This is not a story of regret or repentance. It’s a story about how everything worked out perfectly.
Fifteen years ago in the early summer of 2004, I got pregnant and chose to have an abortion. The reasons are many, but the only one that really matters is that I wanted to decide my future instead of malfunctioning birth control deciding it. As a modern-day human, it was very important to me to have a family of my choosing with the person of my choosing at a time of my choosing.
That spring, I had just moved to Seattle from Portland, Oregon for my dream job at Microsoft. At first, I had a very hard time meeting new people and making friends, so I joined a softball team and signed up on Match.com. Continue reading “The Poetry of My Abortion Story”
It occurred to me as I was cleaning floors this past weekend that though I count myself as a compassionate progressive, I can be quite oblivious to the pain of others at times.
I wrote last week about doing “hard things”, like community projects and letting my natural hair color grow out. Can you hear the eye roll? These are NOT hard in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to what many people go through on a daily basis just to survive. The fact that I have hair to grow out or time for extracurricular ideas or even a forum to voice them publicly is a tremendous privilege for which I ought to express more gratitude.
I thought and I thought about it. My floors were sparkling.
It would have been easy to berate and hate myself, to see the cleaning as punishment for how I behave instead of worship for who I am and what I have, but I resisted. As Marianne Williamson says, “It is tempting to proceed without love; hatred is always looking for recruits.” Continue reading “What’s Next”