is this belief that I can't be because I have sinned the ultimate sin.
I feel ashamed because I know so many of you who read this will taste the rust of anger in your mouths - for all the babies you lost and for all the months or years you tried to make a baby to no avail.
I do not discount that and for that I am sorry.
My story is not meant to cause you to feel anger - but if it does, you are allowed to feel that way. I hope you too, can forgive me. I know your pain, I've had two ectopic pregnancies as well. One before the abortion and one after Lilly and Oliver were born.
I consider Lilly and Oliver miracles - they happened by chance and they were enormous and healthy. I only had one fallopian tube as one was taken when I had the ectopic pregnancy in 2002.
If you read this and it resonates and you know this pain or something similar I hope you can take a moment like I did tonight - put a hand on your belly and a hand on your heart and feel into your own forgiveness.
I am not a bad person. 11 years ago, when I was 22, I made a decision that I didn't want to make. I regretted it before it even happened. I have been angry with myself - indirectly and directly - for 11 years. Even at times when I didn't know why, I felt a deep seeded anger towards myself.
It has never not been there.
I can't say that it's gone. I can say that something new is there.
As I laid there in savasana tonight, the tears welling in my eyes, I instinctively put my hands over my womb and I rested my palms gently. Holding myself like this, in a new loving way. In a compassionate way. Just to bring a physically connection to my healing. Feeling the loose skin on my body from the twins and simultaneously feeling the void from the baby(s) who never was (were).
What's there now is new space - an openness, and honouring. A oneness with myself. Even though, I did something I felt was horrible, I love and accept myself - and I can be whole again, that is a choice.
I love you Grace, I forgive you. You are not a bad person.
Thanks Alyson. You are a such a wonderful teacher.
You may not know the power in your teachings and if not, I am here to tell you.
You said something about moving the crap, getting out the anger and maybe it was a dirty toilet, or a boyfriend or a cranky toddler...
Well for me it was grieving the loss, a loss that I chose
and then forgiving myself.
I cannot ever thank you enough.
Part of this journey to self-care is forgiveness. We all have things we need to forgive ourselves for. When that flicker of a memory comes up - make some space for it. That's all that happened to me tonight - it was a flicker, it was a searching of the date and suddenly I was back in that hospital waiting room, scared shitless and furious with myself for being there.
Carrying around is as heavy as a tonne of bricks.
As always,
With Love and Gratitude
Grace Karyn
Please reserve your judgments for your own private experience, they are not welcome here.
Only compassionate responses please.
Namaste
I can't imagine how you must have felt, Grace. God knows that, no matter your decisions, they make you the person you are. Some difficult, some easier... But you are a good person. Don't be hard on yourself for something that happened so many years ago. The past is the past and the present is where you can live with the future in mind. Lilly and Oliver have a great mom and they are blessed to have you.
ReplyDeleteThose buried memories can be brutal when they resurface. As someone who has survived an abusive marriage, I couldn't believe how many of those awful memories resurfaced years later.
"Take care of yourself." That is the most important advice anyone ever gave me. One thing we overlook often is caring for ourselves and being kind to ourselves... we, rather, seem to blame ourselves and punish ourselves. My Christian upbringing gave me similar senses of self-loathing. Not that Christianity was the problem, but how it was portrayed. No love, no mercy...just judgment.
Anyway, I say... "on to the next adventure!" Life is full of difficult decisions, but try to focus on the ones to come, not the ones past. Regret is a horrible curse. There is much to be said for appreciating your successes. :)