"Therefore, that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, " My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Read this as you wait in line for Confession. Some of the best readings happen to be on Saturday when I'm in the queue for Reconciliation. This one was from June 20th.
Paul is not my favorite writer, but he wrote passages that are truly inspiring. This section really gave me hope, but it reaffirmed what I should have known - imperfection, while still imperfection, does not mean we are hated by God. Although we fall, God says it's okay that we haven't conquered our failings yet. Another saint, I don't remember who, wrote that our sin is an opportunity for humility. It gives us a chance to remember our dependence on God and to rely all the more on his mercy.
"And all this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ, and given us the ministry of reconciliation, namely, God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation."
When I go to Mass, especially a Latin Mass - and the higher, the more so - I can't help but picture the throne room in Rohan. Perhaps Gondor, with its steward. Or some palace in days of antiquity.
I think that's what so many people miss - the traditions and practices and ceremonies aren't cult rituals. It's a kingdom we're in and it's a king we're worshipping. God doesn't need it, but neither does the queen of England. But that doesn't mean it doesn't serve a function. It facilitates a relationship between Lord and servant. God is more than just Lord and Savior - and yet he is our Lord and Savior and Creator. . . and Liturgical rites serve to remind us that this is so. They give us a chance to re-pledge our allegiance to our King.
The Mass and other sacraments are important for other reasons, but this has been my reflection.
I know not everyone believes in God and that makes me kind of sad - for many reasons. Non-believers are missing out on something beautiful. They think they see something they don't like, but they haven't truly experienced it. It's a beautiful, solid relationship that's hard to live up to. It's like when two people decide to split up rather than confess to their mistakes and reconcile. Or when someone thinks moral goodness is what's tormenting them and it's actually the bad that drags them down. And this division hinders understanding between persons.
I apologize if this comes across the wrong way to you, but I'm not trying to convince anyone to convert. I am nowhere near perfect and I am struggling to forgive myself - and so this is a reflection on the love of God and, sort of, my participation in his kingdom. If it doesn't really make sense to you, sorry for wasting your time. It's how I feel nonetheless.
I have been having a rough week. . . . I don't know if it's depression or just moodiness - I don't know if there's a difference. But I have not been able to cope with even the littlest things. And last night I kept waking up for no apparent reason, which makes me think maybe it is depression, or at least stress. But maybe someone was setting off fireworks nearby reeeeeally slowly, trying to interrupt my sleep without me noticing.
But I know I'm overtired, so I figure, you know what, it doesn't really matter what's going on with me. There are plenty of reasons. I just have to try to get better. I tried listening to upbeat, happy music - do you know how hard it is to find truly happy music? Even a lot of the music that sounds happy has a depressing message. But it sort of helped. This morning, as I got ready for the day, I listened to music again, but I tried to listen to it quietly so as to not disturb my sleeping roommates.
Knowing that there are certain mental patterns that lead me into depression, I've also resolved on avoiding those patterns. It's hard. But if I start putting myself down, I'll tear it to shreds - as though I had put it on a sticky note and pinned it to my mental reminder board, I'll rip it off and put it through the shredder. If nothing else, the metaphor is helping. And since my depressive moods are often caused or worsened by my reluctance to verbally care about anything, if I start to feel that way, I'll just straight up tell my boyfriend that I'm too tired to think. And if, which I often do, I feel as though no one cares and no one will listen to me, I'll just say, "Hey, I need you to listen." Now, the hardest part will be actually talking at that point. Because the fact that I don't have the mental energy to form feelings into sentences is kind of a setback.
What do you do when you're in a funk?
Alright, if you got through that pity party, I now have an announcement.
I don't know that too many people are actually reading my blog anymore - so be it. I'll do my research and find new blogs to read (which I need to do anyway) and I'll reach out to new bloggers. But I'm afraid I need to leave Google's blogging behind. Google just doesn't care about its bloggers, and that's okay. Apparently that's not their strong suit, but I need something more. I need to be able to do more. Heck, I could probably do more on my own in Dreamweaver and then upload it to a server somewhere - but I don't really want to. I want a platform that has the capacity to do what I need it to do.
Weebly.com is still fairly young, as far as I can tell, and it's not perfect, but it has so much more capacity than Blogger and, I think, Wordpress - although Wordpress is enough for the blog I keep up for my family. But if I'm going with a more professional, modern, up-to-date and relevant look, I gotta leave both behind for this blog. Weebly can't do everything I want, but it comes pretty close. The worst part is the fact that I can't upload this blog to that one, which is a major problem. About 500 hundred posts and over 4 years later, I don't want to leave all this behind and start fresh. I've spent a lot of time getting those views and creating this content. So I'm going to be manually transferring posts over - one. by. one. by. one. by. . . you get the point. My priority is to move Movie Reviews over there to match up with all of the links I already have posted on the "Movie Reviews" page.
So my plan is to move over to http://magicinkanddreams.weebly.com, and I hope those of you, stragglers, will come with me as I build a new home, start a new life, begin with new hope.
. . .Alright, I won't be dramatic about this. The website is still in designing phases, and I'm not moving just yet, but that really is the link and it is published, so feel free to go check it out and tell me what you think.
(Also, current comments won't be over there. . . . sad face.)
Lately, I've been wanting to be a stronger, more independent woman. I'm turning 21 this year – I want to act my age and be bold and courageous. I want to make a difference and be noticed for my accomplishments.
Lately, it seems like every week, I have an emotional crisis of sorts. I feel I'm not being recognized for my talents and hard work at my job, I feel stuck, I feel depressed that I could have to do something like this every day after college, I feel a temporary emotional distance from my boyfriend, I feel too rushed, I feel like I don't have time to fulfill myself with hobbies and personal time, and I feel like I'm such a pain for being an emotional mess.
After seeing the new Avengers movie recently, I reflected on how strong Natasha is. Of course, she is a human being and a woman so she has weaknesses and emotional troubles like anyone else. But then I saw a picture of a childhood friend receiving an award at her school. And I look around at my friends getting really cool jobs or starting organizations that are making a quantifiable difference. And I'm over here thinking about how much I hate the professional world and just want to raise a family on a farm in the country.
I still want to do that, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I'm certainly not going to change who I am or my personality. Who I am is who I am, and there's nothing wrong with her. But I decided to work on my frame of mind, the way I think about things.
After some reflection, I decided that instead of trying to change what I do or how, or change my personality, I'm going to focus more on what areas of my personality are strong and develop that. It could be difficult to do, but I want to build myself up rather than ignore how I feel.
I'm strong… when my creative capacities are encouraged.
I'm strong… when someone else is in a bad mood or insults me and I'm able to forgive and stay steady.
I'm strong… when tasks and schedules vary, allowing me to shake things up a bit and stay out of ruts.
I'm strong… about organizing, cleaning, and housekeeping.
I'm strong… in my feelings for other. I want to love and take care of people. I am willing to do anything necessary for a relationship that is worth it (and some that aren't).
I'm strong… when faced with a task no one else wants to do but needs to be done. I can sacrifice myself for others.
I'm going to try to keep working on this list and encourage myself to be strong, inspired by myself.
Last week, something kind of startling happened to me. It tripped me up a little. A lot has been going on in my life lately and it's hard to digest, but this threw me off my emotional kilter a bit.
See, I've been trying to catch up with the old blogs I used to read, and it's felt weird – like I betrayed them or something and now I'm just coming back into the fold like nothing has changed…. But a lot has changed. For one thing, I don't specifically remember some of the blogs and I don't remember what I know about them. Some I do, and some I don't. And some aren't regularly updated anymore – no surprise there. So I feel odd and guilty and embarrassed to return to my old haunt, but I thought, hey, I might as well try to comment on some of these if I have any thoughts that come to mind. I won't force it. But I'll try to ease myself back into the circle.
That's been difficult because there's a community going on here, even more so than I remember, and so I feel like an awkward outsider, a stranger that is trying to interject into a personal conversation amongst good, ole friends. And I mean, I didn't expect that my blog would suddenly be relevant again – I didn't. I just hoped that, well, somebody would comment on what I say and share their insights with me.
Well, but anyway, I tried to comment on a blog last week. I was so excited. This blogger is a bit younger than me – wow, more than I realized until just now…. And she was talking about various things…. Then she mentioned something that I just had to comment about. The topic interested me and I had experience to relate that I thought would be helpful. All positive and encouraging things. I won't get into specifics. My comment had to be approved, and I thought it was, and I anxiously awaited a reply, if there was one. I kept getting emails about new comments but none a reply to mine. I find out that my comment isn't there at all. How odd.
Long story short, I commented again but it never showed up among all the other comments. My comment was vetoed twice.
I guess what I'm eventually trying to say is that this opened a crack in my heart. And I remembered all the bad about social media. All the hurt I had ever felt because I was ignored or whatever on social media – I had almost forgotten until that moment.
And slowly but surely, it reminded me of all the people I've met and the ones that walked away from me and the ones I walked away from… and it makes my heart sad.
I wish I could tell them all that, hey, I was just looking for a friend. And I never meant to hurt anyone. I did everything I could think of to do what I thought would make you happy and then, sometimes, I finally just had to walk away. I didn't know what else I could do. I came to college with the goal for myself to give everything I had into being a great friend, and even then I failed. And I'd like to blame you but I can't. It's just the way of things. Life happens. And I don't understand it. But fortunately, understanding it is not required.
But it'd still be nice, I sometimes think, to say, "Hey. I busted… certain areas of my anatomy to be the best I could be and that's the best you could do? You have no idea how much I wanted to be the most amazing friend you had ever had." But once the first rush of confusion and passion rushes over me and dies, I mostly just want to say, "Why." Why did you do this thing? I can imagine a hundred and two possibilities. None of them are giving me closure. But was it really necessary to break my heart like that?
Well, I'm not actually pitying myself too much. This stuff just is, sometimes. I was only reflecting on it. But if social media has many positives of community, it has the negatives too. Life has both, anyway. And I suppose it just has to be.
I want to be irreplaceable. I want to be a person that others miss when I'm not there. I want to be a personality that no one can fill in for. I want to bring something new and different to the table. I want to stand out by being myself and only myself. I want to relate to people in a special way, in a way that only I can.
–––
My boyfriend bought me flowers the other day. In a text message later, he told me:
Do you know why I chose those flowers? White carnations are symbolic of purity. The red rose is for love.
My boyfriend, people. Dear sweet romantic.
___
Here's the beginning of my new story:
How to begin my tale? It is difficult to say. I could describe Cobbston and its townfolk, queer people that they are – but then you would be left in mystery of me, grasping at straws of details as they are introduced throughout my story. I could make you work a little bit to hold the threads together in your mind; you could get to know me as Cobbston did – piece by piece. Michael did. But most certainly, I cannot begin with Michael. He was about six feet tall, beefy and strong, and his black hair waved in a goofy arch on his forehead. His eyes were green, his skin was thick, and he was warm – oh, so warm – and a good deal bigger than I. But I did not meet him until after I had met the other players of my tale.
The rest is in a notebook somewhere, where I put it down during a boring lecture.
There is a child. He – or she – lives in a basement, a cellar. It is dark; there, light nor comfort ever enter. Food is sometimes dropped in through the cellar door, scattering and crumbling, tumbling across the floor in all directions. It is covered in mold and dust, now, and the messes the child has made. The floor is an atrocity. It is covered in rat carcasses, which the child has nibbled on in the long darkness between feedings. The child is thin and dirty; his skin is red and bloated from abuse and a lack of care. Unbeknownst to all, someone comes down into the dark. A great man in silence comes down into the cellar and beats the child. The child feels the man's blows until his face is swollen and bloodied. He is left alone down there, to bleed and whimper. The child speaks no words; he cannot speak any words. The only sounds he makes are the gasps and moans involuntary but necessary to the abuse he suffers.
Festering in the dark, he knows nothing else. Dying, gasping, breathing, he knows not where he is or what he is or why. He cannot even ask himself these questions.
The child is no longer a child. But he still lives in the darkness. He is not a person; his head and heart are empty. He has never been anything, and he will never be anything. No one has compassion on him; no one acknowledges his existence. The great man doesn't come anymore; there is nothing in the child's darkness but squeaking and scuffling. And one day, the squeaking and scuffling do not find resistance. And the darkness never ends.
......
This is the kind of movie that I have had more than enough of. This is entertainment?
Okay, here's the lowdown. This is not an entirely easy decision for me, but Magic, Ink, and Dreams/Ginger and Rubies/Marcmire is losing its usefulness. I've been watching other people transition to new blogs and I just sort of goggled them in bewilderment. Their new blog wasn't radically different from their old one – why didn't they just overhaul their old one?
But now I think I understand.
This blog is kind of a mess. Like a journal you've been using for a long time, it's falling apart at the seams and contains a lot of different material. I've "overhauled" it a couple different times and I'm just not happy with it. It's too cluttered and messy. Only a complete demo and rebuild would do, I feel like – but there's still some good material here.
So while I'm trying to decide what to do with "Marcmire" (returning to "Magic, Ink, and Dreams" is an option I'm considering – theme as well as title), I've started a new blog.
"[Experience] Our Hearts [Wholly] Unhindered" is partially a more serious blog and partially a more grown-up blog. "Our Hearts Unhindered" (working title?) will be for those posts I have written and will write that address real world problems, such as Busting Franciscan Myths, Ridiculous Facebook, Confidence Quotes, and perhaps re-blogged articles from other blogs (with the proper attribution).
If I continue to use this blog, it will be for the other stuff – the stuff that reads like I threw-up on the page; the stuff that is just my geeky, awkward, spazzy little brain letting off steam.
One main problem I have with this blog is my audience. I'm not too sure that I really have one anymore; my stats have jumped into unbelievable numbers, but I'm fairly convinced these page views are mainly bots crawling my pages. And what's more, I think most of my "audience" is either still in that blogging phase that I've left behind, or has moved on and left me behind. Either way, I've lost my audience.
And what's more, I want more out of blogging. I want to reach people and get comments by people who come to my blog for a specific topic I've written about – and not just because I'm in a blogosphere of young writers journaling about their lives and getting super excited reading about others' lives. That was fun once, but I honestly don't have time to read posts about the daily walk you took this morning. Not unless it has a point.
And I don't need that kind of outlet anymore. (Praise my Heavenly Daddy for His blessings these past few years.)
So… to those of my loyal readers who still keep up with this blog, this post is for you. Thank you bunches, and I'll try to keep this updated with random thoughts that come to mind – but it's getting harder to do. I used to write about things that happened in my daily life, but it didn't used to necessitate hiding identities or trying to be vague to avoid embarrassment.
But at the same time, "Our Hearts Unhindered" isn't the place for spazzing – and sometimes I want to. So the future of "'Marcmire'" is unclear. As you are the one who reads this stuff, I'd love to hear what you think – if indeed, "you" exist.
And that's how that goes.
The address of the new place is http://ourheartsunhindered.blogspot.com if you wanna check it out and give me feedback (if you want to comment on appearance or anything not directly related to the posts there, please comment back here). It's a work in progress and it's not officially "published" yet, so to speak, but it should be ready soon.
Thank you, anyone and everyone, for reading anything I've written over the years. I've come a long way… and it still awes me to think about it. Truly, I could not be more grateful for how far I've come.
"I mean, I'm mostly going to college to find a husband."
Don't come to Franciscan. According to THIS SITE and one other, the boy/girl ratio is between 40/60 and 30/70. There are a lot of girls. A lotof girls, especially compared to so few guys!
I know: "I'm hoping to find a good Catholic husband, so where better than at a great Catholic college?" Yeah, well, good theory, but Catholicism doesn't come with automatic awesomeness. It'd be nice if it did, wouldn't it? You may know a person who is Catholic and seemingly devout but has so many character flaws you wish they were atheist so you could "convert" them. From my view on this campus, Franciscan seems to be the preferred and chosen college for this type of person.
Smoking and drinking are not foreign to this campus. You have to know the right people in order to get really stoned, but it's not hard to find them – just listen to the right people talking about, well, the wrong people. Smokers stand outside every building. …Not constantly, but you'll see a few on a daily basis if you're paying attention.
Smoking is not inherently evil, so far as I can figure (although I hear tell that cigarettes are really, really bad for you). But it has been my limited experience that most of the guys standing outside in "smoking rings" on a regular basis – cigarettes, cigars, or pipes – are charter members of the group of guys that smart girls are learning not to dream about.
So smoking is directly related to weak character? Well, no, I can't prove that. It could be that the majority of the campus male population is of weak character; in which case, it would naturally follow that the campus male smoker population would be largely dominated by this type…. After all, there are plenty of stay-away-from-hims that don't smoke or drink every Friday night.
But that's just a taste of what you'll find on the Franciscan campus.
City on a hill? Salt of the earth? Light of the world? Certainly, all those things. The Franciscan Friars are so adorable and so powerful and so life changing/challenging. The witness of a chapel full of young adults singing to God four Masses a Sunday, three a weekday is breathtaking. Perpetual Adoration, Students for Life, The Harmonium Project, Red Light Ministry… and whatever else we have going on 'round here – sometimes it's hard to keep track of it all.
At the same time, we've got Households that are known more for their off-campus parties than for their spirituality; we have sexual assault investigations and guys banned from certain all-girl's dorms; we've had students kicked out for drug activity; there are Freshman couples hooking up within the first one or two weeks of school and breaking up because one or the other is "struggling with their spirituality;" we're overflowing with flirt action hidden under the pick-up line: "I want to guard your heart." (See THIS page for campus crime statistics.)
Finding a man on campus? The majority of the girls in my acquaintance who will be graduated this year are going out into the world without marriage plans, without an engagement ring, without even a boyfriend. A lot of relationships that happen are not particularly mature or prepared for marriage. Yes, there is the occasional sophomore marriage – but believe me, it looks more insane than it does romantic. A lot of people collapse, after a long day here, among their closest friends, and admit, "This place is like high school all over again."
If you want diversity, you won't find it here. There are only a few black people; most people are moderately chill Catholics split about equally between the charismatics and… not charismatics; a lot of geeks and nerds, as well as geek and nerd wannabes; hardcore partiers and smokers, rebels, and cool people are the severe minority; and then there are the small populations of blatantly "traditional" Catholics and "full-length-skirt-addicts." Most people more or less dress the same – the jocks and drama queens being pretty much the only exception – and frisbee is the thing.
Babies are cute; friars and other religious are celebrities; discernment into religious life merits a huge celebration; and a day when it isn't raining is everyone's dream.
Oh – and I should mention the huge homosexual community.
In some respects, it's just like any other campus.
But a good girl with all her ideals intact… is more likely to get hurt here.
See, the bad guys here are hidden because everyone goes to Mass, signs up for an Adoration hour, goes to Theology classes, and has some kind of "lightning bolt of providence" story. And I'm sure these guys are essentially good people – they're just stupid when it comes to relationships. So they lure you in with tales of their struggles for holiness – and then they just stop talking to you. Or worse. (And then the respective Households get involved…. It can be messy.)
Brother-sister relationships abound. Which I'm happy about – I'm putting together a whole family over here! But girls actively seeking their knight-in-shining armor get hurt real fast.
So if you're going to college for your MRS degree, you may want to look elsewhere. I mean, my philosophy is to not look for an MRS degree. I think they're earned on a basis of merit, not effort. More like a scholarship. I like that – a scholarship to life: 'The MRS Scholarship, funded by Heavenly Father.'
But I digress.
Franciscan University has a lot of problems. And there are days where the only reason I'm still here…. It's Catholic. And if you are honestly doing your best to follow God and discern His plan for your life, you can find a very supportive and healthy spiritual community here. For all its flaws, this school is run on the idea that you can leave this place with a stronger relationship with Christ and a solid foundation to fall back on. So far, I'm finding that part of the school to be excellent (though it obviously isn't perfect). And I've got a pretty good head on my shoulders and a lot of grace on my side, thank God.
I've slowly been changing my perspective. I have to assume that I just might not leave this school on the arm of a man. With that in mind, I think I can get the most out of and give the most to this school.
But yeah, girls shouldn't come here assuming that their degree won't be terribly important when they graduate – it may be the only thing they have to live on when they leave this place.
One of the unique opportunities I have attending seminary, after ten years of marriage, is discipling young men who are single or dating. One of the disadvantages, however, is not being current on the lingo.
This struck me in a recent conversation with a friend who told me he had gone out several times with a young lady and was uncertain about the status of the relationship. Curious, I asked him if he was planning on continuing to date this girl.
“You misunderstand,” he said, “we aren’t dating – we’re just talking.”
“Talking?” I replied, a little confused, “you mean like we’re talking right now.”
“No,” he explained, “we’re at the stage of the relationship just before dating. It’s called talking.”
Dumbfounded and feeling a little old and disconnected, I decided to investigate this new pre-dating phenomenon. “Talking,” I discovered, is a widely accepted stage in current guy/girl relationships wherein a young man and a young woman get to know each other without better defining the relationship. This isn’t even a real stage of the relationship; it’s a pre-stage. They’re not just friends; they’re not really dating or pursuing marriage; they’re “talking.”
After these conversations, I was left with the question: Do we really need another stage in relationships that are directed toward marriage?
Shirking Responsibility
Our culture suffers from a large number of males wallowing around in quasi-manhood for many years. Boys used to grow up, get a job, and move out of the house. But we have inserted this chain of life stages from adolescence, to the college years, to early career, and so on – all of which permit young men to put off growing up, taking responsibility, and generally acting like a man.
This new phase of pre-dating called “talking” is like adolescence for relationships: an unnecessary stage in the relationship allowing young men to avoid taking responsibility and acting like men. It prevents the man from having to be clear about his intentions to pursue or end the relationship. If he wants to stop “talking,” he simply walks away, leaving behind a confused, and potentially wounded, young lady.
John Piper defines biblical masculinity as, “a sense of benevolent responsibility to lead, provide for and protect women in ways appropriate to a man’s differing relationships.”[1] It is the responsibility of the man to take a leadership role in relationships, to be forthright, honest, and clear about his intentions. This “talking” phase normalizes relationship without responsibility; closeness without clarity; cultural manhood, not biblical manhood.
The young ladies I’ve spoken to share this frustration. They are left in a state of relational limbo, where they are unsure of the young man’s intentions and the purpose of the relationship. They are stuck going on non-dates with guys who are scared to date.
In their defense, guys tell me they are afraid to ask a lady out because she might immediately assume he wants to marry her. I understand the concern, but that does not change the need for character – it makes it all the more necessary.
Intentionality Is a Way to Serve Sisters in Christ
First, you should ask girls out that you see as potential wives. Second, when you don’t see her as a potential wife any longer, explain yourself and then stop asking her out. Third, throughout the relationship be clear, upfront, and honest about your intentions. If you just want to get to know her better, tell her so. If you see this relationship turning into something more serious, tell her that too. If you think she’s a great girl but don’t want to pursue the relationship further, tell her! That’s the kind of “talking” that should characterize the relationship.
If things don’t work out, and if you’ve acted like a true man, you’ve gotten to know a sister in Christ better and helped prepare her to meet her future husband. If things do work out, congratulations, you’re married. Those are the only two options for a man of God.
If you are a young man intimidated by the prospect of intentionally pursuing a young woman as a wife, seek the Lord in fervent prayer. Search your heart and your intentions to ensure they are grounded in the gospel and informed by Scripture. With your conscience clear before the Lord and your heart and mind shaped by His word, stand confident in the care of your heavenly Father (and hers) and speak boldly to your sister in Christ. Our God is a God of truth, and your sister in Christ deserves to know the truth from you.
If you are a young lady stuck with a guy who isn’t interested in pursuing you but expects your prolonged time and attention as he “talks” to you, ask yourself if this is the type of indecisive boy-man you want to follow for the rest of your life. It is impossible to follow someone who will not lead. Find a man who will treat you as a sister in the Lord deserves to be treated: with honesty, integrity, and clarity.
It’s time to kiss “talking” goodbye. Our brothers and sisters in Christ deserve better than this.
Hello world. I have something oh so important to share with you. Let's see who reads this to the end. Please copy and paste this onto your own wall. We'll see who my friends are and really reads this. DO NOT SHARE – copy and paste. Because that is a true sign of friendship. You might ignore me every single day but if you copy and paste this then I will know you are my friend. Even if you have been through all my rough moments with me, this will be the sure sign of our friendship. And just to make this more fun, use one word to say how we first met (because I don't remember).
My third week of school is over and one big thing I've learned is that nothing just goes away. Wounds don't disappear, habits don't die, and trouble never leaves you.
I've a pretty good handle on my anxiety, but this isn't always the case. There are times when I'm really struggling to be chill. And there are times when I'm on top of assignments and there are times when I get back to my dorm at night with tons to do. Sometimes I overreact or act out, and sometimes I'm too quiet.
When I found out that an ex-friend of mine got himself a girlfriend, it messed me up for a few days. I had a debilitating physiological response when I saw him. My palms went cold and clammy; I was shaking; I couldn't breathe fast enough to keep up with the rate of my heartbeat. The anxiety was mind-numbing.
Twice, I saw him and the intense anxiety attack followed. But the second time, I was prepared for it. I calmed myself down, he didn't even see me, and the world moved on.
The problem is that I can't figure him out. Most of the time, he ignores me; and then he'll do something like come up behind me and tickle me behind the ear. Most of the time, I ignore him because I don't know which version of him woke up that day. Thing is, there have been times when I know he knows I'm there – our eyes lock, I catch him glancing at me – but he doesn't try to get my attention or say hi or even smile. Can't get so much as a "SUP."
For a while, I excused him. I figured, we're awkward, he's conflicted over me, he's got other friends, we're not that close…. But that's a bunch of bushwinkle.
Here's a text conversation I recently had with another guy friend of mine:
Where have you been all day?? I wanted to wish you a happy birthday lol
Dorm lol
Well, then, happy birthday
Lol thanx :)
That was all. So now I need to explain why this conversation worried me.
At the end of this chat, I had this subtle alarm going off in the back of my mind. I was being a nuisance, insisting that I ought to have seen him around. I was clingy, manipulative, domineering. I was pathetic, screwing up another relationship like this. He can do whatever he wants, and if he doesn't want to spend his birthday with me, then who am I to demand otherwise? I'm going to lose him. Again. I was going to lose someone that I care about. Again.
My ex-friend taught me to feel like this.
I won't say that I was having an anxiety attack over this brief conversation with my guy friend, but I felt like I had to back off and leave him alone for a while; let him approach me; let him know that I was indifferent, that I wasn't trying to make him do things for me.
When I saw him the next day, everything was fine and dandy. He was happy to see me, even apologetic for being so elusive. He gave me a hug – which are rarer these days because he has a girlfriend now – and I wished him a happy birthday. And as we went on with our separate daily tasks, he wished me a good one.
And everything was fine.
He can't possibly know how much that stood out to me. When I saw him in the crowd, coming down the hall, I was prepared for a mere half-smile and he would go on by. But that is not him, and I should have known that. He has always baffled me with the way that he insisted on being interested in me, no matter how many long awkward moments we had. For some reason, I was never good at talking to him. We've had many long pauses, lots of hangout sessions where we just stare at our computers and say hardly a word. But he kept asking to hang out with me. Even now, he is deeply devoted to his girlfriend but he still likes hanging out with me. He's really nice, and we're not very close – but we're good.
But he made me realize, once again, that what happened with that ex-friend was not my fault. I was naive, innocent, inexperienced… sure. But I still am. And lots of people still like me, get along with me, seek me out, wave at me across the room even if we've only hung out one-on-one a few times – even after my most awkward moments. The disaster that happened between my ex-friend and me was not my fault, as I had come to believe. After all, I was struggling with depression and had an anxiety attack when he pushed me away – but he pushed me away.
I've discovered that it's actually easier to say it was my fault than to admit that he was wrong. Because if it was my fault, then it was not his, and he didn't hurt me. But if it's his fault, then my heart rips open again and bleeds hard. So I've been struggling with that with what feels like a week but has only been the past couple of days. I'm okay, but he really did hurt me; and now every time I see him, I wonder, "Who is he?"
I don't acknowledge him, for the most part. I've wrestled with that decision but I think it's the best one. I think most would agree, with the exception of a few people that might say that I should encourage him to think I want to be friends. The problem with the latter philosophy is that I spent the end of last semester thinking like that and it was painful; and furthermore, it didn't work. He was just as good at "not seeing" me when I said hi as when I didn't. And this way, even when I look right at him, I am at least being consistent, which is my main complaint against him. I show him that I don't want to play that game anymore. He has no control over me; I couldn't (in practice) care less about him. If he wants me, he has to come get me. I'm not chasing after him anymore. It's all on him.
Not acknowledging him also encourages me to let him go and to stop trying to make him like me. That was my main problem last semester. I thought that if I went out of my way to say hi, like most friends would, that he would want to be friends. Friendship would just come naturally if I presumed it. But he didn't read the script, apparently. My attempts only left me feeling frustrated, rejected, and obsessed.
Crazy, as he put it.
But I've decided not to try to contact him and talk to him about it. If we talk about it, a decision has to be reached. I would have to say, "Either be friendly or leave me alone." Once that decision is made, he will either stick to it or he won't, but howsoever that may be, it would be sticking a tombstone in our relationship and minimizing the room for growth. Perhaps he will grow and mature and we could some day be friends; but not if I tell him he needs to leave me alone. And ultimately, I'd like us to find healing one day.
So I've learned that nothing just goes away. But that can be a good thing, too. And the bad reminds me to cherish the good, which is oh so precious to me.
I'm genuinely bewildered by much of the good in my life, so it's awesome and amazing. It's hard to let it do what it has to do.
~Meggy P.S. Did you make it all the way to the end?
I am so incredibly addicted to this song right now. Every time it comes to a close, I lament that it is so short!
The other trick is that I packed all my stuff for college into so such a compact little collection of green boxes and various shoulder bags. Plus this year I'm bringing a rug and a fridge! I can't wait! We're leaving really early tomorrow morning, and I'll get there mid-afternoon. There are so many people I can't wait to see. I'm not really looking forward to classes as much as I would have thought… but I'm sure I'll be excited once I get started.
So I've heard of Sick Puppies but never listened to them until now. I'm not sure what's up with them – what's going on behind their lyrics and in their lives – but all I know is I love their most recent album, with the exception of a few songs perhaps…. But anyway, oh my gosh, I listen to it so much on Spotify.
Also liking The Script's "Hall of Fame."
And so far, I'm not tired of this song yet:
And this song will always make me smile:
I'm gonna miss being in my home town for the beautiful autumn season… but it's not too shabby out in Ohio either. And what's more, I'll be sharing it with my best friends.
But first, I'm going to Confession and Mass this afternoon.
I don't know if my selection of songs demonstrates this,
"In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different." But each of us is different.
Now, if I met a guy and I found myself trying to be like him to get his attention – or the same with a girl – then this quote might be useful. But most of the time, we are different just the way we are. But it's our similarities, not our differences, which bring us together.
I understand the point of this quote – it's to say that you shouldn't be ashamed to be different. But I think the only people who care about this quote are taking it for more than that. I've seen far too many people using quotes like this to back up behavior that needs to be reigned in. We've all seen it – in real life and in movies or television. It's ridiculous. They're super opinionated, loud, obnoxious, and too strong-minded. These people were born this way, anyway, but quotes about being different make people forget that there is such a thing as rudeness, such a thing as relating to other people.
"If you've never lost your mind then you've never followed your heart." So my heart is trying to send me to a lunatic asylum?
The times that I have lost my mind have not been pleasant. Yeah, I guess you could say I was following my heart…. If that's the way you want to put it, then I'm not totally sure that following your heart is a good thing.
This quote could mean something else by "lost your mind," I suppose, but I'm not sure what. If it is trying to tell me that I will feel insanely happy and light as a feather, then I will believe that when I get there. But I hardly think that feeling is guaranteed to come with following my heart. I might do something dumb, but again, this quote is based on the presumed premise that following your heart is the epitome of great things! And so far, the evidence is pointing to the opposite.
"I like flaws and am most comfortable around those who have them. I, myself, and made up entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." This one just blows my mind.
You're most comfortable around people who have flaws? …Do you have a limit? Like, if you're with people who don't give a darn about you or anything else, doesn't that bother you? Are you comfortable with murderers and thieves and whatnot? Are you comfortable with people who swear and disrespect people?
Okay, anyone who stand behind this quote probably doesn't mean it to that extent. But this quote seems to show to me only the most refined pride. "I've made mistakes, but I'm proud of them because I meant well. Who cares that I've hurt people, sold myself short, or reaped consequences? I meant well. And no one is perfect." No, no one is perfect, but I'm going to keep trying to be, if you don't mind; and I'm sorry for my mistakes. If I meant well, that only shows a lack of wisdom on my part….
I understand the good intentions behind motivational quotes, but after a point, they work against their own end. If all you ever hear is that you are fine the way you are, that you should be as different from everyone else as you can, that following your heart is the most important thing in the whole world – you start to fall short even of what you yourself want for yourself. You stop striving for more; stop striving for a better you, for unity with creation, for wisdom and righteousness.
I've mentioned before that affirmation drives me crazy because it feels extravagant and fake. It's kind of the same thing going on here. These are great ideas to ponder over, but I cringe whenever I see people gluing their lives to them. When people are married to quotes that glorify these shallow ideas, I want to cry. These people are on a road to self-destruction, and I'm also finding them very hard to get along with. Some people get a long way on these things, I realize, but I can't help but wonder what kind of existence that is.
Not to mention that psychology says that it rarely helps to overly build up the ego. It often has the opposite effect ultimately.
I'm all for bettering self-images and improving society's message, but something subtler and more penetrating and better balanced would be so much better.
Loneliness has been gripping my soul. With less than a week before my return trip to college, my longing for my friends has increased thirtyfold. I can't wait to see their faces and hear their voices. I can't wait to actually do all the things we've promised to do.
My friends may never understand even an inkling of how much they mean to me. As a life-long loner, it's amazing to have people texting me – even Skyping me! – over the summer. Seventh through twelfth grade, I could have been the poster child for the people who say homeschoolers aren't properly socialized. And in my whole life, I've had maybe five or six friends – in recollection – and only one at a time. The fact that I have so many different people interested in befriending me at one time is amazing.
If only I could express these feelings. Those that want to hear it, wouldn't understand their depth. Those that would take it, would try to sympathize or would be embarrassed and uncomfortable. Some would not like being so serious long enough to hear.
But perhaps there are other ways to express my feelings. Perhaps words are not the best way. I think, maybe, these feelings that want to explode are meant to stay that way. By chance, maybe the barely bridled gratitude and affection inside me would feel tainted, deflated once let out in minced, jumbled phrases. More likely, such feelings were meant to build – further constructed with every hug and good word, better fortified with every trial, magnified until unfading, preserved even after long separation in our happy thoughts and cherished memories. Never to be described.
I fear the day when I have to go away. These four years will truly be the time of my life. It could well be that I may find friends after college and find a cute little community for myself in a small town somewhere…. But never will I live in a community so close and available… never will it be so beautiful and open… never will it be a large Catholic community, all talking about anything that comes to mind without reserve or awkwardness…. I will truly miss all these dear characters in my life. For never have I been so anxious to be with people who scared me so much.
I'm only going into my second year of college; I know I'm a bit premature; but if there's one thing I thrive on, it's deliberating on notions long before their time.
And I truly will miss the people who are helping me get so far. Without them, I would never have known my fears as I do now – I would never have grown so much. I would never have embraced such terror with so much anticipation.
It is my fervent prayer that I will find someone among them who will not want to move on without me. We can go away from there together, and support each other in the separation. I can let my love for him grow to insurmountable heights, and I never need explain anything; for I'll live my unfading feelings – forever.
Before I start, I should mention that I'm not from Arizona….
The more I listen to this song, the more I get it.
But I've decided I have a problem.
Anxiety.
Serious, uncontrollable, irrational anxiety.
If you go back to March of this year, the results of my anxiety drench the stuff I wrote during that month. There was this boy, and he seemed nice. I didn't have any interest in him beyond that, but it seemed pretty obvious that he was interested in me. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder… how would I feel about dating?
But very early on, he made me feel as though my own troubles were insignificant compared to his. I was so innocent and good compared to him. And after some time of that (which seems fairly normal with boys), I began to feel even worse. I'm terribly shy, and he was so not. I've since begun to believe that his loud behavior may stem from his own inner embarrassment and need for attention. But I can't be sure…. Because I freaked.
It wasn't long before I began to feel as though I wouldn't be good enough for him. I began to think that I needed to be just as he was in order to keep him from moving on. I was so scared that he would get bored with me. So I pushed myself. I didn't trust him, but I acted like I did. I did things that normally would have been uncomfortable for me because I thought it was the kind of thing he wanted. I rationalized that these things required a give-and-take. He was constantly on my mind as I tried to figure out what to do to please him and I did a lot of crying and dwelling in depression.
Now to be fair to myself, the case he made for himself wasn't good. He gave me plenty of reason to doubt. But if I had just been cool, we both might have been able to come out of it unscathed and perfectly okay.
What kills me is I was that girl. I was that girl that he probably talked about to other people, even other girls, saying how clingy I was, and begging for advice. And that's what kills me. I was a b****. And I hope for your sake that's the only time I use that word on my blog, but unfortunately, it's true.
What opened my mind to all this?
A day without a single text message.
All summer long, I've been texting this friend of mine nearly every day. We've always been pretty good friends, and I've always felt amazingly comfortable with him (especially considering he's a guy). We just get along swimmingly.
But a few days ago, he didn't text me.
I was in the basement, going through my boxes and re-packing for college. I had my computer open and I was watching "The Sarah Jane Adventures" on YouTube, accompanied by my little sister. I was busy doing things, so I didn't think to text him and it didn't both me too much that he hadn't texted me.
But the next day, I was sure to text him as soon as I got out of my dentist appointment. It was after two in the afternoon, which is right around when we usually start texting, so I texted him.
Our conversation that day was very sparse. We each sent only about five or six messages that afternoon. That's very unusual. But there's nothing wrong with that, right?
By this time, everything inside me was screaming out in a panic. My reason was telling me – indeed, I was telling me to chill out. There is nothing wrong just because we aren't feeling very talkative for a couple of days. There is even evidence that we'll recover! This was not the first time such things had happened and yet everything was still perfectly fine between us (although I freaked out every single time). What's more, our relationship is soooo healthy and natural. It is devoid of flirting or games or pity parties, but even so, we're pretty comfortable talking about what's bothering us.
But that little bit of me that made sense wasn't convincing the rest of me. The rest of me was divided between searching for excuses for him and bracing myself to let him go. I thought, "What if he never texts me again? We had such a promising semester ahead of us. So many plans to watch movies and study for our class together. What of those plans now?" I spent too much time fighting off depression as helplessness and hopelessness and loneliness swept over me. I began envisioning a future for myself on this trajectory, after I've lost all my friends, living alone on a farm, fighting off depression all by my self for the rest of my life, unable to make or keep friends. I am not making any of this up. And all because of two days.
Don't get me wrong. It's not because I saw a "future" for "us." …I have no idea what's in store. I was freaking out because I was losing a friend, like all my close friends before him.
Well, the day after that, he texted me and things went on as usual!
My meltdown, hidden from all those around me (but unfortunately not from me), was not because I truly believed it would happen. It was a response that has apparently been programmed into me and is unavoidable. Nothing I did or told myself convinced me that everything was fine. I was cool and calm on the outside, but a raving lunatic on the inside. In March, this feeling drove me to badger the other guy with texts and ask him if everything was okay.
Who doesn't see this as a problem, raise your hand.
And I believe that my depression ultimately stems from this anxiety. It makes so much more sense now! I have had numerous theories about my moodiness – all plausible, just needing more observation of my behavior to better understand – but they all left some questions unanswered. This is the one answer that makes the most sense. I am fundamentally fearful that I will find myself alone when all is said and done.
And I've always known of my loneliness and admitted my great obsession to please. My awareness of my anxiety has slowly been growing over the past few months until this last great leap.
There have been times when I've contemplated seeing someone about my depression, but I've never quite made up my mind. I seemed to be gaining some control over my depression so I figured maybe it would be pointless to go to a professional. But my depression was just a symptom of something much deeper.
So now I have to consider seeing someone about anxiety.
Now that I pinpointed it, I might be able to make progress on my own. This is not a decision I'm going to make lightly. First of all, like I said, I'm cool and calm on the outside. Very few people even notice when I'm going through these things, which is usually because I get depressed and subtly draw away from people. The one time I discussed depression with my mother, she was extremely skeptical. But according to my best friend, I was a mess in March, even though she didn't understand why. And secondly, I would feel a lot better if I could conquer this on my own. I've seen what labels and counseling do to some people – it's kind of like, even though they're "working on it," they're at peace with it. Upon hearing that it's something they can't help and that they'll have to correct it over time, they kind of settle into it. But I don't want to be at peace with it; I want to wage intense, violent war on it.
But I'm not ruling out professional help. I'm going to do some research and reflection. No hasty decisions here. Once I get other people involved, there's no backing out.
And the friend that I've been texting this summer, reads me really well. He kind of picked up on my anxiety troubles without me saying it right out, so I know I can talk to him about it. And there are a few other friends at school that I really trust and I know would be open to talking about this.
Do you have any thoughts? Do you think this is as serious that it may warrant professional help? Or do you think I'm over-thinking things again?
"There is no objective truth." I mean, everything taught in school is just taught so that you can later reject it. Whenever you ask a question, the answer is simply the answer that your mentor likes to believe. If "there is no objective moral truth," that explains why the jails are empty and the globe is one big family, each individual holding nothing against the other.
Okay, so obviously, there is objective truth. There is objective moral truth. And that means that there is only one way to live. Stealing is either right or wrong. Killing is either right or it's wrong. Bullying is either harmless or it's bad. Abuse is either helpful or it's very, very hurtful.
So there is one way of life. I won't tell you what is it here; that's not my drive.
My drive is at the concept of having one way to live, but having many types. For example, there are the "Mother Theresa"s, and there are the the "Dorothy Day"s, and there are the "Little Flower"s and the type of person that lives just down the street, volunteering at soup kitchens and donating to charity. There is missionary work to be done – but it can be as abnormal and far-flung as going to a third world country, or as routine and ordinary as giving to those in need in your own community.
That understood, is there only one type of person? Is each objective-truth-possessing individual a carbon copy of each other? No, obviously, so should they be?
Well, I think of it this way. "Bob" is a straightforward person with a gentle voice and tender compassion. Working with those who have been hurt might be right up his alley. "Kent" is an active person with endless energy and extra batteries in his mouth motor. He likes to say it as it is and preach, preach, preach. Sometimes the truth blinds him to the tenderness a soft soul might need for healing. He's probably more suited for conferences and mission trip talks, and so on.
And likewise, my friends who like to be everywhere at once and share everything that comes into their heads in the name of "testimony" are entitled to so. Some people need friends like that – friends that are open and that challenge you to go to new distances. But if you are, like me, a quieter soul that likes to hold back a little, there's nothing wrong with that either. Some are intimidated by people who tell too much.
So, one way. Many types.
If people could just learn that, I think we'd all be understood a little better.
There's something I've noticed about circles in society and it baffles me and drives me crazy. There seems to be a tendency for a circle to pick out a few people to be the benefit of their direction. I feel like it's probably those people in the circle that aren't quite the same as the rest of the circle. It's the mother who isn't as strict with her children when they're fresh with her; it's the mother who is never more than a cry away while everyone else thinks that some separation is healthy.
For me, I feel like I'm either the girl who isn't loose enough, or who's too innocent, or who's too prissy. This bothers me, because when I'm in a group of friends who are essentially all that as well – I can see our similarity, but I don't click with them and I find myself getting bored. I enjoy their company, but not all the time. I'm a little bit more on the wild side, I guess, and yet I don't enjoy certain jokes, I haven't watched horror movies and don't follow pop culture, and I don't open up well.
So far as that covers, there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. Except for the problems that I have with depression and anxiety and the fact that I'm shy, I have lines that I don't feel like crossing.
These lines aren't like lines between holiness and mortal sin; it's way, way simpler than that. And yet not, in a way. I don't find jokes about sex and boy parts (or girl parts) to be in the least funny, and I'm baffled by those who do find it funny. I don't look at pictures of men with their shirts off (some do it and compare it to something like looking at pictures of girls in gorgeous dresses) and I don't care what Britney Spears is doing or what new trivia is out on Brad Pitt. I'm not saying that having a casual interest in your favorite performers is bad, but I really don't need to hear about the latest scandal about someone I already didn't look up to. And I can't argue dead against it, because some people do need to know (for various reasons) – but I don't. I don't need to know and I don't care to know. It's not important to me in the least.
I feel that I should speak my mind about the crude jokes, but that's not really the point.
The point is that I'm sometimes labeled as a kind of opportunity for charity. I either need to be dragged to social events, shown certain movies, told about certain things, or exposed to certain phrases and worldly perspectives.
…I'm a simple girl. I grew up in a small town in New England. This is a poor town and the school system (middle school and high school) is regionalized – and it's our kids that are the "hillbillies" (from what I know). We have a Unitarian church and a Congregational church in the center of town, Sunday preaching on the town common, and Sanctuary Worship in the gym of our public elementary school (the last two are recent additions, but that's the kind of town I live in). We have two gas stations – one in the middle of town and one on the outskirts near the "city" next to us. We have a town market, and that's where you go if you want to know what's going on in town – just look at the flyer-plastered windows. We have quite a bit of farmland and lots of farmhouses. But we also have areas of new development.
That's the town I live in. I grew up simple, under parents that aren't much interested in the craziness of the pop culture – or indeed, in the craziness of much of the outside world.
So be gentle, I beg you.
I'm interested in seeing some of the movies that I've missed out on, and I'm interested in getting to do things I've never done before, and I'm interested in doing the things that I've never had opportunity to do before. But please. Just because I'm different doesn't mean I need your guidance.
I don't need you to say, again, that I need to push myself. You don't need to be so obviously amused at my expense when I'm not familiar with something. My nervousness and insecurity isn't your cue to affirm me.
Which is another thing – affirmation doesn't work. When people go out of their way to say, straight out and blunt, something really nice, it feels like flattery, not sincerity. It sounds like a statement carefully injected in order to artificially build up my self-esteem. It's not working.
If people could just learn that one way of life does not trump others, I think a lot more progress could be made.
