Has anyone here had an ab0rtion in their past that affected/affects their mental health? I have since relapsed...have suicidal thoughts, doing more drugs, not showering, cleaning, or leaving my house, isolated myself, not working at work, insomnia, anxiety, relapsing in "disordered eating" habits/body image obsession which I had gotten over on my own, blah blah
I realize this must be a rather unpopular reaction since many people here are anti-natalist, and even in the general population (at least in the liberal area where I live) it isn't viewed as a huge deal. The circumstances of mine have sent me into a very bad episode. I know some people wouldn't even consider this real "grief," but I don't know. I don't feel like it's chemical depression, I genuinely feel like I've lost a baby, except literally no one but me cares, and it's not pleasant to say the least.
In short, I didn't really want to terminate and only did so to get my "partner" back if you can call him that, and now I regret it. Because whatever happiness he brings me feels like nothing compared to what I had been anticipating. And I mean, come on, dude dumps you while pregn4nt, said we'd never see each other again...if I had common sense I would have just cut my losses and do what I want because he's clearly doesn't love me and never will, but idk, hormonal brain. I panicked.
I had already been to the obgyn and seen its heartbeat and everything, so seeing pregnant women/babies is very triggering now, months later. Especially if I see a kid who looks like us. I'd even told family and friends, then bam he dumped me.
Quite frankly, the months that I was pregnant were the best I've ever felt in my adult life. Nothing has ever flipped the switch for me like that, I wasn't on meds at the time, nothing. Had no problem quitting drinking and smoking cold turkey. Felt beautiful. I don't know what freaky nature biology shit took over my mind, but I was not the same person. I don't think I've woken up feeling like I had a sense of purpose or will to live since I was a child. Like the world had taken on color again. I was often tired, moody, and teary, but I felt like I had a purpose. Maybe this is just how a "normal" person feels, or maybe this is how true "love" feels, I don't know. Meds, religion, and therapy have never done that for me.
I should have just done the single mom thing. I'm an adult, not that poor, have a job (though i've no reason to keep that anymore) and have family around. It's odd, it feels like I threw away my last chance at living. Went back to a baseline level of depression, but it feels magnitudes worse now that I briefly tasted what "not being depressed" felt like.
The complicated part is that he didn't force my hand, you know. I just have to live knowing that I killed my only child for no dire reason. I'd probably feel less grief if I didn't love the father, or thought he loved me. I wouldn't care this much if it were the result of stranger rape.