I’ve been thinking for a while that I want to start posting more music. Over the last few years, I’ve found a good amount of worship music, and it’s helped me out so much. As my favorite prodigal son St. … Continue reading
You know, I never took people seriously when they said that exposing yourself to negative, morally questionable content brings you down spiritually. Kind of stupid of me, right? All I know is that over the past week or so, I’ve … Continue reading
I’m really hoping not to fall into my usual winter slump this year. If I take a look at my lowest lows, they’ve actually all been during the cold months, like the winter of eighth grade. My thirteenth autumn/winter, after … Continue reading
Four years in an all-girls Catholic high school prepared me for college writing and defending my faith in the face of persecution; it didn’t prepare for the kind of male attention college has brought me so far. I really don’t … Continue reading
I didn’t really know the prayer until I heard this beautiful rendition of the Hail Holy Queen set to music. I think the words that hit me the most are the very ending:
“…that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”
In the depths of my heart, I think that might be my biggest struggle. I don’t really feel worthy of Christ’s love, often, even though I know that His love is undeserved and unconditional. I think Mary understands this pain.
Honestly, I have some trouble with Marian devotion. I’m trying to pray to her more and come to love her as my Holy Mother. Any advice on growing a bond with Mother Mary?
I always go MIA for long periods of time, then come back suddenly. I guess you’re all used to that by now. I guess a lot has happened, and I really do need to “restaple” my heart to Christ. It’s been a hard year, but I’m ready to stop living in fear that I’m somehow beyond God’s reach. Depression, eating disorder, anxiety, Dad leaving me—my God is greater than the sum of my fears. Just a stream of consciousness prayer I wrote to God today:
I ask You constantly for things I can’t even comprehend, so I’m going to humble my prayers to layman’s terms. I’m looking for Your peace, Lord, first and foremost. I pray that You will help me to quiet the intrusive, fear-stricken voices in my head so that I may listen to You instead and come to hear the quiet words You whisper into my heart. I trust that You’ll bring me back to Your arms, Jesus, and I promise You that I will, by the help of Your grace, let Your gentle, loving voice lead me back home. I’m a little lost right now, Jesus, but I will not give up. I love You more than I can understand, and, if nothing else, I will always stretch my arms toward You as You pull me back to shore. Again, I’ll say it, Jesus: I love You. I’ll give You my nothing if it’s all I have.
Out of context, I’m sure this prayer is pretty incoherent, but in light of my faith life as of late, I feel like it says all that I’ve been wanting to say to God.
I feel ambivalent about everything these days. Just unsure of myself, I guess. These last few weeks at Mass, I’ve just had this burden on my chest, this overwhelming feeling of unworthiness. It physically hurts. I don’t feel like I’m good enough for Your love, Jesus. I feel like I’m just letting you down, like my sins are going to eat away at my faith little by little. It’s terrifying, Lord. I need Your love so much it hurts.
I don’t know what You have waiting for me. I know I’m not supposed to worry about tomorrow, but it’s hard not to worry when everyone around me is moving in such a blur, getting ready for their futures, making plans, writing application essays, seemingly so ready for real life. I don’t know whether I’m ready for what’s to come, Jesus, nor do I know what’s coming. I hope I’m making the right choices, heading in the direction You’re pointing me. Life’s overwhelming me right now, and I need to cling to You.
Lord, what am I supposed to do about the guy? He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s funny, he’s cute, he likes me. I worry that I’m blinded by all the good and failing to see the bad. Is he pulling me from my faith? The conversations we’ve had, the photos I’ve sent (nothing risque, but not quite modest either). He knows about my faith, he knows about my chastity. He supports it. He’s Jewish, but not too serious about his religion. He’s older than me and he lives far away. He always makes me smile, and I love our Skype calls and his bad puns and pet names. I’m just so confused right now, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I really like him, but I firmly believe that “a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.” I don’t want to do that, Jesus. I want to listen to Your voice in every area of my life. I can’t give You my full heart while looking for Your loopholes. That’s not who I am, and that’s not who You created me to be.
Jesus, You know that all this is just the beginning of my worries right now, just the tip of the iceberg. I’m just begging for Your help at this point because I fear I’ve lost all direction. Make me humble, Lord, but at the same time, help me to see the good and beautiful in me so I don’t have to rely on boys for validation of my own worth. Please stay with me and help me to listen to Your voice among the crowd. I trust You to lead me home.
“That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”
- Lay Your Burdens Down (everydayseekingtruth.wordpress.com)
You taught the sun to shine so bright,
to hide beneath the hills and trees at night.
You made all things with a purpose,
You gave us each a soul,
and, Jesus, only You can make me whole.
I spent a long time struggling in vain
to make sense of existence based on chance,
a universe without a God to tell the skies to rain,
where chromosomes and DNA declare us all the same,
and love is the effect of raw endorphins to the brain,
and I am no creation of God’s hands.
Those hands that hold and love and give,
hands that curled in pain
as He, by His children, was tortured and slain,
so that sinners like me could live,
and choose to misuse and hate and abuse
and refuse His very name.
We hurt Him and aggrieve Him,
but He loves us all the same.
Jesus, I’ll know You’ll be with me
for whatever comes.
my soul waits for the day You’ll call me Home.
I’m writing you a letter from the front pew.
The people around me are crying.
I look at them,
and I wonder whether I should be crying, too.
Everyone expects me to be the one girl
monopolizing the Kleenex box
as she tries to write a coherent, cohesive letter
to a friend who changed her life,
a tear-stained, tell-all, pour-your-heart-out letter
saying everything I never told you.
But mostly, just to say “Thank you.”
I think my dry eyes are a product
of my belief that,
at any given moment,
we’ll all turn to see your smiling face,
hear your every-bit-as-smiling voice,
and dry our eyes.
That’s just the effect you’ve always had on people,
And now I’ve joined the weeping bunch,
because I’m remembering.
I know that voice, I’ve seen that smile,
I remember your scent
and the exact tightness of your hugs.
I was thirteen when I met you.
You were sitting in a canvas chair,
you wore a bandana
because you didn’t have hair.
I was skinny and pale and depressed,
I’d barely left my room in months.
But when I talked to you,
I somehow knew
that at least one person cared.
Claudia, you said
how amazed you were
to see the changes in me.
I saw them, too,
and I saw that you had hair now.
Dark, thick curls like mine.
I thanked God—
—something I had started doing more often lately.
I really was different.
I never saw you lose your hair again.
I don’t even remember the last time I saw you.
I never told you that you saved me,
but you didn’t care whose handiwork it was:
you were just happy to see me happy,
and that made me happy to know you.
I think that’s why,
at your Mass,
I’m more grateful for you
than sad about missing you.
I think I’m onto something. You know that feeling you get when something you’ve heard countless times finally clicks? That might be what this is. Dear Jesus, please let it be that. The realization is something so simple, something I’ve had to teach myself time and again because I always seem to forget: IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT ME.
I registered on WordPress about an hour ago believing that God was telling me to do it. I had to pick a username, something that’s just second-nature to me. I have accounts registered on more sites than I can count, and there are about three possible usernames I might choose. They all have my name, like “katybliss”, “KaleidoKaty”, etc.. Well, maybe it was just the desire for anonymity (I don’t think that’s the case), but today I felt compelled to pick something less about me and more about Jesus, about my faith. I decided on “thelightiswhite” (see last post). I’m really glad. Also, I have to choose a Gravatar, or whatever you call it. I could just use the pretty selfie I use on every site, but no, I think that when the Gravatar picker thing actually works for me, I’m going to follow suit and choose a photo of my dear patron saint, Maria Goretti. Or something like that.
Yeah, these are little things, just a username and a profile photo, but for me, that’s a big deal. What I’m thinking about right now, as I type these words, is how much stock I put into myself, how damn much I care what everyone else thinks about me. That’s the problem with my Facebook, my Tumblr, my Wanelo. My online profiles are “Katy domain,” places where it’s all about me, what I think, what I like. I do my best to reblog Catholic stuff when I can, but it’s always outweighed by the bobdylanopinionsclotheshumorartmovieshorrorpsychologymusicfandom content blob that seems to take up most of my self-identity, online and in real life. Oh, and when I do post stuff about prayer, chastity, saints, Catholicism and the like, it’s more to remind my online audience, “See, guys, I’m a Catholic.” It’s pride more than anything.
I’m really insecure and overwhelmed, you guys. I’m dealing with severe anxiety disorder, the recent death of my grandma, the aftermath of my parents’ divorce and the huge strain it’s had on my relationship with both parents, this incredible burden of guilt and inadequacy…and most recently, a secret eating disorder. I’m not listing these issues to gain sympathy. I’m listing them because I’ve been neglecting them for so long, and it’s occurring to me just now that instead of going to Jesus for help, I’ve shoved them inward and masked them with narcissism.
Lord, I’m done with being two different people. I’m done with pushing aside my problems and silencing them with self-destruction. I’m ready to instead lay them at Your feet. I know that You told me to create this blog for a reason. When I feel tempted to make myself throw up, when I want to hurt myself, please, Jesus, give me the strength to post it here instead, to pray about it and trust that You, my Savior, will carry me in my weakness. Amen.