I Still Do... It's Sickening.I fell in love when I was 22. He didn’t feel the same, not for me…
I thought I had been in love before, but I was wrong. It wasn't until I met Ben that I knew the difference between loving someone and being In Love. Our relationship progressed quickly, and before a few months had gone by, we were living together (this was more a friendly favor than a 'i love you, lets move in together' situation, but still...). I didn't know quite yet that I was really in love, but I knew he was someone special that I wanted to keep in my life. On that Valentine's Day (technically the following morning), we conceived a child.
I had never even considered children in my life. My very first thought was to end my pregnancy. However, I didn't feel this was my decision to make alone. He made it very clear that he agreed to an abortion. And so it was...
Everything changed between us from that point. It was the Giant Orange Elephant in the room that neither of us would acknowledge whenever we were together.
I arranged for an abortion, but in the weeks I had to wait, leading up till then, the more I thought about it, the more it felt wrong. What was I supposed to do? How could I walk away now? This is what I had said I would do, what I was expected to do.
I felt so alone. Even more so than I always had. How could I have a baby alone? I was terrified. What kind of life could I possibly offer a child?
I cried. I cried in the car, on the way to my appointment, I cried in the waiting room, I cried on the table, I cried in the recovery room….I cried in the days, weeks following, I cried until my eyes ran dry. The tears are no more, but the pain still burns inside me. I still mourn for him. Ethan Gabriel. The baby I didn’t have, who died before he ever had a chance to live. Because his mother is a cowardly woman.
Because I’ve never been strong enough.
My pain was channeled into my artwork and writing. Letters to Ethan. Letters of Apology, for what I had done and could never undo.
I was given a beautiful gift and I threw it away because I was unable to see it for what it was until it was too late.
I am constantly reminded as I watch my sisters and cousins growing up and away. Starting families of their own now. To see them with their children and realize what could have been, there is no worse feeling. There are days it makes me physically ill.
I will carry the guilt and regret for my actions for the rest of my life.
Too often I hope it isn’t much longer.
“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”? I wonder if this will be what kills me. I sure don’t feel any stronger.
Anyhow...Our relationship unraveled from there. We weren't spending so much time together and agreed to see other people. Even though I didn't want to. We were still living together over the next year. It wasn't until the last few months I lived with him, that we were both out of work and started really talking and laughing again, like when we first met. Getting to know each other all over again. I realized how much I had missed him the whole time he was just a bedroom away.
I found my own apartment and he helped me move out. on the last day, we hugged and he said he'd keep in touch. But I knew it wasn't the truth. I haven't seen him since that day.
I still think about him though. Especially on holidays and his birthday. I wonder what he's doing sometimes... if he's happy.
My heart skips a beat and I can't help but turn my head at every Lincoln (the car he drove) that passes. Even if it isn't white. I listen to music I can't stand, but songs he used to play, just to remember for those 3 minutes.
I've dated other men since then, but nothing has ever come of it. I almost feel guilty when I do, which I know is absolutely ridiculous since he's long been gone and seeing others. I just can't quite bring myself to put his picture away.
A part of me is still hoping for a second chance, that we may run into each other somewhere, somehow, and start over. Even though my realistic self knows its not likely at all to happen.
Life goes on. No matter how unpleasant.