Both/And...neither?

Today was one of those days...for many reasons and for a single reason, well at least a single reason in my mind.  Today was one of those days because I had an abortion at age 17 and will be and am being forever punished and tortured by all forces of nature, all forces of evil, all things that I can control and all things that I can't.  Today was one of those days where my two living children made me feel as though I have failed in every way possible as a mother.  Today, I failed as a wife.  Today, I failed as a daughter.  I lost my temper so many times today to the point where I didn't have any feelings at all.  I've fought with two young children over the stupidest of things.  My two children who are essentially what my Mom calls "traveling angels" showed their horns today in all manner of ways.  I suppose I should be grateful that their horrible behavior is only shown at home, but sometimes, it's not enough.

I'll spare you the gory details of it all and quite honestly I don't have the energy to bang them all out on this keyboard, but the crux of it is... after all is said and done and the bad day is almost put to bed, at least two parts of it, I'm left here, feeling alone and feeling beaten, bruised, battered and worst of I all, feeling like I deserve it.  Quite often I'm looking for condemnation for my abortion and today was one of those days when I think I found it.

All of this, of course, is a completely ridiculous line of thinking and I should stop it, but today, I don't want to stop it, I want to see where it goes, I want to see what's at the end of it if it ends at all.  All of this is ridiculous because my life is not horrible.  I should be able to cling to all the positives in it, but not today. 

Today is one of those days when I swear off the Church and think thoughts like what's the point, why even go, what if we're wrong, what if it's not true, what if days like today is all there is.  Like the movie goes, what if this is as good as it gets... because I don't deserve any better?

Up until today, although the past couple of weeks have been rough, but nothing out of the ordinary for most parents who work and struggle and worry about finances and their family's well being and what's going on the in the world, but one trudges on because what else is there to do?

Today, I gave up.  I give up.

Lately, I've been learning a lot about the history of the Church and it's been fascinating and a lot to absorb and I assume that one can never ever learn every thing about it, but there are highlights that I cling to and I have my "a-ha" moments in my new found history lessons.  One of these themes is how our Church is of the "both/and" philosophy. How the Church doesn't see dichotomies where none exist, sometimes there doesn't have to be one at all.  Some things are just a dichotomy by design and as Catholics we believe it certain things can be both/and.

So this kind of thinking leads to me start thinking what things am I both/and?  What can I be both/and?  I can be post abortive and happy.  I can be post abortive and Catholic.  I can be post abortive and a good Mom.  I can be both a woman with a wretched sexual past and be a faithfully devoted, chaste spouse now. I can sit and have hours long intellectual conversations with big words over coffee and cigarettes (cigarettes are only allowed on my birthday) and I can be ridiculously simple and goofy and dense.  I can be both extroverted and shy.

But days like today make me feel like I'm not both/and anything, I'm neither.  I'm nothing.  Chief cook and bottle washer with a purely utilitarian purpose.  What if I'm something completely unrecognizable that doesn't have a category.  What if this is all I am, this person I am today?  I'm just waiting for other shoe to drop. 

I don't even know where to go with it all and I'm sick of trying.  I'm sick of the roller coaster of emotions.  I'm sick of feeling all together.  So, if I'm neither, what am I? 

Feeling defeated is a scary place to be, and when the things that cause you to feel defeated seem to come more quickly and easily than the things that build you up, what then?  When will my two steps forward stop being followed by a step back?  What do you do when the words of any prayer barely form in your mind, let alone find their way to your lips or heart? What if you feel you can't even look to Him for help because you aren't even sure he's really there?

Given for the World...

Just felt inspired today and wanted to express it somehow.  It's easy to become discouraged and start to lose hope with all that is going on in the world today.  It's hard to keep fighting the good fight when it seems everyone is against you.  It takes courage to express what you believe, especially if you are Catholic in today's world.  It's hard to not feel hypocritical in some way when trying to defend the Church you love, especially when you feel unworthy of Her most of the time. 

But, the good news is, we are all unworthy - but isn't it just truly awesome that despite all of our unworthiness - He redeems us anyway?  I tried to come up with some reasons and ideas to defend myself and the Church that I've loved my whole life and in that deep soul searching, I felt the need to express my love of Her and Him in some way.  Even though I may have walked away from Him for a while, even though I may have turned my back and refused to listen, He remained there and waited for me to turn back around and I found everything I loved from childhood was there waiting for me too.

So, when I start to lose hope about the fate of our beloved Church, His Church - I try to think about how long we've been here and how many trials and tribulations we've withstood.  I think about all of our good and holy priests and it amazes me that anyone would want to even become a priest in this day and age, but they do, and they do it well.  In all of the craziness, knowing that generally, I can find a Catholic Church near to me, anywhere, and even if I have to knock on the door because it's locked, someone will let me in because I belong there.

So, a little love letter...

Lenten Reflections and Meditations for the Postabortive

As one of my Lenten projects this year, I'm trying to only use the Internet for good instead of evil, and by that I don't mean I'll cease from ranting on editorial pages of left-leaning "newspapers" because some people are just too stupid for me not to say something!  I am trying to avoid comboxes and forums as much as possible - talk about a rabbit hole.  I can't say that I'll cease from posting picture after picture of my ridiculously adorable and gifted children, but I am making a concerted effort to not go to the dark corners of the Internet that feed my stupid and narcissistic need for self punishment in those moments when I'm seeking condemnation from somewhere because I'll never find it where I should be looking. 

Anyhoo, the blog over at Lumina - a ray of light in abortion's darkness has a great series of Lenten meditations and/or reflections for this Lenten season and I'm trying to make time for each one as there is much wisdom and tender words of encouragement and clarity to be had.  From today's installment, Instant Gratification comes this,

"We have somehow lost the concept of patient waiting, instead looking to our “feelings” to gage reality, when in fact our feelings are often very far from what is truth."

Please do visit if you are postabortive and take advantage of this series. 

I like the Lumina site and it's mission because it speaks to that part of me that doesn't want to put this all back in a tidy box back on the shelf somewhere.  I know some women are able to go on a Rachel's Vineyard retreat and are healed and happy and move on, yet I know others,  myself included, who need a bit more, who want a bit more, who are somehow pushed or urged to do something else now that they are healing. 

Another great piece on the Lumina site I found today is from a gentleman whose wife is postabortive, but he didn't find out about it until after they were married, but as a true testament to what marriage is and should be, her postabortion journey and healing has become their healing journey as a married couple.  I told my husband about my abortion within a few weeks of dating.  I never had told anyone else I dated, but he was different.  When I met him, something in me changed and I knew I was going to marry him, but I knew too that I had to reveal this part of my past to him.  He never judged me or condemned me, never said an unkind word to me about it.  And when it all began destroying me from the inside and could no longer be contained, he was right there with me and remains there today through it all. 

Anyway, a good read for any husbands of postabortive women with some sound advice. Check the piece out here: For Better or Worse – Marrying Someone Who is Post-Abortive

He said to them, "Do you still not understand?"

So here’s how the last few days have gone…which serve as a background for all that has happened in mind my mind and heart as of late.

Thursday of last week, I really was really tumbling off the lighted path.  I had spent the better part of the week upset and spiraling downward for various reasons – some everyday stresses, misbehaving children, financial worries, frustrations with my mom, all of the latest news about the HHS mandate and all of the commentary.  But, I’ve been on this road before so I know what it feels like when I mis-step – or when I purposely go out of my way to take the long way around sometimes to nowhere.  I’m finding that when my mind is getting filled up with despair inducing drama and something happens external from me but still affects me in some way, i.e., the current defense of the Church, all sorts of stuff happens emotionally with me and pretty soon I’m looking for something, anything, to grab onto as truth.  The proof I seek sometimes lead to profitable knowledge. Other times, not so much.  Other times, it leads me down a path to places I need not ever go, but do.  This time things got a bit more scary because the negative thoughts were winning the war in my mind, the thoughts that convince me that my family is better off without me, I’m not worthy of this life, I deserve damnation, and oh won’t I have a grand funeral Mass, and oh everyone will be so sad but they will totally “get me” now.

"They published your diary.  And that's how I got to know you. The key to the room of your own and a mind without end."

By Friday morning, I was still in the throes of it and after a few tearful phone conversations with Hubby and encouraging words from my dear Priest, I had to get out of the empty house so I went to Mass (more on that later) and then some errands, picked up my girls and kept busy until hubby returned home and I felt safe again.  Even with Mass that day, by Friday night and early Saturday morning, it was getting dark again.  I continued on my search for answers and some sign that I was winning this fight, but alas, I wasn’t finding any.  I was trapped, or at least I felt trapped.
A few events over Sunday and Monday would start to turn things around, thank God...literally.

The people that love me and know me best were providing much needed tender loving care and ever gentle direction.  Sometimes being stuck is worse than even moving backwards.  After the March for Life I was on such a high – I felt like I could do anything – but the feeling faded.  I was getting to the realization that I didn’t believe this journey would ever end – but I was missing the fact that it doesn’t have to end, it might just have to change course.  I didn’t know how to declare victory over all of “this.”  For 20+ years I lived with this deep, dark, torturous secret and now for the past 2 or so, it’s come to a bit of light, but I don’t know what to do now. 

I know how to be postabortive and depressed.  I don’t know how to be postabortive and happy.  But postabortive and happy, joyful even, was what I was that day in Washington, D.C.  But, it didn’t last because I didn’t know how to maintain it.  Who am I to preach about being postabortive – all with a smile on my face and joy in my heart?  That just didn’t add up for me. 

Fine, I’m forgiven.  Fine, I’m not eternally damned, but I’m not going to be happy about it – or am I?  What could possibly make me happy for the long haul and fill my heart with the joy I felt after my Rachel’s Vineyard retreat, the joy I felt at the March for Life, the ridiculous joy and all encompassing love I felt that night in adoration when I heard His voice.

I started to reflect on some of the things my dear "advisers" were pointing out to me.  I started to think about how far I’d come in the last couple of years.  I started saying “stop” to the negative thoughts for a few moments and things began to get a bit clearer.

I was given a copy of an article by Father Dwight Longenecker, Finding Forgiveness, wherein the Good Father provides some specific, practical direction for participating in the Mass with all of one’s burdens and sorrows, angers, doubts and fears.  Reflecting on the Mass I had just attended on Friday - since it was in the chapel – it was an intimate experience, one that could really lend itself to just the kind of action Fr. Longenecker describes.  Which led me to some more realizations…I had so enjoyed that daily Mass.  I'm not even sure if I have ever attended a daily Mass before in my lifetime.  It was so beautifully simple. I love my big, Gothic churches, the more incense the better, the more music, the more song, the more whatever, but that day, I realized that yes, all that is good, but this simple, uncluttered, Mass was just what I needed to feel close to Him. I read and re-read Fr. Longnecker's directions on “liturgical therapy” and began to think about how I could start to use them somehow and maybe, just maybe, it would help. 

Later that day, my own dear Priest posted a piece on his blog that was just as illuminating for me. In his discussion of the Sacraments of Rconcillation and Eucharist, the Good Reverend Father talked about how they are tangible manifestations of God's presence for his children and how these manifestations become material signs for all of the senses.  I was aware of this before, but I don't think it really ever sunk in. Or maybe I thought they were tangible manifestations, but not for me. He continued on as to how our faithful participation in the Eucharistic sacrifice brings us to God in that place in particular, but also allows for the finding of God in every place, everywhere.

As I sat and read through my journals and other writings, some from years ago, I realized that over the last couple of years of my journey, I have spent more time in Church, at Mass, in Adoration, in confession, in contemplation, on retreat, in prayer, in witness outside of abortion clinics – than ever in my entire lifetime.  I have always longed for a better prayer life, more involvement in the Church, more understanding, to be more than a lapsed Catholic but, I didn’t know how to get there.  There are many journal entries and writings that express my frustration over not achieving any of it of never taking a step towards what I really wanted, what I really needed, and what was available to me at the very moment I chose to move forward. There were times expressed when I thought maybe the Church is not where I need to be - maybe I need to be something else. 

This is the gift that Grace has given to me.  She has been showing me how and so has He, but they were waiting until I was ready.  While acknowledging and mourning Grace, I have been growing in faith and strength all the while because of all of the things I've done and places I've been because of this journey. I have been searching for tangible proof, some “sign” that it’s over, some spoil to show for my victory when spoils abound and amass by the day.  I’ve ached for just something to touch, to see, to hear, anything to help my unbelief. The proof has been all around me and right under my nose. 

When I prepare for confession, a recurring theme is not loving God with my whole heart.  I’ve been under the impression that I haven’t been doing that – when now I think that maybe I have been, at least since this journey of mine began.  I’ve loved Him through loving my Church that I’ve come to know more intimately than ever before.  The Church is Him.  And my love for His Church doesn’t have to fit one description for me because now I’ve come to find out that I love my traditional Mass, but I love a youth Mass, and I love a daily Mass.  I love it in the singing and the silence.  I love it quiet and contemplative and I love it with children who tap my arm incessantly throughout and more so during the consecration than any other time.

Any why do I love this Church of mine so?  Because it, and therefore, He, loves me back.  From the goose bumps I get from the music, to the tingle in my spine at the sound of the bells, to seeing His face in the faces of the good and holy priests I’ve come to know and love on this journey.  And the best part – the Church is everywhere, and therefore, He is everywhere.  Yes, I keep Him within my heart always, but that tangible presence I crave so much and need, at times, even desperately, is available everywhere, in every Church, with every Sacrament. 

I was then reminded to recall the rest of the passage … You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart, with your whole soul, and with all your mind…You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  Who’s my neighbor?  My husband, I’m reminded, is my neighbor and if loving my husband means that I’m loving God simultaneously – then I’m so in. 

And in all of this love that I find so much happiness in – even though clouded at times by my struggle – a God that loves me like that has to have forgiven me.  So, where now can I look for proof of that forgiveness when I'm in need of it? In all of the same places that I’ve mentioned, in my Church, in every sacrament, in every confession, in every adoration, in every priest and sister.  All of which provide me with proof that I can see, touch, hear, smell, taste – whenever I need it. 

And I can find it in the love of my husband.  His love is in His love.  It's in his embrace. I can feel it in the nape of his neck when I cling to him for my very life. It's in the strength of his arms as he holds me up. The proof of His love for me is ever tangible in this man he sent to me and who saves my life every day. 

And in His ever merciful providence, He has sent me tangible proof of Grace, whom I can’t touch, or see, or hear.  That proof lies in those little hands that tap me incessantly at Mass, in those big blue eyes that see right through to my soul, in the long, blond hair that smells so delicious.  Grace is a part of me and a part of them and with them and through them, she loves me. 

I think I'm beginning to understand.

I need a thicker skin...

I've been riding a kind of high since the March for Life a few weeks ago.  I've received a lot of support and awesome, inspiring emails.  I've seen my story at work in others and it humbles me and spurns me on.  However, as I've said many times before on my blog, I'm a work in progress.  And this week, well the past few days, the dark side is winning.  Most likely due to all of the recent news coverage on the HHS mandate, my obsession with 24/7 news coverage, smaller every day frustrations piling up, etc.  When I begin to feel weak is when things get kind of scary and I come across things like the following article.  If I'm going to stay in this prolife fight which is where I think I am meant to be - though I'm not sure how just yet - I'm shaken to the core and want to retreat into the darkness.  Some days I can just move on through it and others, I'm completely stuck and not sure what it will take for me to climb out of the despair, remembering all the facts of my story for what it is to convince myself once again that I'm okay.

So how can you allow me to be tortured? Shouldn’t you be working to protect me from suffering? Why allow me to be torn limb from limb?  Letter from a 12 week old unborn baby