Sunday, Sunday

Ahhh!

Roller coaster of emotions here.

First, the interview went well. I'm not going to say I have the job, but I think I have a good chance. But I've arrived at the fact that I'll be okay one way or the other.

I didn't have the gas to drive to mass in Starkville today (can someone please recap me on the adult catechism class?), so I walked to Annunciation instead.

There are both good things and bad things.

The good: the music is beautiful, and the cantors are great.
The bad: We didn't sing the Gloria. Who doesn't sing the Gloria?!?!

The good: People are quiet before mass.
The bad: When you enter, instead of dipping your fingers in the Holy Water font, everyone takes a host (with a pair of tongs, no less) and tosses it in a bowl of holy water. *shudders* There is something very wrong to me about moving a host around with tongs and my hands touching those tongs not being a priest. So much so with my happy chemicals all out of whack, I started tearing up as I found a seat in the pews.  My question is this a normal practice or is this atypical?

The good: People go and pray before the tabernacle before mass.
The bad: The tabernacle is behind an alcove and not dead and center.

The good: The altar servers are seemingly well-trained.
The bad: One of them repeatedly dropped the altar linens.  I'm going to chalk it up to nervousness.

And lastly, are extraordinary ministers allowed to pour the precious Blood into the chalices? Because they certainly did today, and it kinda horrified me. I feel like that part of the preparation should be left to the priest.

And now, for the fun part:

This middle-aged woman had been staring me down all mass and made me feel really uncomfortable.  On my way walking back to the apartment, she stopped to ask me if I was new, how serious of a Catholic I was, how old I was, where I was from, and what I did for a living, and could I please pray for her sons because she can't get them to mass but she'd really like for us to meet. I had a nice chat with her, and she said she looked forward to seeing me at mass more often.

I looked them up on facebook; one's two years older, and the other is two years younger. And they are both CUTE.  Who knows - maybe they'll come to mass soon.

Thanks Be To God! 

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.

Desert Unicorn Prayers

Today, I went all dolled up to mass. In the pouring rain no less.  I went because I find myself doing better when I receive communion more often than not, but I must admit, I did have an ulterior motive.

Cute (devout) Catholic boys would probably be there.

And so off I go in makeup and hair and cute casual outfit, and I'll be darned if the priest was the only male there. That would be my luck.  Apparently, in Mississippi, a cute, not-lapsed, devout Catholic boy is like a unicorn: it's magical and beautiful and NON-EXISTENT. (And mass only lasted fifteen minutes. No lie. Fifteen minutes! Is that even allowed?!)

Then again, I've really been trying to quiet my mind and filter out all the noise in my life lately. I've been trying to find my desert. I can't say I've for sure found it yet, but I think I'm getting there. And while on my way,  it seems I've just picked up on a few things. I can't really explain them; they aren't feelings or thoughts, it's more just like it was knowledge just presented to me, and I just trust it.  They are as follows:

As much as I want to be married, I'm not ready.  How can I be ready to marry someone when I'm not even sure who I am? But everyday I'm single, I find out a bit more about myself. I grow a bit more as a Catholic girl.  If I allow God to help me make the best version of me, I'll be better for my husband if and when that time comes.

On a similar note, it seems that just knowing he's the one is a supernatural gift from God. Worrying about it is useless.  Worrying is a man's way of trying to affect a situation for the outcome he desires. Worrying is essentially a distrust in God. Faith, on the other hand, accepts this supernatural gift and follows through on it.  Now I really get why people used to frequently refer to marriage as a "leap of faith."  It is completely an act of faith to believe that God has picked out a certain person for you and then marry that person.

I've really, really struggled in my prayer life since becoming Catholic. I always feel like my prayers are useless, ill-worded, and just plain not good enough. I never know what to say, and there's only so many rote prayers you can say before you're just going through the motions. I'm glad to have encountered the message that prayer is learned quite a few places this week. I'm still working on it, but I'm trying.

Not only that, but Jesus knows our hearts, and He loves us. I know that sometimes, when you love someone dearly, you can just be in the same room with him and know exactly what he is feeling and thinking.  Imagine that brought to perfection! Maybe this is part of what contemplation is - being content of sitting in the same room with someone who loves you more than you know, more than you can imagine.  Someone who just wants to sit in silence with you, who doesn't even need you to speak to express your desires.  Someone who knows your desires before you even realized you wanted that desire for yourself. Jesus can do these things for us if only we would let him, if only we would learn how.

Less than 3,
V.

The Desert Is Calling Me.

I'll be the first person to admit that I'm naive, gullible, and dense. Just the other day, I was out with some friends, and I had a two minute long delay understanding the topic at hand.  So these qualities, especially being so dense, can kind of make it hard for me to see and hear God, especially if He whispers, which I think most of the time, He is inclined to do.

I think God has pity on poor dense me though; often times, I feel like I get hit over the head with a frying pan with a certain messages. This past Lent, everywhere I turned, I ran into the phrase, "happiness is a choice."

Now, I keep running into the idea of the desert. It first started here.  And then about two or three weeks ago it was mentioned in a homily.  And then father mentioned it last week in the Adult Catechism class. And I was browsing the Catholic book section of Books A Million last tuesday, and I opened it to a page about going to the desert of oneself to pray. This is one of those times that I keep seeing the idea come up so much, there has to be something to it. I think God is calling me to the desert - my desert so that I can hear Him, listen to Him, and do His will. So that I can better learn how to pray.

Prayer is always something I have struggled with, mainly because what I was taught of prayer growing up was pray what you feel, ask God for what you want. If you're in His good graces, He'll bless you.  Vending machine God, basically.  But somewhere along the line in college, I figured out on my own that shouldn't be how it goes.  But heck if I knew how to pray or where to find some guidance.

I'm good at sporadic prayer. I'm good at short little one liners during the day when I have a trying student, and I'm alright at remembering my nightly prayers. Sometimes I pass out saying them. I'm awful at morning prayers. I'm awful in the morning period. I'm lucky if I remember to say a Hail Mary on the drive to work I'm so grumpy and groggy. I try to sit and listen and do contemplative prayer, but I get restless. And for some reason, the Rosary relaxes me so much, I always pass out before finishing the third or fourth decade. I have an odd feeling if I make it to purgatory, (fingers crossed!), I'm going to have to finish all my unfinished rosaries.

I have no idea what God is going to tell me when I find my desert or how long I'll have to wait before He speaks. I'm a little scared actually. But also excited. And hopeful. I've really been trying to relinquish the need to control every aspect of my life, and as Father John said the other day, "allow God to surprise [me]." I feel like something big is coming, and I really think it is going to surprise me. But I also think it's going to entail a bit more of change and growing pains.

The desert is calling me, and I'm going, fingers crossed and holding my breath.

Less than 3,
V.

Am I growing up as a Catholic?

Somedays, submitting your will to God's will . . .

just plain sucks.

If your will doesn't match up with His, that is.  I really, really wanted this one thing to happen.  And it almost did, but now it's not. Events did a complete 180. And it's just not right or fair or even makes sense!

I've been a good little girl though and following along, even though my heart completely wants to do something else. I've reasoned through it with this brain God gave me, prayed about it, and I decided to back off and just leave it alone. This is abnormal for me. Old me would have completely been gung ho and not contemplate anything.

Crazy thing is, I'm getting confirmations (in the Ignatian sense) left and right that I made the right decision, and I'm following God's will for me.

So after all of that, why do I still want to be disobedient? Why do I still want to want what's bad for me?

Somedays, I just want to hit my head against a wall. Today, I think I will.

Growing pains suck.

Aside from how this entry sounds, I'm very happy in my new place. I just needed a place to vent for a minute.

Less than 3,

V.

Fish Friday (Without Fish)

I don't know why it's so hard for people to be honest.

Well, I do. We can point the fingers to original sin for our inclination and predilection towards evil.

Fish Friday - noodles, rotel, Tony's spice, and velveeta. This can't be healthy for you. 

But I guess after being Baptized, I do see how it seems to be easier for me to be honest in matters big and small whereas before, I had no problem with being dishonest.  I can't be too angry at the unbaptized and ignorant because they really don't know any better. More so, I'd rather have pity on them and forgive them.  It still doesn't change the fact that lies hurt. And when I start to feel myself inclined to lie, I'll remember this feeling, and hopefully, by the Grace of God, my mouth will speak the Truth.

I've been wearing my St. Therese medal lately because I felt like I needed the patron Saint of the Little Way to give me encouragement to do small acts with great love.  I feel like she's helped me accomplish that.

I've also tried to go to mass daily with special intentions, and I've been lighting candles as much as I possibly can. Asking the Holy Mother for help. Asking Jesus for peace about the whole thing.

And I've finally got it. I can't say it was the answer I was hoping and praying for, but it definitely gives me peace, and that is, ultimately, what I desire.

Thanks Be to God.