Why the Last Month Has Been a Living Hell For Me (and It's Not COVID-19 Related)

This past month has been an absolute nightmare for me. Coronavirus lockdown aside, it took us over a month to figure out why I've had such an intense health relapse in the past month... but, really, the last couple of months altogether. The reason: a really, really bad allergic reaction to the back-to-back amoxicillin rounds I had taken for my molar infections.

When I used to think "allergic reaction," I thought of wheezing, throat-closing, facial features swelling, eyes watering, etc. You know -- the severe reaction. I never thought it could have a delay and that the physical manifestations would be as bad or surprisingly odd as I've had them.

I've experienced:
- Insomnia for weeks. That has now been followed by my recent inability to stay awake during the day as a result of weeks worth of being unable to sleep more than 3-4 hours per day.
- A skin rash that I thought was due to the stress I was under. Nope.
- Really, really bad jitteriness and anxiety. My anxiety actually wasn't as bad the first time I took amoxicillin as it has been this time around... and we were chalking it up to anxiety over the coronavirus. It may still be a combo of the two.
- My mental health going into deep depression mode. Again, we were blaming it on my failing health and the coronavirus situation, which may still have a part in it.
- My mental fog and the inability to concentrate, which has made me an unreliable writer for my poor bosses. Mercifully, they've been understanding.
- My platelets tanking under 100k (76k the first time, 96k this time).
- Possibly the daily, strong heart palpitations I've been experiencing. The first time I experienced crazy strong (but not too fast) palpitations was during one of the last doses I took. We thought it was anxiety. Nope. My doctor said, in hindsight, it was most likely a reaction to the dose since it started half an hour after I took it.
- Other things that I haven't mentioned.

Everything that has happened (and the new stuff) seems to be following the same pattern from last autumn (the first time I took amoxicillin). Some symptoms (e.g. jitteriness, extremely daytime sleepiness following insomnia, how "angry" the skin rashes look) have been worse this time. Others (platelets falling to 96k instead of 76k, the number of bumps from the rash overall) have been better.

 A few days ago marked the 30-day mark of when I took my last dose and you can tell I'm just now starting to detox from the effects. The rash started to fade on the day after I finished the Bl. Solanus Casey novena (which many of you prayed with me; thank you!). I'm starting to sleep more (a lot more; accompanied by jitteriness when I wake up). My mental fog is starting to lift and my mental health is improving. Yay for no longer being a depressed little robot!

I didn't start feeling like myself until Easter Sunday, which was coincidentally the month-mark of when I took my last dose. Theoretically, it should take 4-6 more weeks for this to clear up so here's hoping it'll continue and that the detox process gets easier in the next couple of weeks than it's been lately.

I would be lying if I said I haven't been scared this past month. I've been terrified. It's now day 34 since I last took a dose and we just figured out that all of this has been because of the amoxicillin. Again, this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't started the novena -- my doctor (who still hasn't seen me, btw; she's only gone on what I and the urgent care physician's assistant have told her) thought my rash was another skin issue. Even the PA didn't think it was an amoxicillin rash either. It wasn't until the novena was about halfway through that my doctor called to tell me that it did seem like it was an allergic reaction to the amoxicillin after all. That's also around the time that the previous pattern began showing up and it became an "OH I wonder if this is..." moment. After the novena ended, the rest of the puzzle pieces began to slot together and completed the picture. It's been worse this time around because I had to take a week's worth of antibiotics to take in late January-early February and a second-round in early March-mid March. It didn't give my body enough time to detox in between doses.

The last 2-3 days have been easier with the heart palpitations but worse with the jitteriness following naps during the day. Those closest to me have gotten panicked texts from me because of how absolutely terrible I crash and how panicked and odd I wake up feeling. Again, I had a similar reaction the first time around but it's been amplified about 10 times this time around, most likely because of the back-to-back doses.

I'm supposed to be taking Zyrtec for the allergic reaction but I've been sleeping most of my day away and I haven't been able to mentally prepare myself to take it in the few hours I am awake. To be honest, I'm afraid of an allergic reaction to the Zyrtec because of the medical PTSD of previous reactions to Benadryl and now the recent amoxicillin allergy.

And before you say, "But you're supposed to trust God." Yes, I do trust God but my mind (and the PTSD) right now is, unfortunately, is affecting my ability to think rationally. That doesn't mean I don't trust God. Remember, the amoxicillin greatly affected my mental health -- it literally messed with my brain chemistry. So, I'm just now starting to think rationally; to think more clearly. Remember the news of the young priest who committed suicide a few weeks ago as a result of a medication he was taking for GI problems; how it messed up his brain chemistry? Think along those lines for me, except I thankfully never contemplated ending my life. I was morbid in thinking I was going to die soon, I'll admit that, but not because I had any intentions of harming myself. Quite the opposite, I became hypervigilant of what was exacerbating symptoms so that I would feel better and get myself on a fast track to being on the mend so I could give myself more time to get to the confessional (whenever confessions are allowed again).

The fact that I went to the dentist this morning and that didn't have a panic attack nor was I paranoid about it pretty much confirmed that the effects are wearing off. (Side note: the appointment was considered a potential emergency situation; I was given more antibiotics as a precaution that I'm not taking unless I need to; it was given to buy more time while the lockdown is lifted and molar extractions are okayed by my insurance and the government since it's not an immediate emergency situation). Also, the fact that I'm not feeling depressed and morbid -- I actually feel like myself for the first time in weeks! -- is a good sign. I'm finally able to pray and say "Jesus, I trust in You" without any apprehension. I hadn't had more than a few hours of that trust and confidence in God for weeks when the next wave would hit. Yeah, those pills messed me up that bad.

I've spent the last 4-5 weeks unable to watch most Masses or pray because of how intense my mental fog or fatigue has been. I've been able to concentrate on my prayers for the first time in over a month in the last 2-3 days. My spiritual life took a massive beating. I hadn't been able to really do much for my vocation discernment, either, which I thought was bizarre but now makes sense. I wasn't sure if it was a spiritual attack or something else but it looks like we now have our answer. It could very well be a mix of the two -- a spiritual attack and a chemical imbalance, who knows!

So, that's where I've been lately... and why I haven't been blogging. That's why I kept asking for prayers on social media. I'm incredibly grateful to a lovely blog reader who suggested I ask Bl. Solanus Casey for this intercession because, thanks to that novena, we got answers to why my body had begun breaking down on me. Like I said, it wasn't until the novena was ending that the pattern began to emerge and things became clearer.

I pray that I can either start taking the Zyrtec tomorrow (I don't have to get up early for the first time in weeks) and/or that the rest of the effects begin to subside without my the jitteriness and other effects getting worse. Sure, most of the other physical symptoms are getting better but the anxiety is probably now peaking and the sleeping thing is just horrible to endure every time I wake up from a nap. 

Let it put it this way: Imagine that you've been sleep deprived for 24 straight hours after running a marathon all day. You're so tired but you can't sleep for some reason. Then, just as you finally settle to sleep, someone wakes you up in the most intense and frightening away, making your heart race and your body shake from the nerves. Amplify it a couple more times and you can maybe begin to imagine what I feel some naps. Sometimes my heart is racing, Yesterday it was beating at a weird rhythm for a bit and I was terrified until two first said they had similar experiences and that it probably meant I woke up at a weird REM stage. And, yes, the naps are absolutely necessary. I'm not fighting them. I'll fall asleep while eating sitting up anyway; I'm that physically exhausted at this point.

Please continue to pray for me. I'm going to call my doctor again tomorrow (I know she must be tired of getting 2-3 calls from me per week but I've had to update her on my evolving conditions) and see if we can't come up with a better game plan to make the rest of the detox process smoother. Also, please pray that there aren't any more surprises during the detox process. Yesterday's weird palpitations and yesterday and today's intense jitteriness post-naps have been new and very unnerving. Again, if I have to take the Zyrtec to minimize the effects I will but I'll be praying that I'm able to tolerate it better than other meds and that I don't get additional reactions or side effects from it.

I hope to get back into the swing of things around this blog now that I'm starting to slowly mend. I have a couple of posts planned in the upcoming week that, God willing, will actually be posted on time. Fingers crossed the fatigue lessens.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

When the Unexpected Happens

"You didn't blog for three days!" True.

"You were supposed to." Did I make it part of my Lenten penance? Yes. Am I going to beat myself over the fact that I went a couple of days without blogging? No.

Why? Because life happens.

Did I anticipate my mother getting injured and being at the hospital for more hours than we had anticipated on Tuesday? No. (side note: she'll be okay; she just has to allow herself time to rest as much as possible and it'll take a couple of weeks for her injury to mend. Please say a prayer for her since she's super active... and she still has to work despite her injury.)

Did I think that all of that -- and another hiccup that didn't let me sleep until 5 a.m. the next morning, thus leaving me more fatigued -- was going to make me fall behind on things that were more important than blogging or some of my other self-imposed Lenten penances? No.

Did I need yesterday to recover (read: get 11 hours of much-needed sleep), catching up on things I'd fallen behind on, and then unwind from the events of the previous days? Absolutely.

Life happens. This is why I'm trying to not let a schedule or routine box me in; because life happens and then I feel the (self-imposed) pressure to do what I planned for myself. This is something that is hard for me to let go of.

I like routines. I like to plan things in advance. When something happens and things don't go according to plan, I have a tendency to get frustrated and anxious about squeezing what I have written down in my planner into the little time I have left. Type-A problem? Most likely. But I'm trying to change.

I wasn't always this way. I think this started when I started suffering from panic attacks and social anxiety. My need for control over something -- anything! -- manifested itself in my planning things and carrying them out, no matter what. Since I felt out of control when I had the panic attacks, I clung to what I could control. While -- thanks be to God! -- I no longer have panic attacks (or, at the very least, very rarely), the habit has stuck around.

This happened at a time when I didn't trust in God... or even think about Him. It was at a time when I was away from the Church and was years away from reverting. It became a terrible habit that I still struggle to let go.

This is one of my Lenten penances -- letting go. Cue the Frozen song that seemingly everyone hates. lol. Seriously, though, it's not easy. It's years of a terrible habit that reminds me that I've yet to master the art of letting God have complete control of my life; to remind myself that I have no control over... and if I do have control over something, things can always change and that's okay.

When the unexpected happens, I'm learning to adapt to it... something I once was moderately good at doing. I'm learning to not make so many plans but to also be prepared for anything that may happen. It's an interesting balance -- being prepared but not having a backup plan... and a plan to the back-up plan.

Do I want to trust God more? Yes! Of course! Will it be easy with this terrible habit? No. But, then again, nothing worth doing is easy, right? There will always be obstacles on this journey to Heaven. This is where I put my money where my mouth is and trust God to send me the graces necessary to overcome this habit.

Do any of you struggle with this problem? Has anyone overcome it? If so, please feel free to send me your tips.

Anyway, these are my thoughts for the day... and an explanation for why I was M.I.A. from blogging for a couple of days.

Now, unto the articles that I have due today and this week (one of which I'm late on).

I hope your first week of Lenten has gone better than mine. ;)

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

When the Obstacles Seem Insurmountable...

Lately, my life has been one long journey through a dark, stormy abyss. Think of Atreyu's journey in The Neverending Story. Instead of letting the Swamp of Sadness swallow me whole (R.I.P. Artax the horse), I've been doing what I can to keep myself afloat but it hasn't been easy.

As your regular blog readers know, it's been a hard time for my family. Between financial difficulties and a number of other problems (across the board; not just limited to Mom and me), it's been a long string of stresses.

I'm the one who keeps the household budget (I'm good with numbers and puzzles/conundrums) so I know the most about how bad our situation is. I try to cut out unnecessary expenses and try to figure out where we can save and where we simply cannot skimp. With random things popping up (e.g. unexpected car repairs), I'm constantly trying to figure out where we can come up with the money and what needs to wait until next month. It's a gigantic headache (sometimes literal) that I deal with at least twice a week.

Having no car has meant no confession or Mass. The nearest parish doesn't have Saturday confession and -- when it does offer confession -- it's too late in the day to safely walk to and from it so that makes going to confession hard as well. I hope to get my car back later today... and that the financial strain isn't too bad. We had to put off getting it repaired for a month (I've basically been stuck at home since mid-April) because we simply had no spare money that wasn't put aside for necessities. I got it towed to our mechanic's garage on Tuesday and I'm expecting a call at some point today to let me know the extent of the damage to our meager monthly savings. Please say a prayer it doesn't go over the halfway point of the triple digits because we won't be able to afford that.

Sometimes I wonder how on earth I'm going to make it through x, y, z (because things happen in multiples, not one at a time) with my sanity intact. Worries on top of worries on top of worries. It's like an endless cycle with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes all of these things also affect my spiritual life. If I'm not careful, the devil knows exactly how and when to attack. Not having been able to go to Mass and confession has only added to the hardships. I don't know why but I have a feeling that going to confession and receiving the Eucharist will somehow help. I'm not being superstitious; it's just a gut feeling that I have.

Thankfully, the consecration preparation, holy water, and my prayer life have helped... big time.

Every morning I do the Consecration to Mary prayer ("My queen, my mother, I give myself entirely to thee..."), which was recommended by one of our local FSSP priests when he came over to pray for me the day after my car accident a couple of years ago. Then I read the daily Mass readings, use the reflections sent to my inbox by Bishop Robert Barron and Blessed Is She. Then I pray the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary. During my consecration preparation, I've added the daily reflections in the 33 Days to Morning Glory book to this routine.

I also pray a variety of novenas, prayers, and/or the Rosary and the Rosary confraternity prayer throughout the day but, more often than not, I do them at night with my nighttime routine. Again, I use the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary and examine my conscience before I call it a night. If there is something I missed doing in the morning (e.g. consecration preparation or daily Mass readings), I will also do it at this time.

I make use of the holy water we were given by one of our local FSSP priests (when he's been over to the house to bless it for Epiphany) throughout the day. In the morning, before I leave the house (especially if I have to drive), at night... if I feel like I need it, I will use it.

I think I'm so used to my routine -- used to trying to cling to my faith during these times of chaos -- that if I miss something at some point, I feel more vulnerable in a way. Not to the point of superstition, scrupulosity, or anything like that. I just tend to notice any deviation from my routine... and it's this routine that helps remind me that I shouldn't be egocentric.

It's so easy to get caught up in your worries. I've personally found myself being pulled more into my own thoughts, my own feelings, my own hardships. I don't like that I think more about myself and what is going on with me than about others and/or about God... but it's hard. And, okay, I know some of my good friends are currently ready to file a formal protest for having said that -- I've even had priests tell me I'm too hard on myself -- but I truly feel selfish during these times and I don't like it. I think that's why I hold onto my prayer routine very closely; it's a good reminder that whatever I'm going through is not up to me to "fix."

Sometimes these obstacles seem insurmountable. That's when I have to remember that God is ultimately in charge of everything, not me. Never have the words "Jesus, I Trust In You" been uttered as much as they have in this household before. Never has putting my money where my mouth is been as important as it has been in recent weeks/month. Never have I have challenged in every way as I have lately.

1 Peter 5:7-10 has resonated so much as it has during these trials... especially when I was asked to wait to become a Benedictine oblate; to "revisit this in a couple of months to make sure this is what (I) really want." The evil one knows that this is what I most wanted lately and I won't let the small obstacle get and keep me down.

Yes, life is hard. Yes, it feels like the walls are caving in around me. Yes, it oftentimes feels like things will never get better; that this is just what my life is going to be like from now on -- one bad thing after another. Yet, Scripture (and the saints) says otherwise. The only thing I can do is trust that God will get me through it and that He will give me the courage, the strength, and whatever graces are necessary to get through this time.

I don't see an end to all I've been enduring lately but I think about the heavenly reward that awaits if only I would get my act straight and that's enough to keep me going; to keep me fighting against temptations. It's hard. Some days I just feel like laying in bed and sleeping all day. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. Most importantly, I know that God has my back and that's worth everything.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts lately.

I hope you all had a lovely week and that you have a great weekend as well!

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Thank You for the Anger, God!

I'll be the first to admit that I have a temper once I'm pushed beyond my limits. I think we all have that limit where we endure all we can before we're pushed beyond our limit and become prone to feeling anger over whatever it is that provokes the emotion. However, I sometimes feel like when I get angry, I get really angry. Like, "ooh, child, you best watch yourself and walk away" angry. It doesn't happen often but, when it does, it can surprise even some of my oldest friends.

I feel things very deeply. The good, the bad... homegirl is sensitive to it all. lol. Hi, I'm an HSP and an INFP; it's ingrained in me. I know many of my friends were surprised to see me being so steady and not breaking down after my father died but that was because I internalized everything when people were around. I broke down when no one was watching. I tend to do that. I might've presented a strong front, especially when my mother completely broke down at the funeral, but that was because I was being outwardly strong for others. Inwardly? I was a wreck. I then became numb to all feeling for about a year because it was my way of keeping myself from breaking down completely and having others worry about me.

If I see someone hurting, my heart breaks. I will immediately tear up and this instinct to do whatever I can to help alleviate their suffering kicks in. It can be a mother asking for money outside of groceries stores. It can be seeing the destruction following a natural disaster. What hurts me most is when people lose what's most important to them -- their loved ones, their homes, their livelihood.

On the flip side, if I see someone happy, I burst with happiness for them. I cry at weddings with the biggest smile on my face. When one of my friends expresses their joy over something, I feel it too. Engagements, marriages, babies, job promotions, accomplishments, if you are happy, my heart is full and it feels as if these things were happening to me.

I've always had people trying to stop me from (by making me feel ashamed of) being emotionally expressive. Up to a point, I can see why. Some people do try to take advantage of those who feel strongly by means of emotional manipulation. I've been a victim of this more times than I care to admit. I am getting better at distinguishing when someone is using emotional manipulation. Of course, when I realize this, I become angry because it's a terrible thing to do. I don't understand why people do it.

And that brings us to the emotion of anger and the topic of this post. I feel this emotion deeply as well. Injustice makes me angry. Lies and manipulation make me angry. Abuse of any kind makes me angry. If I see someone being bullied, attacked, or anything of the sort, I get very upset. I used to confess this (often) because I used to think that getting angry was a sin. It became a source of scrupulosity for me. It wasn't until someone explained that feeling angry is natural and not a sin but that acting upon that emotion can become sinful that I stopped being so scrupulous. It's gotten better and I don't confess it unless something uncharitable escapes my lips or I act upon my anger (e.g. icy glares) but I still don't like how angry I can get sometimes. It's not a nice emotion. I don't like things that aren't nice. Sue me.

I have some consolations about this terrible anger I feel sometimes. Jesus got angry and cleansed the temple (Matthew 21:12-13). (side note: if you've ever wondered why I say "flippin'" when I'm upset about something, it's from this -- from Jesus flipping some tables in righteous anger). St. Jerome, who felt anger ardently, is the patron saint against anger for a reason yet he did great things for the Church. St. Teresa of Avila, who was also known to suffer from fits of anger, helped co-found the Discalced Carmelites (along with St. John of the Cross) because she had had enough of seeing the corruption within the Carmelite order. Through these (and many more examples), I've come to realize that I can use this particular negative emotion for good.

I believe that if we feel things deeply and don't get carried away by the emotions we can do a lot of good. The anger can be channeled to do something positive. The same with the sadness and (more easily) the joy. If we can keep this in mind, why are we still shamed into repressing them? A big reason why I developed anxiety in my mid-teens was because I bottled up most of my emotions. Any of you wondering why I haven't had regular panic attacks like I used to? It's because I've no longer bottled up my emotions, good or bad.

That's not to say that I've got it down pat. Sometimes, I can explode -- with anger or joy. Let's be honest, as human beings, we all do. I can usually keep things in perspective but when you add outside factors like lack of sleep, hunger, and other things, it's not as easy. However, it's not impossible.

I recently faced a lifelong problem with anger towards a certain family member. I prayed novenas about it and I sought the advice from trusted friends. God allowed me to understand that what this family member was doing to cause the (righteous yet still unpleasant) anger in me was being done unconsciously and that it was a result of some deep emotional scars within this person; none of it had anything to do with me. I exploded (in a quiet, controlled way) yet calmed down enough to sit down and talk to this person. 2 hours (and many tissues) later, we seemed to have sorted through things. I pray that God continues to help us keep our differences and outside influences in mind so that we can continue to repair the relationship but I know it's going to be somewhat of an uphill battle because it was decades of bad habits to undo.

Despite that drama (and I hate drama), I'm thankful to God for allowing me to have those moments where my temper exploded and I was able to look at things as a whole because it comes with the hope of a better relationship with the person. I still have to work on occasionally losing my cool when driving (L.A. drivers are notoriously rude) but I've seen the good God can do through the bad so I'm feeling optimistic about learning how to better control my temper overall.

How about you? Do any of you have a strong temper/temperament that you need to work on? Have you thought about asking God for help in learning to better manage and control that temper? Remember that you can always call of St. Jerome and/or St. Teresa of Avila whenever you're feeling particularly uncharitable in a heat-filled moment. :)

Well, that's it for now. I actually wrote this post days ago but I had work to do (which I will hopefully share soon) and then we had our apartment blessed for the Epiphany so I've been either sleeping, working, or cleaning up. Oh, 2018, you're a pip! lol.

I hope you're all having a lovely start to the week!

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

God Has Humbled This Proud, Conceited, Vain Girl

(side note: I had this post/topic prepared before I decided to write about why I've given up writing my third novel so it will be published first; the novel news will hopefully be posted tomorrow.)

I was an extraordinarily active kid.

I was/still am a dancer. I took Mexican folkloric dance, swing, ballroom dance, waltzing, and drill team/cheerleading from elementary school through my freshman year of high school. To this day, you'll see me dancing in my apartment (well, only if I feel comfortable enough being the massive goofball that I am around you), dancing in the car, and sometimes in the aisles of the groceries stores when I forget that people can see me.

I was a tomboy who loved playing sports. I ran track, played handball, tetherball, and even baseball when the boys let me. I still remember being the only girl who would dare race against the boys to see who was the fastest in the 5th grade. In junior high, I mostly drill team until I had to choose between honors classes and drill team... and I chose the honor classes. After that, I played soccer, still ran track, and played basketball in my co-ed P.E. class. In high school (and I only went to public HS for a year and a half), I did dance for an entire year and then did a semester of co-ed P.E. I was one of the only two girls in the class who dared to play flag (American) football, basketball, soccer, and softball.

I also had my academic accomplishments. In elementary school, I was one of the chosen speakers of my elementary school graduation. In junior high, I tested into a more academically demanding track and had to choose between dance/popularity and academics. My parents drilled the importance of an education so it was a no-brainer for me. As a high school freshman, I (along with 4 other classmates) tested out of high school English so we took college-level elective courses with some seniors because they didn't have any English courses I could take. I developed severe social anxiety due to the bullying and mental abuse I received from both classmates and teachers so I lost an entire of school. They thought I was going to graduate when I was 19-20 through a charter school. I surprised them by graduating a year and a half early and I even gave the valedictorian/student speech at my high school graduation.

My health began to slowly decline shortly before I turned 18. Anxiety physically debilitated me and I'm sure my father's cancer diagnosis didn't help. I developed anemia for the first time when I was 18 and I was severely underweight from the anti-anxiety medications they'd given me. I recovered for a while but not before anxiety became worse... as did my health. I, who had no allergies as a child, suddenly couldn't eat or drink anything with dairy at 19. At 20, the egg allergy developed. I, who rarely missed school due to illness, became more and more sick... and there wasn't (at the time) an explanation. I returned to the Church in the midst of the uncertainty. The doctors then figured out that my (we now know) PTSD and social anxiety was the cause.

My academic career was terrible. I had to repeat a couple of courses because my health would sometimes affect things. Somehow, I was able to have lucky breaks and, despite illness and my father's death, I was finally able to graduate with my first Bachelor's degree. Quite a few years later than anticipated (I should've graduated around 2007-2008) in 2012.

I was okay for a couple of years but eventually, things began to decline again. When I was about 24, shortly after my father passed away, was the first time they noticed my platelets were lower than normal but no one bothered to check things out. It wasn't until I was 30 that they became more interested in getting to the root cause of my health problems, platelets included. At the time I'm writing this, I'm still a medical mystery to them since they can't figure out the cause (re: low platelets).

As many of y'all know, I overdid it and burnt myself out in mid-late 2014 when I did my first and second semester of my SLP degree... to the point where my health took the biggest hit. It took me until earlier this year to get my iron levels to the point where I was no longer anemic. After two semesters in grad school and a terrible car accident in late 2015, it took me a couple more months to recover my weight (I was underweight for about 2-3 years).

Things seem to be on the upswing and then... something brings me back down. Low platelets. Anemia. Anxiety. Academic failure. It's taken me several years to appreciate everything... and it's just now that I accept everything as being a part of God's will instead of trying to do things on my own, to the point where my pride makes me make terrible decisions.

I've recently realized that God has humbled me because it's been the best thing that could've happened. I was way too overconfident (read: conceited, proud, and vain) about... everything.

I was the girl who was always one of the top students. The girl who received academic honors. The girl who gave the speech at her HS graduation. The girl whose British Literature professor (during her freshman year of college) encouraged her to apply to Oxford University.

I was the girl who could whoop boys at a bunch of sports. I ran and hit faster than many of them. I wasn't afraid of getting hurt, bruised, or dirty.

I was the girl who was offered a contract with a major agency (that would've radically changed my life) when she was 20.

I was the girl who, at 19, was teased about being the first amongst her friends to marry because of the luck she had with the fellas.

I'm now the girl who (people assume) is always sick. I'm the girl who has to be careful during cold/flu season because she can't get a flu shot (egg allergy) and whose white blood count is rarely within normal levels (read: low immunity against viruses). I'm the girl who can't be in the heat too long because she has lower than normal blood pressure. I'm the girl who has to be careful not to cut herself because the low platelets could potentially make her bleed more than normal. I'm the girl who has to be careful about what she consumes because of the food and medication allergies.

I'm the girl who sometimes doesn't have the physical energy/stamina to even sit up or open her eyes on her most physically debilitating days. I'm the girl who gets winded simply bending down and standing back up. I'm the girl who can spend days lightheaded or dizzy in bed. I'm the girl who wishes she could dance more but doesn't have the energy to do so.

I'm the girl who constantly fails in the academic arena because sometimes her health is so poor that mental fog is ever-present, making it difficult for her to concentrate in lectures and/or remember what she studied for exams. I'm the girl who abandoned her second Bachelor's degree... then a Master of Arts degree... and then the second Bachelor's degree again.

I'm the girl who is seen as being a stereotypically lazy Millennial who just lays around the house, doing nothing. I'm the girl who wishes she could work to pay off her student loans but who can't because of her health. I'm the girl who wishes she could financially provide for her mother so that her mother could retire; this girl wants to take care of her mother.

I'm the girl who is currently working on something that she hopes to one day share with you all but, for now, let's say I'm working towards something that I hope will make my mom (and my father, wherever he is) proud. I'm the girl who, despite the want to do well on this thing she's working on, is having a lot of problems accomplishing the basic tasks because she constantly falls asleep and experiences too much mental fog to complete anything she begins.

I'm the girl with terrible luck with fellas (though, perhaps, still has excellent taste because 3 crushes from the past 8 years have ended up in seminary) and, at 32, is one of the last of her friends to marry.

I'm the girl who still has her moments of pride and vanity... but who God is humbling in a way that makes the girl cry tears of joy because (after much prayer in which asked to be cured has now seen that) it's the way He shows His love for her. It may sound weird but I feel like God continues to humble me in order that I may join Him in Heaven one day... which is my ultimate goal.

I'm the girl who has learned that it's okay to ask others for help... to be okay looking foolish... to be who she is, deep down, without worrying about how others perceive her or if others will like her.

I'm the girl who has learned that all the worldly accomplishments, all the riches, all the "luck", all that she experienced as a girl and a young woman aren't important. Doing God's will and choosing to accept the suffering that I need to endure is more important.

And, finally, I'm the girl who hopes God uses to get "through" to others who feel alone... unloved... hopeless... like failures... everything she herself feels at times. I pray to God that I may say the right words or do the right works; to help others during their own low moments. Even if I don't ever know about it and even if it's just one person during my lifetime, I hope I do good. I hope I do my part, through my weaknesses and failures, for His greater glory.

Some of you may say that it will be foolish of me to say this but: I really do hope God does continue to humble me to the point where my pride and vanity is as nonexistent in my being as possible. God has already helped me see how much this "mighty" gal has fallen... and I wouldn't have it any other way. I know that I will continue to be seen as dumb, weak, too sensitive, a failure, etc. and I welcome it. I would rather be seen as being an insignificant than being at risk of having my pride and vanity return to the levels they were at when I was healthy and had too many options in life.

I'm going to leave y'all with this quote from the saint whose feast day we celebrate today (it's still Tuesday in Los Angeles):

“We are at Jesus’ disposal. If he wants you to be sick in bed, if he wants you to proclaim His work in the street, if he wants you to clean the toilets all day, that’s all right, everything is all right. We must say, ‘I belong to you. You can do whatever you like.’ And this is our strength. This is the joy of the Lord.” - St. Teresa of Calcutta

Holding Mama Mary's Hand

If you're following me on social media then you might've already seen me asking for prayers over the weekend. I had a lovely week -- made lovelier by good news from the doctor -- but things started to fall apart on Saturday. For once, I'm keeping the exact details to myself; only a few close friends know the full extent of what's going. Let's just say that it's a mix of a new health (heart related) worry for me, seeing things happening to Mom that are beyond her control and completely unjust, and a number of other things that created the perfect storm of intense anxiety.

I literally could not sit still for more than 4 seconds most of Saturday evening and night. I would sit down and immediately bolt up and pace the length of my apartment. That's how intense the anxiety was. You'd think that I'd eventually calm down enough to sleep it off, right? Big fat "nope." Our new next-door neighbors decided to throw a party on Saturday night that lasted until the wee hours on Sunday morning. After they calmed down, I was still so wound up that I just couldn't fall asleep. Having to get up at 4 a.m. that morning was a massive pain after sleeping very little. While my anxiety got a bit better during the day, I still couldn't fall asleep last night and, again, slept very little.

I've tried taking naps yesterday and today but it hasn't gone smoothly. During the first hour or two of the attempted naps, I've kept waking up (and sitting up) suddenly just as I was drifting off to sleep. I knew I had things to do both yesterday and today but I simply couldn't stay sleep, no matter how exhausted I've felt. Finally, I remembered the words that one of my best friends said to me when I told him what was going on and what my fears were: "Clutch our Mother's hand." I got the idea of holding Rosary beads in my hand as I tried to rest and both times that I've done it I've been able to drift to sleep and rest for at least an hour.

Has anyone been in a similar situation in which their minds and/or their hearts were troubled with something and nothing was helping ease the worry? I pray the Rosary on a daily basis but I sometimes don't feel at peace as quickly as I'd like. I'm not sure if holding the Rosary beads helps me drift off to sleep because, psychologically, it's a sort of security blanket during times of trials or if it's because Mama Mary is there with me, helping ease my anxiety. I'd like to think it's the latter. All I know is that imagining that Mama Mary is, in a way, holding my hand while I feel helpless and alone (when I'm physically alone) is very soothing. I've often wrapped Rosary beads around my hand when I've had horrific anxiety attacks but this is the first time I've held them to help me fall asleep.

By the way, please don't say "don't worry!" or "trust in the Lord" because, as well-meaning as they may be, I really don't want to hear those words. It makes me feel like a complete failure when my anxiety gets so bad that I can't stop worrying. I do try but sometimes it gets overwhelming. I ask God for help and I do trust Him but sometimes the mind is weak, especially when it's sleep deprived and can't think rationally.

Anyway, this was a quick blog post to share this in hopes that this may help someone else in a similar situation. If you can't pray the entire Rosary or even a decade, I highly recommend holding a strand of Rosary beads and praying any way you can. Even if it's as simple as "Lord, have mercy on me" or "Blessed Mother, pray for me" -- prayers don't have to be fancy as long as they come from the heart.

I should go eat something... and study. I really hope my anxiety (and the issue that is causing my anxiety) get better soon because I have two exams coming up next week and I really need to concentrate. Ain't nobody got time for your shenanigans, anxiety!

To those who've prayed and continue praying for me: thank you! I know that it's due to all your prayers that I haven't had a full-blown panic attack because this situation is intense and I would've already had a major attack by now.

I hope everyone had a lovely weekend and that you have a great week! :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

What Self-Care Looks Like (July 2016)

I know I've written about self-care before (and more than once) but I thought I'd give y'all an update on how that's going to keep myself accountable to what is and isn't working.

What is Working

• Learning more about introversion and being a highly sensitive person (HSP). I've been reading a couple of books on introversion (most notably Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain and The Irresistible Introvert: Harness the Power of Quiet Charisma in a Loud World by Michaela Chung) as well as some articles on HSP that have helped embrace who I am and what works for me. Quiet has helped me understand what introversion is and what it isn't while The Irresistible Introvert (which is more like a memoir with tips on what's worked for the author) has given me ideas on how to best manage stressful (to introverts) situations. So far the latter has been highlighted, annotated, and been the most useful to me since I learn best from personal experiences. My anxiety and stress levels are at an all-time low thanks to the new techniques (as well as some I've picked up from implementing some mindfulness into my everyday routines).
• Embracing change. There have been a lot of changes lately (you can go back to last month's blog posts to see some example) and I've been able to accept them because I think I've finally learned to let go and let God guide me. Change doesn't make me uncomfortable but not knowing what's going to happen in the future has been a trigger for my anxiety attacks in the past. Now? I'm trusting God and am letting things come as they may without any long term plans in place. I have goals but no concrete plans as to how it'll happen. I'm re-learning to be more flexible which is something I was actually good at before the PTSD became a part of my life. I've also made some much needed changes in how I do things. For example, after reading both The Irresistible Introvert and an article on how multitasking actually depletes your mental energy, I've tried to do one thing at a time instead of trying to do several things at once. Right now I'm blogging without any music or the TV on in the background; I'm focused on this one single thing. While this is a small change for me, it's really helped my energy levels and mental sharpness.
• Taking screen-free breaks. As I've mentioned before, I've noticed how much better I feel and how much more (mentally and physically) energized I am when I'm not glued to a screen. I've taken a couple of screen-free breaks throughout the week. I let my friends (with whom I communicate the most often on social media and/or text) know ahead of time so they don't think I'm ignoring them. It's done wonders for my mental health; I can't recommend it enough.
• Drinking more water. Alright, 'fess up... who else has trouble drinking the recommended amount of water? After my bladder/kidney infection in late June-early July, I've been making an effort to drink more water. I try to aim for at least six 8 oz glasses per day and most days I'm able to reach that goal. Sometimes I fail on the six glasses but I do drink more than 16 oz of chamomile tea (for heartburn) or eat watermelon fruit bars (like popsicles but made out of actual fruit) so that helps keep me a little more hydrated. Added bonus: if I start off my day with at least 8-16 oz of water, I have a bit more energy during the day.
• Taking guilty pleasure breaks. If I feel myself getting stressed what do I do? Take a "guilty pleasure break." "What's that?" you may ask. It means that I'll do something that I enjoy for at least half an hour per day. It could be reading a book or watching a TV show that I'd be slightly embarrassed to admit that I read or watch but that makes me happy. If you're curious, let's just say it's usually aimed at a teen audience. Shh! lol.

What Isn't Working

• Not getting enough sleep. I've been averaging 4-6 hours most nights in the past couple of weeks. At first it was because the fever and infection weren't letting me sleep. Then the maintenance guys were here almost every day for about three straight weeks, not allowing me to sleep. Now it's just become a bad habit that I need to break before classes begin at the end of this month. This means sacrificing certain activities (such as reading one more chapter of a book or watching one more episode of a show I'm hooked on) but it'll be worth it for my health. I try to aim for 6-7.5 hours because I've noticed that that is what works best for me and my mental sharpness.
• Not listening to what food my body craves. I won't sugar coat it -- I've been eating lousy (yet delicious) food lately. My diet has consisted of a lot of fast, greasy foods which is why my heartburn has been terrible lately. When I see certain foods, my (literal) gut reaction is "ugh, no more" but sometimes it's all that's available so I eat it... and then suffer the consequences. I've also not eaten at times because we run out of food and I can't get to a grocery store because it's too hot outside (and I had no working a/c in my car for most of the summer thus far). With my stomach as sensitive as it has been lately, I'm going to make a list of which fruits and vegetables work (in terms of the acidity my stomach can handle and which foods I'm not allergic to) so I can incorporate more of them into my diet.
  
• Not attending confession or Mass for the past 5 weeks. Yes, I know, that's a mortal sin. I have my excuses but it still doesn't feel right. Not only that but not going to confession has had the unfortunate consequence of bad habits popping up again. Since I'm no longer sick like I was early last month, the Sand Fire is no longer an issue (we were advised to stay home because of the air quality being poor and our parish is only a couple of miles from where it was), and since the heat wave we had (which peaked at around 115 degrees or so and left me indoors for 2 straight weeks) is over, I no longer have any excuses. This past weekend was the first on which we could attend Mass without the lack of a/c being a factor (since it was fixed) but both my mom and I didn't feel well enough to attend Mass (she had painful arthritis that not even painkillers helped with and I had a stomach issue which seems to have peaked yesterday). I was kind of miffed that I couldn't attend this weekend after waiting for so long but I'm going to make sure I eat healthier so I don't have a repeat of this weekend. You guys don't know how much I've been wanting to go to both confession and Mass. We've even tried (and failed) to go during the week. It's a yearning at this point. I'm determined to make things right this weekend. Prayers that we're able to go to both, please?

Anyone (that I know offline) want to keep me accountable for any of the three things that I need to work in this month? I give you my permission to get on my case if needed. I'm serious.

That's it for now. I have the house to myself for only 2 more hours so I want to enjoy the silence and the slow pace while I still can. I love my mom but living with an uber-extroverted personality isn't easy when you're an introvert. I need to recharge my energy battery while I still can. :)

I hope y'all are having a lovely start of week!

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Dear Dad...

Today is the 7th anniversary of your death. I still can't wrap my mind around it being that long. It both does and doesn't feel like much time has passed. I haven't forgotten what you look like but I occasionally forget what your voice sounded like. I guess that's normal since it's been so long.

I started playing the guitar again. This time, it's a little more regularly. I stopped playing after you died. It took me a good 5-6 years to really find any interest in it again. You promised me a guitar shortly before you died which still occasionally hurts. No, getting the guitar doesn't matter; it's the fact that you promised something that will never be fulfilled that got me down. It's a constant reminder that there were things we planned that will never get fulfilled. Every time I picked the guitar up, I was reminded of you and that promise. I remember all those times you drove me to my lessons as well as the times you drove me to get my first two guitars (and how you picked out the first one I ever owned). I think it was quite funny that the only thing that cheered me up this weekend was picking up my acoustic guitar and playing, followed by singing. There's more music in the house, like you liked when you were alive.

I've been through heck and back over the last year but I'm still here, thriving despite the setbacks. I still have that fire in me that I inherited from both you and Mom. My health has gone through ups and downs but I'm overall recovering. The car accident didn't feel me down for too long and I've been driving ever since I got my car back from the mechanic. You'd be proud of me for that. I know you were worried about me and my anxiety before you died but it's been better than it's been since I was a teenager. I've had moments of anxiety (and the darn antibiotics brought them back this past week) but I'm not letting it keep me down for long. Your little girl doesn't get easily scared nor does she quit.

Speaking of quitting, despite the academic setbacks, I've not quit that either. I'm returning to the SLP field. I was accepted to Utah State once again over the weekend. I should be graduating early next May. On your deathbed I promised you that I'd take care of Mom and since it's becoming quite clear that she's going to need to retire sooner than later, I've put my dreams of that Theology MA on the backburner in favor of a career as an SLPA. Isn't that what you and Mom taught me; that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for our family? Once I can get that going, I'll return to finish the other degree. I don't regret it nor am I upset at the sudden change of plans. They weren't what I had planned but God knows what He's doing. I know He is helping guide me down this journey of mine and for now I have to focus on this. :)

Not much else to report on. I'm that same content little girl you raised. Things don't always work out as I'd like them to and I do get down for a little while but I bounce back. I'm still incredibly silly when I'm with those whom I trust. I still carry myself the way you and Mom taught me to act. I hope you'd be proud of the woman I've grown up to be. I still feel like I'm growing but I think that's a never ending process.

I'm still single (I'm sure you'd appreciate that since my sister married so young, lol) but I'm happy. I know I have to be happy with myself by myself or else I'm going to place unrealistic expectations on the future fella and future family. I still think it's in the cards for me but not now. For whatever reason, I have to wait a bit longer and that's okay. One of the last things you said to me before you died was that you trusted my judgment when it came to relationships and that's something I continue to carry with me. Don't worry, I've got more than enough people willing to step in and check out (*cough*interrogate*cough*) potential candidates. Thank you for raising me with old fashioned values; it's helped me weed out jerks.

I still think about you all the time and you pop up in my dreams quite often, especially when I have an important decision weighing on my mind. I hope I can continue making you proud. I'll always remember the lessons you taught me (especially how to parallel park like a boss) and make sure I'm the best person I can be.

With love,

My Body Likes to Scare Me

As I sit and write this out, a full blown panic attack is passing rather slowly. Oh, Keflex, I will be glad when you're out of my system...

If you hadn't guessed from the post's intro, the antibiotic I was given for my bladder infection -- Keflex -- gives me the unfortunate side effect of anxiety. Full blown panic attacks for no reason. One pharmacist said it wasn't possible and another said it wasn't a common side effect but could be possible since I noticed it appeared shortly after my first dose. I had my first full blown panic attack at the 4 hour mark (4 hours exactly) after my first dose of the antibiotic. I had the latest round of panic attacks at the 31 hour mark after the last dose. A Google search brought up several people reporting anxiety being amped up as a side effect to the Keflex so I'm just going to wait it out.

Anyway, if you're wondering what's going on with my body scaring the chocolate chips out of me... it's been a crazy couple of days. I went to the ER 6 out of 7 days. (USA! USA! /inside joke) No, it wasn't fun. I was apparently dehydrated a few days ago and I received another round of IV fluids yesterday when I felt like I was going to pass out at the 2 hour mark of the last dose of the antibiotics. (side note: are we seeing a pattern yet?) Yesterday's latest round of blood work (yep, third time they drew blood in 6 days) showed something interesting: no anemia (it was at 11.1 out of 10 normal range cut off), platelets were the highest they've been in at least 5 years (175k out of 140k normal range cut off; up 75k from the last time I blogged), and I was basically the picture of health since even the bladder infection was gone after 3.5 days of the antibiotics. How my platelets were able to jump 75k on their own in 4 days, I don't know. I didn't do anything differently except cut wheat out of my diet.

I felt terrible all night (starting at the 4 hour mark after the penultimate dose of the antibiotics...) two nights ago and then I nearly fainted yesterday morning (again, at 2 hour mark of last dose of antibiotics). The doctor said it was anxiety but I didn't believe him until today. Anxiety is real, y'all. I don't think it's anxiety caused by so many ER visits because even the doctors said I looked really relaxed while I was there and I don't feel stressed or anxious about anything; these panic attacks will happen randomly while I'm watching TV or praying or doing something relaxing. Thankfully 90% of the antibiotic has flushed out already, just to wait for the other 10% to vacate the premises in the next 38 hours.

Except for the random panic attacks (which I can thankfully manage through; I've had enough CBT training to ride it out without it escalating into something worse), I'm apparently okay. I definitely feel like myself again except I'm a little  exhausted because I've only slept maybe 3-5 hours most night in the past 2 weeks due to the fever or ER visits. I'm so excited about the anemia being gone and the platelets having jumped so high on their own. My weight was still at a good place (within normal range) at last weigh in.

In a weird way, everything I went through in the past 2 weeks has made me more confident about what could be coming up for their upcoming Fall. Whether I return to Utah State to complete my degree in Communicative Disorders and Deaf Education (Speech-Language Pathology) or I don't get re-admitted and end up going to Steubenville to continue my Theology MA degree, I'm ready. :) Now all I have to do is get back to my normal prayer routine.

In the past two weeks, I've fallen asleep praying the Rosary more times than I care to admit. I have missed praying either my morning or nighttime prayers about 5-6 times this past week. I haven't been doing the Chaplet of St. Michael Archangel either. I've mostly done morning prayers (missed once or twice), the Litany of Humility, and the Daily Consecration to the Blessed Virgin Mary because they're short and the easiest ones I do. No Mass or confession for me last weekend either since I was in the ER or unable to drive. Sigh. I miss it.

Dear body, please, no more scaring me. I'd like a little break from worrying about health issues, mmmkay? No more ER visits. No more bladder infections. No more plummeting platelets or anemia, okay? Thank you. lol. Anxiety, you can go fly a kite. You're not welcome here.

Anyway, anxiety has finally subsided a bit (yay!) so I'm going to go read or do something fun. The weather is cooperating so I may take a drive in a little while. :D

I hope everyone else is having a better time than I am. lol. Thank you all for your continued prayers.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

I Began Reverting to the Faith a Decade Ago This Month

Mom found an old box with receipts from a decade ago. This wouldn't seem like a big deal -- we all hold onto receipts for a long time -- but it's quite significant for me because the box contains all the doctors and hospital bills I racked up in 2006-2007. The bulk of it was from the summer of 2006 when they couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I still remember it vividly...

Shortly after I turned 21 -- and around the time the 2006 World Cup (in Germany) started -- I began getting seriously sick. I would faint while taking showers. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was constantly nauseous. I had little appetite. I felt like I was going to have heart attacks randomly. I would "black out" (literally see black wash over my eyes) at random times. Blood work always came back fine. I would occasionally be slightly dehydrated but nothing to worry about it. "If she continues like this, she's not going to make it too long," I heard someone tell my parents. 

In those days, no one thought it was severe anxiety and PTSD. In fact, PTSD wasn't diagnosed until several years later. The doctors didn't even consider severe anxiety as a possible diagnosis. No one thought it was because the friends I had were mentally and emotionally abusing me. I didn't realize it myself. After a stint in the hospital (I spent 3 out of 5 days in a single week in and out of the hospital), the girls kept calling and harassing me. My parents were livid to say the least. It wasn't until my mother ordered that my social media accounts (in those days: Facebook and Myspace) be shut down and I cut off everyone (EVERYONE) from my life that things began to improve... but it took months. 

Spoiler alert: if you've read the first Will and Lina novel, this was one of the few things that I personally experienced that I wrote into the book for one of the characters. Candace was based on several of the girls that caused problems for me.

In the meantime, in June 2006, I began praying to St. Jude, the patron of difficult cases. My mom mentioned him. I was up for trying anything at that point. I wasn't remotely religious despite being a "cradle Catholic." I wanted to get well. I wanted them to figure out what was going on with me. I bargained (newbie mistake), if I got better, I'd stay in Los Angeles for school rather than leave for England like it was planned. Though I'd set my heart on Bath Spa University (yes, that's the actual name of it), I would stay put. Bargaining due to being poorly catechized, folks. Whatever. I began to see results. I started getting better. Not only that, my curiosity was intrigued. "You mean prayer works?" The seeds were planted. It was slow but by late September 2006 I'd fully embraced my faith and "officially" returned.

There some things from a decade ago that I want to regain. I feel like I've become overly cautious and serious. I wasn't always like this. I used to be described as "bubbly" and was just slightly more sociable (though always more introverted than extroverted) but I lost that after what I went through with the girls. This is something I've been working on in recent months and will continue to work on. These girls no longer have any power over me and I want to get back those aspects of myself that I miss. Still, I wouldn't trade it for what I've learned. In a weird way, I'm grateful for everything that happened because it's led me to where I am. I like the person I've become. 

I'm happy to say that my reversion back to the faith began 10 years ago this week(ish); definitely this month. I thank God for the journey, even though it's been an incredibly difficult 10 years with my health issues, the death of my father, and all the other stuff that's happened. If my mom hadn't mentioned St. Jude to me one of those nights we were in the E.R. and I hadn't began praying, I'm fairly positive I wouldn't have been here, blogging about this.

Anyway, that's it for now. I just wanted to share this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to destroying all those ugly memories of the girls who tormented me and the hospital stays I had a decade ago. ;)

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Temper and Turning the Other Cheek

As I was meditating on today's third Sorrowful Mystery (the Crowning with Thorns) I thought about how there is one change over the years that I'm not happy with: how I've lost the ability to turn the other cheek when others attack me. I thought about how Jesus was mocked and spat on and yet he did nothing in return. What an admirable trait, one that I wish to restore in my life.

I don't know when it happened but sometime in the past couple of years I've become quick to respond and let my temper take over when I feel attacked. I don't like it. At all. I never used to be like this. I used to be better at holding my tongue, of being able to internalize it before I acted on it. I don't know if the change came as a result of my father's death (after the initial mourning period), of cognitive-behavioral therapy that wasn't properly taught to me, or if my time at my CINO college alma mater brought it out. Maybe it was a combination of all three, who knows. All I know is that during this Lenten season I've noticed this negative aspect in myself, that I didn't like it, and that I want to try to be more mindful of how I react, like I used.

I'm not saying I want to go back to the exact same way it was because I used to internalized it (read: bottle it up) and it made my anxiety and panic attacks worse. I don't want that. What I need to do is to find a balance between internalizing it and speaking out. When I say "speaking out" I mean defending myself against unjust words... and even then, I need to learn to try to look for cues on whether it's even worth speaking out against or if it'll make the situation worse.

I wanted to read Overcoming Sinful Anger by Fr. T. Morrow for Lent because I've noticed that I've become more irritable in general ever since my father died and I want to change that. Since I ended up focusing on unplugging and quieting the world (because a lot of things I ended up taking to the confessional came as a result of the (way too much) time I was spending online), I didn't get a chance to read it but God still opened my eyes and my heart about starting this change during the remaining days of Lent.

I started cognitive-behavioral therapy three weeks ago for some linger anxiety issues and I hope it will help; this is one of the things I'm going to work on in my short-term program. Since my therapist seems to be Buddhist (and has suggested I do yoga and meditation which is not compatible to the Catholic faith; the stretches are okay but the spiritual component obviously isn't), I'm going to have to tweak some things from therapy such as using Gregorian chant when I need to clear my mind when I'm mentally overwhelmed.

I'm sharing this for two reasons. First, because I know this is a problem that many people have. How many of us wish we could just turn the other cheek when someone verbally bashes us? You know, after the initial anger dies down. I miss having that ability. I know I'm capable of it... I just lost that part of myself somewhere down the line. The second reason is because I'm wondering how many people saw what they needed to work on in their lives during Lent but, for whatever reason, thought to themselves "oh, this isn't a problem..."

It's very hard to accept that there's some things that we need to work on, especially when they're bad habits or a negative aspect of ourselves that we've tried to deny. Do you think I liked admitting that I've had a temper problem in recent years? No, I did not. I tried to justify or excuse my actions but I just can't anymore. "I'm just defending myself" and "oh, but I cool off after a few minutes" (which is true; I just need to be left alone to cool down for a little while) only goes so far. I think I'd rather turn the other cheek and learn to deal with how to process what was said or done to me without letting it affect my sensitive side as much as it has in the past; dealing with those words and actions in a healthier manner. It's not going to be easy (even when meditating on the cruel things Jesus endured towards the end of his life) because in the heat of the moment I only think about how upset or hurt I am. Still, I know it's something that needs to change. God has already shown me that it's possible, I simply need to work on it.

Anyway, that's it for now. Sorry for the ongoing gaps between posts; I've been busier (with important things) lately and haven't had the concentration (due to the stress) or the time (poor time management at times) to either write or even read the books I have from the library. That crazy, folks! I think I may have something up for St. Joseph's feast day tomorrow since he is my patron saint for the year. We'll see. ;)

I hope y'all have had a wonderful week and that you have a lovely weekend.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Faith Trials: "I Can't" Becomes "I Can" and "I Trust"

I know. It's been a while since my last blog post. As I wrote last time, I've been going through a lot of medical issues. I say "a lot" because it seems like it but, in reality, it's not that much in the grand scheme of things. I unfortunately got a skin infection that spread and it took almost an entire month to go from start to finish... and I'm not done yet since I still have at least one or two more wound evaluations and a 10-day round of antibiotics to get through before I'm (hopefully) all done. Doctors have told me it's been a community thing and I actually found out that it's true. I've had three other neighbors tell me that they've had the same issue.

I've had so many people say, quite pityingly, "Oh, you've suffered so much" yet I don't believe I have. I've had excellent doctors, nurses, and now physical therapists for wound care at great hospitals. My blood work has come back perfect. Yes, terrible acid reflux stinks but that's not unique to me and it's gotten better. Yes, I'm currently slightly underweight from the multiple days that I wasn't able to eat for several hours (13+ hours at the hospital sometimes). I have a fast metabolism so losing weight is easier than gaining it but I can add more calories into my diet and cut back on my exercise for a bit to help the weight gain. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, a bed to sleep in, friends and family who are praying for me... where is the suffering?

Before I go on, let me just give you a brief medical history. I was an extraordinarily healthy child. I rarely got sick. Not even the chickenpox at age 8 kept me down for long. It wasn't until I developed anxiety at 15 that things changed... but I was still healthy. If you didn't know, anxiety can manifest itself in physical symptoms. Heart palpitations, cold sweat, lightheaded/dizziness, stomach issues, lack of appetite, lack of sleep, physical pains in the most random places, extreme fatigue, etc. It doesn't mean you're not healthy; it's just your body reacting to the natural "fight or flight" response that the anxiety triggers. So, sure, I haven't felt 100% all the time because of anxiety but I've been quite healthy for the most part. For some people -- especially the ones who don't have experience with anxiety -- it may seem like I'm "always sick" because the anxiety mimics symptoms that would suggest I'm not well when I really am.

The last time I went through something remotely similar to what I'm going through now was right before my reversion to the faith, 9 years ago this summer. However, unlike the last time, a lot of "I can't" moments have become "I can" and "I trust." 9 years ago all the physical symptoms of anxiety hit me at once and it was something I'd never experienced. Because I was in the hospital so often and the doctors couldn't find anything (nor did they even entertain the possibility of it being connected to anxiety until years down the line), I developed medical PTSD. A lot of my fears about going to the hospital, being sick, and going through pain have been the ones I've had to face this past month. Who wants to go to the hospital 2-3 times a week for the past 3 weeks, even if it's just to get a wound checked? No one. Yet, I've done that and have been okay.

The first time they diagnosed and treated the abscess on my jaw/chin, I shook as soon as I found out they had to do a surgical procedure. I teared up in the minutes leading up to it because of that fear. It was something I'd never experienced. I had one of my rosaries in my hand throughout the entire procedure. Though it hurt so much, I kept telling the doctor continue. By the time the second abscess had ruptured and had to be drained, I was a lot calmer. I didn't cry once, even though the pain was much worse because of the location (chest wall). The doctors and nurses even commented on how I had done "the best" out of the patients they'd seen with abscesses on that particular day (there were 4 of us on one particular day).

I had no real moment of anxiety or even panic attack beyond the first trip to the E.R. I was naturally, occasionally nervous, sure, but not overly anxious. The days I knew I was in for a world of pain (when they repacked the wounds), I had no anxiety despite knowing what I was to endure. I prayed the Rosary and other prayers for everyone in the E.R., for the doctors and nurses, etc. I joked with the nurses and doctors. I read books. I listened to music. I tweeted. A lot. lol. Even when I had fleeting moments of fear, I automatically said "okay, this is happening but I trust God." I reminded myself of the pain Christ endured on the cross. I remembered the spear that pierced His side when I had to have my chest all abscess drained. I offered things up for the souls in purgatory as well as friends going through rough times. I made myself become a "brave little toaster" and I faced all those fears straight with God in mind. "I can do this" and "I trust in Him" have been the mantras that have kept me going. That and remembering that I have a handsome little godson who needs his godmother to be strong and not give up.

After going through the spiritual desert at the beginning of last month, followed by temptations and experiencing a rough period of loneliness, going an intense attack literally a day or two before the abscess nonsense began, and then going through (almost) a month of dealing physical medical issues I've had people tell me that they think I've been going through some sort of spiritual attack. I actually talked about it with my spiritual director and we're not dismissing it, especially with how random and sudden some of these things happened... and in succession. If that's the case, I'm just glad that my faith has remained intact.

My faith has not wavered during the last two months of what I've gone through. If anything, I feel like it's pulled me closer to God. Every moment of "suffering" (again, I use the word with quotations because what I've gone through isn't even close to the suffering other people go through on a daily basis) has just reminded me of how wonderfully loving and merciful God is. I know He doesn't rejoice in seeing me go through pain and everything else. Yet, He hasn't and will never abandon me and that's so comforting.

When I had the two surgical procedures done, I envisioned Mama Mary at my head, St. Therese on my right side, and Bl. Pier Giorgio on my left side. My imagination is rich enough that I could picture it into my mind to help me through it. During the last surgical procedure, I even pictured Sts. Cosmas and Damian (twin saint physicians who are the patrons of doctors) on either side of the doctor who performed the procedure. I held onto my rosary for the first one and I had it in my pocket for the second since I help the doctor for the second one. I never failed to wear either my brown scapular or my Miraculous Medal. It's been my faith that has kept me going... and will continue to help me during my recovery time.

I sincerely believe (as does my spiritual director, apparently) that all this has been preparing me for something bigger and better in my near future. Whether that be career, school, and/or vocation (big V vocation, that is) related, I don't know. But the fact that I've had to face my biggest fears seemingly all at once has to be for a reason. Maybe God wants me to see that I'm stronger that I've thought. Maybe He is preparing me for career that will have me stepping out of my comfort zone... something that I would've used anxiety as an excuse not to explore. Maybe He is preparing me for marriage and motherhood, helping me see that I can not only take care of myself during some rough times but also other people when in the past I've had the mentality that, because I was sick, I was basically useless to everyone. Whatever it is, I am truly grateful to have gone through everything. These past two months have taught me to not only believe in myself but to have confidence and trust in Him and others.

I'm sorry for writing to much but I just really wanted to share this with y'all. :) Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'm done talking about this for a while. lol. I seem to be on the mend so all I'm going to focus on now (besides finishing the antibiotic and resting) is the start of grad school next month. :)

To everyone who has prayed for me during this crazy summer (see? I told y'all in May that summer is usually the worst time for me), I just wanted to say a huge "thank you!" Thank you for the prayers, the support, the love, the encouraging words... just, everything. I know I already said that and apologized for the crazy amount of tweets but I still wanted to do it again.

I hope everyone has a great weekend, especially those who are starting classes next week... or have started the semester this week. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless. :D

Keeping God in Mind During Attacks

Last night I felt a pretty intense attack... but unlike any panic attacks I've had. I wasn't shaking. I didn't feel like I couldn't breathe nor was there a heaviness on my chest. I wasn't lightheaded. I just felt a sudden wave of hopelessness and desperation. I glanced at the iPod next to me (yes, I need to break the habit of having it nearby when I sleep) and it read 1:37 a.m.

"Nooo," I said to myself. "Not when I have to get up before dawn for Mass." I tried to fight it. I could hear Mussorgsky's "Night on Bald Mountain" starting to play (okay, that's not true but the song pretty much expresses how it felt) as it grew stronger and stronger. Next thing I knew I got out of bed, left my room, and started pacing the perimeter of the living room. At some point I started crying because of the frustration. I hadn't had one of these nights in a really long time; so long that I honestly can't remember when the last one happened. Two years ago? Three?

I know what triggered it. I know what thoughts invade my peace of mind, causing this attack to come to fruition. Though I rationalized them away, they still held strong. "You're weak." "You're doing this to yourself." "There is no hope." Every time a thought like this popped up, I countered it with "But God has my back." "I trust in Him." The more I fought the negative with thoughts of God, the worse the negative thoughts hounded me. Still, I fought.

I tried saying the Memorare prayer over and over, only to not be able to concentrate on the prayer. I thought about praying the Rosary but knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate. Then I did something I never thought I would ever do but it was done without second thought: I literally dropped to my knees and began praying.

The worn out carpet hit my bare kneecaps hard but I didn't care. I cried harder and I began praying. "I trust in God. I don't know why I can't fight these thoughts right now but I trust in You. I trust in God. Our Father... Hail Mary... Glory Be..." Slowly, the negative thoughts began to disappear. "You won't make it to Mass; you have to get up in 2-3 hours. You won't make it" the thought said. "Yes, I can. I'm used to 2 hours of sleep when I drive mom to work and it sometimes takes me 2 more hours to fall back asleep for a nap. I can always go to Mass and come home to nap," I countered. "I WILL go to Mass tomorrow." My rational/logic explanations and my positive thoughts began diminishing the strength of the negative ones. A few minutes later, it had all passed. It still took me a few more minutes to settle down before I fell asleep again.

I can already hear some of my friends theorizing it was a spiritual attack. It certainly wasn't a typical panic attack but whether it was spiritual or not, I was glad that I was able to keep my thoughts on God. If you suffer from panic attacks, you know how hard it is to concentrate on anything that isn't what you're feeling. Even after having suffered through them for half of my life (they started when I was 15 though they've diminished in strength and frequency over the years), it's still hard for me to focus on God during those times. It's worth the try but I know not to beat myself up if I can't automatically go there.

I'm sharing this because I get a lot of blog hits from people searching the key words "Catholicism / Catholic" and "anxiety." Anxiety and panic attacks are still a major taboo with some people. There is still that stigma that there is something "wrong" or "off" with us. There isn't. We're not going crazy, though it may feel like it at times. Part of my anxiety stems from having medical PTSD (years of adverse reactions to medications and food allergies, plus seeing my dad suffer through 7 years of cancer, have left me nervous when it comes to medical emergencies). Some people have a chemical imbalance in their bodies. All are valid reasons that no one should hold against us... and, trust me, most of the time there is nothing but compassion towards us.

Whatever reason there is for these attacks, please know that it has nothing to do with what's "wrong" with us. Some things are beyond our control. Other things -- such as my medical PTSD -- can be worked through. I am making good progress on it though I know it won't be something that will go away overnight. No matter what we go through, we can always ask Him to help us carry those heavy crosses when we feel like we can't. During our times of weakness is when He's right next to us.

Anyway, that's it from me today. I still haven't gone to Mass but I need to start getting ready for one of the later Masses of the day. :) I hope y'all had a great weekend!

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Little Steps

Today I drove to the Cathedral in downtown L.A. It may not seem like a big deal to most of you but when you've had anxiety/panic disorder for half of your life, it's a huge deal. It took me quite a while since I don't live near the downtown area (hello for the suburbs!) and I got there using all streets; I have yet to find a legitimate reason to take the freeway.

On the way there, I was a little nervous but I didn't have any crippling anxiety. I had planned my route using Google Maps and I've grown up in L.A. so I don't get lost very easily. With that confidence I drove out to get myself a St. Brigid of Ireland Tiny Saint to hang out with the Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati Tiny Saint that I carry next to my keys. Yes, when I'm motivated, I can achieve things. Did I get it? Yes, along with a couple more for one of my best friends. As I drove back home, I couldn't help feeling proud of myself.

It's so easy to believe the lies that you can't do anything. I've heard it before. "Oh, Emmy can't do this because of her anxiety." "Emmy needs help because..." "Yeah, Emmy can't..." Luckily for me, anytime someone says that I can't do something that I know I'm capable of, I get determination to prove them wrong. Learning how to drive, getting my license, driving to places "far" from my apartment... all of these things are goals that I have proven that I can do despite others underestimating me.

I know a lot of people find this blog because of search terms such as "anxiety and Catholicism." In fact, that was partly why I opened this blog 7 years ago; I wanted to show others that having anxiety was nothing to be ashamed about. Stereotypes be darned. They haven't defined me and they don't define anyone who is going through it.

I hope that posts like this show others going through the same thing (anxiety/panic disorder) that it is possible to overcome these kinds of obstacles. If you were to ask my mom if she ever thought it was possible for me to drive, she would honestly tell you "no." No one believed I would eventually conquer the fear to do it. Just remember that when people say "no" to something important, God often says "yes."

Anyway, just a quick little post I wanted to share 'cause I'm honestly so stinking proud of myself. :D Naysayers say whaaat?! lol.

I hope you all had a great Monday (yes, I know Mondays are a punk butt) and have a great rest of week. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D