Telling my adult friends and acquaintances that I was an unwed teen mother ranks right up there with ...
With ...
Well, with nothing.
Honestly, I cannot think of much else in my life thus far that has made me feel more uncomfortable. Indeed, verbal disclosure of my wayward teen years has been my biggest personal obstacle to overcome.
Isn't that something?
It seems at times that the toughest part of my story has been the panic associated with the horror of having to repeat my story - one more painful time after another.
Not unlike many folks, when there's the possibility that I might have to endure pain, whether physical or emotional, I avoid it.
So, that's what I routinely did over the course of the past thirty-five years. I avoided my own emotional pain by dodging situations wherein I might be forced to share my story with others.
I believed that sharing my story would only initiate having to answer tough questions, which would bring about even more unwanted pain.
And then of course, there was the very real possibility that sharing my story would have that domino effect, e.g. having others share my story with even more folks, likely leading to even more questions, and thus even more pain.
More curious people.
More tough questions.
More emotional pain.
I'm not crazy about curious people, because I'm not fond of tough questions. And, I'm even less fond of emotional pain, at least not when it pertains to my personal life.
One of the most difficult times on the obstacle course that I call my life occurs when someone I'm hanging out with at that particular moment sees an unwed pregnant teenager and utters under her breath, but to me (unaware of my history, of course), and with all the negativity that she can seem to muster, questions such as:
- "What was she thinking?"
- Or, "Where were her parents?"
- Or, "Doesn't she know anything about birth control?"
- Or, "Why didn't she have an abortion?"
- Or, "I hope she puts that baby up for adoption, and gives it to some family that really wants to have a baby, but can't."
- Or, "That girl has ruined the rest of her life."
- Or, "No man is ever going to want to marry her."
And yes, I have heard them all, and more.
Comments like those were the driving force causing me to keep my teenage skeletons locked up, and my lips tightly sealed. Sheltered from opposition and hostility, for good!
Until now.
Now, I'm telling everyone. What a switch!
I compare the switch to a light switch in my home, except that this particular light switch is not attached to a solid wall. Rather, this switch is attached to the wall of my heart.
My switch was always kept in the off position with purposeful determination.
I had resolved to keep others in the dark regarding the "Lori chronicles."
And, I felt quite safe in my own personal darkness. Undeniably, I was unwavering in my resolution to keep my personal history private, and to keep others in the dark.
I had no intention of flipping the switch that would turn my private concerns into public knowledge.
Not only did I refuse to shed light on my very private memoirs with others, but I became lovingly accustomed to the feeling of normalcy by dimming my own memories as well.
Here's the switch:
- What was once dark, is now light.
- What was once unclear, is now clear.
- What was once a mystery, is now exposed.
- What was once black, is now white.
- What was once a closed book, is now open.
I carry within myself a renewed spirit, a purpose, and a plan. My life - even with its imperfections, shortcomings, weaknesses, and past failures - has a purpose.
 |
| I'm here to be a voice for the unborn. And, I'm here to restore hope to their mothers. |
There really is a reason I'm here.
(from chapter 8 - Pregnant at 16)
PROVERBS 31: 8 - 'Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.'
