My Breakdown and What it Did to My Faith

This is hard for me to admit but, this is my journey and if it helps someone it'll be worth saying it:

I had a breakdown a couple of days ago.

Feel free to judge me as you want. The stigma of it makes me feel ashamed but I've come to terms with the fact that I was a lot stronger for much longer than I should've been.

There were a number of contributing factors that just added up at the worst time; all at the same time. Those I've trusted with the details the two main causes -- who hurt me and what happened. No one who knows the details is happy with those involved. I have never seen so much swearing coming from my friends before; they're that angry on my behalf.

Then we have my digital burnout. I don't think I need to say anything about that; y'all know what has happened. Y'all can see some of the hurtful messages I have received in the days prior to my digital detox break -- at least the ones that don't have their accounts protected. I don't need to tell y'all how overwhelmed I felt but y'all also didn't know this happened during one of the most difficult times in my personal life. (side note: if you hate seeing my updates and prayer requests on Twitter so much, please just unfollow me instead of telling me that no one cares about what I'm going through and/or that no one is going to help me when I ask for prayers. It's incredibly hurtful when all I'm asking for is prayers.)

To everyone who kicked me while I was already down, I want to say: I forgive you. I don't want to feel anger or resentment, though I have. I don't want to blame anyone for causing my breakdown, though others have and still do. I'm simply going to pray for those who hurt me and ask God to merciful.

Have I also mentioned that my car broke down (again; still at the mechanic's), that our check for the rent bounced (and now we have to pay $100+ we don't have due to the error; thanks, Chase!), and that I experienced a strong spiritual attack all on the same day as well? Yes, it all happened at once and within a couple of hours.

Hitting rock bottom is incredibly humbling. At first, I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I felt like I deserved it -- all of what happened. Friends will argue with me on those points but that's what I believed. It took a lot of (patiently) walking me through everything that happened to help me get through the worst of it. I now understand that I could have prevented some of it -- up to a point -- but that the bulk of it was out of my hands, I did everything I could to prevent things from ending the way it did. I am so incredibly grateful to God for placing the right people in my path during those dark days because it was really bad.

Going to First Friday adoration last weekend -- though I couldn't stay for the entire hour like I had planned -- was refreshing balm for my weary soul. Immersing myself in scripture, particularly the Psalms, has been the nourishment that has kept me from completely breaking down to the point of needing hospitalization. My regime as a Benedictine Oblate novice -- praying the Divine Office, doing Lectio Divina, and doing everything with God in mind -- has saved me from spiraling down into an even deeper depression.

Providentially, I received my Epiphany gift to myself on the day of the breakdown. That gift? A Benedictine crucifix -- a crucifix with a St. Benedict medal imbedded in it -- blessed and sent by the Benedictine monks at Clear Creek Abbey. It almost felt like God was saying, "Here. You're going to need this. Hold onto it and never forget that the crosses you bear will only bring you closer to Me." And it has felt that way.

Though I hit that wall, God has never been far from my mind. Though my mind might focus on the latest calamity for a minute, I've somehow managed to find God in it.

He's there with me in the arguments and anger, in the tears and sorrow, and in the attacks. He's there with me, reassuring me that it's all going to be okay. No saint went without their trials on this earth. While I'm nowhere near being a saint, I know that God never allows anything to happen which won't sanctify us. I know that if I have to go through this, it's all for a reason.

Perhaps I need to shed vanity, pride, and/or other vices I may have. Perhaps I need to atone for any past sins I might've committed. Perhaps I'm just called to endure suffering to offer it up for others, especially the Church. I don't know the reason (or reasons). I may never know them, but I have no doubt that God is going to use all of this for good because God is good all the time.

The story of Job has been on my mind these last couple of days. I am reminded of how I need to strive to stay faithful to God's commandments and always praise Him for the blessings He has given me, even during the most difficult moments of my life. And, it's not always easy. I've asked God why He has allowed this to happen; why I must suffer. It's a human response to it. I have my moments of "Well, I deserve it", unlike Job who was innocent of wrongdoings. But then I'm reminded that I am a beloved daughter of the Lord's. Just as my earthly father would've hated seeing me in pain and suffering from a broken heart, I know that God does not delight in seeing what is happening. But, as I said, I know that this is all happening for a reason so I accept it. That's when I take refuge in the Psalms, doing Lectio Divina; because I can always find some words of consolation from them.

Just how has my breakdown affected my relationship with God? It has only strengthened it to a degree I didn't know was possible. As I'm writing this, I've reached the point where I'm even grateful for the trials because they have only brought me closer to God.

I meant it when I said that I was prepared to give my heart to God, even if it had to break otherwise. If breaking me down -- making me hit the lowest of the low in a way I had never experienced -- is the way to help me be able to fully give myself to God, then I give thanks for the hardships. I want to belong fully to God and if it means that I have to "start over" (in a sense) from rock bottom then I'm prepared to do that.

After adoration last Friday, I got to chat with a fellow parishioner who helped me see things from a different perspective on one of the main causes of my breakdown. I saw the immense blessings that came from it. Then, as I was getting ready to leave, a ladybug landed on my back (which someone else pointed out because I obviously couldn't see it). It did not want to leave my side. The lovely part of these two things -- the chat and the ladybug -- was that it reminded me of Our Blessed Mother. After all, she was the one who interceded for me -- oh, if I could only tell y'all details of how she blessed me through this crummy situation! Also, legend has it that ladybugs were named after Our Blessed Mother after Catholic farmers asked her intercessions so... hard not to think about her. Having that ladybug on my back felt like Mama Mary saying she also had my back. Badda-tssss.

Things are still a mess. I still have to figure out how to heal, how to move forward, and how to work things out (e.g. the car and rent issues). I'm still very much hurting and fragile. I have to be very careful because I know another big things will push me over the edge and I don't want that to happen. Trust me, it can very easily go there but I have God and Our Lady on my side and I place all my trust in them.

Please, say a prayer for those involved because the two big causes are not pretty and they're not going to go away easily. I pray that those involved have their hearts and minds enlightened by the Holy Spirit to ensure that there is no more hurt inflicting on anyone. One of those people I can (and have) absolutely avoid; the other I cannot, despite everyone's best efforts to put a considerable amount of distance between the two of us.

It's been an incredibly difficult start to 2020 but I know that God will bring good out of this.

Anyway, I hope to write again soon and update y'all with (God willing) better news. For now, I just want to thank everyone who has prayed for me. You have all been in my prayers.

Always, thanks for reading and God bless. :)

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

A Dream, a Real Life Surprise, and Our Faith.

Today has been somewhere between a dream and reality. Of course it's reality but, boy... it seems like a dream. It all started with the dream I had on the 23rd of this month...

As I twittered a couple of days ago, the dream about my dad that was the most beautiful dream I've ever had about him. To sum up the dream as best as I can, without going into too much detail, I dreamt that dad had visited me and told me that he had gone up to heaven, from purgatory, "3 weeks ago" because of how much we all prayed for his soul. He was wearing this white suit and I think I even said something along the lines of "Oh snap, daddy" (which I used to say in real life when he was looking sharp or did something impressive). Then he told me a couple of other things, about how a couple of things were "already written", and that I shouldn't worry about anything. I told him that he had died too soon and that I still needed him (which is how I feel in real life), and he just nodded like he knew. I once again saw a burgundy book that I had seen in a previous dream about him. This book supposedly has a list of things my father will have to help me out with from heaven, sort of a "to-do" list to keep me safe. I didn't ask him anything about it, though. I asked him to please remove the anger my mom still felt toward him in real life and he said something that I understand from real life about why my mother was angry. He wasn't sad or angry though. Throughout the dream, he was very calm, relaxed, and happy. Then I said something along the lines of "So... do you know where I'm going to end up for university?" and he said "Uh-uh, I'm not telling you where you're going!" Then he told me the words that have stayed with me in my waking life...

He said that I would see him more often than my mother would, because I was more attuned to him... and that he would be with me wherever I went. I suddenly saw myself in a white dress with a bouquet of white calla lilies, walking down the aisle of my childhood parish and my father, dressed in a white suit, walking me down the aisle... only he wasn't really there. Then I heard him say "I'm going to walk you down the aisle on your wedding day, even though I physically won't be there." Then I saw myself in the delivery room, having my firstborn (a baby boy) and he said "I'm going to be there every step of the way. Whenever you need me, for every thing that you'll go through. I will always be with you." I woke up shortly after that.

This dream had been on my mind since I had it and it's made me want to go see dad more than usual. I've been wanting to visit dad for a while now but we couldn't for one reason or another. Finally, today we went and we received the biggest surprise that we would've never expected in a million years. As we got to where he was buried, I noticed two things: There were 3 graves instead of 2 and two of those graves had markers/plaques/stones (whatever you want to call them). As we got closer, mom bent down and started cleaning the grave marker that had dirt covering (obviously just placed before the buried someone besides it). She didn't know why but she just started cleaning it. As it got clearer I yelled "Mom, that's daddy's name!" I started getting choked up as she continued to clean it and we saw that, sure enough, it WAS my father's name with his birth year and this year. We both started bawling our eyes out as mom got the marker as clean as she could. I clutched my St. Jude medallion (which I wear on a chain) and my father's cap (which I was wearing) and I thanked God for what we were seeing.

I should mention that we didn't expect my father's grave to have a stone/marker on it because we still owed them about $5,000+ for it. (Burial at the San Fernando Mission Cemetery isn't cheap -- we're talking about $11,000+ for a basic one.) We thought it would take us a couple of years to pay it off (little by little) so of course we were shocked to find the marker there. The fact that the marker was there means that someone anonymously paid the $5,000 that were still due. We know it isn't anyone in the family because everyone we called was as shocked as we were... and, really, no one could afford it. Whoever it was, may God bless you for your generosity. There couldn't be a better gift than having my father's marker placed on his grave. In fact, I was planning on using the money from one of the cars we're trying to sell to pay for the marker. Now, well, I can use it to help mom pay rent and everything else.

As if that wasn't surprising enough, we also had a curious little experience with a white dove and two monarch butterflies. See, I was wearing one of my father's caps (which I have been wearing since he died) to shield the sun from my face. I don't like getting burnt, especially since I get freckles easily, so I like to wear it. Well, as I was going to ask mom what time it was (to leave on time to catch the next bus), two little monarch butterflies landed on the tip of the cap, right next to my right eye, and I asked mom to take them off because I didn't know what they were. When I took of the cap, I noticed a white dove flew down next to the wall that was nearby. Mom immediately said "That's the Holy Spirit... or your dad." She started talking to it and she said "If you're Martin (my father's name), come see your daughter." The dove walking towards us and stood by us for the rest of the time we were there. Mom said "See, it's your dad sending us a sign that he's here with us." I lost it and a new wave of tears overflowed from my eyes. She said that doves usually try to fly away, but this one didn't. In fact, when I knelt down to clean dad's marker a bit more, the dove got much closer. When we left, the dove walked to where we stood, right in front of the flowers we placed by daddy's grave, and just looked at the flowers before disappearing. I took two pictures, one of when it got near us, and the other of when we were about to leave and it got so close, I felt it was going to climb on me. Here they are:

From Daddy's Grave

From Daddy's Grave

Go ahead and click on them to make them bigger. I can't post the picture of my father's grave marker here because a) I prefer to keep my last name anonymous and b) we're not allowed to take pictures at the cemetery anyway (hence why the dove pictures were taken by my camera phone) so, sorry. But still, man, oh man, I can't even begin to describe how I feel.

All of this has just made our faith even greater than it already was. My mom actually forgave my father for everything he did to her (I won't get into that) the second we saw the grave marker and the white dove. It was almost like the request I had asked my father in my dream (the one I wrote about earlier in the blog), about helping mom forgive him, had come true. I think this is just what mom needed to help her with her faith which had begun to slowly fade once again. God is great and what we experienced today is just further proof of His grace!

Alright, well, I think that's about it for now. I have a lot to do tonight and it's getting later and later in the day. Ack! I hope everyone had a great weekend... OH WAIT! It's Monday... which means I need to post music. Hmm... how about one of my favorite versions of "Amazing Grace"? It's by this great musician named Jadon Lavik.



Okay, now I'm getting off and enjoying the rest of this amazing day. :) Thank you for reading and, as always, God Bless. :D

A Sharp Blow to the Family, but Not Our Faith.

Note: I started this blog yesterday, Tuesday, but am finishing it today, Wednesday.

Tuesday: Dad and I just got back from the doctor's where I got news that made me feel like the burnt crumbs at the bottom of the toaster. At first, we were told that dad just had liver problems, but it was because no one wanted to tell us what the real deal was. Since I am the one who is in charge of dad's medical appointments and business, I got to speak to his doctor personally this morning. He told me that his cancer has indeed returned and this time it was in his liver. A further blow -- his jaundice shows that his cancer is at the advanced stage... and that his cancer is incurable. I fought back the tears (better than I expected) and translated/told my dad that his cancer had returned. I made the decision to not tell him it's incurable, which the doctor said was best. I told him that the chemotherapy he could start in 2 weeks is very intense and aggressive and that he had to choose either that or, as the doctor said, make him as comfortable as he can be until the Lord decided it was time for him to pass, which might be in the near future. Staying strong, keep my faith intact, and getting through this in one piece is going to be the toughest test yet.

I refuse to give up on dad. I refuse to get panic attacks (and I might succeed with the amount of stubbornness I currently have). I refuse to be angry at God for having all of this happen. I've known people who have cursed God for these things but it's completely wrong and stupid to do it. None of this is His fault. If anything, no matter what the outcome is, my faith will only be that much stronger. My mother and I have both said that we'll accept whatever God's will is for my father... but we'll continue to pray and have hope for a miracle. We're realistic but incredibly hopeful at the same time. Last time they told me he had 3 months to live... and that was 2 years ago. Did I mention that I had to keep that to myself for months? Doctors can make predictions but only God knows when we will pass away. I'm not going to listen to any estimates they want to throw at us. All I'm going to do is pray... that dad, mom, and I get the strength we need to get through this. I've already felt more strength than I ever thought I had. I'm seriously owing my lack of panic attack to St. Dymphna.

I already have so many things I've got brewing in my head that I have to take care of. I'm happy dad agreed to the chemo (which he will start in 2 weeks from today). His new doctor, who is AMAZING and I'm pretty sure Catholic or Christian and pro-life, is going to keep him in the hospital for two days per week while he has his chemo done. I'm also grateful that dad refuses to go down without a fight. Now I know where I get it from. :) I am going to try to get my license in the next week or two, too. I need to step it up in that department. We have two cars, one of which is part mine, so I can use them to take dad to the hospital and pick him up while he has chemo. I'm also going to on with life as normally as possible for my parents' sake.

I've already been told by both of my parents that they forbid me to put school on hold yet again. I was originally supposed to graduate from college in 2006 (I graduated from high school a year and a half early :)) but I've taken years off to take care of dad in the past. I wanted to take the time off again but dad put his foot down and told me to forget about it -- I'm going to finish that degree by 2011 as is the current plan. I believe this is the reason why I decided early on this year (and late last year) not to attend UBC or Oxford this upcoming Fall. Well, the reason why UBC didn't work out (after that problem with the rude admissions lady) and why, despite my love of England, I just suddenly lost interest in attending Oxford.

Wednesday: It's a day later and things are surprisingly well. Thank you to all my friends on Facebook and twitter who told me they would prayer and/or have prayed for our family. Dad actually slept through the night without being in pain, which is rare. He's also in better spirits, as are my mom and I. Since my dad's still very fatigued, my good friend/bro drove me around to do some errands and to pick up some things for dad at the San Fernando Mission. I got him a St. Peregrine (patron saint of cancer patients) medal and prayer card. He's going to wear the medal along with his Sacred Heart and Our Lady of Guadalupe medal. :) (Btw, if any of you have a loved one or friend who is suffering from cancer, here is the novena to St. Peregrine) There is so much prayer and just devotion to our faith in this house... it's a complete 180 from when dad was healthy.

I've taken the time to process everything and I'm now, more than ever, ready to tackle whatever obstacle that stands in my way. I'm also grateful that we have so many people who are willing to help us -- from dad's new doctor to family and friends. I've even got friends who are lapsed Catholics started to pray again. Maybe what is happening is not just for our family, but perhaps it will help bring others closer to Him and the Church. If that's the case, whatever the outcome, it will definitely be worth it in the end. Now, if I can just get dad into confessions, for the first time in 40+ years... well, my mission continues and I will not give up. See? My stubbornness HAS returned. lol.

I think I will go work on the novel a bit, as well as read up on St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Eugene de Mazenod, and especially St. Toribio Romo Gonzalez. I dreamt about St. Toribio a few weeks ago and I FINALLY figured out who he was. Yes, it's like with St. Teresa of Avila all over again. First I dream the saint, then I have to go search for who the saint is until I find them. :)

Again, thank you all for your prayers. It means a lot to me and my family. As always, thanks for reading and God Bless.
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Fighting FOCA, Professors; Lent; Music Monday.

The picture, and the message in the picture, is simple enough, right? As Catholics and Christians (and, really, human beings), it is our duty to protect all lives... from moment of conception until natural death. It's horrible to think that people are so gung-ho about getting the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA) passed. The basic gist of it (without really getting into the specifics) is that if the law passes abortions will be completely legal in all 50 States and Catholic hospitals will have to close. President Obama has shown his support for it since before he was elected. In fact, he said that one of the first things he wanted to do once he became president was to make sure it passed. Because it's OBVIOUSLY the best thing he can do for this country and the people he's supposed to have his best interests for. (I hope you can note my sarcasm is the last sentence.) Give me a break!

I think you can guess what my position on this whole deal is, and since I know a lot of other Catholic and Christian bloggers, I won't rant about the FOCA. Instead, I will share some pictures that I took at Our Lady of Peace, one of the parishes in the Los Angeles Archdiocese. It was taken two weekends ago. This was part of the 40 Days for Life campaign many local Catholic churches are doing during Lent. If you ask me, this is so much better than giving up something for Lent. (Click on the pictures to make them bigger. Oh, and if you want to use them, please ask.)

Information table.

From Fighting FOCA

Signs letting the parishioners know what the cause was.

From Fighting FOCA

Information about the FOCA for all to see/read.

From Fighting FOCA

Do you need more than this baby to show you what you can help prevent by fighting FOCA?

From Fighting FOCA

There wasn't really more that I could take pictures of. It was a simple, yet effective, thing they were doing. Both mom and I signed the postcards/letters that were sent to President Obama, Senator Barbara Boxer, and our local councilman. Oh, and have I mentioned that someone at Sen. Boxer's office emailed me asking me to sign some thing to THANK Pres. Obama for everything he's done for us so far and for trying to get the FOCA to pass? I knew Sen. Boxer was pro-choice before I opened the email so I was said, out loud, "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying." I will NOT sign anything that shows even once iota of support for a man who's fighting to pass something incredibly harmful to human beings. No way in you-know-where.

You know what else I refuse to do? I refuse to back down from talking about my beliefs in a classroom. If you read one of my previous updates, you know about the Speech professor at a Los Angeles Community College that called a student a "fascist b****rd" for using his beliefs to make a point. Remember how I said that it affected me, because I'm currently (for this semester only) within the L.A.C.C. system? Well, little did I know I would ALSO have similar issues with a different professor. I currently have a professor who seems so offended by talking about our own beliefs, that it's hard to enjoy the class. Not only has he told us to "keep dogma out of the class" and has had issues with another classmate of mine over it, he has allowed other students to attack said classmate. I'm seriously waiting for them to attack me (though, I should check my messages before I am certain no one's attacked me yet) because I've already spoken up on behalf of myself and my fellow classmate. He and I will no doubt be joining forces (we've already discussed a bit about this in private) and having each others' backs this semester. I usually don't bring religion into a class discussion that isn't about the subject but when a professor asks us what we believe in true, saying that we believe in God and that He is the truth should NOT be an issue. I'll keep you guys updated on this. I have a feeling this won't be the last time I'll be mentioning it. (side note: I'm SO HAPPY I'll be attending a Catholic uni. this Fall!)

Anyway... ooh, so, I'm wondering what everyone gave up for Lent. I didn't give anything up because I give up different things throughout the year (I'm currently on an "no iTunes or mp3 purchases" thing until the end of March, possibly Lent). I AM going to be donating at least one thing every weekend during Lent, though. Food, clothing, money... that is what I'm going to give. Honestly, the giving up something during Lent thing doesn't have as big of an effect on me because, as I said, I routinely give up things during the year. Giving, though, makes Lent that more special and contemplative for me... especially with the way the economy is looking. Did anyone give up facebook? I know a few people have done that in the past, including myself. Any specific foods and/or drinks? I know Lent is more than just "giving up" something; I'm just curious to see who gave something up and why. We all have our different reasons, and ways of celebrating Lent. :D

Alright, well, I DO have more to right but I'll give you guys at least a few hours to digest this one. I might write another post tomorrow but no guarantees. He Who I Refuse to Name (haha) has been giving me a lot of inspiration for the novel so the creativity is flowing. A couple more of our movie dates and I will be done with the novel before I know it. :D

Oh, and one more thing... I want to start a new tradition on here. Much like Dymphna's Well and her Astaire Fridays (which is where I got this idea!), I will be posting a youtube video of a song that has a special meaning to me OR that I think you would like. The first video is by someone near and dear to me with awesome music! I've written about her in a past blog. Okay, so, yes, I'm a little biased when it comes to her music because, well, she's been one of my best friends since I was 16-17 years-old... but honestly, I LOVE her music and would whether I personally knew her or not. Without further ado, "She's Got It" by Misha Williams. :D



*cough*Go check out her music!*cough* :D Alright, it's past midnight and I need to get some sleep. I didn't anticipate the blog being this long... or it taking this long to write. Yikes! :D

As always, thanks for reading and God Bless!
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Brain Overload; Feeling Blessed and Thankful.

Oy. My brain is overloaded with facts of Hinduism. I'm about 2 days late on my paper about Hinduism, as well. :( Bah! I didn't have the cash, or transportation, to get the book on time thus making me fall behind. Luckily, we have a 2 day grace period so... I am going to get to that as soon as I finish this blog. Between my History of World Religions and British Literature courses, I have very little free time. I am not too stressed about my other courses because they don't make my head and eyes hurt as much (in other words, not as much reading). I will be so happy once we're a quarter into the semester because that's when the professor stop loading us with huge amounts of work. I will also need a massage by the end of this coming weekend because I already have knots in my shoulders and back from all the stress. Okay, I will stop my ranting right about... now. lol.

I went Mass today but left about a bit early because I felt like I was going to pass out (I also left my Oceanography course earlier in the day early for the same reason). Since my father and I weren't seated together (long story), he didn't see when I slipped out. I had to wait out by the car until Mass was done... but what I received during that time made up for my missing Mass (well, at least the bummed out feeling of not making it through the Mass) was fantastic. A young girl came up to me (while I was dabbing my forehead with a cold paper towel I got from the bathroom) and asked to borrow my cell phone. She then started up a conversation in which she was very open about her life with me. I've never encountered someone who was that trusting with a stranger. Even though she's a decade younger than I am (wow, that make me feel old, lol), she's lived so much more than I have. She has a child and has gone through heck and back. As she was telling me all these things, I felt very sad for her but personally very blessed at the same time. She asked me questions like whether I had a boyfriend or had kids, whether I was in school, and whether I was saving myself for marriage (though she used more colorful words). I was VERY shocked she would ask me such personal questions but I felt like I had to be very honest with her. I usually just say "I'm sorry but it's none of your business" but I answered all her questions. I think she was very surprised by my answers, especially when I told her I was 23 and not 15 years-old like she thought I was. (Side note: Yes, I'm often mistaken for a teenager. I look anywhere from 15-19 according to people.) I was shocked when she started using the foul language she used. Every other word was the f-bomb. This was on a bench outside of church, too. I kept thinking "How can someone be so disrespectful at church?" Granted, we weren't inside but we were still a couple of feet away. Talking to her and hearing her words, I mean really hearing her, made me very so blessed and thankful for the life I've had.

Even though I've had really sad things happen, I've been able to stay on a pretty good path. Even during my time away from the Church, I didn't go crazy. I never really went through a stage of teenage rebellion. I did sort of have a mini one when I was 18-19 but it was in the form of getting home a few minutes (like 10 minutes) later than I said I would be (coming home from a concert). That's not exactly rebellion, is it? lol. I never did anything anyone else was doing in my circle of "friends". That was my rebellion; not doing something because everyone was doing it. Though I did have some slip-ups, like lying and swearing (I call that the "Lost" part of my youth; all around the time I was away from the Church), I never got to the point of doing huge self-destructive things. I think God blessed me with enough common sense to not do those things. There have been a number of times where I could have easily strayed and done things I would've greatly regretted. Thankfully, I've always known how or when to get myself out of those situations. Once, I sent my friend an S.O.S. text, he called me and got me out of the situation and I'm forever grateful for it.

So, during my chat with the young woman, I thought about all I've gone through and I was so thankful to God for everything. I honestly feel so blessed to have had the experiences I've had (both good and bad) because they've gotten me to where I am in life. Though I have sinned (but, really, who hasn't?), I've confessed those sins and I've made a great effort to stay on the right path. And I owe it all to my faith and to God. Without my faith, prayer, and everything else I would be completely depressed and probably still sick from all the negative thoughts and feelings. If I didn't have the Rosary or my own little journal thing I keep to Our Lady (Blessed Mother), I would've been nutty (well, nuttier, lol).

Isn't it amazing how I got all of this from church though not through Mass? Of course, I would've stayed for the entire Mass if I hadn't felt lightheaded and faint like I did. And, of course, I would've learned a lot for today's readings. I think that this whole thing happened for a reason -- me leaving a few minutes early and chatting to the girl. It certainly made me appreciate everything, especially my parents. :D

Alright, well I think I've taken enough of your time for today. :D I have got to get back to cramming more Hinduism facts into my brain (so many deities in that religion...) so I can finish that paper.

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