Five Minute Friday: Whole

It's been a few weeks since I've joined up with the Five Minute Friday community, so if this gets a little rambly, y'all bear with me, okay? I'm a bit out of practice. If you'd like to join and write something on this week's prompt word, head over to Kate's blog Heading Home and link up at the bottom of this week's post.

Whole

There are so many things I could write about with this word, but I think I'm just going to kind of ramble and pray that it all kinda melds together into one coherent thought. The first thing I thought about when I saw the prompt word is that I haven't felt whole in a long time. I think the last time I felt really, truly whole was when I was pregnant with our eldest daughter, M2. We'd been married for about six months when she was conceived and I was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a mother for the first time. Everything seemed right in my world, in my life, and within myself. I was happy and healthy -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I have struggled for most of my life with feeling broken. I've been broken because of bullying, low self-esteem, a lifetime of obesity, emotional abuse, mental illness (my own and that of close family), self-injury, suicidal thoughts and attempts, and spiritual wounds. When I met Gray and our friendship began, I was on my journey to the Catholic Church. As I went along that path, I began to see those spiritual wounds being healed and in Gray, I found a kind of love and acceptance that was a balm to many of my emotional hurts and scars. When we married, I felt a sense of wholeness that I hadn't ever thought possible -- and yet, there remained pieces of me that were broken, although I didn't see it at the time.

Those broken pieces have sharp, jagged edges that continue to cut me apart and tear at my desires to be truly whole. Despite my journey to Catholicism, I've had some of those old spiritual wound scars be reopened in the last three years by circumstances and situations out of my control. Thankfully, Fr. B, my spiritual director, has been helping me -- slowly though it seems to go -- to get at the deeper roots of those spiritual wounds so that I can find not just healing for the superficial tears in my spirit, but a deeper spiritual wholeness.

Emotionally, I am definitely a long way from whole. I've struggled mightily with this task that I felt the Holy Spirit set before me to read and meditate on the Psalms each day and write about it in this blog. Some of that is due to spiritual healing that still needs to take place, but a lot of it is that my brain and body are so tired from fighting depression constantly for the last three years that I have many days that I do good to just be awake and vertical instead of in bed.

I want to be whole again. I want to enjoy my life again. I want to have hope that I can be whole someday. Right now it's not all darkness, but what light I see at the end of the tunnel is a tiny pinprick that is so far away that I cannot fathom the distance. It might as well not be there at all as far away as it is. But that tiny pinprick is what keeps me alive. When I can see it, I can think of the possibility of wholeness. When I can't, then I can't see wholeness for anyone and all seems lost. So I focus on that pinprick of light and keep following my big brother Chez's advice to put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe one day, I'll step out of this dark tunnel and emerge through that pinprick into the light of wholeness. With my luck, that won't be in this life, but will only happen once I've shuffled off this mortal coil. I suppose there is actually truth in that statement. I mean as humans, we're all broken by sin and our broken and sinful world. We may do our best to rid ourselves of sin, but we still fall victim to the sins of others and the messed up way the world works because of the effects of original sin. The only cure for the messiness of our sin sick world and its effects on all of us is Jesus. He is with us, of course, via the Holy Spirit and in the Eucharist, but I don't think this world will get much better until He comes again. So maybe wholeness in this life is something to be sought after, but not to be received until He comes again.

I don't know. I don't have all the answers. I just know what my heart yearns for -- to be fully and completely whole in Him.

Meditating on Advent -- Day 2

Today's Gospel: Matthew 4:18-22

"As Jesus was walking by the Sea of Galilee, He saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew, casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen."

Today is the Feast Day of St. Andrew the Apostle*, so we get a reading about his call to follow Jesus in today's Gospel. It's a short passage and doesn't tell us much about Andrew except that he was a fisherman and that, along with his brother Peter, he left his nets at once and followed Christ.

At once. I think that's really amazing. Can you imagine if you were just going about your day to day life, hard at work at your job and Jesus suddenly walks in the door and says, "Follow me"? I think most of us, if we're being honest, would say that we'd be shocked initially and then after a moment or two, we'd ask Jesus for a few minutes or hours or days to get our lives squared away before coming with Him. I'm a stay at home mom of three girls who need me to supervise them and help them with things all the time while my husband is away at work. If Jesus walked in and suddenly wanted me to come with, I think it would be awfully hard to go "at once" and not want to take some time to call someone to look after my kids, pack a bag, and get all the hugs and kisses I could before I left.

But that's what we're called to do, isn't it? Go when He calls us. He calls all of us in one way or another. My vocation -- or calling -- is to the married life and motherhood. Jesus called me to that when I was a small child. But just because I have accepted that calling and I've followed Him into it by marrying and having children doesn't mean that He ceases to call me. He continues to call me in my day to day life to die to myself and to love others more like He does. That's a hard one for me sometimes. He has also put in my heart a new calling in the past year and that's to educate others about mental illness and suicide prevention. To become an advocate for those who struggle to advocate for themselves and who don't know how to get the help they need. That calling has been a very hard one for me to accept and follow, but I'm doing my best.

I think a good thing to do as we go through this Advent season is ask Him anew to reveal to us how and where He is calling us, to look again at our current calling and seek ways we can better fulfill those callings in obedience to Him. In doing this, we continue the process of readying our hearts for the celebration of Christmas and we better prepare ourselves to be ready when He comes again.

How is He calling you to come and follow Him?

*Since today is St. Andrew's Feast day, I thought I'd include this little prayer for Advent that is often referred to as the Saint Andrew Christmas Novena. It's a prayer that is meant to focus our hearts on the coming of Christ at Christmas and to ask God to grant a particular request in honour of the birth of His Blessed Son. If you're interested in more information, click the link.

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour vouchsafe, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

Five Minute Friday: Door

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I shut the door to the bookstore bathroom and cowered in one of the stalls. Tears were streaming down my face and anger was coursing through my blood. Confused and heartbroken, I stood there for a good fifteen minutes bawling and trying to make sense of the fact that my boyfriend had just broken up with me. After some time (and blowing my nose), I exited the stall and went to wash my hands and face at the sink. I still had some tears to cry but I'd moved through the immediate moment of crying. In this heightened state of emotion, I made a decision. I decided to shut another door. 

I shut the door to marriage.

You see, for several years I had been the recipient of wedding invitations, wedding shower invitations, baby shower invitations, baby announcements, and all of the myriad of things that go along with a life joined to another person as one flesh. I had watched so many friends and acquaintances and even heard about friends of friends who were marrying and having babies and getting on with this stage of life. I had been a spectator in all these moments of joy. My own heart's desire had always been to be a wife and mother, but in this moment of anger and pain, I made the decision that God wasn't going to honour that desire for some reason. I had loved my boyfriend and I thought he loved me. He'd even told me he loved me and that he couldn't imagine a life without me. And then just a couple of weeks after saying that, he changed his tune. He said he only loved me as a friend. I just didn't want male friends any more.  I wanted a husband. I was angry at God for teasing me this way and making me believe that this boyfriend was going to be "the one." 

So I shut the door. I told my mother a few weeks later that I was refusing to go to any more weddings until such a time as it was my own wedding. I didn't care who was getting married. God wasn't providing anyone for me, so I wasn't going to bear witness to the people he was providing for others. 

A year or so later, my friend Sorella invited me to this thing to introduce me to a guy she thought I'd like. I went, although because my door was firmly shut, I didn't have any hope that anything would come of it. I was right. He was nice, but not anyone I was interested in. Then he invited Sorella and me to something the next night at a local Catholic parish -- a young adults' Bible study and "adoration" group. I didn't know what adoration was, but like the idea of other folks my age studying the Bible, so we went. 

I wasn't planning on opening that door. I wasn't planning on meeting anyone. I met Gray that night. I wish I could say that meeting him made me open that door, but it didn't. In fact, something about Gray when we first met made me not even want to really get to know him at all. He seemed nice enough, but he was kind of weird and I just didn't know what to do with that. So I kept that door of my heart shut tight -- even to friendship with a man.

Oh, but friends, the Holy Spirit had other ideas! I don't remember exactly when it was, but I remember having the thought that I didn't even really want to get to know "that guy" (Gray) and almost as suddenly as the thought went through my head, I felt a nudge in my spirit. It was gentle, but firm. Just get to know him. Just be his friend. Not audible words, but a definite sense that the Holy Spirit was trying to direct me in that way. My reply was a grudging sigh and an, "Okay, Lord."

And just like that, the door of my heart was pushed open a crack. 

Gray and I became friends and that crack grew wider and wider until one day, I realised that the door had been pushed wide and love had come pouring in.

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up over at Kate Motaung's blog!

Five Minute Friday: When

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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Times When My Life Was Touched and Changed

When I first realized at age 12 that "sad" didn't quite describe how I was feeling
When my ears first heard the words "my best friend"
When I first felt the swoop of freedom running through my veins at the words "you passed your driver's test.."

When I was afraid I would lose my mind if I could find no one to talk to about my home life
When my compassionate teacher and now dear friend Rikert heard my pain and helped me
When I looked through the window and watched my parents drive away
When I realized I needed help to deal with my depression

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call 1-800-273-8255 to talk to someone about what's going on and get help. This is the National Suicide Prevention hotline, but you don't have to be suicidal to use it. If you're depressed or grieving or lonely, you can call and talk to someone who is trained to listen and offer support!

When I realized that nothing was helping
When I was brave and tried medication for the first time
When I felt the thrill of acting with my peers at college
When my voice professor first praised my hard work and skills
When I began my own journey of faith

Sometimes you need a little humour as you're discovering faith for yourself.

When I experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit
When I landed in London and began a wonderful adventure
When my depression intensified and my self-injury began
When I withdrew from college to get help
When I worked and dreamed of having my own place in a new city and a new part of the country
When my dreams were dashed because of the lies of others
When a friend tried to hook me up with a guy and wound up hooking me up with the Catholic Church
When I made a new friend who I refused to call by his last name
When that friend and I kissed for the first time
When we became officially more than friends

I love it when he brings me flowers "just because." :)

When my boyfriend took me to visit his family at Christmas
When I was confirmed and received fully into the Catholic Church
When my boyfriend proposed three days later
When I walked down the aisle with my heart full of joy to marry my beloved Gray
When we gave ourselves to each other for the first time
When I found out that I was pregnant (each time)
When I first saw each of our sweet girls

Left to right: AB, GB, and M2 -- dressed up pretty for Easter 2014

When we bought our house
When my M2 and AB started preschool and later on, regular school
When the darkness that had been with me since age 12 descended again
When the darkness got even darker than I'd ever felt
When I had a moment when I lost hold of reality and almost attempted suicide
When I began what I thought would be a helpful treatment for depression
When the people who I trusted violated my trust, took advantage of my emotional distress, and coerced me into agreeing to something I never wanted to do
When my heart broke so completely that I thought I would never stop crying



When I spent 5 days in hell, afraid that I would never see light, love, or God again...

........ when the hell of those 5 days ended and I saw flickers of light and love again



When the nightmares began
When the flashbacks began
When I stood at the edge several times, contemplating suicide, and was pulled back to safety by the words of Gray, Pendragon, my big brother Chez, and my friend Rikert
When I had two weeks of respite in the midst of what has been over two years of continued depression
When I decided to write about my experience and share it with others

If you've ever wondered what it's like to go through an episode of major depression, please feel free to read my 31 Days series. It is an account of some of what I've been through in the last couple of years. Eventually, I may make it into a book.

When I began EMDR to treat my PTSD
When the flashbacks began to diminish
When I decided to take on the challenge of sharing my experience with suicide and raise funds to help prevent suicide and raise awareness

If you'd like to make a donation to help raise funds for programs that help prevent suicide, click here to donate.

When I decided to no longer stay silent about my struggles with major depression and suicide
When I realized that I need to do this walk for suicide prevention for myself as much as to help others.

Join the Five Minute Friday party at Kate Motaung's blog!

My Little Flower from Heaven -- #ForAlltheSaints

Like most young girls, when I was a teenager, I longed for a boyfriend. I wanted a boy who would care for me and kiss me and hold my hand walking to classes. I wanted that thing that so many of us want -- romantic love. I dated a couple of guys in high school, had a deep friendship with a guy who I think wanted it to be romance, and definitely crushed hard on several guys who I found attractive both for their looks but also their personality and brains.

As I got into college, I found that I not only wanted a guy I could date, but I was looking at guys with a mind toward eventually getting married. Several of my college friends were in dating relationships and some of those led to engagements and marriages. I went to quite a number of weddings in my early-mid 20s. I was a bridesmaid a few times and sang for a few weddings of friends as well. As much as I was happy for my friends, there was a little piece of me that was heartbroken at every wedding I attended. There was always the thought of "when will it be my turn?" or "when will God bring a man into my life to be my husband?" I prayed and prayed and prayed for a husband.

Day Thirty (part 2): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Note: This is a continuation of a 2 part entry. To read part one, please click here. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above.

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Later that day, Balinda and I go fabric shopping at my favourite shop and a couple of others and by the time we are done, it is almost dark. We stop at a local grocery store and pick up provisions for making tacos for dinner, but for me, tacos will have to wait until much, much later. I have plans with Sarah and my other sister in law, Olivia (who is married to Gray's little brother Andrew) to make good on my desire from earlier this summer when I was at the beach. I am going to get a tattoo. I have been thinking about this ever since this summer and the idea just won't leave me alone. I've looked at designs and local shops back home, but haven't done it yet. I know what I want and even have a picture on my phone of it but that's as far as I've gotten until now. Tonight, we are all going to get inked. Both Sarah and Olivia already have tattoos but they are eager to get another one and to come with me for my first one.

Day Twenty-eight: Adrenaline

Note: This is a continuation of a 2-part entry and is a continuation of my story. Please click here for part one. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above to access the index page for the series or click here to go straight to Day One.

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The next day I awaken and the dark fog is still there. The emotional anguish is still very present and this despite Gray having stayed home from work to make sure I am safe and his allowing me to sleep in as late as I like. I just don't want to endure this anymore. I fight with this darkness all day long while the big girls are at school and when Gray goes to pick them up from school, it is all I can do to not get in the other car and leave. Instead, I lay in our bed and go back to sleep. Pendragon calls, as promised, a little while after the girls are in from school. I tell him that I am still struggling with suicidal thoughts and urges and I just don't want to do this anymore. We have an appointment the next evening and he asks if I think I will be okay until then. I answer honestly that I don't really know, but maybe. I tell him that I am still struggling with wanting to leave but that I'm fighting it. He asks if I think I need to see him this evening instead of waiting until our appointment. Even though good sense would say, yes, I do need it, I find myself telling him that I will wait. I am not thinking clearly or I would have been more honest with him, but I don't even realise how bad it is.

Day Twenty-seven: Fighting to Leave and Stay

Note: This is a continuation of my story of my journey through depression in my 31 Days series. This entry takes place in October of 2013 and because it wound up being so long, I have split it into two parts. This is part one. Click here for part two. To read the rest of the series, click the 31 Days tab above or click here to go straight to the Day One entry.

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Fall leaves are everywhere now and the weather is cool enough that jackets or long sleeves are necessary for most mornings as we send the girls off to school, although the afternoons are still warm enough for shorter sleeves. The weather doesn't really affect my clothing choices though. They have been the same for months. Black. Black. More black. I really have about two outfits that I wear pretty much every day and they are both black shirts and pants. The only break in my parade of black is Sunday mornings when I wear a long floral printed maxi dress with a solid yellow shrug over my shoulders. To be honest, it is another reason that I hate Sundays lately. I don't want to wear flowers or yellow or any other colour. I have always dressed in colours that are reflective of my mood and as my mood is rarely brighter than perhaps a dark midnight blue and is usually rather black, I don't feel like dressing in anything else. I have tried to wear other colours in an effort to lift my mood, but they just wind up irritating me and pulling me down further. The only other time outside of Sunday that I wear anything except my black is when I absolutely must in order to pretend that I am feeling happy or at the very least, normal. I even have a black cotton nightgown that I wear a lot of the time. The black not only fits my mood, but it is, in an odd sort of way, comforting. Lately I feel so on edge and irritable that the least little thing seems to overstimulate me and makes me want to run away and hide. I am normally very comfortable in crowds and around strangers, but all of that has changed too. My normal extroverted nature has been swallowed up by the darkness of depression and the black that I wear seems to help insulate me a little when I must endure those situations that have a tendency to overstimulate me.

Day Twenty-five: A Cord of Three Strands

Note: After having had several days of struggling to write something and posting stuff that's not part of the story itself, I am returning to the story of my journey in this entry. Just to clarify, this part takes place in September of 2013. To read the rest of the story, click here for Day One or on the 31 Days tab above to access the index for this series.

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It is September and the temperature has dropped a few degrees. The nights are cooler and the air drier even if the daytime still feels too warm for fall. The trees have begun their slow transition from greens to golds, reds, oranges, and browns and fall flavoured treats are everywhere. It has been a month since that first meeting with Pendragon in his new office and we have met every week without fail. Unlike when he was at Green Tree, we are able to meet for longer than an hour if necessary and lately, the extra time has been very much needed indeed.

Day Twenty: Home Again

Yes, I am a total geek. :)

Gray turns the corner and suddenly we are driving down our street. Less than a minute later, our house comes into view with the stately oak in the front yard and the juniper tree's branches moving gently in the mid-July breeze. We have just come from a late lunch at a local Mexican restaurant and my belly is full of delicious food, but more importantly, my heart is full from time spent with Gray and our girls. It is Monday afternoon and I am home at last. After five days of unspeakable pain, I am free. It is a bright sunny day and oppressively warm for this part of July, but I am not bothered by the heat or humidity. I am free. I am home. I am home!!! Tears spring from my eyes as we pull in the driveway and I swallow several times and sniffle a little bit. Gray reaches over and squeezes my hand and we get out of the van. The girls are chattering away and are halfway up the curved sidewalk to the front door before I can get out of the van and shut my door behind me. As I walk toward the back of the van, I see that they have, as usual, left the side door open and I slide it shut and stand staring at it for a moment. It is habit for me to check behind them and shut the door, but today it does not feel like habit or something that just has to be done. Today it feels like a "welcome home, Mom!" from my girls. Everything feels like it is welcoming me home and I am glad to finally be here.

A Little About My Beloved Gray

It's another last minute post today. I started writing something which I think will eventually develop into a kind of thoughtful post, but just couldn't get my thoughts quite coordinated in a coherent way. So here I am again, stuck at the last minute, feverishly typing and trying to at least get *something* posted instead of nothing.

I thought about trying to write something just straight from the heart, expressing my feelings at the moment, but thought that might come across as too sappy or something. Basically what I'm feeling right now is grateful. I'm sitting in our bed with Gray sound asleep beside me, completely oblivious to how much love I am feeling toward him at this very moment. I haven't talked much about him on my blog, but it isn't for a lack of things to say. It is more that I can't talk about him without telling everyone how much I love him and what a wonderful husband and father he is. Like everyone, he has his faults and sometimes he really sticks his foot in his mouth or does something that leaves me feeling really hurt and frustrated, but at the end of the day, he is the perfect man for me. He is who God chose for me. One of the things he told me when we had just been engaged for a little while is that he truly believes that God created him for the express purpose of being my husband. That was the whole point in God creating him -- to be my husband. The Catholic Church views marriage as something that is both a vocation (or lifelong calling) and a sacrament. Gray takes his roles as husband and father very seriously. I have never for a moment doubted that for him, his marriage vocation comes first in everything. He's kinda awesome :)

Ora et Labora

"Ora et labora" -- or in English, "pray and work" is the motto of the Benedictine Order. Benedictines take seriously this idea that a well balanced Christian life is ordered towards working and prayer. Some Benedictines are contemplative, some cloistered, some work beyond their monasteries and convents in the secular world, some work in parish churches, and some work in missions, but at the end of the day, all of these groups of Benedictine religious have a strong belief in working with your physical body and being steeped in frequent daily prayer.