When Life Goes Crazy and God Disappears

Yes, I know; it's been over a month since my last blog post.

Life has been... an adventure.

There have been multiple doctor appointments and still more to come.

There have been trips to hospitals, including an ambulance ride to the emergency room when I had chest pains that were so bad that they made my entire left side go numb; the EMTs wanted to make sure I wasn't having any heart-related issues. They turned out to be muscle spasms that I've still felt as recently as yesterday.

There have been plans to move forward in a couple of areas in my life... all while dealing with health issues.

Ah, yes... the ever-present health issues. While my platelets were within the normal range for the first time in over a decade for two (yes, two) blood draws, the anemia has gotten a bit worse.

I've also been waking up and going "blind" for a couple of minutes in the morning. It usually takes me to the end of the second or (more frequently) third Rosary mystery before I can see enough to keep going on with my day. I have an ophthalmology appointment on the 15th -- the feast of the Assumption -- to hopefully begin figuring out what's been going on these last couple of months.

And, to top it off, I'm either allergic to a big staple in my diet or it just ups my histamine levels which made me perpetually congested and teary-eyed until I stopped eating it a week ago. Why, potatoes? Why?! So, now I'm down to only two things that I can eat: chicken and corn tortillas. Can we say "malnutrition deficiencies"? Since I have major food allergy PTSD (it's no fun to feel your throat get swollen or like you can't breathe right after you've eaten something that has never made you sick before), it's going to take a lot of courage to try new foods while dealing with the fears I have of potentially having a severe allergic reaction. It thankfully hasn't happened yet -- my reactions have been mild to perhaps slightly moderate-ish so far  -- my doctors are having me carry an EpiPen wherever I go. Fun, right?

Are we seeing the adventure part, yet? Yes, it's been a wild ride.

Throughout all of this, I'm ashamed to admit that I fluctuate between trusting God and forgetting He's even here. This is straight-up, real talk.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own fears that I forget Who ultimately has control of the situation. While I was amazingly calm during the chest pain/spams ordeal -- to the point where the doctors ruled out anxiety as a cause for the chest pains; I was praying the Rosary while going through the spasm pains -- I've had moments of pure panic where God isn't even in the back of my mind. And it's not like I even distrust that God has my back; I just forget because I'm so wrapped up in myself. It's absolutely horrible.

Lately, I've been wondering if I've gone through all of this as a sort of test. Not that God is testing my love for Him. It's more like God is allowing these trials to help me try to keep Him on my mind more often; to help me realize what areas of my life I need to work on to better my relationship with Him and strengthen my faith. Just looking back at how many times I didn't even think about Him versus how many times I remembered that God was in control has been an eye-opener. I have a lot to work on but I'm prepared to do that work.

All of this has always made me even more acutely aware of how much I am missing the Sacraments. How many times have I gone to Mass in the past 9 weeks? Once... at the retreat... because the chapel was literally downstairs and I could take the elevator down from where my room was and walk, even while dizzy and lightheaded and feeling faint, to it. Now that I'm back home and my health has slowly regressed and I have no one who can potentially drive me to Mass and feel comfortable enough help steady me if I feel a little lightheaded when standing up? No Mass for Emmy. Sometimes I'm too weak to even get out of bed, let alone walk downstairs or even drive to the nearest parish.

And, of course, that also means it's been that long since I've been to confession as well. I've had two mini spiritual direction meetings since but I haven't had a proper confession in weeks. My heart longs for it. I don't like being away from the Sacraments. I don't like missing Mass. I intensely dislike not having been to confession since shortly after my birthday in late May. The longer these things go on, the more distant and muddled my relationship with God feels.

I, thankfully, have moments of consolation where I feel God's presence, His mercy and love, in my life but those are infrequent and never last long enough. It's like I've taken up residence in the middle of the desert... in the middle of summer... during the worst heatwave ever recorded in the area. It's just plumb awful. Of course, just because I don't feel His presence doesn't mean He's not there. His existence isn't based on my dull human feelings. Intellectually, I know that... but it's still hard and it makes the struggle through the spiritual dryness even harder to get through.

I know that we all go through these rough periods in our lives and especially in our spiritual life. I know that great saints have gone through years or even decades (St. Teresa of Calcutta, anyone?) where they receive no consolation during their "dark nights of the soul." Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever going to feel that closeness with God ever again... but, regardless, I still keep going. I mean, I feel like a fraud most of the time (again, this is real talk, y'all) because I haven't been able to attend Mass or confession but I'm still trying to do the little bits I can do.

I'm still praying the Benedictine Office throughout the day. I still have my list of daily prayers I pray, including the (much needed) Litany of Humility. I still pray the Rosary daily. I still pray for those who ask for prayers; for those whom I love and care for. I still try to do the right thing even though, the longer I go without the Sacraments, the harder it is to not fall into temptation and occasionally slip up. Still, that somehow doesn't seem like enough to me.

So, that's where I am. I hope my health improves in the near future because I miss attending Mass, receiving the Eucharist, and giving my soul a nice scrubbing in the confessional. Heck, I just want to have enough physical stamina to do basic things like getting out of bed and making myself something to eat without help some days.

I may be crazy to do it but... there's going to be a big change happening in the near future for me. This big change has been a long time coming. It's going to make me face some of my biggest fears and it's going to take me away from everything I've ever known. I think you can sort of guess what I'll be doing with those clues. Again, I may be crazy for embarking on this journey in the middle of my health issues, but perhaps this is something I need to do to improve my health. I'm being vague about it now but I hope to be able to share some details after it's all said and done. Just, please, keep me in your prayers because the whole situation is going to be high-stress and I'm honestly a little worried about how that will affect my health in the process.

... did I forget to mention that life has been an adventure lately? I didn't even mention finishing novel three in the middle of all that craziness! lol. Yes, I'll blog about that soon, as well.

Anyway, this is all part of why I've been MIA lately. I know I've been slightly more active on Twitter but that's been due to the prayer requests when I feel like, "Okay, I need prayer warriors to help me out with this one." I hope to get back to writing more, especially now that novel three is done and I'm slowly getting through all the doctor's appointments (and the follow-ups to the follow-ups). I have 3-4 more appointments scheduled (for now) in the next month, two this week.

Breathe in... hold for 1... 2... 3... 4... and breathe out...  Repeat.

I hope summer has been kinder to y'all so far. Can autumn hurry up and get here already? Summertime and I clearly don't get along. ;)

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

Dear Dad...

Dear Dad,

How is it possible that you've been gone for 10 years?! I'm writing this a day early since I'll be traveling on your actual anniversary. I had hoped to spend the morning at your grave but I can't put off the trip.

Where to start? I can't seem to find the words to say to you. There so much I wish I could say, but it all fails to come close to what I wish I could express. I guess I'll try.

First, I want to say "thank you." Thank you for everything you did for me.

Thank you for taking care of me for the first 23 years of my life. I know I ended up helping take care of you in the end but you did so much for me. Taking care of you during the last years (and especially months) of your life was an honor.

Thank you for all those sacrifices you made for me. As a young, selfish girl I didn't understand but as a grown woman I appreciate them immensely.

Thank you for teaching me to work hard for what I want and to not stay down when I've been knocked down. You taught me never to give up, no matter how bad things seem. You also taught me to look outside the box for creative solutions when I can and that's saved me several times.

Thank you for showing me what it was to be loved and respected. You were the first person to show me what it meant to be loved unconditionally. You taught me to respect not only myself but others as well.

Thank you for your last words to me: that you trusted my judgment. I can still remember when you told Pedro that you trusted my judgment. I hope I've made you proud thus far.

Thank you for teaching me my own worth; to not settle for anything less than I deserved. Not in a manner that would make my haughty, but in a way that gave me confidence and self-respect.

Thank you for the memories you left behind, which are priceless. I can't remember what your voice sounded like. I barely remember the arguments we had. I do, however, remember all the good times. I will have random memories that will pop up when I least expect them and they make me smile.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me graduate from college... and having gone after two additional degrees after that. I know just how important my education was to you. If people only knew how much you sacrificed to make sure I had the education you wish you'd had yourself.

I'm sorry you missed witnessing me getting my driver's license and learning how to fix basic car things. It sounds like a silly little thing to others but they don't know how much you loved cars, especially fixing them. Oh, and thank you for teaching me how to parallel park like a boss.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me become a published author and start a career as a writer. I bet you wouldn't have been surprised because I was always writing; notebook and pen almost always in my hand from the moment I could write.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me grow into my woman I've become in the last 10 years. I like to think you'd be proud of the decisions I've made in my life so far. I bet you would've been surprised I became an Oblate novice. Or maybe not. Me making that solo trip would have surprised you, though.

I'm sorry you'll miss seeing me get married one day. I still have that chapel veil you got me a few months before you passed. I'm saving it for that special day. I hope my future husband will be the man you would've approved of; the man you would've gladly given your blessing to. (side note: don't worry, I'm sure Pedro will interrogate him in the future, lol.)

I'm sorry you'll miss meeting any children God may bless me with. I know how much you loved children -- and how fitting it was that you were buried only a few feet from the area set aside for burials of babies. They'll only hear about the wonderful memories I have of their maternal grandfather.

I'm sorry you'll miss all other milestones I've yet to envision; things God will surprise me with. I know you would've been with me through them all if you could've been.

Mom said you were worried about leaving me; about not being around when I needed you. I still have moments when I do miss you terribly; when I feel like I do need you. I break down in tears because you were the only one who made certain situations better. But then I remember what you taught me. You taught me to have courage; to be strong. You did that! You gave me the confidence in myself and the fiery stubbornness that makes me muster up all the courage I have to face obstacles as fearlessly as I can.

I hope I continue to grow into the person you would've proudly introduced as your little girl (no matter how old I am). Everyone says that I've grown up to be just like grandma -- your own mom! Okay, so I'm like 8 inches taller than she was and I didn't inherit her blue-grey eyes but still! I bet you would've loved to have seen me become more like her because you loved her so much.

I hope I become the kind of mother that reflects the kind of love she experienced from her father; the kind that, when she's gone, her children will have nothing but beautiful memories of.

I hope and pray that you're in Heaven, forever in the presence of our Heavenly Father, because I cannot imagine a better eternity for anyone especially a wonderful, loving father like you.

What else is there to say?

Thank you.

I miss you.

I love you.

I hope we're one day reunited in Heaven.

Sincerely,
Meli

My Oblate Retreat, Part One: Obstacles, Tears, and a Trip to the ER

"God alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not fall..." (Ps 62:7, NABRE)

These were the first words I read when I randomly opened up the Bible in my room at the retreat center. It was the third day of the retreat and I was running on empty; tears flowing down my cheeks because I felt like I didn't belong there. But, before I go on, let me start from the beginning...

Exactly one week before I left for the trip, I started feeling sick. I had a low-grade fever that came out of nowhere. Every day after that was a new, different thing. Fever, aches and pains, fatigue, stomach issues, debilitating headaches, etc. It was never the same thing. The day before I left for the retreat, I got food poisoning (as did my mom) and I felt so terrible that I didn't know if I was going to have to cancel my trip at the last minute.

I had a strong feeling that taking the trip was a bad idea; that I should stay at home instead. I had so many strong doubts the day before that I felt overwhelmed. Eventually, my stubborn side kept reminding me that, no, I wanted this. That and I know that "feelings" can sometimes trip us up so I wasn't trusting them.

I'd been praying about/discerning becoming a Benedictine oblate for a long time. I kept reminding myself that I wouldn't have raised $800 in 11 hours if it wasn't God's will for me to make this trip. (By the way, if you're new to my journey, you can read about the beginning of my discernment to the fundraiser here.) God had made it clear that He wanted me to do this so I would, no matter what obstacles would come my way. What I didn't know was that the entire retreat would be full of obstacles that would leave me feeling drained.

I started my trip on only two hours of sleep. Due to the heebie-jeebies I get being on a plane, I can't sleep during flights. We had a pretty smooth flight but I was seriously fighting sleep by the time we landed in O'Hare. Thankfully, a fellow oblate offered to drive me from the airport to the retreat center so I was able to nod off during the drive. We went to lunch with other oblates before we went to the center, which I'm grateful for because it would be the last decent meal I'd have for 3 days.

Months beforehand, I let the oblate who organized the retreat know about my food allergies and intolerance. (side note: this was prior to my food allergy panel results.) He let me know that they would be able to accommodate my dietary restrictions. A few days before the retreat, I let him know I would be taking a small part of my food; the corn tortillas and a few snacks in case there was a mix-up. I'm grateful I took them because there was a major mix-up: they thought I would be taking all of my food and they weren't prepared for me. Gulp. The next couple of days consisted of me eating mostly tortillas and the few snacks I'd taken because they kept making me food that made me sick. At least I got some protein in the form of chicken... even though I ended up getting sick from it because they prepared it with ingredients my stomach couldn't tolerate. I was so hungry that I didn't care; I ate it all even though my body physically ached afterward.

On the second day of the retreat, I felt physically spent. I thought it was due to the lack of food and the lack of sleep so I tried to tough it out. When I started swaying and feeling like I was going to pass out whenever I stood up, I knew I had to let someone know I wasn't feeling well. You know, in case I did faint. When I started feeling like I couldn't breathe and I started seeing black whenever I stood, I knew I had to be seen by a doctor. I asked if there was a local urgent care I could be seen at. I only told our Oblate Master because I didn't want to disturb the other oblates' retreat experience nor did I want any attention. I just wanted to be quietly seen by a doctor because I knew something was wrong and I wouldn't be able to simply ignore it. He got one of the oblates to drive me to the local emergency room.

The final diagnosis? Dehydration, near-syncope ("most likely from lack of sleep and lack of food," according to the doctor), and a migraine. Awesome. Thanks, body! They checked my bloodwork and they gave me a bag of IV fluids. I was given the okay to fly back to L.A. on Sunday. I needed to rest and hydrate as much as I could.

The next day (our third day of the retreat), our Oblate Master told me to rest as much as I could. He told me he didn't care if I stayed and rested in my room for the entire retreat; he just wanted to get the scapular on me so I could begin my novitiate with them the following day. I went down for breakfast, feeling awful because I had only slept 3 hours. The chef said, "Oh wait, we have to prepare breakfast for you, too?" They had no food for me. I was so emotionally spent that I ate my tortillas while I tried to keep myself from crying. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop the tears from spilling over but, at least, I was able to cry as silently as I could. I did not want any attention.

Other oblates would come up to me and ask me how I was feeling. I would say "better" because those IV fluids really did help me out a lot but, emotionally, I was a mess. I was exhausted so I went up to my room to nap instead of going to the third conference. I didn't want to push myself any more than I already had. Before I took that nap, though, I called my mom and told her what was going on.

I broke down and cried. I wanted to go home because of how miserable I felt. I kept second-guessing my decision to have gone on the retreat. I messaged my best friends and told them I felt like I didn't belong there. I felt like an unprepared fraud; like perhaps I'd discerned incorrectly. It was bad. I don't usually have these types of thoughts so I scared myself a bit. They reminded me that I was stronger than I felt at the time. They wondered if I was experiencing spiritual attacks because this was a major trip for me.

Prayer and Lectio Divina in my room.

I took a nap and woke up before Sext and lunch so I decided to do a little Lectio Divina. That's when I took the Bible the center had provided. I chose a random page and opened it up. Of course, I would open it up to a psalm about trusting God. I felt like He was giving me consolation; letting me know that He wanted me there. I felt a renewed determination to stick it out, no matter what else would happen. The rest of the weekend was comprised of resting when I knew I couldn't push myself further, eating whatever I could, drinking as much water as I could, and trying to keep my spirits up.

Sunday -- the big day -- came. Despite the little sleep, I felt excited and ready. Since I couldn't fall back asleep after waking up at 3:30 a.m., I packed and got myself ready for the morning. I went into the kitchen and had something to eat so I wouldn't feel lightheaded during Lauds, Mass, and the scapular investiture of the new novices. I was fine during Lauds... but then I started feeling sick during Mass. It was almost like round two of what had sent me to the ER two days prior. Cue me mentally asking all the saints to intercede for me.

I kept swaying and wanting to black out when I stood up during Mass so, at one point, I stayed seated. I was a little embarrassed because I didn't want to seem impious but I knew it would be worse if I passed out. I also knew I had to go up to the altar during the Ritus Induendi Novitium Oblatum (the investiture ceremony) so I wanted to save up whatever little strength I had.

"Mama Mary...  Guardian Angel... St. Benedict... St. Frances of Rome... all the Benedictine saints... Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati... St. Therese... hold me up. Intercede just so that my knees won't buckle under me." I was able to get myself to the far right side of the altar and I leaned against the wall, holding on with one hand when I felt like my knees would give in. I felt like I had no physical strength... but, darn it, I was going to go through it all, standing!

As Fr. Prior was getting ready to place the scapular on me, I felt like I was going to fall to the ground. I stubbornly made myself stand away from the wall so I wouldn't have that support. I trusted God; I knew I was meant to be there so I let my fears go. (side note: who says having a bit of a stubborn streak is a bad thing? I only use it during times like these. lol.) There was no way I wasn't going to go through with it. Only the day before, after reading Psalm 62, I met with our Oblate Master and he told me that I was meant to be there. I knew it was what God wanted me to do; there had been too many "signs" that this seems to be God's will for me.

I kid y'all not, the second the scapular was placed on me by Fr. Prior, I felt the most refreshing peace wash over me. Not only that, all the shakiness and the physical weakness seemed to have disappeared in an instant. I felt strengthened... and I was instantaneously grateful for all I had endured up to that point. The tears, the physical and emotional obstacles, the ER visit... every single thing I had endured was worth it. I was grateful for all the difficulties because it made that moment even more glorious.

I didn't get to sleep for 24 hours after that, we had the worst turbulence I've ever experienced on the way back home, and it took me two full days to start feeling like myself again... but I survived.

I know it was due to everyone's prayers that I was able to make it through the entire weekend. I mean, I've struggled with constant fatigue for months now (though I'd been feeling much better and my health had been on the upswing up to a week before the trip). I can't function with less than 5 hours of sleep, yet I somehow was able to do it with an average of 3 hours of sleep per night for half a week. I can't fast because it makes me sick yet I somehow got through days of little food.

I'm sorry I missed half of the activities of the retreat. I'm also sad that I didn't get to know my fellow oblates better. I'm a little embarrassed when I think about what a first impression I made on them as well but it was a good humbling experience for me. It reminded me that I'm now part of a (lovely) community; that I can't do everything on my own and that trusting God is the only way to go. There was also no room for vanity (I walked around with my hair in a messy bun and my "humility glasses" for most of the retreat) or anything that would take away from the purpose of the trip. It was absolutely perfect in its own way.

Anyway, this post is far too long so I'll write a part two soon. Yes, there's more. I just wrote the basics of the obstacles so I can focus on the good that came from the retreat in the next post. :)

If you've made it this far, thank you for sticking with it! I promise not all posts will be this long.

I'm going to go make myself something to eat before I get back to work. I was thankfully given last week off to focus on the retreat but now it's back to writing articles and finishing my third novel. :)

Happy feast of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus (traditional calendar) and of Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati (unofficially in the new calendar)!

As always, thank you for reading and God bless!

"People Must Really Need the Prayers..."

This was the thought that popped up in my mind when my hematologist said he wasn't able to get the hip bone part of the bone marrow biopsy the first time. I knew that there would most likely be something that had to "go wrong" since I had so many people asking me to offer up my procedure and the pain up for their prayer intentions. I knew when the prayer requests reached the triple digits on Twitter that I would be in for it so I had mentally prepared myself for it. Still, I kept internally asking St. Giuseppe Moscati to guide the hematologist's hands so there wouldn't be a third try.

For those of you know who have gotten one of these biopsies done before, you know this part is the most painful. Ignorance is bliss (for me) when it comes to these procedures so I didn't even look into what would be involved but, oh, I knew that part of my hip bone was (basically) drilled out during this part. I felt the pain down into my leg. Thankfully, it wasn't excruciating.

I'll admit, I had cried prior to the procedure out of nerves but I was amazingly calm throughout it. I think it was because I knew I was covered in prayers due to the (mind-boggling!) 1k+ people who said they would be praying for me via social media. I woke up that morning and it literally felt as I was completely wrapped up in prayer. I don't know how else to describe it except that it felt like I had a heavy blanket of peace covering every inch of my body.

I tried praying the Rosary during the procedure but my mind went blank during the Second Glorious Mystery (I pray the traditional order and it's the Glorious Mysteries on Wednesdays). Instead, I ended up focusing on keeping my breathing even and offering up any pain and uncomfortable moments. Oh, and on keeping my body as relaxed as possible to make it easier for the hematologist to get what he needed. It wasn't easy because you want to tense up your muscles.

I drove myself home afterward... and it was not fun. They did the biopsy on my right side which, of course, means I had to use my right leg -- the leg used on the car pedals. The 4-5 mile drive included a lot of teary-eyed "ouch" moments. Walking up the stairs to my second-story apartment brought a couple more tense moments.

The rest of the day was spent trying to find ways of sitting, laying down, standing, and doing other things that wouldn't aggravate the pain. I was sure my mother was going to tie me down to a chair at one point because I kept getting up to do things I normally would. I'm quite active during the day (out of habit) so it was hard for me not to be a "wiggle worm." lol. It doesn't sound so bad but, oh man, there were a ton more tears before the day was over. I couldn't walk or even sit; I mostly had to lay on my left side but that quickly got old when my entire left side became painful and then numb from having all of my weight on it.

Trying to work was hard. I couldn't balance my laptop on my lap or place it in any position that didn't hurt me. I tried standing up to write it but I was too lightheaded and feeling drained to last longer than a minute. Finally, a bit after midnight last night, I gave up and had to send my editor a message telling him that I was sorry but that this week's assignment would be a day late. I couldn't transfer my work (which I ended up starting on my iPod touch as I lay in bed) from email to the website.

Sleeping was a new adventure. Despite having an adjustable bed, I couldn't find a position in which I was comfortable enough to sleep. An hour (and more exhaustion-induced tears) later -- 12 hours after the biopsy -- I was somehow able to flip myself onto my stomach and I passed out for about 11 hours. Yep, I was that tired.

Today has been a new adventurous day. The pain is worse, in a way. I can move a little easier but the tenderness makes the pain more acute. As I write this, I'm in a very uncomfortable position with my the head of my adjustable bed lifted up as much as possible. My back hurts and part of my left side is numb (again) from all the weight on it but I just thank God that I can move and stand more than yesterday.

I'm just going to keep looking at the crucifix in my room and try to unite my pain with His. Yesterday, the first time I was able to get in bed post-biopsy, I looked at it and I realized that I had never loved Him as much as I did at that moment. Though I can never compare my little pain to his immense pain, I can at least try to understand -- in my fragile human way -- what He endured for the sake of humanity.

So, that's what the journey of a bone marrow biopsy has been. I'm obviously still in recovery mode and will be for a couple more days. I will get my biopsy results on June 5th so please keep that in your prayers. I've resigned myself to getting whatever results may come from it; I just want them to figure out what's been making me sick for so long.

I will continue to pray for those who've asked for prayers. Thank you all so much for all your prayers, love, and support!

God bless you all!

I'm Tired. I'm Angry. I Will No Longer Be Ashamed.

I know; I've gone weeks without updating. I have a good reason... which I wasn't going to blog about but I've reached the point where anger has taken over so now I feel like I have to speak out on this.

I stopped writing because I've been sick. Really sick. I know that, in the past, I've shared my health journey because some of you felt you could relate to it and no one else was talking about. A few months ago, someone I really admired and looked up to -- who shall be unnamed -- shamed me into not only staying quiet about it but also into deleting all my past posts about my health. Seriously, try to search for the posts; they're gone.

I won't go into details but let's just say that after our conversation, I felt ashamed for sharing my health journey -- which strongly ties into my spiritual journey. I felt like I was just asking for attention, even though I've never liked any attention and I thought that sharing my experience would help at least one other person who thought they were the only one struggling.

We live in a society that only posts "Instagram-worthy" pictures; who present perfect lives that seem unattainable and are envy-inducing. I wanted to be real and share the good that God has brought out in the middle of the bad. But, no. I was doing it for attention and, furthermore, "who's going to want someone who is always talking about her poor health? No guy will."  Ouch. Twist the knife a bit more because it didn't quite hurt the first time.

I've reached the point where I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for letting the person get to me. I'm angry that this has affected me in a much bigger way than I had wished. I'm angry that I've had to keep quiet and, basically, lie (by omitting what was really going on) to those closest to me.

No, I'm not okay. I was doing really, really well for a while and then, suddenly, my health took a massive nose dive. I haven't been okay for weeks. After a week of back-to-back bad news, I'm tired of having to plaster a smile and act like nothing's wrong. I'm tired, literally and figuratively. I have no energy left to keep up the facade.

There is beauty in suffering. I feel closest to God when my health is as bad as it is now. When I'm at my weakest -- mentally, physically, and emotionally -- is when I see the most spiritual growth. God has blessed me with my crosses (in the form of health issues and the loneliness that comes from being perpetually single and desiring a family) which have made me the woman I am now.

Do you know who I was before I got sick? I was a proud and vain girl. I hated who I was. Being sick has helped me rid of those terrible characteristics I always had growing up. I'm not fully where I want to be in terms of that -- I still have moments of pride and vanity -- but God has mercifully humbled me and continues to do so through these illnesses. If good things come out of my health struggles, I welcome them. I thank God for keeping me from a path that would've strayed me further from Heaven.

And, about the guy thing, you know what? If God wants me to remain single and always have that longing for a husband and children, I will offer it up for those who suffer. If I, as the person who shamed me into staying quiet said, end up single for the rest of my life because no man will want to help me carry my crosses, I know one man who will -- Jesus Christ. He didn't carry His cross and give up His life for nothing. I will just focus on my love for Him and unite my suffering to His. If there is a man, brave enough to accept me as I am, it will be a tremendous blessing but I am resigned to either outcome. It's about doing God's will, not my own.

So, no, I will no longer feel ashamed for sharing my faith journey and my health journey. If I want to ask prayers because I'm having a bone marrow biopsy on the 22nd (which I am; this is why I'm doing a double novena to Our Lady of Montserrat and St. Giuseppe Moscati, beginning today)... because my liver isn't functioning as it should... because my body is destroying my platelets and red blood count without any scientific explanation (which has my hematologist stumped)... because other things in my blood work came back abnormal... because I've been struggling with the depression that comes with everything I've gone through lately, I will.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest because I've been carrying it around for literally months and I was tired of it. I'm sorry for the rant but I just had to say it. Maybe now I will also be able to recover a bit better; not having to feel so alone and feeling like I should be quiet because no one cares about me or what's going on with me. Yes, I've felt that way for months.

Oh, and if you're wondering what this means in regards to my oblate retreat next month: I don't know. I got cleared by the hematologist to fly but not my primary physician. I should know (hopefully) tomorrow whether she also gives me the okay to go. In the meantime, I'm going to try to rest as much as I can, eat and sleep well, stay hydrated, walk for a minimum of an hour despite the fatigue (doctor's orders because my heart needs it), and keep my stress levels as low as possible so that my body can try to recover before the trip. I still plan on going, even if I have to find the additional funds to be able to afford a roomette on Amtrak if I cannot take a plane. If my doctor says I can't go, even on the train, I will refund anyone who wants their money back (from the GoFundMe fundraiser).

Anyway, now that I've given y'all an update and an explanation for my silence, I think I'm going to go take a nap. I've been feeling very exhausted -- I can't sleep enough hours in the day -- and I need to rest. I will gladly offer some of this up for anyone who could use the prayers.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless!