15 Years Since My Reversion…

 (I’m posting this a day early.)

15 years ago, I renounced my “wild child” ways when I reverted to the Church. I know many of you have been following this blog since its inception nearly 14 years ago so you’ve been along for the majority of this journey but very few know what my life was like before my reversion.

Here’s what my life was like roughly between the ages of 16 and 21:

I attended Santa Monica College which allowed me & my friends to go to the beach & great restaurants in between classes.

I went to concerts 2-5 times a week. I was even on a first-name basis with the security guards at the concert venues. I spent a lot of time there, particularly The Troubadour in West Hollywood. 

I didn’t think twice about spending hours browsing Amoeba Records in Hollywood, going through their stacks of vinyl. 

Sometimes we would simply drive down Sunset Blvd. from the 405 down to Hollywood, blasting music and singing and dancing along while stuck in traffic, only because we wanted to be out and nothing else seemed fun at the time. 

If you’ve read my first novel, you have an idea of what I’m talking about because I took inspiration from real-life experiences to write it. 

Sure, I didn’t get my driver’s license until after my reversion (and after my father’s death), but that wasn’t a huge deal as friends didn’t have any problem picking me up, especially since I always pitched in for gas money. 

Even though I had a “dream life”, I did stick out like a sore thumb in many aspects. I never drank alcohol (& still haven’t). I never touched drugs. I never even took a puff of a cigarette. And I most definitely didn’t “spend the night” with any of the guys who were (stupidly) bold enough to try. 

I didn’t have a curfew yet rarely did I come home after 11:30 p.m. The only time I came home in the wee hours of the night was because a friend & I drove down to San Diego for a concert & we got  back in Los Angeles at 4 a.m. If we hadn’t stopped by at a mutual friend’s house after the concert to watch Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory we would’ve gotten back earlier. 

I was a “good girl” in those aspects but there was so much wrong at the same time. 

I paid too much attention to how others perceived me. I definitely had a problem with vanity and pride. I never went far enough to diet (I was always naturally thin) nor do any cosmetic enhancements but, boy, did I spend too much on clothes and other things that I thought would make me look and feel “worthy” of the circles I ran in. Think keeping up with the Joneses for the late teens-early 20s set. 

I also had major trust issues with some of my so-called friends. I had a distinct feeling that if I wasn’t careful, they would do something to hurt me. I ended up being right but not before things got out of hand. Again, if you’ve read the first novel, you’ll get an idea of what that was like. 

I wasn’t honest with the people I didn’t trust… which I did after I got the terrible advice to do so from someone who should’ve known better. Ever wonder why I despise lying so much now? Because I was so immersed in it for so many years — from those I thought I could trust and from myself when I erroneously used it to “protect” myself. Now I’d rather suffer the consequences and hurt rather than lie. 

I don’t know how I walked away… other than it was God and the intercession of St. Jude. 

There were a lot of things that set off the domino chain.

First, my paternal grandmother died in March 2005. I was told that towards the end of her life, whenever she heard the door opening, she would ask if it was me or my dad, whom she wanted to see before she passed. (Side note: sadly, neither of us got to see her again before she died.) She was my only living abuelita and the grandparent I spent most of my time with so her death hit me hard. And my so-called friends decided to use this time to troll me and humiliate me. I won’t go into details but let’s just say I knew after this that I had to stop hanging out with them. 

That set off the intensified attacks from the so-called friends. The bullying and attacks got so bad that my chronic anxiety got worse… to the point where I was in the ER often. The anxiety was manifesting itself in physical symptoms that couldn’t be pinpointed to a single thing; not even anxiety at the time. Me getting sick saw the rest of the friends who I thought I could trust backstab me and I was left on my own. 

All of that left me in a bad way, psychologically, emotionally, and physically. The doctors said they didn’t think I would make it to my 23rd birthday (2-3 years away) if I kept going down that path. During a moment of desperation, I asked St. Jude to intercede for me. 

I was always Catholic in name only, something I made known to the Mormon guy I dated at the end of high school; we could date but I wasn’t converting to Mormonism. I had a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe hanging next to my bed from the time I was 7 years old and I had a statue of St. Jude in my bedroom since childhood but we didn’t go to Mass and I hadn’t received the Sacraments since my confirmation when I was 13. I’ve already written about this (you can search the tags) so I won’t go into that. But, no, I wasn’t a practicing Catholic. 

A year and a month after my grandmother died: I lost all my friends and I got so sick that we were worried about what would end up happening to me. No, i was never suicidal or anything like that but the chronic anxiety was messing with my heart, digestive, and immune systems. I had nothing to lose… but so much to gain. 

“Okay, what do you got?” I asked St. Jude. I was slightly skeptical as I had been fed the liberal kool-aid throughout my entire education up to that point. I had prayed that my ex-boyfriend and I wouldn’t break up when I was 16-17 (this is pre-Mormon guy) and when I didn’t get the answer I wanted, I think I decided that there was no point in me praying if I didn’t get what I wanted. I was poorly catechized and didn’t know that wasn’t how it worked. In hindsight, that unanswered prayer was the best thing because that ex is still known as a “poopy diaper” and “spawn of…” you-know-who amongst those who knew him.

Slowly, things started to fall into place. I met some lovely people who replaced the toxic friends I had, some of were Catholic but mostly Christians. My prayers to St. Jude saw me slowly getting healthier again once it was determined that it was all anxiety causing the issues. I returned to school (I had taken a break when I was too sick to attend). Friends from my pre- “wild child” period also returned in my life. 

It didn’t take long before I realized that it was St. Jude’s prayers that were “working.” I can still remember that warm September evening when I thought, “Okay, what is this faith I was ‘born into’? I should look into it…” which became “I need to change my life… and I think Catholicism may be the answer.” That led to countless hours of research and reading. The rest is reversion history. 

While I don’t remember the exact day that I made the decision to renounce the way I’d been living, I remember that it was after the beginning of autumn and, over the years, I’ve had the date of the 23rd pop up in my mind as the official date for some reason. So, that’s why every September 23rd I now celebrate my reversion. 

It’s been quite the adventure up to this point but it’s been so worthwhile. As I wrote on my Instagram caption: “I would not take a single thing back, even all the tears, pain, & suffering. I’m financially poorer than I was then but I’m richer in all the other ways that matter. My career options got more limited after last year’s health trauma but I’m freer to do whatever God’s will is for my life.” 

Here’s to 15 years since the best decision I’ve ever made; 15 years of falling in love with the Truth. And here’s to 15 years (or more) of more growth, healing, and all those wonderful advetures God still has in store for me.