One Month Down. The Rest of My Life to Go.

Today marks a month since my dad died.

I'm not sure exactly where I stand. Some days it's okay, and some days, it's like a sucker punch to the stomach all over gain, this weird panicked feeling like the world is falling away from underneath your feet.

Also a confession: I haven't been to mass in a month.  The first Sunday it was my dad's funeral, the second Sunday I was home with my mother who was recovering from knee surgery,  the third sunday I was too depressed, and yesterday, I was too tired. The sad part: I haven't missed going to mass. I get nothing from it anymore. I don't even bother listening to the priest's homilies because they are so unsound at times...I usually just say a rosary. Even worse in my opinion - no one has noticed I've been missing.

Not only that, but I'm really struggling to stay Catholic or even care about being Catholic these days. It's hard to be Catholic when you don't much care for your parish or when you don't have a good Catholic support system around you. It would be so much easier to leave and just be protestant or nothing at all.

I can see how most cradle Catholics lapse so easily. Unfortunately for me, I was catechized too well for that.

I guess I'm not mad at God, but sorely disappointed at the hand I've been given, and I don't really feel like worshipping and following someone who has given me such sorrows the past few years. And quite frankly, I don't feel like talking with Him, much less loving him right now.

But He's a big God, right? He was once human right? So He can take it till I sort myself out. Or do something to show me He still loves me because right now, it doesn't feel much like anything.

I Miss You.

I keep seeing blue ford f-150s driving around town, and I keep thinking to myself, "hey, Daddy's back. He's come to hang out, have dinner, and visit."

But then it hits me. And then it hurts. So very, very much. I'd trade twenty years off my life just to have him back for twenty more. Or I'd give anything just to start over from this point again.

Anything. Just to have this again.  As weird and wacky and crazy as we were. 

There is a hole in my heart, and not even God and can fill it right now. 

I'm holding all the tickets. You're owning all the fines.

Today is a sad day. I know it because I woke up crying, I've been crying for an hour, and now I have Skinny Love on repeat. Indulge me a bit because writing is how I deal with things. If I don't write it somewhere, it never comes out and just stays bottled up inside eating away at my soul.

I was telling a friend yesterday that the common courtesy of "texting a girl the next morning" after you go out on a date freaks me out these days. I feel like I'm being smothered in attention. The most I can give to a guy is a few hours, and then, I'm done. I don't want to see or hear from him for a few days. Anymore attention than that, and I get scared.

I want a relationship, but I don't. I want company and a bond, but I don't want the heartache. The effort. The attention. I want to get married, but I don't want to get married at all. Basically, I've got commitment issues now. I blame it on Heathcliff. I don't blame him for much, actually, but I do blame him for that.

I was telling all this to a co-worker who was asking me about how my date went the other night. You know, the one with the other half-asian, half-white boy. I told her that he texted the next morning, the polite thing to do, and it was freaking me out because I don't want a commitment. She said I had to stop letting Heathcliff have so much control over my current life. Lord knows she's right. I mean, he's certainly not crying over me.

Last night, I revisited a dream I've had before only it was a continuation. Previously in a dream from over a year ago, Heathcliff and I had gotten married and moved into this amazing apartment. In last night's dream, I served him with divorce papers because he had already left me a long time ago and cut off all contact. I went through the entire place taking pictures of the things that belonged to me or my parents, and he agreed to sign the papers. Even in my dream, where apparently I still loved him as much as I used to, watching him sign those papers broke my heart. I was in shock. The one thing on Earth I thought was rock solid was crumbling, falling like grains of sand through the cracks in my fingers.

That was one of the things I told him when I first started dating him and contemplated the move to Catholicism.  "I just want one sure thing in this life. And I know I'm not going to find it on Earth." But among my sure things on Earth, as sure as Earthly things can get, I counted him at the top of that list.

But he let me down in such a major way.

I keep feeling like I won't have closure and be able to move on until I decide what it is I would have said to him after getting dumped because even to the last minute, I was trying to work it out with him. I still don't know what that would be, but I need to find the words, not necessarily for him to hear them, but for myself. Just so that I know.

In the meantime, I'm going to try to dispose of all the tickets and baggage I've got so no one else has to pay fines for crimes they didn't commit or carry luggage they didn't pack.

I can't wait for payday

It's emo time again. I can't wait for payday.  The first thing I will do is schedule my appointment with my doctor and refill my prescriptions. Because of my lack of paycheck and insurance, I can't afford my prescription for my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. And I can most definitely tell a difference after being off them for two months. I've stared crying again for no reason.  Monday I slept all day and couldn't get out of the bed. Tuesday I wanted to sleep all day again, but the only reason I didn't is because of work. I don't feel like doing my work. I don't feel like cleaning. I just want to sit and sleep. I forced myself to go to wal-mart today and almost had a panic attack.  No particular reason, it's just wal-mart gives me the creeps, and even though I know they weren't, I felt like everyone was staring at me and following me.  The only time I feel a bit better is when I'm around friends, but most of the time, I just want to sit and sleep and do nothing.

The good thing is this time around, I realize this is not normal. I can tell this is the depression.  I can do things like eat good meals and exercise, but that only goes so far. I know there is a lot of debate out there about psychotropic medication, but I believe with me, it truly does help.

Medicine and willpower only do so much though.  At some point, you have to give it over to God.

And then only thing I can reason is that maybe God hands us troublesome situations or problems simply to teach us to rely on him to carry our burdens.  Maybe we aren't supposed to learn anything else other than that. Just the simple idea that God is enough, and He is more than enough.

If that's the case, then I'm kinda glad I have been diagnosed with chronic depression because it means I'll be constantly relying on God to the end of my days.

The Invisible Illness

I feel like I should go around and apologize to everyone. 

I've missed a few doses of my medicine these past few days, and I have been losing sleep grading papers, and I haven't been eating because I've been stressed out about the job interview.  

These are all classic symptoms of depression, but what they don't tell you, or rather what they should stress more in those lame "feeling blue" commercials, is that it is absolutely vital to keep your physical body in tip top condition lest your serotonin imbalance become even worse to where medicine is not even effective. 

Needless to say, I had a major meltdown at work when a student reported me to my boss's boss without approaching me with her concerns first.

Even worse, I went all I-hate-the-world-I-might-as-well-jump-off-a-cliff-because-my-life-has-no-meaning on everyone who talked to me that day.  Trust me, you ever catch me in one of those moods, I promise, it's not you. It's most definitely me. I'm probably tired, cranky, hungry, stressed, and depressed, and you just need to give me a big hug and feed me and let me sleep.

And so I did. A friend took me out for a steak, I had a nice cry, I slept a good eight hours, I took a nice long bath, I exercised a bit, and I relaxed with some Netflix. 

Right before I logged off for the night, though, a friend made this post that is making its rounds on facebook:

YOU DON'T LOOK SICK!!! No I don't. It's hard to explain to someone when they have no clue. It's a daily struggle feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside. Please put this as your status for at least 1 hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression , Diabetes, LUPUS, RA, Fibromyalga, Crohns, Arthritis, etc..) Never judge what you don't understand.

It is hard for people to understand what depression and anxiety are like. It's hard for me to describe. It's like no matter what you say or do, you can't convince me that someone is not out to do me wrong or that something bad is not going to happen. If something bad or unwanted does happen, all I can do is think about it. And I'll replay the situation over and over and over again in my head. It's hard to explain that even though you know in your head that you're a fun person to be around, in your heart, you feel so worthless that you don't want to be social. A panic attack feels like you're drowning in air, and your heart could fly out of your chest at any given second. And what is really hard is for people to understand that even though you look fine, some days are good, and some days are bad. You can't just tell people, "oh my depression is flaring up again." They think you take a pill and are done with it, but it's a daily struggle. 

I guess all of this is to say I know this is my cross, and I've accepted that, and I would almost even say I'm happy to do it for the Lord. But I know I could be better about offering up my daily sufferings. And I know I could pray more for those like me who suffer from both depression and anxiety.  

Lord, if it is your will, heal those who silently suffer. If not, we pray that their suffering may serve You and Your Kingdom. 

Fish Friday

I've had pretty good days this past week. In fact, it's odd because I'd say in general my days are more good than bad or apathetic as they used to be. I'm happy with my job, my living arrangement, and I'm actually kinda happy being single. I mean, sure, I wouldn't mind a cute boy to buy me dinner and a movie every now and then, but for the most part, I'm keeping busy and happy on my own.

I'm learning more about myself than I ever really knew. For instance, I did not know the following about myself:

1. I like folk music and old country music.
2. I like floral print.
3. I like awkward, quirky, cult comedies.
4. I like hipster clothing and house decorations, even though I'm totally not a hipster.
5. I like being able to walk places, even if it's 100 degrees out.

I really haven't been anxious about anyone or anything except for the other night for just an hour or two.

And I feel like I've been more spiritually productive than I have in a long time.

I've heard Father say it before that if a person is depressed, then their spiritual life will suffer. I can't help but think that held true for me.  Moreover, I've been diligent about taking my medicine, but I've also had to become more disciplined.  Many doctors and therapists recommend exercise, a balanced diet, and strangely enough, sunshine to keep a chemically imbalanced person even keeled. I've been trying to do these things, as well as at least go to Mass three times a week.

I guess all I'm trying to say is while I still wrestle with situations and things and feelings in my heart an head, overall, I'm happy.  And that's something I haven't had in a long, long time.

Thanks be to God. 


Less than 3,
V.

A Quick Thought Before I Sleep

Reading Thomas Merton again.  If you haven't read him, you seriously should. I haven't read him since I first seriously began wanting to convert. Here is something I found today that rings so true with me:

"The desert is the home of despair. And, now, despair is everywhere...This, then, is our desert: to live facing despair, but not to consent [to it]. To trample it down under hope in the Cross. To wage war against despair unceasingly. That war is our wilderness. If we wage it courageously, we will find Christ at our side. If we cannot face it, we will never find Him."

Less than 3, 

V. 

This Is My Cross To Bear

I went for a check up at the doctor to review how well the depression medication has been working.  (And for the most part, it has been working quite well, actually. So if you notice more pep in my step that's why). Unfortunately, it seems that what I most feared him saying is exactly what he said:

Chronic Clinical Depression

It runs in the women in my family. I had hoped by some weird genetic thing it would skip me altogether, but I guess not.

And I had it in my head that if I went on medication for it, I would somehow be acknowledging to the world that I am crazy even though I had a roommate who studied psychology and had explained it like so: "You take care of your physical health and your spiritual health, so why not your mental health?"

And even still, I had another friend who explained it as such: "If you have a stomach ache, you take a pill to make it go away. So it's the same thing. Your heart aches, so you take a pill to make it go away."

And to some extent, it is true. But I still have my days. For example, the other day, Heathcliff's mom e-mailed me to express how upset she was that I wasn't around for Easter (which I completely don't understand because she is pagan-primitive Baptist [odd, yes, but it's true]). Of course, that set me off.  All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed, turn the lights off, and stare at the wall for the entire day.

But this is a lesson I learned this past Lent - and oddly enough, it started with a church sign.  Every time I go by a church sign, I like to read the pithy little sayings. There's one on the way to work.  And about the start of Lent, it read, "happiness is a choice." I scoffed at it, but for some reason, it stuck in my head, and every morning I passed by it, I read it and read it again. And I really began to wonder if happiness was truly a choice. I mean, after all, I believe in freewill - I am a Catholic.

And then, everywhere I went, I began to hear that phrase repeated without even bringing it up. A friend I hadn't seen in five years told me upon hanging out with me, "Happiness is a choice."  When I first started hanging out with Ireland, the subject came up, and he even said, "happiness is a choice." Everywhere I freaking turned, it was as if God was beating me over the head with this message.

For the entirety of Lent, I feel like this is what I was supposed to have learned. Happiness truly is a choice.  Of course, there will be things to make you sad, but you can't let the sadness dominate you to where it sucks all the joy from your life. I had let the depression overtake almost all of my life, even to the point where I got no joy from going to mass.  It had almost become a chore. After being on the medicine, I'm more than happy to go to mass on Sunday and weekdays if I have the time.

All in all, I guess what I'm saying is that I know God gives everyone what they can handle. And so far in my life, I really didn't feel like I had any crosses.  But I feel like this is my cross to bear. My hardship to offer up.  My suffering to join to His.  And I will choose to be happy with the circumstances I'm dealt, and when I can't handle it and want to be sad, I will offer it up to Him.

Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done. 

Why now?

I should be grading, but my head and heart are completely somewhere else right now.

Namely, on that boy, Ireland.

Obviously, I really like him. And contrary to other boys I've dated, I can actually name qualities about him that I really, really like.  This is rare for me. I usually can't name specifics about why I like a boy; normally, I just say, "I just do."

But not with him. Nope.  I mean, sure, there are the superficial things like his blue eyes or his smile or his geeky dress, but there are other things as well, like the way he laughs when he gets super tickled at something funny or the confused expression he'll make when he's trying hard to understand something and completely thinks his face looks dead even.  I've never been able to say specific things such as those that I like about a boy before. . .

What I don't understand is this: why now?

Why now when everyone (who is not Catholic) around me is saying "BE SINGLE OR ELSE."

Why now just a little over a month after a failed two year engagement?

Why now after I'm spent and burned out on love and really have no energy to give of myself?

Why now when I decide to give up relationships for Lent, does a boy that I really like get dropped right into my lap? Is this some sort of test? Resist temptation and be rewarded? But God doesn't do that, right?  Because that just seems a bit cruel...

I have my theory, which is that we basically need each other right now.  He's going through a bit of a tough time and is a lapsed cradle Catholic. I think he needs someone strong in faith to hold his hand as he goes through this. And I'm the worst about saving myself for myself, but if I care enough, I'll try to save someone else (which in turn, can help you save yourself - if that makes any sense).

On the other hand, I need someone to hold my hand just as much.  He's gone through a bout of clinical depression and also knows what it is like to deal with an anxiety disorder. So when I say, "I need to leave the grocery store, it's making me uncomfortable," or, "today is a bad day. I just can't convince myself to get out of the bed," he completely understands, but he also helps me deal with it.

Moreover, we're both twenty five and in very similar predicaments. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, all of his friends are married or marrying, moved or moving, or having children, and he feels left in the dust. I feel the exact same way. Once upon a time, I thought I would be a writer and teach until I got that as a full time gig.  Now, I really have no idea if that is what I want at all! Plus, it's nice being able to confide in someone without being accused of being jealous of married people.

So, in one way, I'm completely head over heels. My heart is trying to throw reason under the bus.  But then my pragmatic side says:

1. He's a lapsed Catholic. You can't get too attached to him because you really can't get serious.
2. You don't know if he would be a good father.
3. You've known him a month.
4. You may like him so much just because he's not Heathcliff.
5. You may be rebounding.

And the thing is, I like him so much, I'm willing to back off for a bit and really think this out! I'm terrified I'm going to screw this up somehow! That's how much of a good feeling I have about this...

I really feel like I'm over thinking things. But faith and reason should be able to work together right? How do you balance the two?

I really just want to bang my head on the wall...

Any suggestions for Saints to petition are always welcomed.

Less than 3,

V.