You made me do it alone……

You made me so it alone

I carry the pain and punishment for the both of us

Whoever wrote this post secret postcard

You are not alone



It would almost be your birthday

It would almost of been your second birthday and I sit here and reflect on the last two and a half years.

What would life be like?

I’m so happy with my life but there is still a part of me is sad and there is still a small part of my heart is broken.

But know that I love you, know that I think of you everyday, know that I wanted you, know that you are forever a part of me.

I know that you are the wind in my hair, the birds that I hear, butterflies that I see, the soft grass that I touch and the warmth that pops into my heart every now and then. I know that you are near, I know that you are here.

I shared this photo with your dad xx

Know that I try to include him, know that I think of him with kindness. Just because he doesn’t reply doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

 Im like a duck on a pond- a picture of composure and serenity but underneath my legs are paddling like hell against a current that isn’t there

My life has been changed forever. Its not so easy any more to do even the mundane things. Its as though everything now takes more effort and concentration to achieve what was once so simple. Im like a duck on a pond- a picture of composure and serenity but underneath my legs are paddling like hell against a current that isn’t there.

Is this a current I have created for myself? I am the only one punishing me? Im ashamed and so disappointed in myself for having an abortion. But have I forgotten that the choice was taken away from me? Have I forgotten that he took my voice and forced me into something I knew was wrong? Am I the one living with the guilt and sadness of two people because he is to egocentric too take his share?

There are two types of tired, I suppose one is a dire need of sleep and the other is a dire need for peace. Im in dire need of peace. How possibly do I find peace in this world of turmoil that I live in?

He’s clipped my wings and sad as its is to watch myself, it hurts me more to have forgotten that I have ever flown at all. I look at my reflection, I see a person that doesn’t make eye contact, I see a person who has no voice, I see a person that has no spark or excitement for life. But what pains me more is that I have forgotten the spark I did have, I have forgotten the voice I did have. I am a mere dull image of my pervious self. I am defined as pre abortion self and post abortion self.

I sit often and reflect on the year that I have had. The abortion was one thing, but the emotional torture after was an even bigger part. I honestly believe that if I had been cared for emotionally and physically by him afterwards this would not have had such a big impact on me. I am so saddened that I lost a baby to miscarriage but I fear that is the price I will pay for walking into that clinic.

“Its not always just the heart. Sometimes your mind breaks as well”. 


I stumbled across this hashtag whilst reading through buzz feed. 

“#whatyou don’t see is that depression is a million agonising feelings or you don’t feel anything at all”

Whoever wrote that must be able to read my mind. I can either be on the brink of tears, swallowing that unbearable lump over and over again or completely detached from life, my surroundings and people that I’m like a sad portrait sitting on a wall. 

“#whatyoudontsee is the terror that someone might notice that somethings wrong and the pain when know one does” 

I walk around work, we my head and my heart in the sand. So ashamed of myself, not making eye contact with anyone or anything. I feel such sadness, like there is a gaping hole in my chest where my heart once sat. How can people not see this hole? It’s so big . You must be able to see it in my eyes, glassed over with tears with shame reflecting off them. 

So time for my own #whatyoudontsee….

What you don’t see is my heart in a million peices. Breaking even more every time I see you. What you don’t see are the tears I cry when I lay my head. What you don’t see is the hours on end that I just sit on my bed waiting for death to knock on my door. The hours that slowly turn into days. What you don’t see are the ways I punish myself. The way I refuse myself food, torture myself with abortion videos and readings. The way I will walk until I can’t stand, the way I hold my breath and hope it will end me. What you don’t see when I’m smiling in really wanting to die. 

What you don’t see is everything I’ve turned into be.