The Fear of Not Being Holy; Having a Secular Job

I've been stressing over the whole grad school situation for several weeks now. I keep going back and forth for many reasons but mostly because of fear and because I don't know what God's will for me is. In a sense, I am currently pretty aimless and I don't like it.

I've been chatting with many friends about my current situation because that's how I think best: talking and getting feedback. Most friends just listen and say "trust God" (which, no offense, but I am getting tired of hearing because it makes me feel like I'm a horrible person who doesn't already trust God). Some try to "steer me" (which feels a lot like forcing me) to go one way or another. When I vented (sorry!) to Julie about how stressed I was and how I felt pushed by some to pursue what they thought was best for me, she said some things (which will remain between her and I) that made realize something: I think I'm afraid of having a "secular" (read: not in a Catholic atmosphere) job because I think it'll somehow drag me away from God and from my wish to be as holy as possible.

I think this goes back to my time at the CINO college. I was in a "Catholic" place but it might as well been secular with the things that were taught (and not taught). The time between my father's death in 2009 and graduation day last year were some of the lowest points in my spiritual life. I went numb for almost an entire year after my father passed... and then I was surrounded by people who were actively trying to destroy orthodoxy with their heresies and blasphemies. It drove me to want to do something about it but I didn't (and still don't) know how. Teaching was an option... except that speaking in front of crowds makes me feel sick and I don't think I'm quite cut out to teach children that aren't my own as I have a fear of misguiding them with my lack of knowledge.

Since I've returned to the Church, 7 years ago, I've never imagined myself having a "secular" job -- one that wasn't somehow connected to the Church. Teaching was an option I never wanted. Being a Director of Religious Education is an option as well but I don't want that kind of leadership role (trust me, I'm a team-player / behind the scenes kind of gal). There are other options as well but none of them are really feasible for myself and my situation. I have my mother to take care of; her declining health is something that I can't push aside so that I can do what I want. Since she will seemingly retire early, it will be my job to provide for the two of us (especially if I never marry; more on this later). More fear of not being able to survive sets in, though I know God has always managed to get us out of financial scrapes.

And here's the second fear: I fear that if I do Speech-Language Pathology instead of Theology will make me a bad person because I would be choosing a career path that would help us financially and would potentially cut my off spiritually. THAT is where my biggest fear lies. When I first considered doing SLP, I didn't know what the salary was. I saw my good friend having problems finding a speech therapist for her son and it inspired me to look into it. Once money came into the picture, it made me start doubting myself; it made me think that I was doing it for the money and that scared the heck out of me.

Want to know what's been causing me stress the past couple of weeks? You just found out.

All of that has been swirling around in my mind for weeks and then wonderful Julie reminded me that being a speech therapist was a noble career. I love children and I want to help them so why not do it in a way that I best utilizes my gifts? I'm good one-on-one (better than in groups). I apparently have some sort of superhuman patience (lol). Even when I'm at the worst (anxiety, sick, etc), children make me push it all aside and focus on the good. I am reminded of how much I want to help people when I see someone who needs it. Nowhere in this way of thinking (which I had no problem with until the last couple of weeks) does money come into play. Julie helped remind me remember why I had chosen their career path and why I had pushed an MA in Theology aside. I may get it in the future but I am not sure this is the right path for me now... much to the disappointment of many people.

I wonder if the Enemy put this doubt into my mind; that I was doing it for the wrong reasons and that having a good paying job - which is not an easy job; lots of hard work - would somehow make me less holy. I wouldn't put it past him.

One more thing before I end this uber long post (sorry!): I can always find ways to incorporate my faith into my life while having a "secular" job. I still do intend to join a Third Order (the Carmelites are currently in the lead for this one, closely followed by the Dominicans). If I am able to, I do want to return to my daily Mass schedule before work (which I've seen many hospital workers do). If I do get married and have children, I will be able to teach them and pass along my beautiful faith to them. Who knows, maybe when I finally get my time management skills down pat, I could do some volunteer parish work. If people like St. Gianna Beretta Molla and Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati could chose paths that didn't have them working within a church setting and they still managed to lead holy lives, why can I attempt to do the same?

Anyway, this is all super long and I haven't had a proper lunch (though it is closer to dinner time) so I'm going to see what I can find to munch on while I plan dinner.

I hope y'all are having a good weekend thus far. :D

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

I'll Never Forget 9/11

Today's What I Learned Wednesday post is being held off until next week due to two things: 1) it being 9/11 and 2) I have some major PTSD symptoms (i.e. feeling faint) when I read anything on the day so I'm going to try to avoid being online as much as possible. Instead, I'm going to re-post my 9/11 experience, which was originally posted two years ago.

"Everyone who was alive or affected by the tragedy of 9/11 has their own personal story. My story is not one that is of importance but I still feel like sharing it because I am still affected by it, 10 years later.

On September 11, 2001 I was a 16 year-old who was going through some changes of her own. I had actually started independent study and moved away from traditional public school due to my anxiety which had begun to affect me the year before. Since I did my work at home, I woke up from a nightmarish dream that I have only shared with a handful of people. I knew something was wrong. Everything felt different; tense even. I walked into the living room and saw my older sister, who had been visiting us from Virginia, pacing the room in sheer panic. My little nephew, Alexander, who was a year old, knew that something was wrong and looked at my sister with worry. That's when I looked at the t.v. and saw that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. At first I thought it might've been an accident... until I saw the second plane hit the second tower. I stood there in shock and I still remember thinking, in that moment, "all innocence is gone. Nothing will ever be the same again."

My sister sat down and tried to control herself while my dad tried to keep us calm. I looked at Alexander who looked like he wanted to cry from the desperation he saw on his mother's face and I sat down next to him, on the floor, and tried to distract him. I sang little songs and tried to look as happy as I could for his sake but inside I felt like crying. I would occasionally look up at the TV and see if there was anything else being reported. We got news that a plane hit the Pentagon and my sister nearly lost it. My brother-in-law worked not far from it and my sister desperately tried to get in contact with him. She couldn't get through but my dad gave her reassuring words that my brother-in-law would be fine. I looked back at Alex and I started to make silly faces whenever he could stop looking at my sister. I glanced up and saw the first tower collapse.

"Oh God, no. Please, no" was what I remember saying. I watched with tears in my eyes, as I watched. I hurried to my room so Alex wouldn't see me upset and tried to composed myself so I could get back to him. Though I was worried and afraid, my priority that day became my nephew and, as I reasoned it then, keeping him a happy child while he was young enough not to understand what had happened. I wanted him to enjoy his childhood for as long as possible because I knew things would never be the same. After a couple of minutes I returned and sat down next to Alex. I watched the second tower collapse in disbelief but at that point I was so overwhelmed that I was numb. I couldn't cry. I couldn't register everything that had just happened. I focused on Alex and his sweet little smiling face. My sister finally got a hold of her husband and we all relaxed a little bit. My sister was due to fly back to Virginia but she had to stay a few days which was fine with us. We did not want her traveling back so soon though she was desperate to return to her husband and my niece Wendy who were both back in Virginia. 

After the initial shock wore off and the feelings of anger and hurt began to subside, I remember being happily surprised by the kindness of strangers. For a few weeks, if not months, I remember how we all felt united. The attack had impacted us all, whether we knew someone who was killed or directly affected by the hijackings or not. At my mother's work, we held candlelight vigil a week after the events. We stood outside as the stars were starting to show and I saw that we were not the only ones. There were people on other streets doing the same; waving the flags and holding up signs of hope. As the cars passed by, we heard honks and cheers in solidarity. This one painful day seemed to bring out the best in people and I remember that it was that way for several months. My father bought two plastic American flags to put on his cars and I could remember the pride I felt.

The following months and years reflected how much we were all affected. My childhood sweetheart enlisted in the Navy two years later when we turned 18 as did my high school boyfriend (though he went into the Army). My friend Heather went into the Marines right after graduation and my best friend growing up, Rudy, was set on going into the Marines as well. 

Reflecting on the events, and watching the coverage on T.V., has made me very emotional today. I actually just read about Fr. Mychal Judge yesterday and I was dissolved into a puddle of tears. I have my moments where I can't seem to stop crying, especially when I see or hear the families of those who perished. It hurts me deeply, almost as if I were a part of their family. In one sense, I am. In other moments I am grateful to those who risked their lives and am once again reminded of the hope that has and will always remain in the wake of tragedy. I am reminded of two quotes Anne Frank wrote in her diary: "Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart." and "I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."

May God be with the families of those killed as well as those who remember what happened that day. May God bless us all. May we never forget, never lose hope, and may we never see something like it ever again."

I Don't Matter... and That's Okay

Since I'm having one of those days on which nearly everyone is taking all their anger and frustrations out on me, I thought I'd post something about a reoccurring theme in my life lately. The theme? "I don't matter... and that's okay." Now, before you get riled up or call me weak and spineless (yes, some of you have called me that on Twitter; don't worry, you've been forgiven), let me explain something... I don't care that I "don't matter." This is why...

I was raised as if I were an only child. The "spoiled child" stereotype was and wasn't true in my case. My parents taught me to work for everything I wanted. If I didn't do the work, I didn't get it. I wanted a Barbie? Okay, I needed to get good grades. I got my first job when I was very young (about 12-13), tutoring a little boy in math and English. I was 15 years-old when I got my first "real" job doing work-study during a summer at my former high school (the only year I was in public HS).

The spoiled part came when I was in college. My parents didn't want me working while I was in college. It was understandable; I was not used to it. Despite my anxiety, I worked in retail out of high school. I graduated a year and a half ahead of time (that itself was a lot of work; I completed part of my junior year and entire senior year in one single semester) so I had time before I started college. I was not used to working and going to school at the same time and my parents didn't want me to relapse. I ended up relapsing anyone (that's a whole 'nother story) and it took me a long time to finish college because of it. Still, I didn't do more than the odd freelance writing job during college. Scholarships brought in extra spending money but I taught myself to be frugal (which I am to this day). Still, I became a little selfish in college and it's something I've been working to get rid of since graduation.

This past weekend, one of my closest friends came to visit. It's been the first big thing for me since I became ill last summer. I had been so sick that I sort of fell back into my selfishness. Taking care of myself. Only looking out for myself (and my mom). If I didn't want to do something, I didn't do it. "Me, me, me, me, me." What a stereotypical Millennial, eh? I feel bad about this but then I remember that did need to focus on getting myself and my health back on track. Though I am still recovering (and I still have a bit of weight to gain to get back to where I was pre-illness; doctor's orders), I am at a much better place. For the first time since my illness began, I had to really put myself and my needs aside and focus on someone else. Sure, I had done just that (with my mom) before but never to the extent I've had to this weekend.

Before my friend came, I had been taking care of my mom. Though I felt faint at time, I still fought through it and cooked for us. Anything that she couldn't do, I did. Though I was weak and achy, I had to prepare for my friend's arrival. Though I was super anxious, I ran errands and drove mom to and from work. (side note: if you're very anxious, I don't recommend you actually drive; don't try this at home.) When my friend arrived, I was still very anxious yet I still suppressed it as much as I could and made sure she had the best time she could while visiting. Why? Because I didn't matter.

I'm not saying that I don't think I matter as a human being. It was just that my wants didn't matter. I hope it doesn't make me sound egotistical, but I think I bring something unique to this world. God's given me gifts (which I am still trying to figure out how to use) and one of them seems to be the ability to push aside whatever I am going through and focus on someone else who needs care and/or attention for whatever reasons. While, sure, being anxious, lightheaded and I was feeling like my stomach was going to send me to the ER, I knew that I was going to be fine. I've learned to distinguish when I should be really worried and when I just have to sit and relax (and do whatever is necessary) while whatever I'm feeling passes. Having my friend over was the first real big test and I'm happy to say that I think I did well.

I feel like God is preparing me for whatever the next step in my life is; whether it be career related or something else like maybe a wife and mother. Actually, the thoughts "okay, if I can do this (which is just a fraction of what moms can do -- they're superwomen), then my being able to do this is helping me realize that I can be a mama someday." That's right, I don't matter... and that's okay. It was a pretty fantastic feeling despite everything else that I was feeling.

So that's my whole thing. It was a little longer than I anticipated but I just really wanted to get it all out. And I'm sure that having The Avengers playing in the background gave me the extra push. ;)

Anyway, it's my day off so I'm going to try to enjoy it and not let the angry people ruin it. :)

I hope y'all had a great weekend and have a great week. :D

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

Family Tree and Baptismal Anniversaries

While working on the family tree this past Sunday morning, I discovered to awesome things: my mother's and my baptismal anniversaries. Furthermore, I discovered them on my baptismal anniversary. :D

See, I've been working on my family tree for months. I like history so looking at one's own family tree has always fascinated me. I'm currently stuck in the early-mid 1800s as many records were burned during the Cristero war (the town where my paternal grandparents and family lived at the time saw a lot of action, apparently) but I hope to find something to get me unstuck. Also, I'm pretty sure I'll soon find something that confirms whether there's some Irish ancestry on my paternal grandmother's side of the family (as is believed). The Spanish line, I'm happy to report, runs deep. ;)

As for my mother's side of the family, it's a little harder to find. My mom was adopted when she was days old and her adoptive father (yes, she was raised by a sole parent) didn't get many things in the process. Mom's been on her own since she was young so we didn't know much about that side of the family. Thankfully, I was able to find church records from the town she was raised in and found something she hadn't known her entire life -- whether she was baptized as an infant or not.

I skimmed through all the records of the year she was born until I found her birth date. I stopped skimming and went through them slowly until I found her. Her name, the name of my maternal grandmother (who had a different surname than we thought), the name of her godparents, and the name of the priest who had baptized her. It turns out that she had been baptized at a day one, which she never knew. Mom was baptized, did her first communion, and was confirmed when I was 3 years old... but it sounds like it was a conditional baptism since they didn't know whether she had been baptized or not. Anyway, needless to say, mom was so excited that she hugged me and was on cloud nine the rest of the day.

I was curious to see my own baptismal records (which my mom happily produced) and saw that my own anniversary was this past Sunday. That's right, I celebrated 28 years (yes, I'm that old :-P) of being Catholic on September 1st. With my mom's birthday and baptismal day being this month as well, you can bet we've found new reasons to celebrate. ;)

Anyway, I thought this was neat so I wanted to share. Okay, I really wanted to write and couldn't come up with anything else so I chose this to write about lol. Never let it be said that I don't try. ;)

I will have something to write for tomorrow's What I Learned Wednesday post... and hope to have it published early enough.

Now to have a late lunch and try to stay cool despite a leaky A/C and heat in the triple digits.

Hope y'all are having a great week thus far. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless!

What I Learned Wednesday #18: Oops!, Ahh! and Eesh! Edition

These are actually from last week but since I didn't post anything last week (and haven't for a week due to busy schedule and illness), I am using them for this week's post.

1. You know how I love futbol (soccer) to the point where it's the only sport that I watch (well, aside from the occasional rugby match)? Well, when we cancelled cable in March I had to say goodbye to my beloved Fox Soccer (which is now defunct anyway) and other sports channels that aired live matches. I looked into paying to watch them online but they were either super expensive for only a handful of matches or I had to search for links from shady websites. I wondered (although I already had a feeling I knew the answer) about whether it would actually be considered a sin to watch live matches on dubious links. I asked Fr. John Flynn over at XT3 and the answer was a definite: YES! Sorry, fellow Catholics who offered to send me shady website links. Fr. Flynn quotes the CCC for y'all which states that "2408 The seventh commandment forbids theft, that is, usurping another's property against reasonable will of the owner." Any football (yes, that's what I call "soccer") fan knows that the FA, MLS, and other franchises give certain networks rights to air the matches (for a fee, of course) and that those networks retain the rights to air the matches. So by watching matches on feeds without permission of the networks is, in fact, a form of steal. You might've not been the one who hijacked the live feed but you're still watching it without permission. You're an accessory to the crime. I haven't watched any matches on shady links in ages but I have in the past so I need to add that to my list of things I need to confess this coming weekend when I head to the confessional. Oops!

2. Something I didn't know (hello, poorly Catechized and no good formal education on Catholicism) that most English-language Bibles aren't complete. Yes, I knew that Protestant/Christian Bibles left out many books that the Catholic Church still has but I didn't know that not all Catholic Bibles were complete. Yes, you read that right: things are missing! In my Catholic snobbery (yes, I'm a bit of a snob regarding certain things; sorry, I'm woman enough to own up to it), I've preferred the Douay-Rheims version but one that I don't actually own a copy (aside from the copy in my iPieta app). My spiritual director gave me the heads up that the versions of the Bible (while Catholic) were incomplete and pointed out the fact that, if I looked it up (and I did), I would see that only 9 of the 12 fruits of the Holy Spirit are listed in Galatians 5:22-23. I compared it to the Douay-Rheims version and, yes, it's true. The DR has all 12 listed while the other Bible I primarily used had only 9. Guess it's time to save up and get myself a more complete version. Side note: The Ignatius Study Bible was also recommended but much more expensive. Ahh!

3. As some of you may know, I made the official announcement regarding my MA decision on Twitter.

Okay, I'm making this Twitter official: I've chosen a Master of Arts in Theology. Thanks to @aquinonez for listening to me for weeks. lol.
— Emmy Cecilia (@nerdwriter) August 26, 2013

I did decide on getting my Master of Arts in Theology (I even finished most of my application to my top choice) but I've been getting hit with horrible indecision and anxiety since then. The anxiety is bad... to the point where I'm suffering both physically and mentally. I'm not sure if it's a spiritual attack or if it's just a sign that this is not the path I should take so please say a little prayer for me while I try to figure that out. All I know is that my heart says Theology and my head says Speech-Language Pathology... and my anxiety says "forget it, lady!" Eesh!

Anyway, it's super hot and muggy today and the laptop is burning my thighs so I need to shut this baby (laptop) down and go jump in the water to cool down a bit.

I hope y'all have had a great week thus far and continue to have a good (or have a better) week. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless!