I should totally be writing my research paper. Ten pages on religion and politics due tomorrow by 5pm. I haven't even looked up a source. But I'm not too worried. Even if all I want to do is sleep. There are bigger things.

I've been depressed now for over 10 years. Really depressed. I think it may have even started earlier than then. I just dealt with it in different ways. I've never been a happy person. Ever. My most earliest memories are of me at about three years old and all I really remember are my parents fighting. My mom crying, my dad being drunk. Waking up early in the morning and knocking on my aunt's door to watch Winnie the Pooh and Under the Umbrella Tree. It was my escape. She was the only one that saw me. Everyone else didn't notice. And most of my life it's been that way. It's almost as though I'm off the radar. Life goes on without me. And no, it isn't just my perception. My family has never noticed me.

I grew up fast. Too fast. There's a problem when your parents go to a parent-teacher conference and your kindergarten teacher just tells them that their child is too mature. That she thinks too much and carries too much weight on her shoulders. I think my parents just exploited that fact however. Because I specifically remember life getting harder in first grade. And well in second grade, my mom left me.

I've never had many friends. I've always just kept to myself. Stuck way too deep in my head. It wasn't that I wasn't liked. People talk to me and usually there is some sort of connection. I'm polite and friendly, despite my shyness. But the problem was deeper than that. I was just never understood and I wasn't going to waste my time trying to explain.

My early years were spent in a tree. Or sometimes on the roof. I'd just sit and think. Watch the world from underneath me. It was always as though I never belonged.

I moved to Arizona permanently in 6th grade. It was a very difficult move. Mostly because my life in 5th grade was improving. I was very popular, and no, it didn't go to my head. But I was noticed, and I knew it. And that year, my mom didn't miss a single basketball game I had. Words couldn't describe how much that meant to me. She had missed so many other games in my life. Coming to Gilbert, Arizona was a total culture shock and I got lost within it. I had been lonely all my life, but it didn't sink in until I literally had no one. Seventh grade I came home each day and cut myself. I don't even know how it started. But every day I took that blade to my skin and i have hundreds of scars to show for it. Then I developed an eating disorder. Once again no one noticed. No one. Until the day I tried to take my life.

My second suicide attempt was three years later. I was 16 and in high school. There was much more drama involved. There was also much more pills and I was much closer to dying. How I didn't is still beyond me. Because I didn't send that text to Alyssa. Not consciously.

I'm 21 and no longer on antidepressants. I stopped four years ago. My eating disorder is very much past me, even though I still hate to eat. Cutting is a constant battle, but hey, it's been over a month. Everything else though? The thoughts, the loneliness, the emptiness, the unworthiness, the self hate, the insecurities, the fears, the pain...so much worse. It is currently everything I am. Please someone tell me, what is happiness? Will I even recognize it if it ever comes?

If I could, I would travel back in time. Not very far though. Less than 24 hours even. But I'd go back and just somehow have what I need longer.

I'm walking such a thin line and I don't want to walk it anymore. But I have to. I promised. Everything in me wishes I didn't have that promise to keep.

But I love you and I don't want to hurt you.

I'm completely alone. I need someone to talk to but I have no one. Everyone keeps telling me I can't do this alone. But when I really need them no one is around. They just run away from me. Though I could never blame them. I wouldn't want to be around me either. But I just need someone. Anyone. Don't make me beg.

Resurrection

For the past few days I've been nearly emotionless. I've shut down. Battered and bruised I laid my head down to rest and I never truly got back up. I've shed very few tears. I've been alone, a lot. Especially considering I live with my best friend. I've had the thoughts to do something. Find success in dying. But I didn't have the energy to even formulate a plan in my head. All I've wanted to do is nothing. And even when I'm doing something, I'm really not. One of my coworkers had a conversation with me today. No clue what he said. He finally stopped me, touched my shoulder and said, "You didn't hear anything I said, did you? You're not here, at all. Are you okay?" I just smiled, apologized, made some lame excuse and walked away.

I got out of my truck and had way too many things in my hands. My phone slipped and fell to the street. Bam, another crack in the screen. I barely cared. I walked into my apartment and felt even more empty because the place was lifeless. No one was waiting for me, silly as that sounds. My boyfriend was heading over, and I was forcing him to stay with me tonight because I couldn't stand being alone anymore. Even the realization that he'd be there shortly, however, wasn't enough. I just felt very weak. I walked into my room to lay down until he knocked on the door and on my bed was a basket. Pictures were scattered neatly around it. My mouth couldn't help but curl into a smile. My heart was filled with warmth. Life, for a second, became so much brighter. I love my best friend.

Christ is risen from the dead. Death has no power over Him. In choosing to believe in Him, I also choose to rise from the dead too. But Christ understands my weakness. He understands my struggles and my needs. He understands what it feels like to have a cross too heavy to carry. So Christ has given me people to help me along the way. Jamie helped me through her texts tonight while I struggled so very much to keep on working. Erin showered me with love, and holds my hand through everything. And Chris is here to hold me while I sleep. It's Easter Sunday and Jesus is not in the tomb. I can't lie to you and tell you everything is better, but Christ gave me hope tonight and in a way I needed it. My detached state unfortunately could not connect with the significance of His resurrection. As much as I wanted it to. So Christ gave me His love in a different way. He loved me through Jamie and Chris. But mostly tonight, He loved me through the most amazing young woman that I know and have the absolute honor and privilege to call my best friend. He makes all things new.

I'll be okay. Christ is risen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

Good Friday

I woke up this morning and there was nothing "good" about today. There was nothing "good" about anything. My faith, is my world. Without it I cease to exist. Yet for this Lent, my faith has been somewhere else. I've been disconnected from everything and everyone and God is very much included in that. My prayers were said with a weary heart. With so little effort because I had none to give. My weakened state consumed me and I found no refuge. My mentality and the way I function, however, is not to give up. Even when it's all I want to do. I shut down emotions. I shut down my deepest needs. But I do my best to keep plowing through. I go through the motions until something gains meaning. Until my heart heals just enough to feel.

I stood on the altar at noon. My teens were ready to reenact the Stations of the Cross. They took their places, and we began. The first station passed, and my heart remained empty. The second station passed and nothing. But we hit the third, and I looked down to read my part and everything froze. I suddenly got cold and I struggled to open my mouth. For what seemed like forever I know was only a second. My composure in check I read the following:

Jesus, the weight of the cross crushed you to the ground. Yet knowing that death lay ahead, you still got up and went on. When burdens of sorrow weigh heavily upon me, I often find it difficult to go on with my life. When I stumble and fall, when I mourn for what is lost, give me your strength to rise and walk anew.

My heart tugged in my chest. Emotion welled up inside of me, but I shoved it aside. The fourth station passed, the fifth, and the sixth and I struggled to maintain focus. Everything hurt too much. I stood there trying to be perfect. I always try to be perfect. The seventh station began, and once again I glanced at my paper to read:

Lord, none of us are perfect. We all have disabilities-some are physical, others are emotional or psychological. When living conditions seem difficult, it is hard to keep going...I want to quit, I want to give up. But You encourage me to keep going by Your example.

Tears filled my eyes. I used everything I could to force my voice from cracking because I spoke those words to the Lord, "I want to quit, I want to give up". My heart cried out "Yes! Lord I'm done. You've exhausted my strength." My legs were weak and I yearned to fall to the ground and cry. But in the same breath I also said the words "But You encourage me to keep going by Your example". And so I kept going.

Stations ended, and after mingling shortly I left church and came home. My apartment is silent. I'm left to my thoughts. Last night I handed Christ over. Today I crucified Him. I take the responsibility. It was my sin. It's still my sin. But my weakness is overwhelming. I feel like I too was handed over last night. As though this second I hang from the cross with Him. But who crucified me? Who am I dying for? And mostly, on Easter Sunday, will I be able to rise too?

Lord, forgive me.

Identity

Do you remember when I said I don't know who I am? Well this feeling keeps increasing in strength. When I get the courage to look, I don't know who the person is staring back at me in the mirror. My world is becoming so very hard to get through. Erin mentioned something tonight that hit a cord. She brings a new perspective to my life that I rarely think she realizes. It made me think all the more. As though I don't think enough as it is. This blog can go anywhere. I can discuss the Easter pageant I went to with April held by the LDS at the Mesa Temple. I can give you a compare and contrast between this time, and the time I went 8 years ago. A reflection of faith and growth. I can discuss my Lent and what the next few days mean to me. I can discuss how madly I love Christopher Michael LaVoy and how after three years when I kiss him, my heart still beats violently in my chest and aches with an overwhelming love. I can tell you about how much Erin Laura Rebello means to me and how I believe that her and I will be best friends forever, even though publicly saying that is hard to do. I can detail my emotions about school, graduation, and the looming future. In all honesty I can write about a variety of topics. But nothing is weighing more heavily on my mind like my identity.

• I am a daughter of God
• I am a Roman Catholic
• I am Chris' girlfriend
• I am Erin's best friend
• I am Marisa and Anthony's big sister
• I am a lector, an EM, an usher and a CORE member
• I am a student
• I am a cashier
• I am an owner of a baby corn snake named Mogli
• I am a friend of Jamie, and Jacob, and Kayla, and others.
• I am ____

But what do any of those things really say? How does any of that define how I live? Who am I to myself? And when you look at me, who am I to you?

I need answers.

Humbled.

Scratch that last blog. I think God is laughing at me. I still think You should have shown up Lord. But thank You for the snake. It's Your week. I should be better.

Forsakened

My heart is empty. Or close to it. Whatever fills it right now is anger. Anger presented in a way that I've never experienced. I dislike this feeling greatly. But I can't shake it. Not even close.

My world doesn't look like my own anymore. I'm a stranger to my environment. This skin I'm in makes me itch. I feel isolated from any love others may have for me. I feel misunderstood, mistreated, and mostly just cast away. Put into a corner and told that I'll be dealt with later. So I turn to where I turn, and I think even He missed the ball.

My heart longed to be filled by His grace. To be loved the way I know He perfectly loves me. I yearned for His Word. I desired to be in the midst of His people. I hungered for His True Presence. So I sat in the chapel of my very non-Catholic school with about 15 others and waited for Mass to begin. With each passing minute my anxiety consumed me. I fidgeted in my seat. I kept glancing at the door. My heart sunk in my chest and I began praying as hard as I possibly could. I begged God to not do this. We were all waiting. I was waiting. I needed Him to show up. But minute after minute passed and I sat in the corner holding back tears, feeling sick. A guy across from me finally spoke up, and we all nodded sadly in agreement. No one was coming. They probably changed the schedule because of Holy Week. Whatever excuse, no one was coming.

I'm trying to rationalize what happened. I'm trying to make it make sense. Be okay with it. But I can't. Because right now all I had was God and He didn't show up. I'm trying to look at the bright side. I'm trying to justify everything. But I can't. If this happened to one of my teens and they felt like I did and questioned me about it, looking for some sort of counseling answer, how would I answer them? On a good day, I'd have an answer. I'd give them some sort of meaning to all of this. But I can't give myself an answer. And shit happens doesn't suffice.

I don't know the state of mind the other 15 students were in as they waited with me. Or the disappointment they felt when no one came. But I bet everything that none were as great as mine. None needed Jesus more at that moment. And none are blinded by anger right now.

I've never been angry at God. But I'm very angry now. And it isn't just Mass. But it was the last straw.