Ever since having an abortion, I’ve felt this looming feeling of doom

This question honestly couldn’t come at a more fitting time. Not only do I teach teenagers about abortion every year, but I also recently had one myself. How ironic it is to consider yourself prepared for an experience, to know the medical facts, the ins and outs of the process, the options at hand, and then find yourself parsing through emotions you hadn’t expected.

That was my experience, at least. All of this is to say that you aren’t alone, since loneliness sounds like precisely the feeling you’re dealing with. Yes, statistics tell us that abortion is common. Yes, there are new and emerging movements that encourage us to tell our abortion stories. Looking around, though, it can feel like the number of people you know who have had one are few to none.

Of course, there are good reasons people might want to keep medical procedures private, but you’re absolutely right that abortion carries its very own, unique stigma. Not only because abortion is so contentious in the political landscape, or because abortion might cause a moral pull and tug within the hearts of even those considering having one. 

No, even if you feel completely solid in your decision to have an abortion, and have found effective ways to drown out the noise of anti-choice politicians, talking about abortion is hard. It can feel like an overshare; causing concern about the comfort of whoever’s receiving your story. It can feel just plain abnormal; it’s not a thing you see other people doing, which allows the cycle to repeat itself. 

You’re not talking about your abortion because you don’t hear other people talking about theirs. The tragic result of this cycle is that the next person to feel like they can’t talk about their abortion may simultaneously be struggling with the same feelings of isolation that you’re describing. 

We should also talk about guilt. Guilt is far from an indicator that you made the wrong decision for yourself, or that you have regrets. Guilt is normal, and our emotions are complex.

Something I experienced in having an abortion while working as a sex educator – one of my jobs being at a reproductive justice organisation – is that the way we talk about abortion can feel so theoretical. From the pro-choice community, the people you’re supposed to feel like are on your side, you get the message that abortion is good. From cheeky slogans to (undeniably true) declarations that abortion protects bodily autonomy, it all feels quite positive. 

Conversations about –those people having abortions over there- can feel very distant from your reality if you’re having an abortion now, even more so when your feelings about the abortion are complex or at times negative. These negative emotions can feed into silence as well, since you may think that in feeling sad about your abortion you’re doing some sort of disservice to the pro-choice community. Personally, I have largely shied away from telling my story because of how hard my abortion was both physically and mentally, and have worried that it might cause others to be afraid of abortions.

Allow me to say, not as a sex educator but as another person who has had an abortion: I understand feelings of guilt. I understand questioning whether or not your choice was the “right” one. I understand walking through the world knowing that any given person you pass on the street could think what you’re doing is despicable. 

I understand the strangeness of factoring other people into a decision about your own body. I understand that definitions of “life” and “death” can get complicated when you think about them too much. I understand how hard it is to put yourself first when you’ve been taught to be nurturing and selfless your whole life, and caring about your future so much that you spend the present doing something really difficult. 

And though we are far from a monolith, and different people feel drastically different about their abortions, we are absolutely able to empathise with one another in a way others may not understand. These are the connections we miss out on when abortion is made to be as taboo as it is. 

You asked for advice, which is certainly the note I would prefer to leave this on than the sad route I’ve been trodding down thus far. The good news is that when I found myself in situations where it made sense to bring up my abortion, I started to learn just how many people in my life had had one as well. The floodgates opened, and I went from knowing no one who had gone through what I had, to having community. 

As understandable as it is to stay quiet, I have faith that in moments where you do speak up, you’ll find community as well. The internet is a great tool for this too, and post-abortion support groups are popping up all over. And as with virtually every painful emotion, time is a healer. 

An exercise I like to do is to think about how much, in a percent, this emotion is weighing on you now. 100%? 95%? Okay, picture yourself a month from now, you can imagine the percent has gone down a little right? Maybe it’s at 85%. How about in 6 months? How about in a year? Focusing on the positive impact of time and looking towards the future, while you’re in the thick of it, might help ease that looming feeling of doom. 

Love,

Tara