Love and pain.

Peace. Happiness. Fulfillment. Love. These are all the things we yearn for, strive for. These are the things that we push for whether we realize it or not. Freud may have been wrong about many things but he was right about this: all humans seek pleasure and avoid pain. It's natural, right? Who wants to be unhappy, broken or lost?

Unfortunately for us, life isn't always sunshine and roses. Sometimes (or a lot of times) life is full of the very things we hate: pain, heartache, loss, and uncertainty. We can question why - why must I hurt? Why must my life be filled with misery? Why me? But really, shouldn't we be asking ourselves why not me?

The truth is, pain in life is inevitable and unavoidable. Sure you could curl up in a hole somewhere and hope that nothing terrible befalls you. You could sit waiting for the bad things to pass, and tell yourself, "Well, when things get better I'll finally start living." But if we waited until circumstances were perfect to go out and embrace the daily gift of life, we miss the whole point. Life isn't about being happy or free from pain. Life is about loving. Life is about giving. We learn to love despite the pain; we learn to give despite the fear. Besides, in pain there is always the joy that comes with uniting our suffering with Christ's. There is no pain we have that He hasn't also endured. And He endures it willingly and lovingly. Aren't we called to do the same for Him?

Pain and heartache will come and go, that much is certain. But the joy and peace of Christ is ever-present, if we only choose to hope in Him.

Where hope would otherwise become hopelessness, it becomes faith. ~Robert Brault

Pro's and a con of dating Catholic guys.

There are many pro's to dating a hardcore Catholic man. Going to mass together, going to adoration together, saying a rosary together, having late-night discussions about theology and Church teachings... all beautiful and blessed things to do with your significant other. While I dated Random (obvious name change here), he surrounded me with faith, buying me my first crucifix, teaching to me out of the catechism, and even doing a stations of the cross with me in the candle-lit chapel at St. Louis, with no one else around. This man knew his faith and was proud to profess it. He was everything a Catholic girl like me could ever hope for.

But there is one downside to dating a Catholic man, and that downside comes in the form of discernment. True Catholic men know how to discern and they discern well; Random was no exception. He was so good at discernment, in fact, that he broke up with me, something I didn't really appreciate at the time. I ranted and argued with him about it, actually. This mostly-hardcore Catholic girl suddenly wished with everything she had that Random was not as hardcore Catholic as he was. Because you see, he ended it something like this, "I love you, but don't feel called to marry you." Um, ouch? Excuse me while I scoop my heart off the floor and try to figure out how to regain the use of my vocal chords... Seriously, how on earth does anyone argue with that? What could I say, "Oh, well God is wrong on this one" or "You need to wash out your ears and listen again"? I could do nothing but watch in awe as this man walked away from love because he felt God was calling him to. That takes faith that I still don't understand.

While grieving the loss of Random is painful and confusing and not exactly how I want to spend my free time, at least I know that his decision was somehow rooted in God. And okay, I admit that being good at discernment isn't a downside at all. It's a blessing that I'm sure I'll come to appreciate once I grow a new heart and get through this incredibly awesome (not) post-breakup season.

Moral of this blog? Dating good Catholic men is the way to go, even if it doesn't turn out the way you want in the end.

"Love is so short, forgetting is so long." - Pablo Neruda

It is the pain endures.

There are worst things than breakups. For example, I'm sure a zombie apocalypse would be much worse, with all the brain eating and zombie slaying. Or I imagine getting kidnapped by evil, scurvy-riddled pirates would be pretty unpleasant. But when you're in the middle of a breakup, that's about the worst scenario you can imagine - you can't really see past your own misery. When it feels as if your heart has fallen out and you're walking around, nothing but a raw bundle of nerves and confusion, it's hard to focus on anything else.

I went to the doctor today because not only did I get broken up with, I am also sick. Hey, go big or go home right? Anyway, I went to the doctor, telling him I was coughing so much my chest ached. He listened to me breathe and said my lungs were inflamed and infected. He said he could tell breathing was difficult for me right now. Yeah, no kidding. I wanted to tell him it was my heart's fault. It must have irritated its two breathing neighbors while it broke out and made its hasty escape. I still had hope my heart would come back, but until then some medication might be nice, seeing as how breathing is necessary to life and all.

This reminds me of the time I prayed for God to "help me see" sometime last year. I should have been clear and asked him to help me see his will, but alas I left it at that. Then later that week I got an infection in BOTH eyes. Felt like I could relate to Tobit a bit after that, minus the birds and short-term blindness of course. But now as I'm coping with the reality of my lost love-life, it seems acute bronchitis is really just a manifestation of my missing heart, the physical pain reminding me of the very real absence of the man I love. As if I needed a physical reminder of the emotional pain I'm experiencing. Thanks body.

Seriously though, when I'm not shaking my fist at God in frustration at the seeming injustice of this week, I see that underneath it all it's making me realize my complete and total dependence on Him. He is my true light and true love. He is my everything. And at the end of another day of heartbreak, it's nice to know I haven't lost it all. Love is ever-present, and I will find it again.

"When my heart is breaking, I never leave Your hands." - JJ Heller

Dancing around the box.

So, I'm taking a class this semester called "Psychodrama". Never has one class ever described me so succinctly. I love it! Anyway, part of the course requirement is that I have to write about class each week... keep a journal of sorts. I decided that I would blog instead, because this class is bound to have some amazingly awkward, interesting moments that I really shouldn't hog to myself. I mean, we danced around a box while listening to "The Saints Go Marching In" on the first day of class. We also renamed ourselves and screamed in a circle. Not necessarily in that order (actually I can't remember what order that occurred in... too much peyote. KIDDING).

I really think this class will be invigorating. It's going to be fun to be free and silly and spontaneous inside the same room that I used to do case staffings last semester. Last semester the room was filled with food, paperwork, Tylenol, coffee cups, and our semi-faithful computer equipment. This semester, all the tables are gone, the ceiling lights have been replaced with stage lamps, the chairs sit in a circle and we don't use any computers. All we have are our voices, our thoughts and each other.

We'll see what happens...

Brand new start.

I just finished reading “The Zahir” by Paulo Coelho and it talks about an interesting idea… It says how sometimes we have to tell our story over and over until we can let it go, until we don’t need it to define us anymore. We need to get comfortable with it, find the resolution, and let it be. We have to stop allowing our old stories trap us into the characters we used to be; we have to let go of the old storyline and become who we were meant to be (also, I can't seem to stop typing 'to be'). Sounds simple enough, but I know it’s not. It’s about as simple as ripping my own heart from my chest, burying it, and growing a new one.

But all growth is pain, and any major change for the good is hard. I know this, yet I've been living my whole life as if someone guaranteed it was supposed to be easy. Where on earth did I get that idea?

Lie to me (honestly).

It's amazing the unspoken societal rules we live by today, especially in regards to relationships. More specifically, I'm referring to the rules we follow in the exquisitely tortuous social construction called DATING. And while there are certainly self-imposed, socially influenced rules within established relationships, I'm going to speak to the dating game that I so often get tangled in (mostly because I'm awkwardness personified, but also because I try to play by the rules that don't make sense, but we follow anyway).

Most of us have played the Dating Game, which is really more of a marathon with rules and uniforms and referees (yeah, I'm mixing sports metaphors, bear with me). You know this game - it's the one that goes, "Well, I want you to know that I like you, but only if you like me back, because if you don't, then I don't want you to know that I like you." And because of this rule, fear, whatever you want to call it, we do things like call and hang up, text and pretend it was on accident, flirt with them, but not too obviously, et cetera. When we like someone, we're consumed with the fear that they'll find us out, and at the same time, consumed with the fear that they won't. And if they do find us out, and don't return the feeling (which happens most of the time), we're completely and totally mortified, as if by our liking them we are issuing a grave and unforgivable insult:

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe I've told you that you're so wonderful you've caught my attention. I'm sorry to have made you feel so special by my innocent, heartfelt confession! You must feel terrible that you're so awesome people like you!" I mean, really?

I was talking to a friend the other day about this, saying to her how frustrating this whole game is. We both shared how foolish we have felt in the past for liking someone that may or may not return the favor. But shouldn't we be proud of our declarations? Are we really so self-loathing that we think it an insult to say we (who are wonderful just as we are) like someone? Shouldn't that person be honored by such a confession? But no, it doesn't work that. We're too scared, self-conscious, defensive or some other paralyzing excuse. Instead of being true to our feelings, we bury them so deep that not even a bit too much alcohol can pry the secret loose. We hold the feelings close to our heart, praying that if the person returns the favor, they will somehow find the courage to be honest with us... in the same way we wish we had the courage to be honest with them. But if our confessions never come out, if that person never pursues us, what then? Then the regret starts to seep in, nice and slow, pulling a couple dozen "What if's" behind it.

So why can't we just be honest with each other? Why can't we tell the truth, get our feelings out, be confident and see what happens? Because that would be breaking the rules. And what happens to rule breakers? They get disqualified. Or more realistically, we have a reeeally awkward moment with the person in question, and if that person happens to be a friend, then there are all kinds of continued awkward scenarios to be had if you stay friends. And so instead, we lie, or at least conceal the truth until we do one of three things:

1. Give up.
2. Find courage and fess up (perhaps motivated by the possibility that the love of a lifetime may be lost if you remain silent).
3. Combine 1 and 2, or create some other personal strategy that somehow gets the two of you to come together naturally.

And those that get to number 3, are truly blessed indeed.

How do relationships even begin? I can't remember. All I know is that they must begin out of awkwardness, nerves and disbelief. All I know is that I will continue to play the game, will continue to play by the rules, and will probably be grateful to all the men who let me down by lying.

"So lie to me once again
And tell me everything will be alright.
It's the same old story."
- 12 Stones

Regret.

I suppose everyone has regrets (if we're truly living).
Of course, it's easy to look back and see what you could have done differently (hindsight's 20-20 and all that).
It's not so easy to look at the present and scry all of the outcomes and options (though some of us try anyway).
When we're in the moment we generally don't write up the pro's and con's of every possible move, and then confer with a panel of ethical peers before making a decision (unless you're Donald Trump... Money can buy that kind of surety).
We do what we do and it's not until we've lived through the consequences do we realize how we could have done things differently (read: better).
This is the worst torture because you can't change it; you can't take it back (only in dreams).
All you can do is comb the wreckage for things worth keeping, learn from it, and let your past influence your future (change IS possible).
Besides, what's the point of history if you don't learn from it (and have the courage to try again)?
Regrets, when coupled with hope, can build our future (if we're truly living).

"Wisdom comes with winters." - Oscar Wilde