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Posted by Kate on 11/21/2008, 4:16 pm, in reply to "and down the rabbit hole"
Alrighty...where was I?
Oh yes. Had a second abortion (and dealt with physical complications from two so close together). Fast forwarding through the next 7 years -- married the nice guy. Settled down, quit drugs, had two babies, no more drugs, life was okay.
Applied for a job as, of all things, a police dispatcher. It would pay well, and I thought it would be doing a job helping people, serving the greater good. I passed all the tests, and the interviews, and was told, informally, that I had the position...just one more thing was required...a polygraph test.
I don't think the way they did the test was...appropriate. I was locked in an office, alone with a private detective, for almost three hours. Wired up to all sorts of monitors and gizmos, tape recorded, while he proceeded to ask me the most ridiculous, humiliating, unbelievable questions you can possibly imagine -- over and over and over. Answer yes or no.
Hmmm, does that sound familiar to anyone?
Looking back...it must have been a stress test. I can't imagine it could have been anything else, because the things he asked me were so outrageous, and many of them were downright illegal to ask a job applicant.
He asked me if I'd ever had sex with a woman, ever had sex with an animal (after the third or fourth time of that, I answered, "Only pigs like you" -- pretty sure that was the point I lost the job). I can't for the life of me understand why I stayed there and put up with that. I guess I felt like...I have this job I really want, I really need, just gotta jump through this one last hoop...
One question he kept asking me was, "What is the worst thing you've ever done in your entire life?" I came up with an answer off the top of my head...goodness knows, so much to choose from. He asked the same question again. I thought, maybe that first thing wasn't bad enough, and confessed something else. And again. And again. And finally I left his office completely drained, having bared my life to this total bastard, confessing to him to all the ugliest, most horrible things I could think of. Father forgive me, for I have sinned. But he offered me no absolution.
And as I was driving home, a quiet voice in my head said, "That wasn't the worst thing you've ever done. The worst thing you've ever done was to pay a doctor to kill your children."
I almost drove off the road. Was it the voice of God? My own conscience? I have no idea. I hadn't thought about the abortions for almost 7 years, thought that part of my life was totally behind me. I wasn't being hounded by pro-lifers or Bible thumpers, so that wasn't what brought it to my mind. It either came from God, or from my own heart and memory.
I slipped into a profound, overwhelming depression. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't take care of my kids, and sat around the house weeping for weeks. I seriously contemplated suicide, but was afraid of what it would do to my husband and kids.
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