I have been mostly lost for words this past twenty-four hours. Lots of cursing. A fury that would frighten civilized people if I were to describe the details. My right hand has been aching; the two knuckles that I broke on a man’s forehead when he put his hand up under my dress as I climbed the stairs in the subway. There are other things I can’t speak of. Statute of limitations stuff.
I have ongoing heartburn, headaches, and something I can only describe as the ghost of monthly cramps. But underlying all of these is anxiety. Dread. A feeling of being penned in with a clock ticking in the background. The fear peaks, the fury returns, I want to break things, and again, I remind myself that the Buddha said holding on to hate is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.
All of this adds up to what I suspect is a kind of PTSD that women who have had abortions might be experiencing now in light of what that orange shitbag has bought and paid for - “his” puppet supreme court judges. He’ll be bragging about it any second now.
It was hard enough to make those choices so many years ago when it was legal.
Now, all I can do is vote the bastards out and drive. I will drive Georgia campers to the nearest camping-friendly state. No praying. I’ve never been more sure that there is no god running things. The only godlike thing there is - is the energy, the fire we have inside to make sure this gets corrected. That women have autonomy over their bodies and their health.
