Sometimes I wish there was private option on this thing. A way that I could express myself fully without everyone being able to read it. Not that I have anything to hide. I just sometimes rather keep things to myself without actually keeping things in. Does that make sense? I'm not sure if it does. Everything is kind of cloudy.

I seriously can't believe I'm not looking forward to this weekend. I have no desire to go. I'm not needed anyway. And everything seems to be going wrong already.

If this is some kind of test I think I may be failing. I'm in too much pain right now to really put up much of a fight.

I really want to talk to someone. Or right now, cry to someone.

Scratched

We have a retreat coming up this weekend and I was asked to do a talk on abusing a gift. Only one thing came to mind and so I wrote about it. It was easy and it came natural. I'm not saying it was a masterpiece but I think it had a good message. Father Greg, however, thought that a single event in the talk would distract the teens from the message. I disagree completely. I believe that saying that is underestimating their intelligence and their faith. I think my story would have an impact on my teens and help them in their journey. But I refuse to say my talk without saying all of it. It's my testimony. The entire thing. Not bits and pieces of it. So, I'm scratched out. I think it's a mistake but it isn't my call. So since I can't say it aloud, this is the best I can do:

To say that I regret anything from my past would be incorrect. I’m a human being and because of that I have fallen. Many times. But my mistakes are so much more than tally marks on the blackboard of life. They’re not a composite of years that I’ve earned in purgatory. My mistakes are an important aspect of the very person that I am today. So in a way, I’m grateful.

Junior high and high school were not the best days of my life. To whoever said they’re supposed to be, well I hope they’re wrong. Those days for me were dark and confusing. In a constant struggle to figure out who I was supposed to be I got extremely lost. All my life I’ve never had many friends. It wasn’t that I wasn’t liked; I just didn’t know how to socialize with those around me. I tried to fill my days with sport practices, games, and homework in order to take my mind off the emptiness I felt inside me. But each night when I laid myself to sleep I found myself crying. Nothing helped the loneliness and desperation that was consuming my every thought.

When I was 14 years old I found my faith. That in itself was a battle but I made my way to the Catholic Church and there I found a home. After that moment I thought my life would change. I had Jesus now, didn’t I? Why wouldn’t life get better? And for a few months things were better. I turned 15 and began high school and I was certain my life was going to change. I began getting involved with my youth group and going through Confirmation classes. I prayed more, I actually had friends, I fell in love for the first time and things were great. But those “good time” feelings were only temporary. I was in a relationship with a boy that for years I tried desperately to justify. I wanted to be loved so badly that I ignored all the red flags that were going up all around me. I got to a point where all I ever felt was pain. I couldn’t look in the mirror because all I saw was someone that wasn’t worth anything. So one night after I had gotten into a huge fight with my mom, my boyfriend, and had to say goodbye to a friend I gave up. I found every pill bottle I could find in my house and poured myself a glass of water and said goodbye. One hundred and eighty-two pills later I cried myself to sleep for what I prayed to God to be the last time.

To this day I’m still not quite sure how they found me. All I remember is waking up but feeling like I was dreaming. There were paramedics around me asking me questions but I couldn’t hear them. I kept trying to close my eyes but they wouldn’t let me. They picked me up and laid me on a stretcher and carried me downstairs and out the front door. I remember getting sick all of a sudden and leaning off the stretcher to throw up near a flower pot outside my front door. The paramedics said some other things but the only words I heard were “pill fragments”. Then my world went dark again.

A week later I was released from the hospital. The night I came in I had to have my stomach pumped. The doctors told me that the only reason I didn’t die was because I actually took too many pills. My body couldn’t digest them all and that’s why I began throwing up. Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was. I didn’t feel lucky though. After all, what had I accomplished? I managed to miss a week of school, great. All my problems were still there. I still just longed for everything to end.

The same night I got out of the hospital there was a penance service at church. I had no intention on going but I was riding my bike around the neighborhood and I just found myself riding toward the church. I didn’t really want to be home so I figured I could just go. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I would just sit there.

When I got into church it was pretty crowded. There were priests in every corner and parishioners standing in line waiting their turn to confess their sins. I made my way to a pew and just sat there, thinking. My gaze made its way to the crucifix on the altar. I looked at Jesus nailed to the cross and before I knew it I was crying. At first I didn’t understand why. But the more I looked at that Man with His hands outstretched for me in a complete surrender of love the more I began to realize what I had done. God gave me life, the most precious gift, and I tried so hard to throw it away. I made my way to a priest and I sobbed to him the sins that I had committed. When I was done he grabbed me by my hand and looked into my eyes and said these words, “Jesus thinks you’re beautiful. Don’t ever forget that” and then he absolved me. I cried the whole bike ride home but not because I was sad. I cried because, for a reason to this day I still do not understand, Jesus saved my life. I’m meant for something more than I realized.

In Isaiah 41:13 it says: For I am the Lord, your God, who grasp your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I will help you”. That night during confession God literally grabbed my hand. I can tell you with utmost confidence that He has never let go. I would be lying to you if I said that since that moment everything has been perfect. It would be dishonest for me to say that at nearly 21 I have everything figured out. Because I don’t, and life is still so very hard. I still fall every single day. The difference now is I know that I’m not alone. I know I’m forgiven, and I know that I’m loved.

Scattered

I sit here at my desk avoiding my homework and letting my thoughts run away from me. I have an urge to put on my shoes and just run. I have a desire to get in my truck and drive way too fast. I have a need to do things that I believe I should keep to myself. Hm.

I want to sit with a friend and have a conversation with them for hours. About what, I don't care. I just want companionship. I want to laugh, and not think.

I rushed Chris out the door and I hated every moment of it. When he kissed me goodbye it took all my strength to get myself to let him go. I wanted him to stay. I mean, I always do. But such a big part of me needed him to. He has to be up early tomorrow though. He has a PFT and he needs to be ready for it. I couldn't allow him to see me weak or in any sort of need because he would have stayed.

I'm not sad, and I'm not mad. I don't feel stressed, or concerned about anything. I just feel.... Well, maybe that's it. I can't feel anything right now.

Huh. I turn 21 in 9 days. Weird.

What was I writing about?

Heaven Sent

There's something breathtakingly beautiful about being in love. In love to the point of mild insanity. Alright, probably for me it is more than mild. But I'm okay with that.

My sophomore year of high school he was just another freshman that I had to tell what to do. When he missed practice that day without notifying me I had no problem replacing him on my team and making him the alternate. Never in a thousand years did I think that above anything else in the whole world that I would ever want that boy to be my husband.

I remember the first time we kissed. I kissed him. Hah. That's rather amusing considering he had to chase me for over two years before I agreed to be his.

Last night I was a pretty big mess. Actually I've been a walking disaster for over a month. I hadn't cried all that much though. Considering how miserable I've felt there have been very few tears. Last night I cried more than a month's worth. It was an exhausting process. One that made me sick. But it was needed and I'm so thankful that he was there to hold me.

Chris is not perfect. At all. He has a smart comment about everyone and no matter how many times I tell him to say excuse me when he burps he doesn't. He has a temper that I can't stand and he is never on time to anything. But he has the prettiest eyes that I have ever looked into and a smile that never fails to make me smile back. He makes me laugh harder and more than anyone ever has in my life. He tells me I'm beautiful every day. He looks at me like I'm the one thing in the world that he would die for. He makes time to see me every day, even if it's just for a few minutes. He takes care of me when I'm sick, and puts up with me when I'm PMSing. If I asked him he would buy me anything in the world. He's the only one I trust to tell absolutely everything to. He picks up my brother and sister up from school when I can't and helps them with their homework. He believes in the Church as much as I do, and never pressures me to do anything. He tells me when I'm irrational and rude and I honestly appreciate that very much. Most importantly every time I get scared and I push him away he stands his ground and pushes his way back to me. He wants me, emotional baggage and all. He's my very best friend and loving him is the best decision I have ever made.

I'm in a stage of my life where so many things are coming at me way too fast. I keep losing my footing. I keep praying to God for some help and as I sat in my room with my sister listening to every song Taylor Swift has beautifully written I began laughing. God sent me help over 2 years and 8 months ago. Before that really. Six years ago. He sent me you.

Brick Walls

I am not so naive that I ever thought that while my life was falling apart everyone else's life was perfect. I didn't think of myself as the only person being in pain or going through anything. I've never thought of myself as that. As though I'm the only one losing control. But I guess I mistakenly assumed that when I asked someone how they were doing they would give me an honest answer. Especially if that someone was my friend.

I'm not sure why I made that mistake. After all, I do not trust people. I'm always looking for a reason that they're lying, or secretly harboring bad feelings for me. It isn't a quality I like about myself, but it's there. Perhaps trust wasn't an issue is this matter. Maybe I was so selfish and consumed about my little world that I missed signs. I don't know.

I've come to realize that not only do I not know myself very well, I don't know the people in my life either. That's pretty pathetic considering how few people there even are.

I used to think I was a good friend.

Enough

I have been trying extremely hard to keep my emotions in check. Anger is not something I like to feel. But this is just too much. I'm not asking for a lot, am I? Perhaps I should have defined space better? Outline what it means when I say I do NOT want to talk? I thought I was pretty clear but apparently not.

You make me want to scream.

Because I know you're going to read this, here we go. Giving me space and not talking means the following:

1. Do NOT reply to this blog in any form. No comments, no texts, no messages on Facebook. Nothing.

2. Do NOT text me about anything. Unless you're dying, fine. But you should probably call 911 first. The beautiful sunset outside is not an emergency. I can look out my window and enjoy beauty on my own, thank you.

3. Do NOT send me anything on Facebook. Why the heck would you invite me to go see a movie with you when you know I want nothing to do with you right now? I don't care if it's two weeks away. No, no, NO!

4. Stop talking to other people about me. You're in this situation for a reason you're responsible for. Deal with it.

5. I don't care if you love me and you will until the day that you die. I don't care that I'm in your every prayer. I don't want to be, and I don't want your love.

Look, I'm not trying to be mean. The reason I don't want to talk to you is mostly because I'm afraid that I will tell you things that will hurt and I'll regret later. I'm extremely upset, terribly hurt and unbelievably frustrated. And every time I get things under control and I'm thinking of reaching out you give me another reason not to. It isn't that I don't care about you or don't want your friendship. But you're driving me crazy. Even the things that sound nice and I admit you may mean, make me furious. Please, please, PLEASE leave me completely alone. When I'm ready I'll talk. But not a second sooner. And each time you say something to me before that is just creating more time that I'll keep my silence.

Could I perhaps be more mature about this? Yeah, maybe I could. Could I not blog about it for the world to read? Absolutely. But hey, every one of your damn blogs is about me so why not give you something? Ugh.

Last night at mass was the most I've ever been distracted. Mass is such an important part of my life and week. It's the one thing I look forward to without fail. But yesterday I couldn't focus. Usually my distractions are very minimal and revolve around the tasks I have to perform during the Liturgy. For instance if I have to lector, if I have to run the collection or if I have to EM. I'm even more distracted when I have to do all three but even so my focus is still extremely sharp. Last night all I had to do was run the collection. A walk in the park. But my thoughts were everywhere.

I haven't received Christ in three weeks. I haven't gone more than a week without receiving communion since I was 14 years old. Not being able to receive causes me physical pain. The idea that my sin is the reason why I can't receive a God who loves me so much that He humbles Himself to be consumed in the form of bread makes me want to sob uncontrollably. Happy are those who are called to His supper. I am not happy.

I know what I need to do. I have to get myself to confession. It's simple enough, and I've had every intention on going since I stupidly chose to sin and separate myself from my Lord. But something keeps happening. I have to do this, I have to do that. I agree to go with my family to a movie and while I'm sitting there watching the previews I nearly burst into tears realizing that I'm going to miss confession. Again. I'm not exactly sure what's going on here. I'm just stupid and losing grip on the world around me? Or is something else happening? All I know is that I want to be in a state of grace on Sunday. I need to be. I want to be able to receive Christ tomorrow even, at mass at school. I hate being this way. I hate feeling this way.

There have been other things, too. I kind of want everyone to just go away. I'm not sure why exactly but I'm tired of...people? I don't know. In some way I feel angry at the world. There's no real explanation, but I want everyone to just leave me alone. I need time to think. Take control of my feelings.

I want to go to the mountains and just be. I'm trying really hard to figure out who in my life actually belong there.