Keep Your Grubby Paws Off My Birth Control!

I was only 13 when my mother found out I was having sex. It was a terrible time for us. She didn’t speak to me for a week. Her golden child, the one with the good grades, who got up early and made a fresh pot of coffee every morning, who never got into any trouble of any kind, was doing the unthinkable. But she did the right thing. She took the proactive step to put me on the pill. Unfortunately, that didn’t prevent me getting pregnant a mere 11 months later, but that’s a story for another day.

I have been on one form or another of birth control ever since. The pill was never the right answer for me, personally. I have a hard enough time remembering to eat meals every day, let alone remembering to take a pill at a specified hour. So, I’ve tried just about everything, several different brands of the pill, NuvaRing, the patch, DepoProvera, and ultimately the IUD. The IUD is the best thing that ever happened to me. No hormones, no remembering, no thought required, and I’m good for 10 years or more. Yes, please! No babies until I decide I’m ready. And that’s the goal, right? To allow women to decide when they are ready to have children, and thereby reduce the instance of unplanned pregnancies, reduce the number of abortions, reduce the number of single moms dependent upon our social safety network, reduce the number of children in foster care, reduce the entire cost on our overburdened system.

Which is why it is so incredibly difficult for me to understand why, in the 21^st century, we are still have a national debate about the availability of birth control. Why? I thought this was a fight our parents had won. A hundred years ago, you could be imprisoned for counseling women about how to avoid becoming pregnant, and many women were. Margaret Sanger underwent a great number of personal tragedies in her quest to ensure that women had access to birth control. 

And they won. In 1972 the Supreme Court in Eisenstadt v. Biard legalized birth control for all Americans, reversing the Comstock laws that had criminalized the simple act of providing contraception to women. North Carolina was the first state in the country to recognize birth control as a public health measure and to provide contraceptive services to indigent mothers through its public health program. And the rates at which women utilize birth control have been on the rise ever since. A 2013 Lancet systematic literature review found that 77% of women in the United States of reproductive age used contraception.

So, again, I cannot understand why in the year 2014, nearly a hundred years after Margaret Sanger opened her first clinic, we are still having this debate about access to birth control. The requirement for health insurance to provide contraception without a co-pay or deductible was one of the only things the Affordable Care Act got right. Let me say that again, the health insurance company is providing that birth control. Not the government. The right-wing messaging machine has been very adept at selling the notion that the government, that you and I and our taxpayer dollars, are funding the late-night shenanigans of whorish college sorority girls across this great nation by providing them with access to birth control. When the reality is that we all are contributing to an insurance pool that provides birth control to 77% of the women in this country of child-bearing age, probably you, or your sister, or your aunt, or even your mom. And that same insurance pool is unquestioningly providing unfettered access to Viagra, Cialis and penis pumps for men who are very much not of child-bearing age, but want to get their kicks in anyway.

And all of this is what leads me to my present outrage at Speaker Thom Tillis’s plan for providing birth control over-the-counter while removing the mandate for health insurance companies to provide birth control free of charge. Please don’t be fooled folks. This is about money. Insurance companies are none too happy about being required to provide expensive IUDs which can provide 10 years of quality, baby-free life in one fell swoop, for free, when you might easily abandon your plan, and thereby their premiums, leaving them in the lurch. None too happy.

And so we have the present proposed alternative, designed to trick women into thinking that the Republican party is really on their side. That they want women to have access to birth control. But this is not a solution. Not a realistic one. Making birth control available over the counter means that women who would have been able to obtain the pill for free will now have to have to pay somewhere in the neighborhood of $600 per year to keep their uteruses zygote-free. That may not seem like much to you, but when you are surviving on less than $1,000 a month, it's might as well be a million dollars. And what does this do to women like me, for whom the birth control pill isn't an effective option? What of my IUD? I’m expected to come out of pocket to the tune of somewhere between $250 and $1,000 or more while my insurance premiums continue to pay for your Viagra? I don’t think so. If I don’t get my little pink pill, or copper "T" as the case may be, covered by my insurance, you don’t get your little blue pill either.

To everything a season

"TO every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3

I remember how well that verse resonated with me even as a small child. Every single thing that happens in life has a purpose. There is a lesson to be learned from every hardship if I can just pay close enough attention to see it. I find myself coming back to that scripture over and over and over as life ebbs and flows through joy and strife, gladness and sorrow, pride and shame, reminding myself at each of those dramatic turns that change is the only thing in life that remains unchanging. Nothing is static. Every sadness is eventually followed by joy. Every heartbreak followed by love. Some people dread those changes in direction. But we shouldn't. They add spice to life. They make it interesting. They give us the opportunity to grow into better people and to improve the lives of everyone around us by sharing that new understanding.

I wouldn't trade any of my experiences, even as terrible as some of them have been, for a life filled with easy love and unchallenged decisions. And my life has certainly not been filled with effortless love or easy decisions. There have been ample opportunities for me to be angry, to hate, to drown myself in the drama and misery of what "they" have done to me, or how "they" have made me miserable. I decided a long time ago that my own spiritual energy is way too precious to me to be wasted on hatred or anger. It is so much more productive to forgive, to try to understand, and then to move on from a place of love and compassion.

I was confronted recently with the idea that I had somehow thrown away the last decade or so of my life because my relationship has ended, that I might look back and wish that I hadn't wasted my twenties. But I think that is the farthest thing from the truth. I haven't thrown away any time. And I certainly don't regret it, not a moment of it, even as difficult as it was most of the time. I'm not certain I could have navigated such a difficult time in my life completely alone. We needed each other. Our relationship served a very real and meaningful purpose for us both. We raised our children together, and did a damn fine job of it, if I do say so myself. We found joyous occasions in the midst of financial struggle and the stress of juggling a houseful of kids with working multiple jobs each, attending school, and, for a great deal of time, maintaining two separate households. We loved and celebrated and fought with equal amounts of passion and energy. We were exhausted together. Our relationship was always a bit unconventional and it worked for us. And I have no doubt that he was my soul mate. The problem lies in how we define a soul mate and what we expect from them.

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. 
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. 
A soul mate's purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

 And if that's the case, then I don't want another soul mate. I don't need to be shaken up any more in life. My heart has been broken so wide open that not another ray of light could possibly find it's way in. What I need is a partner who wants nothing more than to wholeheartedly enjoy all that life has to offer, with a smile and a little zippity-do-dah attitude. The time I've spent over the last year or so with a focus on really understanding what I want and who I want to be has affirmed for me that the most important thing I can do is to have a fulfilling and wholesome relationship with myself... before I am a mother, a spouse, a friend, an employee, a volunteer...I have to be my complete self, and be happy with it.

"We are walking around like a circle half complete. You know, we look like the letter C. We are very susceptible to a person of the opposite sex, some other circle half complete, coming up and joining with us- completing the circle that was-and giving us a burst of euphoria and energy that feels like the wholeness that a full connection with the universe produces. In reality, we have only joined up with another person who is looking for their other half on the outside too."  - The Celestine Prophecy

For the first time in my life, I feel like I am a complete person, all on my own, without anyone else's permission or propping up. My fellowship has helped me identify my passions and give them shape and purpose. My path has become clearer, especially as law school draws ever nearer. I know that I am on my way to becoming the very best possible version of myself, and learning to humbly appreciate the awesomeness of who I am and what I am capable of doing. When I enter into the next chapter of my journey, I want to be my very own complete circle so that I am not dependent on another person to be my source of happiness, so that I can appreciate him for everything he has to offer without expecting anything more or different than everything he already is. It's high time I planted some sunflowers of happiness in a field that has lay fallow and dreary for a very, very long season. I'm ready for spring.

Lessons in Small-Town Southern Sexism

In the more than 10 years I've worked in my current position,  I've run across all kinds of people. We seem to serve relatively equal proportions of racist southerners and inconsiderate northerners.  Thankfully,  in both instances,  they are extraordinarily small percentages of our overall clientele and both are to be expected in our small southern bedroom community.  For the most part our clients tend to fall somewhere in the middle. Whether rich or poor, white or black, well educated or not, young or old, they are mostly ideologically mediocre, kind, middle-of-the-road Americans. They are in need of our service, stressed about what is usually a major life event and grateful to have someone else worrying about it for awhile.

In those instances when a client is particularly appreciative or when we have rendered extraordinary service in some way, it is not unusual for us to receive small gifts. Over the course of my career I have received from our varied clientele gift cards, modest jewelry, chocolates, baked goods, wine, liquor and fruits. All of them delicious or beautiful and so incredibly appreciated. In fact, Rick and I enjoyed the most expensive dinner we have ever shared courtesy of a very generous client's Christmas gift.

But not until today had anyone given me lingerie. Well not lingerie exactly, but close enough. I was thanked for my hard work today in a meeting with a client with a gift card for Victoria Secret. I wish i could remember all the things that ran through my mind bin slow motion as i watched him with a huge grin take our that little pink box and say, "And this is for you." The implicit sexual objectification was probably the first thing followed by a full 10 seconds of me running through all of the possible responses to this horrifically embarrassing moment. But,I'm a good southern girl. I know how to smile pleasantly and graciously say thank you, which I did. I mean, I didn't want to be rude. But as my face turned several varrying shades of red and I stammered over my response, all I was thinking was "You have got to be fucking kidding me! On what planet is it acceptable for a 60+ year old man to give a young(ish) woman providing professional services a gift card for lingerie?"

The answer, of course, is: in a southern small town. My client was very grateful for work I did that went beyond the normal standard of care. Something I'm proud to do pretty routinely. And he showed his appreciation in a way that, to him, seems completely reasonable and appropriate.  He even remarked to me about his knowledge that all women love to spend money at the mall. And, as the recipient of that gift in a small Southern town,  I'm not at liberty to educate him about the several ways his well-meaning gift was offensive. No. I smile and say thank you. And comment about how I'll have to try and get there during the semi-annual sale when, in truth, I won't be going ever because Victoria Secret doesn't sell bras in an H cup. He will never know that his comment was offensive because for me to tell him so would serve no useful purpose in a small southern town except to lose us a client and label me as a difficult-to-get-along-with,  ungrateful, "feminist-type."

So I'll take my gift card and buy something for someone else, which will make me happy, knowing that I am so grateful to my client for expressing his appreciation for my hard work, even if he doesn't know how sexist it was.

Life Lessons From My Darkest Days

There are angels among us. I know, I know. It's one of the most cliche things to say. But it is true. Some of us think of them as literal angels with wings and halos. Some of us know them as gurus and teachers. Whatever form it takes for you, it is undeniable that there are people around us whose flame burns a little brighter, whose wisdom is a little more profound, whose impact is felt so incredibly strongly. In my darkest days, I had the good fortune of knowing one of these angels.

I was 18 and had just moved into my own tiny trailer with Dylan. I was living on my own, not relying on the kindness of others, for the first time in my life. I'd barely had a chance to get the place furnished and food in the fridge when my in-laws filed for emergency custody of Dylan. It was a terrible, scary time. They hurled accusations of neglect and fabricated stories about my treacherous parenting. I was alone, and lonely. I was alone in my grief when I learned they had been granted emergency temporary custody because of the lies they had told the court. I was panicked. I knew that my fate and Dylan's were inextricably linked. There was no way that I could go on with my life if I was not being Dylan's mother. And there was no way that he could turn out to be a happy, healthy, productive member of society if I was removed from his life and he was left to be raised by his father's family. I was grief stricken. I was alone in my hatred and contempt. Even after regaining a shared custody arrangement while we continued our protracted court battle, they seemed to make it their life's mission to plot the ways they could make my life more difficult, more miserable, more desperate. And my hate burned bright. I could feel my loathing taking root in my belly and beginning to grow, to consume me. I wished them misfortune. I tried to think of the ways I could seek retribution, make them feel as badly as they had made me feel. I cried. And when I finally found myself at the bottom of my emotional pit, at what I knew was the darkest place I could ever allow myself to go, I called my minister.

I had grown up attending Chad O'Shea's Unity Center services. I had the good fortune of being raised in his church. I never cared much for the Sunday School classes. I preferred to be upstairs with the grown-ups, listening to Chad. And one of the things I had absorbed in my many Sundays spent listening to this enlightened messenger of God was the lesson that we are each responsible for choosing our reactions, for controlling our emotions, for being the master of our own heart and mind. "No one makes you mad, glad, bad or sad. That's an inside job," he would say. Or another of our favorites, "Misery is Optional." But in those darkest of days I was taking serious objection with Rev. Chad's teachings. How was I choosing to be miserable? I most certainly wasn't making that choice! That choice was being made for me. Look at what they were doing to me! How could anyone say that I was choosing this pain and torment? And, even in the midst of that despair, I knew that I couldn't go on hating them the way I was. I didn't want to. I knew it would destroy me. It would leave me bitter and sad. It would dampen my light. But I couldn't see my way out of it. I couldn't talk myself out of that loathing. So, I called up the minister I hadn't seen in years and sobbed.

Chad counseled me through my darkest hours. He talked with me, lovingly and patiently helping me to see that I had no enemies; that no one was trying to deliberately cause me pain. He helped me to see Kathy & Tim as people trying to make their way down their own path in life using only the tools they had available to them. He reminded me that every being on this earth has a spark of divinity in them, a Christ light that flickers and burns within and it is our task to find that Christ light and nurture it, listen to it, talk to it, coax it out. He encouraged me to visualize that spark of divinity in my encounters, to ignore the outer shell that I felt was causing me so much pain, and instead talk to the divine. That lesson is what got me through the next several years as we continued to battle over custody and argue about parenting techniques and routines. I found patience by talking to the divine. I discovered that I had the capacity to love my enemies, to bless those who would curse me, to do good to those who hated me, and pray for those who would despitefully use me and persecute me. I am so glad that we were able to work through that period in our lives and come out on the other side of it as family. Kathy and Tim have helped me over the years in more ways than anyone and I will forever be grateful to them for their help and love. It is easy for me now, looking back, to see how they must have been so scared for Dylan, terrified that this 18 year old kid didn't know what she was doing and would never be able to care for him. And, in truth, without their help I probably wouldn't have been able to. I'm so grateful to Chad for helping me ensure that I left the door open for that relationship to blossom into what it is now, that I didn't irreparably burn those bridges, that I chose light over dark.

That is a lesson that not only saved my 18 year old self, but has saved me again and again and again. I have no room in my heart for hatred. It consumes far too much energy, energy that could be better spent doing good in the world, helping others, making someone smile. It was the most difficult lesson of my life, to learn to forgive and to love those who had caused me great harm. And I will be forever grateful to God for sending me an angel when I needed it most, in my darkest days.

We celebrated the life of Chad O'Shea this past Saturdeay. His church was packed to capacity, with people overflowing into the lobby. The impact he had on my life is by no means unique or out of the ordinary. He touched the lives of everyone he encountered in deep and profound ways. He was truly an angel, a guru, an enlightened teacher and I am so grateful to have known him. He absolutely and without a doubt saved my life in my darkest days.