Love Letter No.5: To My 21-Year-Old Self
No. 5! I am collaborating with the inimitable Camila Ochoa Mendoza of the Abortion, with love podcast to publish and air a series of love letters, written and read aloud by people whose lives have been touched by abortion, and who have love to express—to their provider, to their support systems, to the pregnancies they terminated, to themselves.
Abortion is love.
We will be publishing a new love letter every Monday, with enormous love and gratitude to artist Idalina Lehtonen for our gorgeous graphics and composer Anton Olsson for the transcendent music you’ll hear on each episode. You can listen to L. read this letter here, or by subscribing to Abortion, with love on your favorite podcast platform. And you can send us a letter of your own, or a response for us to pass onto any of the letter-writers.
(Please remember that these are letters written by individual people, in their own cultural and personal contexts. We believe that everyone’s abortion experiences are valid and should be honored. You may not relate to or resonate with some of the things written in these letters, and that is okay. But we hope that you can recognize the magic and the truth in people honoring their own unique experiences, in their own words.)
To my 21-year-old self:
You weren’t to know then. You weren’t to know that this would be one of the most profound experiences so far, that it would lead to where you are. It was a wake-up call for sure, you grew up quick. You kept it hidden from a few dear ones, and you still do. Others you told loud and proud. But you are where you are now because of it and it’s wonderful.
That strange alien feeling you felt when you looked in the mirror, that surreal niggling in your belly, that blood, oh that blood! And pain, the pain you endured for three whole days. Those clots and gushes and rushes and twinges. And that week you spent in bed. It taught you so much, all without realising. And you’re so much stronger because of it. From your naivety after the second set of pills - “oh no you can’t take the bus home dear, we’ll call you a cab”– to feet on the seat, taxi driver looking mad, uterus starting to contract within twenty minutes, he doesn’t understand! To lying on your sister’s bed alone, cat comes to see what’s up, he sits right on the spot, and you look deep into his eyes and you both get it, you both know exactly what’s going on. He’s there, he’s got you. The pain gets worse, you call an old friend you’ve not spoken to in months. She’s there in a hot sec,got your back, helps you to the loo, changes your pad. She stays a while, chats and soothes you, gossips and amuses you. When sleep arrives, you’re out for the count.
Almost five years and counting, what a landmark that was. But you’re much better off for it, you’re stronger than ever before. It’s ignited a fire in your belly, a real passion for change, and you’re on your way to advocating for others, and helping heal their pain.
Much love,
L