Twenty Eleven

I'm not even sure what to say. It just seems appropriate that on the last day of this horrendous year I blog. It also seems appropriate that my heart is breaking, my head is exploding in pain, my body doesn't want to function and I'm consumed with countless thoughts and fears of negativity imaginable. I just want to get into the fetal position and cry.

I'm so done.

2011 I hate you.

What am I supposed to do right now? Look back on my year and think of the positive? Sure, there were some highlights. January 28th, with my best friend. March 26th, getting those keys to our apartment. May 13th, walking across the stage as they called my name. September 29th, Michael Ryan Gray asked me to be his girlfriend. I went to Utah and spent a week with Jamie and her husband and even saw the Grand Canyon for the first time. Against all odds, I'm still alive. But..

Marisa. Sitting in that doctor's office while Erin was partying it up in Mexico. The abuse going too far. Having to do everything alone. My vulnerability. That kiss. My shame. The disastrous aftermath. My struggle to save what was already lost. My desperation to be everything to someone who stopped seeing me. My final act and last departing gift. The illness taking over me more. Having no one. The night I let you go and had to hold myself together alone. Continually getting sicker and my heart not knowing how to heal. Losing the person I needed the most because my depression was something they didn't want to be around. Surgery. Come into my room for one minute and then disappear. Like I didn't matter. St. Anne threw me away. I don't matter. I get sick again. Always sick. Pain like no one understands. Surgery. This ugly bald spot. I'm so ugly. I'm not good enough. You tell me to choose. I don't talk enough. I'm not open. I don't accept help. I'm defective. I get it. I'm sorry. I try. I always try but...

2012.

I have these ideas in my head. These hopes. These resolutions. But I dare not say them. I don't even want to think them but I've never been one to control my thoughts.

I hope you all have a Happy New Year.

One is the Loneliest...

You know for a kid who spent most days by herself you would think I'd be better at this but it's almost like the older I get that harder it is to be alone. Or perhaps I'm getting weaker. Maybe it's the people I'm surrounding myself with. Maybe I'm taking too many shots to the head. Literally. I just know these winter days, even Arizona winter ones, are extremely dark and cold.

Desmond is a life saver. Really. Seeing him running around right now with his ball just makes things bearable. How I love him so.

I want someone to talk to. I keep going through my phone and coming up empty. I hate not having Erin around to simply just text. I walk into her room like Des does sometimes just to walk in. Actually right now I'm staring at it. I'm sitting at our kitchen table and her room is right in front of me. I can't see inside it because the lights are off but I could describe it perfectly if someone asked me to. Right down to her Cookie Monster pajama pants on the floor next to her hamper. :)

I've somewhat made some progress on my application. Somewhat. Does filling my name out count? Hah. I have gotten two people to agree to write me letters of recommendation. I'll ask my third person on Sunday at church.

I want someone to acknowledge something. I'm still very sick. I'm still really, dying. I haven't got cleared for anything. But I'm doing more with my application than I ever have before. My health is this interesting limitation. However I'm going to stop waiting for people to tell me when I can live and when I can't. As far as I'm concerned, medicine knows nothing. If it did, I wouldn't be here.

My future belongs to me and the one that created me to live it.

Step One.

I feel nauseated. I asked for my first recommendation today. My hands are sweating. I totally don't sweat. I'm waiting to be rejected. I just sent a text to my second contact and told her I needed to meet up with her so I could ask her. I'll ask Cindy when I see her at church. Now as far as my transcripts and application fee go, after I pay rent I'll calculate how much money I have to spend.

I feel sick.

Oh boy.

I really want this.

I'm terrified.

Oh my goodness.

AJC

I've never known anyone like April.

My little sister had left me a couple hours earlier and I was lying on my couch with Desmond with a blanket over my head just crying. I had somewhat recently written my last blog and  my heart felt like it simply didn't exist anymore. The one person I needed in the world had just finished talking to me and I was thoroughly annoyed because the conversation I needed was not going to be had. Not then. I needed to go to the store and I had the intention of walking but I lacked the energy. My plan instead was to stay on that couch. To rot on that couch. To not eat. To not drink. To not move unless Des needed something. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to question everything. I wanted to throw a fit. I was throwing a fit. I was planning on not talking to anyone for days and perhaps weeks. I just held myself tight and Desmond, always knowing when I'm sad, came closer to me and wrestled himself in my arms. I fell asleep crying. I'm so very good at that.

I woke up to someone knocking at my door.

I didn't want to get up, but I did. I got up without my glasses on and when I looked out to see who it was I couldn't tell. So I went back and put my glasses back on and a wave of relief rushed over me when I recognized her face. It makes me laugh that she never calls me to tell me she's coming over. That she never sends me a text. She just shows up like she has some sixth sense. And then she just talks, and talks. And she somehow makes me talk back. Then she drags me out of my apartment. She waters, feeds, and makes sure I get sunlight. I'm April's plant and I'm well taken care of.

April is one of those rare human beings that honestly is too good for this world. Far too good. She provides an abundant amount of joy in my life. Without her I would still be on my couch crying but it's much more than that. Without her my life would be less fulfilling. April is a model of what a young Catholic woman should be. I look at her and I want to be better. She's beautiful and there are not enough words to describe how precious of a gift she is to me and everyone around her. She's a living saint.

My heart is still hurting. My world still very much a mess and my thoughts still too much for me to handle. However my promise to my best friend was kept not because of my own strength, though I know not how today's events would have played out if April would not have come knocking. I only know that she did and every smile, and laugh I have with her isn't faked.

Another day passes.

I love you April.

Walls Up.

I looked into your eyes and I was completely honest with you. Or perhaps I averted eye contact. What words did I use? Weak? Fragile? Delicate? All of the above. My voice quivered, my stomach knotted, muscles tensed, eyes burned with held back tears. It kills me that you want something I'm incapable of giving you. It kills me even more that you don't see how hard I'm trying.

Everyone tells me I'm not alone. I'm convinced no one knows what alone is.

My life isn't my life. This is someone else's.

I'm tired of all of this. My heart is safe nowhere.

I'm going into hiding. Everyone out.

I was going to ask April to come over today but no. I'm just done.

Best Friends...

...and my strange interpretation of it.

I had two separate conversations with my boyfriend, both which frustrated me. I asked him a question which involved my irrationality. His response annoyed me. In the second conversation he made a comment that really got under my skin. His opinion gave me a bad taste in my mouth. I was upset that he didn't understand so much. I could feel my blood pressure rising and I almost wanted to start yelling. Tears began forming in eyes and this certain rage filled me but years and years of practice were able to control it.

I just recently watched an episode of the Wonder Years where Kevin punched his best friend Paul in the middle of class. Why? Because Kevin was upset with Paul because Paul was choosing to go to Prep school for high school and Kevin found out on the last day of junior high. Kevin's reaction was irrational but it was completely out of fear. It was out of emotion. It was out of him not knowing how to react to the fact that his best friend was leaving him and he had no idea how to handle it. He was mad at him. He was hurt and so in turn he wanted to hurt him.  Now I knew exactly how Kevin felt. Of course when someone, anyone, hurts me I don't want to go hurt them back but I understood how much Kevin hurt over his best friend. More so, I understood how much Paul meant to Kevin. The thing is when we're hurt and feel betrayed in any way, even the smallest ways, sometimes we react too quickly. Our emotions get the best of us. Especially people like Kevin Arnold and me who really do nothing else but feel with too much intensity. I would never react the way Kevin did but I have my own way of doing things. Neither which is an appropriate way of handling the situation.

I probably shouldn't ever hold someone to such a high level as I do. I probably shouldn't ever value two words the way I do. Yet I can't help myself. I wish someone could read my heart. I wish someone could have captured the thoughts and simple wishes of a little girl sitting alone in a tree. I don't have a million best friends. I don't even have two. I have one. Which is the way I want it. I refuse to fling those words around. Maybe I'm the one that's wrong. Maybe I take everything too seriously. I just know where you stand and what you mean to me.

I'm sorry for my failings and every area I fall short. I'm sorry for my jealousy and not being able to understand. I'm sorry for ever hurting you.

I love you best friend. Mucho mucho.

Christmas

I have the urge to describe the indescribable. I'm utterly exhausted. My shoulders and neck are aching and are far too tense. My eyes burn from both lack of sleep and probably an infection in my left one. My stomach hurts from far too much food for my body. My right leg is in a tremendous amount of pain and is extremely sore. The rest of my body feels bruised. I won't even get into how my head feels. Oh, and I think I'm catching a cold which is possibly very bad. Yet I feel strangely at peace. In some weird way.

I had a wonderful Christmas. Completely wonderful. I was spoiled completely rotten. In my entire life I have never gotten so many gifts. My family spoiled me. My boyfriend's family spoiled me. My boyfriend spoiled me. Adrianna spoiled me (a teen I sponsored for Confirmation last year). I was just overwhelmed. April bought me a prince, even! Not to forget my early Christmas presents from Erin and her family. It's just all too much. Of course as much as I love my gifts, that's not the reason my Christmas was so amazing. A large part occurred during  Mass. Well actually, before. First, I was shocked at the fact my father was coming to church with us all. Secondly, if you have even the slightest glimpse into my life you know that God and I haven't been on the same page. My heart was just filled with anger, and even after I came out of surgery well, alive, I couldn't let go of it. Even though I desperately wanted to. Yet when I walked into my parish on Christmas Eve and my favorite smell filled my senses my heart caught on fire and I almost fell to my knees. It took so much of me to not just ball my eyes out all through Mass. To not cry out in a mixture of complete joy and reconciliation. Mass was one of the most beautiful masses I've ever experienced and I'm not saying that because of my euphoric state. Father John proclaimed the Gospel from memory with the most passion I have ever heard and said a beautiful homily. My greatest gift is that I am a horrible person yet Christ loves me anyway. He humbled Himself to be born and take on our human flesh only so that He could die for me. My greatest gift is my faith. I'm still in a difficult place. I'm walking down an extremely long road but my line of communication is open again.

Another reason my Christmas was so pleasant had to do with my boyfriend. Well more so his family. In my past two serious relationships I have played the girlfriend role extremely well when it comes to family gatherings. I would go to different houses and smile, shake hands, and talk politely. Answer a few questions about myself if asked and participate in whatever I had to participate in. It was always extremely uncomfortable and awkward. I'm shy and I never felt like I belonged there. I would more or less follow my said boyfriend around hoping he wouldn't leave me to fend for myself. In particular in my last relationship we would go to his dad's house and I would walk in and I seriously felt the temperature in the room drop. Their resentment toward me was obvious, although I never did anything wrong except love their son with all my heart. Regardless, I never felt like a part of anything with any of my boyfriends. I was comfortable with them sure. Now with Michael? Last night I stayed at Michael's house in his sister's room and so I woke up Christmas morning and went downstairs in my pajamas and casually talked to his mother and she gave me a big hug. I hung around the kitchen while Michael's mom and sister made cinnamon rolls and then I went back upstairs to get ready. I ate cinnamon rolls with Michael's mom, sister, brother and grandma. Then we opened gifts. After, I sat  downstairs on the couch and talked to his grandma, and then his mom and sister. All separately. I don't even know what Michael was doing at this point and I didn't care. I didn't need him by my side. After everyone was ready we left to go to Michael's brother Kevin's house. There we did our Secret Santa and ate lunch and just hung out and enjoyed each other's company. I was more with Michael during this time but honestly, I didn't need to be. It isn't of course that I don't want him around. It's the fact that I feel like Michael's family includes me. I'm not some outsider or just some girl he likes. I see Michael's mom, and his grandma, and Michelle, Kevin, Allyson, Amelie, Joyce and Chris as my future family. Michael is the man I'm going to marry and I'm so thankful that his family is kind and loving enough to make feel like I belong. They don't understand how just even hugging me makes me feel. I'm used to nothing and now I have everything. I haven't met all of Michael's family but the family I have met, and the ones I was blessed to spend Christmas with, I am so thankful for.

I need to release so much more than I'm about to. Holding back the tears is taking all my strength. I'm tired of this roller coaster I ride on. I want it to end. I don't know who to blame. Is it really just all me? I'm tired of not feeling good enough. I'm tired of feeling like I matter so much less. I'm tired of feeling overlooked. I'm tired of feeling like dead weight. Like a burden. I'm tired of words being tossed around meaninglessly. It's bull. Sometimes I sit here and I listen to people tell me I deserve better from them and I find myself agreeing. I hate myself for it. But then I think, what are you going to do about it? Make more empty promises? Because I'm not into that and I'm tired of being heart broken. Brain surgery is a bitch and the aftermath is too much. I'm so unstable and no one is being supportive.

...and go.

I want to sleep more. I would probably benefit from it. I kept waking up last night and checking Facebook. It was irritating. When at 8 this morning I finally got what I had been waiting for (sort of) I moved my one pond dog who was sleeping like a rock and took him outside. He just stared at me for a second unhappily and then scampered off to do his business. When he came back inside we tried to go back to bed. Desmond curled up next to me and had no problem. Me? Well I have no such luck.

In my frustration last night, my exhaustion, my mild hysteria-I forgot to take my medication. Someone might as well shoot me in the head now. As though my head already didn't feel like exploding. I'm rather brilliant.

I have to go feed Emmerson and Flounder. Actually I have to go clean Flounder though I'm not sure exactly how to do that correctly. That poor fish. My apartment is a disaster. I haven't been able to clean it. Or really, been alone long enough to. Not really. I need to do laundry. I need to wrap gits. My mom wants me to bake cookies. Desmond just barked at me. I should buy him stairs. He's not going to grow much more. He wants to get off my bed and to be fed too. My head is spinning. I'm not sure but I think I hear Erin yelling at me in my head. Hah.

Steubenville. Application fee. Money to send my transcripts. Three people to write me amazing letters of recommendation. That's pretty much it. Why aren't I friends with more priests?

I hate St. Anne's.

I hate that I'm 22 years old and I have more life experience and heartache than most people will have through an entire lifetime but I'm still a trapped insecure little girl that can't talk to anyone about how she really feels.

I've come so far but really, I'm still in the exact same place.

Quit it.

I'm going to go do a million things now.

Dear I Don't Even Know Who

I'm almost at a point of screaming. I took my bandage off. I'm letting my head breathe. No one is here so I'm not ashamed. Except I still am. I want my best friend. I wish Michael was here to hold me. I told him he shouldn't stay here any more. And he shouldn't. Taking care of me or not, I almost feel like we're playing house and its bothering me. He couldn't stay tonight anyway. He has to take his sister ice skating early in the morning but I feel so alone.

I have an empty message addressed to my best friend on Facebook. I have so much to say but it's just...my heart hurts. I need her. I'm so frustrated that I can't have her hold my hand. That I can't hear her voice. I'm angry she isn't here and I'm even angrier that I feel that way. I'm mad that she'll get home and start school and piano and she'll be here but not be here. I'm being SO selfish but I'm just...ugh.

I don't know how to feel. I hate that tonight at Theology on Tap I started to cry in front of strangers. I hate that I wanted to cry more. I hate that I feel bottled up inside. I hate that I'm so lost. I need answers.

What am I doing? What's going on?

Spending the day with April I felt...content. Normal. Okay. Like we were on the same page. She keeps me talking. She talks to me. But now I'm alone.

God. He used to be in my back pocket.

Now?

I feel sick.

I'm Alive.

I want to say a million things but I haven't yet processed everything. I feel like I'm living in a daze. Maybe I'm still drugged up.

When I saw Erin on skype yesterday I immediately started crying. My heart ached. Seeing her face and hearing her voice was more than I could bear. I thought it was just because I miss her so much. But last night as I was lying in Michael's arms I had a moment where I broke down. Where it hit me and I latched onto him and I felt my insides shake. I didn't think I was ever going to be held by him again. Ever feel his lips on mine. Ever see his face or hear him tell me he loved me. And so seeing Erin yesterday, even just on my computer, was my miracle. My best friend. Watching her walk away from me at the airport... But it doesn't matter. I held on. I don't know how but I did. She's on the other side of the world and I'm at our apartment with my head shaved again, but I'm here. I'm still here.

I'm in shock. I still haven't spoken to God though I know I should. Sometimes I have moments where I think I'm dreaming. But I can't be. I'm alive. I'll die when I'm old. Not now. Not soon. I have too much to do.

I just want to stop time.

I apologize for my blog yesterday. It was nonsense. I'm just very angry. I'm very hurt. I'm lost and confused and I have no idea what to do with all my emotions. The thing is though, what really gets me is not what I'm losing. It isn't the life I won't get to live. Although obviously, that does cause me a great deal of frustration. What really angers me is the people that I have to leave behind. That's what upsets me. They don't deserve this. My best friend deserves to have me forever. Michael deserves to be loved by me until the day he dies and to make me his wife. My sister and brother need their older sister. Desmond needs his mom, not that Erin won't do an amazing job. It's the injustice to them that gets under my skin. I'm not saying that they aren't strong enough to deal with my death. That they wouldn't be okay. But...

Maybe I'm being selfish. I don't know how to let go.

I love you.

Jamie, you said you would be okay because you would have to be. I don't worry about you but I don't know how to tell you goodbye either.

FAOTBICDT

I've had enough. The sadness in me has turned nearly into a complete rage. I want to throw myself on the ground and begin kicking and screaming. I want to shout profanities into my pillow and punch my bed. I want to get into a car and speed angrily down the 60 and blast music until the speakers blow out or I get pulled over. I want to cry with someone who loves me. Someone who somewhat understands the kind of pain I'm going through. Who knows how unfair this is.

Faith. Last time I walked holding God's hand. I didn't doubt Him or question Him. I offered up every ounce of my suffering. But I'm so done. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. I feel jerked around. Why would you do this? And this way? Why would you let me love Michael just so I couldn't have him forever? So he couldn't have me? Why would you take me away from Erin? Why can't my sister have the person who is supposed to protect her from everything? Or my brother who looks up to me so much? Why did you let me find another church that's giving me opportunities if I can't ever have them? What is wrong with you?

I'm not sure if you know this but I haven't had a good life. It hasn't been fulfilling. I'm emotionally damaged because my mom left me when I was in the third grade. Before then I had trouble socializing because I kept moving every damn year. I moved after first grade to AZ in the summer, a month into the school year I moved back to TX, then the following summer the exact same thing happened. I came back to TX again a month into the school year to start third grade and a few days later I woke up to find my mother gone and she had taken my sister. I'm not going to describe what that did to me because it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Beginning when I was 5 my mom began hitting me with wire hangers, and throwing me into closet doors. It was great fun. I somehow deserved every last bit of it even though I can promise you, I was a perfect child. The worst thing I did was I liked to hide in the clothes at department stores. I earned a leash for that one. Regardless, after third grade I was virtually ignored. My dad did his best but he was broken hearted and a drunk. I excelled in everything but nothing matted. My aunt took care of me but she had two kids of her own and too many problems too count. I just spent time in a tree, on the roof or in the streets. No one ever asked me when I was going to be home or probably even noticed when I was gone. I just made sure to tell my dad to take me to baseball practice during the season and that was that. A year later I saw my mom again. My father drove me to AZ to see her. Just a week earlier in the car he had informed me that she had a boyfriend and was pregnant. I remember almost jumping out of the car. Looking at my mom, a woman who hadn't spoken a word to me in over a year, standing next to some cowboy with a baby bump I was disgusted. I looked at the little girl sitting on the couch playing with a doll and my heart broke because I knew she had no idea who I was. I turned around and walked out the door.

After 5th grade I moved to AZ permanently. I was not happy about the move at all. I was miserable about it. I thought I was invisible before to my family? Yeah. I was invisible to the world from 6th-8th grade. My suicide attempt in 7th grade made some noise I suppose. Cutting every damn day. Developing an eating disorder. Yet I strangely manged 4 MVPs, and above a 4.0 GPA. Still not fucking good enough. Freshman year. When I found love? hah. Fuck that too. 16. Brain tumor. Oh? But my parents couldn't handle it so I got shipped away. It was a cover up. I was forced to deal with my pain alone. Always fucking alone. For time sake let's skip a few years. Taylor Swift's Dear John hits home to me more than it should. Though my story has more of a twisted ending. We're even the same age, 19. This guy John picked me up one night, and proceeded to try to rape me. I had a seizure. Yeah. Stress much? He dumped me at a park. The next day he killed himself. 21, brain tumor again. I even died for a little bit. I live but I lose everything. St. Anne fucking screws me over. The throw me away because just all my life indicates I don't matter. Oh, and did I mention my ex boyfriend Jeremy broke up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him? And my other ex Chris abused me? Yeah. Oh and now? I'm fucking dying.

Sure. Other people probably have it worse. I should stop having a pity party. But I'm tired. Don't I deserve to live a happy life? Don't I deserve some good?

I'm so fucking mad. I can't do this. It doesn't make sense.

I'm forgetting how to breathe. I want to color. I want to eat another Christmas colored M&M. I want to clean. I want to listen to music. I want to organize my thoughts. I want to watch the Wonder Years. I want to do something but all I can do is cry. Cry because I'm in so much pain. Cry because I'm alone and wasting precious time. Every minute that fades...

I'm dying.

I wanted to comment on your blog but I couldn't think of anything to say. I can't be brave. I can't be comforting. I can't find the right words to say. A week isn't enough. No amount of time is enough.

I can't describe myself. I just want someone to take my pain away.

I don't want to leave you.

Erin. Marisa. Anthony. Michael. Jamie. April. Katrina.

Desmond. My teens.

What was the point of August 8th?

Have I ran out of miracles? 

One Second Too Late.

I'm not alone. But I am. I have music blaring into my ears and it gives me that tiny adrenaline rush that I need even though it's causing me pain. The migraine I've battled all day was too much for me to handle. I love what's playing on my ipod right now. The sound that's flowing into my eardrums. Phantom of the Opera. Ah. I'm going off subject. Though I'm not blogging about anything in particular. I'm just rambling. I'm in bed. Wanting to sleep but knowing sleep won't come. I've loved with intensity. I've given until I had nothing more to give. I've tried my very best. I've been as good a friend as I could. Yet I'm still not close to being ready. I have more to offer. But it's not my call. I hurt. I want to talk. I can't.

Here, There and Nowhere.

I've been all over the place lately. My thoughts are uncontrollable. My dreams are bizarre and unwelcoming. I've had this dull headache for over a week that won't go away. It's different than my average daily headache too. This one is more...annoying. If that's even possible. I've been more tired lately as well. I fight bouts of exhaustion. I'm wondering if it's just too much stress or my body shutting down from some plague my immune system is just oh so prone to. Or just a lovely combination of both. My heart feels heavy. Like it's weighing me down and I can't possibly have the strength to continue to carry on. Yet I've had a really good few days. I don't understand though why it can't be enough. Why at this moment I feel the way I do. My one pound puppy is probably tired of watching me cry. He tries so desperately to make me feel better.

I was at lunch with my boyfriend this afternoon and we were talking about a few different things. Marriage, children, careers. All three of those things excite me and scare me all at the same time. I know that I won't be getting married anytime soon. Though I suppose soon is a relative term. As I think of that lovely age mark in my head my heart sinks, but I need to stop thinking that way. Is it possible? Probably not. Hah. But I need to try. So of course without the whole marriage thing, means no children. So that leaves one thing open: career. Now I want to be a youth minister. I don't want any other job in the world. I can't have any job in the world. As I was saying to Michael today though, I'm not sure exactly how to attain this job. I guess my first step is to apply to Steubenville. My three biggest concerns are these: 1. Will I get accepted? 2. How the heck am I going afford this? 3. Can I handle it? Let's say though that I apply, I get accepted, I bite the bullet and sell my life away and take out loans and get my Masters. I start in the Summer of 2012. So I figure I'll end no later than some time in 2014. Then what? You see the thing is, if Holy Cross won't give me a chance or any other parish in the Phoenix Diocese then I have no choice but to leave. Because for now, I'm barely content being a core member. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do as a volunteer. However as soon as I have my Masters and I'm of age where there is no limitation to what I can do in regards to Called to Protect, I want the job. I don't really want to leave Arizona, lame as the weather is. I don't want to leave my sister, or my best friend, or Michael. However, if it came to that point, I think I would have to.

There are a lot of possibilities in the situation I described. And as always I'm thinking way ahead, but it's what I do. I need to prepare myself for certain outcomes. There are no guarantees in life. I know right now the intelligent thing would be to just take it a day at a time. My frustration is my lack of advice I suppose. I have no guidance. I'm walking blind. I asked two people for help and I got shot down from both of them and I don't really know where to go from here. I'm afraid to ask for any more help. Asking for help is so difficult for me as it is and I take rejection so hard.

Speaking of help, I hate how lost I am about this too. I feel so alone. I can't handle it but there's no one I can talk to about it. Not really. I need to pray more.

I need a job so badly.

I told you I was all over the place, and this just 10% of what's going on in my head.

Sometimes, I wish I could see you.

Silence. I'm not the least bit afraid of it. I'm probably more accustomed to it than most. At least outward silence. The inner silence I struggle with the most. I fight to find peace. There is a war that rages on in my head every day and at all hours. It's never-ending.

This Sunday night I did a talk to my teens about silence. About words. About the New Missal. About Advent. In all honesty it was the best talk I have ever given. I tied four seemingly different topics into one talk that lasted the allotted ten minutes and I spoke with the utmost conviction. I watched their eyes and expressions and my heart ached with this undeniable passion. I can't take any credit however. I felt incredibly sick. My legs wanted to give out, my head wanted to explode. I was dizzy. My hands trembled as I held the Bible in my hand and read the Scripture I had planned and it was not out of nervousness. The Holy Spirit carried me. I was simply open to His graces. As the night end and various people praised me I kept thinking just one thing.

I'm not really sure what's going on with me. I'm wondering if I'm going to have to battle an illness my entire life. I wonder if I can go a year without having a seizure. Maybe that's asking for too much. I wonder if I can go a month. I wonder if my body can not hurt. I wonder if I can live without fear. I wonder when I say bye to Erin in a few weeks if I can not have these thoughts plaguing my mind like I do. I wonder if I'll ever regain some control.

I want to apologize for this overwhelming desire to give up. I want to beg for your forgiveness for my craving for an everlasting sleep. I want to ask for your mercy in that I have no more strength and that my will is so weak.

Would it be too much to ask for you to stay with me tonight because I'm scared, lost, confused and overwhelmed?

I read an old text. It made me cry.

Thank you God for Desmond. He kisses away my tears.

Job Hunting.

I went to a seminar for this particular job today. I learned things about the company, about their history, about how be successful, about all the possibilities and compensation I could receive. In all honesty it sounded great. Fantastic. It's more money than I was hoping for. Challenging. Demanding. Fast-paced. Opportunities to grow. I would be not only working with people but helping people as well. So why through nearly the entire presentation was I filled with anxiety? And why was I only filled with peace until I decided to disobey the instructions and take my resume with me and not leave it on my seat, and pass by the sign up sheet for an interview and walk out that door? Walk away from the potential to earn $140,000 a yr and that being just in the first year? It's pretty simple if you ask me.

There's no denying that I'm stressed about money right now. I'm stressed about a lot of things. However my financial situation makes me physically ill. My rent is too high. My cell phone bill is too much with having my parents on my plan. I owe way too much to the hospital and I still have doctor visits. Desmond just got sick and I had to pay for him. I have credit card payments. I'm way in over my head. The source of income I have just isn't enough. Christmas is coming way too soon and I'm staring at my bank account wondering how I'm supposed to make all of this work. I need a job.

So why didn't I leave my resume? Why didn't I put my name on that list for an interview and put on a winning smile and fight and do whatever it takes to secure financial stability? Because I'm passionate about a particular thing and sitting it that seminar made me realize that I'm doing something wrong. Maybe right now, unfortunately I have to keep working at a dead end job. Apply at Wal-Mart again. Go back to Sam's. Work at T-Mobile. Something along those lines. Step it up a notch a little. Try for a supervisor. I don't know. The whole point is however, I know where I want to go. I have to apply to Steubenville. I have to get my Masters. I have to become a youth minister. That's my career. I can't work in an environment that will take away from that. I can't work in a place that will prolong my goal. I have to go to Steubenville this summer. Whatever it takes. Nothing makes me happier than being around teens. Than praying with them. Than ministering to them. Than sharing God's Word, His love, and teaching them the truth of the Catholic Church. This is my purpose. I want to speak to thousands of teens at a time. I want to speak to teens one on one. I want to see a generation rise and takes its place in this world. I don't want my name to be remembered, but I want to make a difference. I want my fingerprints to be left on other's hearts. I want to be an instrument of the most loving God. My heart burns with the most intense desire that I have ever felt. I want this more than anything. More than I want the sacrament of marriage. More than I want my own family and be a mother. I want to work for His Church. I want to serve His people.

I don't know what's going to happen. Or where I'm supposed to go from here. But I have no regrets of walking away, stressed as I am. I just hope that one day I'm not just a core member, but I have a core team.

I hate pouring my heart out and receiving silence. I hate long awkward pauses where I'm left to wonder what thoughts are floating in the other person's mind and I begin to panic. I know what I just said wasn't so profound that it left you speechless. Nothing I ever say is profound.

I asked you if you were ever going to say something. You said you were thinking. Then you just walked away. I don't understand you. Don't you realize that I needed to hear something from you? That as you walked out that door you took a piece of me and killed it.

I told you I can't do this alone but I feel like I am. You solidified that feeling.

There are so many aspects of my life that are just crumbling. I'm losing complete sight of everything. Every day gets harder. Every day I feel like I'm moving further and further away from where I want to be. I'm so scared. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. I've never been more terrified of a birthday. I'm overwhelmed. I want to latch onto someone but I don't know who.

People are fickle anyway.

I want to go to my park and cry. Maybe God would grant me a second chance and hold me again.

BP

My friend Liz invited me to her house tonight for some beer pong. I was more than thrilled when she text me earlier this afternoon. I wanted something to do tonight more than anything. In particular I wanted to be around people. Oh, and I wanted to drink. Of course the drinking part was going to be a little difficult. I had no DD. Regardless, I inquired about the time and informed her I would be there.

I drank my one beer slowly. I chatted with Rob, Liz and Justin. We talked about life, and Sam's Club, and nothing in particular. I watched them play and slowly fade into a drunken mess. Justin talked to me about Country Thunder and his plans to bring a U-Haul and I laughed, but was slightly impressed with his ambition. April is going be amazing. Dierks Bently, Big and Rich, Blake Shelton. Ahhh. Rob wanted to me to be his BP partner but I reminded him I couldn't drink since I had to drive home. His friend Vanessa happily volunteered to drink my cups. I took my first shot and I was way off. I shook it off thinking I just overthrew it. Rob took his and he missed as well but he was much closer. Our opponents shot, missed and it was my turn again. I went to shoot and I aired it. I felt sick.

Rob and I lost. I made one cup. I played another game with Justin. I made one cup with him too. We lost as well. When the balls hit the table and bounced at me I had trouble catching them. My reflexes were seconds slow.

I'm trying not to overreact. I'm trying so hard. But...

I want to be able to talk to my best friend right now. More than anything. I want to be held by my boyfriend. I want to hold Jamie's hand. I need some sort of comfort. If it wasn't for Desmond sleeping in my lap right now...

I can't handle any of this.

Harder To Breathe

I haven't gotten dressed in two days. No make-up. No effort in my appearance. I took a shower this morning and for a second I thought about putting actual clothes on but I just put my sweat pants on and my Band Perry shirt on and grabbed my puppy and crawled back into bed.

I'm hurting so much. I can't even explain it. I want to describe how I feel but I can't.

I can't stand being alone right now.

I'm listening to my favorite band. I love their new CD. The fact that Lady Antebellum will be in Phoenix on my birthday amuses me. Not that I'm going to their concert. That would be a little too good to be to true. Music usually helps me. Tremendously. But right now I just want someone here with me. Maybe I should put Taylor Swift on.

It's only Friday. I still have to deal with an entire day. Sunday, I assume, will go better. I'll be preoccupied. I hope it goes better.

I wonder if I'll ever find healing. Find peace.

I just want to be okay.

Wisdom 9:16

I think if you looked at my wrist and read my heart you would laugh at me. Mock me and my sentiments. My interpretation of the way things are. Or perhaps you would take pity on me. Wonder how someone as "fragile" like me could survive in a world like this.

I often wonder where my development, developed. How I was formed. My social psych mentality screams at me to analyze the situation in a particular way but besides those notions I'm left to formulate strange theories that I'll just keep to myself. I break the mold when it comes to my family, that's for sure. I'm more "Gonzalez" than "Ramirez". My father's daughter, not my mother's. Yet I'm still a different breed.

Twenty-two in one week. Not a single thing.

It isn't fair to be left behind.

Nothing is fair.

I can't handle this weekend.

But I have to.

I always have to.

I should have paced my Glee watching. My CMA watching. But I needed a distraction. I'm so tired of...

I'm just tired.

I think I just keep saying the same things.

My existence is useless. I've failed.

I think it hurts that you didn't notice I took it. It's so dumb. It shouldn't matter. All these little things shouldn't matter at all. Yet they do.

I wish I had a car. I want to drive.

IJWSTTTWCOMALU. Burden of Asking

Yesterday morning I began writing a blog. I was feeling absolutely terrible. My heart felt dismantled and I was having trouble breathing. I wanted to be held. To be embraced so as to make sure I didn't physically fall apart. I was certain I was. Positive at any given moment pieces of me would just begin falling off and start to deteriorate and eventually I would rot away and all would be left of me would be shattered pieces of a broken heart. Old urges began eating away at my weakened state. Tiny whispers in my ear slowly growing into shouts. My eyes burned with the tears I was fighting and I grabbed my tiny little puppy up into my lap and held him tight and he somehow knowingly licked my hand and buried his head into my stomach. My blog had nothing to do with what I actually was feeling. It was a blog to distract me. It was a blog to fight away my demons. It was a blog to make me think of something that causes me great joy. I started to type.

I began a conversation with someone. A conversation I desperately needed. Within minutes I just felt like I got a door slammed on my face.

Last night I made a phone call. I tried talking but there is just no understanding. Effort, sure. But no understanding. I lost complete control and just started crying. The frustration inside me was too much. The pain is too much. I just said goodbye and got in the shower and cried. Tried desperately to wash away some of what I felt.

When I got out of the shower and after I got dressed I went to grab something out of my drawer. I put my jacket on and shoes and walked out of my apartment. It felt even heavier than it should feel in my hand and I threw it over the fence I completely failed the first time and it bounced back at me. I didn't know how to take that. I began to cry as I picked it back up and threw it over one more time making sure I cleared it over the fence. I held the sticker with my name on it between my fingers and flicked it in the parking lot and cried walking back into my apartment. I needed to be held. I walked into my room and collapsed on my floor and cried. I managed to grab my journal out of my purse and write. Not without difficulty though. I hurt so much. I was crying too hard. I felt so sick. I just...

I never finished that blog.

On Eagle's Wings

There was a point in my life that I was not going to be Catholic. Actually in all sense of the word, there was a point in my life that really, I wasn't Catholic. Sure I was baptized as an infant and I had received my First Holy Communion in 5th grade but I knew absolutely nothing about God and the faith that my parents were supposed to be responsible in bringing me up in. My faith journey is unique. It's painful. It's long. It's hard. It's ever growing. It's beautiful. Most importantly however it is the best part of me. When you boil it down, it is my all.

This weekend I went to Six Flags with my teens and all the craziness of the roller coasters aside, we were able to experience some awesome praise and worship, celebrate Mass, and adore our Lord in the Eucharist together. It was the first time my teens at my new parish were able to witness me pray. Witness me worship and love my God in an expressive manner that didn't require my speech. I never consider myself someone to be modeled after but I saw them looking at me, and following my behavior. My eyes were closed and I was on my knees at one point and I heard Carl's voice above me in a loud whisper say "Look at Stephanie. Model her reverence. Honor God the way she does." I'm not looking for praise. It isn't what I'm about. I just want to love my God freely. If by doing so I encourage others, especially my teens, to do the same then all I'm doing is what I believe I was put on this earth to do. Be a witness. Serve God. Know Him, love Him, and serve Him to the best of my ability. My prayer every day.

My favorite part about Michael's love for me isn't his romance. It isn't his cheesy one liners that honestly I melt for because I'm that girl. It isn't the song lyrics we exchange. It isn't the way he looks at me or holds me in his arms. It isn't the fact that no one has ever made feel safe except him. It isn't the fact that I know he would do anything for me. It's the story of when he knew he was in love with me. The simple fact that me on my knees praying made him want me.

When I was going through my catechism classes in 5th grade preparing for my First Communion after class we would go to mass. It was the first time in my life I had ever gone to church on a regular basis. Now why nothing really sunk in during those days, I'm not quite sure. I remember I did pay attention but I had no real understanding of what was going on. None whatsoever. In my catechism class I hardly learned anything. Just a few prayers, and I clearly remember learning about parables and the beatitudes but nothing of substance. True presence? Yeah. I'm positive that was NOT taught to me. Regardless, there was something that did leave an impression. The first time I heard the song "On Eagle's Wings" at my parish in El Paso I felt something inside of me. Perhaps it was just the way it sounded, or maybe my 11 year old self even then felt the connection in the lyrics. I remember though just always wanting to sing that song.

Today at Mass I had a lot of thoughts flowing through my head. Many were church related. Some weren't but a huge part of my focus revolved around God, my state of mind, the upcoming changes to the Mass, my faith, the Eucharist, my complete love for the Church and everything it encompasses. As I was swimming through my thoughts, Jaime, the music director, told us to turn to a certain page in our books to where "On Eagle's Wings" was. As the first notes of the piano began of the song tears welled up in my eye and I was filled with overwhelming emotion. I saw my 11 year old self with a blue book in her hand following the words to the song, singing and it was then that I was just blown away by the awesomeness of my God. I didn't know Him. For so many years I didn't know Him but He had His hands on me my whole life. The snare of the fowler will never capture me and famine will bring me no fear. Under His wings I've always taken refuge. His faithfulness is my shield.

I want to do great things in His name.

Haunted.

I can't breathe. I've been staring at this piece of paper for days now. I faced a part of me I wasn't ready to face on Wednesday. I think God tried to prepare me the day before but it just wasn't good enough.

Duties. It's such a tiny box to fill. I don't even know what to write in it. I just keep looking at it.

I can't even blog about the experience. I can't form the words. I just feel pain. An indescribable torture. Nothing has ever hurt so much. Not even come close. There is this void in my soul and no one understands. I don't expect them to. And I hate when people claim to. It's irritating. Because there is no possible way anyone could feel the way I do. Could they have an idea? Sure. But no one knows what I went through and what I go through every damn day. I'm completely haunted. I dream about it. Nearly every night. I live my life in fear and I want nothing more than to just forget everything and move on. To find some healing but I can't. I don't know how.

...It's getting dark, and it's all too quiet
And I can't trust anything now
And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake...

...Oh, I'm holding my breath
Won't see you again
Something keeps me holding on to nothing...

...I know, I know
I just know
You're not gone
You can't be gone, no...

Can't go back, I'm haunted

The Best Ship is Friendship

Maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps I'm way out in left field when I should be comfortably at short where I dominate the field, but I think I'm a pretty good friend. I'm extremely dependable and loyal and trustworthy. I'll always be the first person to take the shirt off my back for you, throw myself in front of a shooting bullet. I'll walk to the ends of the earth to make you smile, and I'll love you until it hurts. My friendship isn't fake. It isn't temporary. It isn't disposable. Yet this is how it is constantly been treated my whole life. My person has been treated this way. Perhaps I'm a big part to blame in this. I've let people use me as a doormat. Beginning with my parents. But it's almost my nature to be taken advantage of. I'm too nice, or something. Or I'm just an idiot. People call me only when they need something from me. I give people money with their promise of a payback knowing deep down inside that I'll never see that money again. I put myself out there but unless there's a problem that needs to be fixed, I'm not wanted. You're a greater listener Steph. You're a sweetheart. You're the best. Whatever, whatever, whatever. In other words, I'll call you when something goes wrong but at the moment things are great so I rather hang out with my other friends who won't be there when I really need them but who are really "fun" right now.

Your reaction when you and I both know I'm the one that cares the most. Out of anyone. It's why I stood by you on that day. My speech was awesome. Simply because I meant every word. How I drove everywhere as you sat with the seat reclined, feet on the dash, sunglasses on, as we went to every beach we could find. I didn't say a word about gas. Or the restaurant I paid for when you refused to because we failed and went to the wrong one and you wanted to just leave because the food was awful, but my morals were a bit too high to do that. I've done too many crazy things with you, but dine and ditch isn't one of them. Or how I drove you to every hospital in AZ searching for your psycho bf under his million names, and then after took you to get ice cream. That year for your birthday when I bought you that stuffed animal you were dying to have and surprised you at school, and on our 18th when we had our birthday together and I rented out that spa place because you wanted it. Then I gave my massage to the guy you brought with you. I'm not sitting here counting every little thing that I've done. I don't keep a list. I just happen to have a really good memory. And I don't expect things in return. You've given me things. But it isn't the material that makes a difference to me. Because the material I've given wasn't the what mattered when I gave it. It's the thought that was put into it. The effort and the love. I just wanted a thank you. I wanted some appreciation. I wanted effort this past week. I wanted a reaction on Monday. I wanted to mean something.

I would love to get over this. To block it. To stop being...silly? But I can't help myself. It killed me. I just felt used. Secondary. Not even that. I felt like I was in last place. Like I was only good at one thing anymore, My only purpose was this, and that's that. My efforts didn't matter. And still.... I don't even know anymore. To explain would almost nearly just cause conflict.

I hardly feel important to anyone. And I honestly don't feel like this is just my low self esteem talking. In a perfect world friendships should be a healthy balance of equality. Give and take. We of course do not live in a perfect world. There are moments in a friendship where things aren't even and that's okay. Sometimes one friend needs more than the other. And I'm well aware that there are different types of friendships. However it always seems to me that in every relationship I'm in I'm all in while the other person is lying with their feet in the sand. I'm at odds with myself. I don't know where I stand.

There is only one person who is my constant. Who I don't worry about. Whose friendship I'm not afraid of losing. Who I know doesn't take advantage of me at all and never will. If anything I'm not there for her enough. I want to be but sometimes I feel like she just won't tell me certain things for whatever reasons. But there is that unspoken understanding that I'm certain she knows I'm here. I hate our physical distance. So much. However Jamie is so close in my heart. The only person in my life who has never broken my trust. That's saying so much.

I feel beat up right now. I just want a little confirmation of my worth.

The Unnatural

Drop everything now.

Major kudos to you if a string of lyrics went through your head. If it didn't, I still love you. It has double meaning at the moment anyway.

Lazy is not a word I would ever use to describe myself and I would hope my friends and family would never use either. However as I look at my bed and the condition it is in and parts of my apartment that word creeps in. Other words do as well. Unorganized. Mess. Chaos. These words make me uncomfortable. The condition of my room makes me uncomfortable. Yet for now three nights I've slept in a completely unmade bed. No sheets, no comforter. Just my Jamie blanket wrapped around me and my other blanket on top of that and my pillow. A pile of clean clothes shoved into a corner of my bed with my comforter filling and my extra pillows. I've had opportunities to make my bed. To fill my comforter, annoying as it is, and place it neatly on my bed just the way I like it. I've had time to put my clothes away. For some reason I just haven't. I look at my bed and I don't have the energy. I just collapse and sleep.

When I'm depressed, I succeed. It's some weird phenomenon. I do crazy things. My whole life is depression. I get straight A's. I get MVP's on every sports team I've been on. Make each All-Star team. Get chosen first. I become the teacher's pet yet still the kid people can be friends with. I have this way of making guys fall in love with me even when I want none of the attention. I graduate early. I beat death. I don't let things stop me. When I hurt, I hurt like hell. When I'm down, I'm at the lowest point you can get. But I turn my pain into this driving force and I use the ground to spring me forward. It is how I survive. It's what I know. It's how I built myself. I don't how I did it, when I started, or why, I just know I did.

But right now? This moment? This year? It's been so long. I don't want to make my bed. I just want to sleep in it.


Hold on baby, you're losing it
The water's high, you're jumping into it
And letting go and no one knows
That you cry but you don't tell anyone
That you might not be the golden one
And you're tied together with a smile
But you're coming undone

Commotion.

I'm so stressed out I'm sick. Physically sick. I'm shaking. I'm throwing up. I'm tense. I'm exhausted. I'm crying constantly. And of course I'm consumed by endless thoughts. Not all of them are bad but I'm losing my mind. I don't know what to do. I want to talk to someone but I can't think of words to say. There's too many. I just want to be in someone's presence. I want to be held. I want to be talked to. Maybe at some point I'll start talking. Maybe bits and pieces will fall. I have no idea. Maybe I just need to get past tomorrow and things will clear up some. Over the hump. Wishful thinking.

Things I want to blog about:

• Desmond
• The New Roman Missal
• My desire to be a youth minister but even more than that. I want to work for Life Teen. 
• Chasity, Natural Family Planning, and the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony 
• The natural unbalance of friendships 
• The psychoanalysis of a guilt complex. My guilt complex. 
• My providing nature being unable to provide because of the abuse it has undertaken.

Oh boy.

Happy Halloween.

Intricacies.

I've had a weird week. I've had a weird year. I've had a weird life. Let's go back. Actually maybe we shouldn't.

Not that I need to blog every day, but most of the time I sort of have to. Obviously not for my millions of readers that long to follow my string of thoughts. I blog for me. It's my way of getting my emotions out there in some sort of tangible way. It helps me from going under. From becoming consumed completely. The fact that Erin, Jamie, and Michael and who knows, maybe others, care enough to tune in is just overwhelmingly amazing to me. I don't say everything on here. The journal I carry in my purse contains more personal thoughts. I scribble thoughts on paper randomly throughout the day and so if you dug through my trash you would probably find out either how crazy I really am, or a deeper understanding of my inner workings. I don't make sense half the time. Which is okay to me. I don't necessarily need to. I'm just trying to function.

I'm rambling. I ramble under only certain circumstances. Do you know what those are? Hm. I wonder.

Opportunities aren't something I waste. I am a responsible young woman. I'm quickly approaching 22 years old. My lifetime isn't long, but it isn't short either. I have experienced things that others never will. I have scars that haven't come close to healing. I feel so weak. I am weak. Yet somehow I stand.

Desmond.

One month.

Go out and live.

Can't promise it isn't over.

Selfish.

Forever.

How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?

I don't even have a picture of him. Not that I need one. Every single thing about him is locked perfectly in my memory. I got rid of the pictures on purpose. I hoped to forget. It was painful looking at them. Painful thinking about him. I'm in pain right now.

I remember when I first saw him. I was at my friend Taryn's house. He was tiny and filled with energy. He ran up to me and scratched at my pant leg. My heart melted. I picked him up and held him and he licked my face. Taryn told me that she needed to get rid of him soon. His name was Rigby. I looked at that tiny little brown and white puppy and said I'll take him. The words just came out of my mouth. She looked at me and laughed and asked if I had to ask my parents. We walked into her backyard and I set him down and he ran happily away, but he turned around and looked back at me. He stopped, barked and came running back to me. I knelt down and he jumped back into my arms. I looked back at Taryn and said "Just keep him for me tonight, and I'll convince my parents. I'll pick him up tomorrow."

The next day my dad took me to Taryn's house to pick him up. The conversation I had with my parents the night prior was interesting. But I went into my complete stubborn mode. My get things done mode. The version of Stephanie Marie no one in this world can stop. I wanted that dog so I was getting that dog. When I brought him home I took him into my room and just locked my door. I sat him on my bed and he looked at me and the first thing I thought about was his name. Rigby sounded wrong to me. So I picked him up and set him on my lap and he curled up and fell asleep as I logged onto my computer and frantically consulted Jamie for help. Hah. Jamie named him Asher. It was perfect. Asher is Hebrew for blessed, happy. My Brittany Spaniel was all of that and he made me all of that.

My parents helped with none of Asher's expenses and that was perfectly fine. He was my dog. I trained him. He slept in my room, curled at the foot of my bed. He never made a mess. He never bothered anyone. He was the happiest dog in the world and was gorgeous. He was filled with so much energy all the time. And he loved me. When I came home from school, or practice or a game I would just see his face light up. Asher caught every tear I cried and heard every prayer I prayed. He listened to me complain about everything and anything and would just look at me with those gold eyes he had with perfect understanding.

I can't really talk about the process of getting rid of him. The ordeal with my mom. How she ripped him out of my hands. Then two weeks later she spends $500 on a puppy for my little sister. Asher was free. I paid for his food. I paid for his shots, I paid to get him neutered. In fact, I began working solely to pay for my dog. But Asher was taken from me and neither of us did anything wrong.

On Sunday my mom picked me up from my apartment. She had this huge grin on her face and told me she had a surprise. She reached into her car and hands me a puppy. I didn't even know how to react. She then says "Isn't she precious? We planned on giving her to you, but I'm keeping her instead."

Most days I sit at home and honestly, I talk to myself. I fight back tears. My nights aren't really an improvement. I love my snake, but you can't really cuddle with him. I adore Erin's rabbit but there is a key to that statement. He belongs to Erin. So does Charlie and Flounder. I just wish...

I'm so jealous of Jamie. She has Clare and Meg. I miss those two so very much.

Things aren't meant to be.

Just Let Me Go.

Last night I walked out of the house I was partying at. I had just done my second shot and I felt the alcohol making its way through my body. I looked at the street ahead of me and I just took off. I rounded the corner the way I would second base. I felt my legs moving faster and I could hear my heart beat in my ears. I suddenly stopped and just looked up at the sky and fought the urge to scream. I was certainly not even the tiniest bit drunk. Just in the process of getting there. My excursion was not alcohol related. It was my desperate need to live. I turned around and sprinted back to the house. I saw a fire hydrant and for some reason I felt challenged. I hesitated. Then I proceeded to run toward it and jump right over it. Maybe I was a little drunk.

I have so many dreams. I always have. Ever since I was little I've lived in my future. My past was something that I would run from, my present too painful to live in and so I would plan like crazy. I'm going to do this, I'm going to do that. Funny thing is nothing in my life has ever turned out the way I wanted it to. Perhaps that's an indication I should stop planning. Quit trying to control everything. This past year my life has been completely out of control. I've lost everything, been given so much and am now on the edge of losing even more. I'm desperate to grab onto something. I want to have the ability to plan, and dream, and control something without the fear of it being completely fruitless.

I'm not quite sure what I'm saying. Faith. Each day brings new things. Some days are better than others. Some days are much worse. Some days I want to fight like hell. Some days I've taken too many punches and I'm waiting for that bell to ring. Maybe tonight I'm just asking you for one thing. Let me go. I wanted so much, but maybe it didn't matter. It doesn't matter. If nothing else, know how much you were loved by me.

Walls, Speak!

I bore myself. My head is pounding. I've been battling a monster of a migraine all day long. Every minute it seems to get worse. My senses are heightened. Unfortunately, so are my emotions. I should just stop torturing myself, turn out all the lights and go to bed. But I'm really not tired. I have this nervous energy inside of me. And what's worse? I'm lonely.

I dislike the thoughts that are dancing around in my head. Dancing. Hah. Nice choice of words. Incorrect choice of words. Dancing suggests some sort of beauty. Gentleness. Harmony. There is nothing beautiful, gentle or harmonious going on in my head.

Maybe I should watch a movie. Listen to music. Read a book. Pray. Demand my walls to have a conversation with me. I don't know.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to get a call from my doctor.

I don't know why I hate being alone. Why I always feel so unwanted.

Just go to bed Steph.

Transforming Bitterness.

I've been struggling with a lot of things recently. A big part of what I brought to the confessional and what I had been battling with is this bitterness I hold within my heart. This deep hurt that I cannot shake but I desperately long to be free from. This morning I read a blog from a Catholic woman that inspires me. Jackie Francois' words hit home to me in a way that I truly needed. During my confession I told the priest that I wanted to get rid of my feelings. I longed to be like Christ and just love and forgive. Father's words struck me however because they were words I tell people all the time yet often it's advice people shun me from. He told me that there was nothing wrong with my feelings. That I did not have it in me the power to switch myself off at any given moment. I was free to feel however I felt and I had a right to feel. The key to emotions is what you do with them.

The importance to both my confession and what I read this morning lies in the beauty of the Catholic Church. Jackie references the Catechism for it says "it is not in our power not to feel or to forget an offense; but the heart that offers itself to the Holy Spirit turns injury into compassion and purifies the memory in transforming the hurt into intercession" (CCC 2843). For so long I've been praying for God to remove from heart the bitterness that has surrounded it. I've been praying to Him to help me find forgiveness. Although there is no wrong prayer and I know my petitions are not being said unto deaf ears I was going about things the wrong way. I was being selfish in my prayer life. I was allowing my feelings to consume me too much and not allow me to fully receive God's graces. In order to be like Christ and to love like He does I must pray for those who hurt me the most. I need to carry them in my heart and offer my suffering and heartache up for them. Especially when I don't want to.

This weekend during adoration when I knelt before my Lord I begged Him for one thing. I constantly keep pleading for one single thing. Every day I say different prayers but I have one constant prayer that runs through my head. One constant thought and desire that burns through my soul. It's my personal statement of who I am and who I ever really truly want to be. The only thing I want to do in this world is to love, serve and know the Lord to the best of my ability.

Bad Day.

"Where is the moment we needed the most?"

I swear, I have song lyrics playing in my head at any given moment. I wish so often my life was a musical. I wish I could could be musically gifted and I could bust out a perfectly in tune song when I was upset. I wish I could sing from a mountain top when my world is bright. I want to live through songs. But alas.

My heart aches. I feel terrified about what lies ahead of me. I'm frustrated with everyone's lack of understanding. I'm overwhelmed. Last's weeks insecurities or whatever you want to call them are breathing down my neck and are creating me to take everything even more personally. I'm not sure who to really talk to. No one is actually listening. How often can I stand being interrupted? I'm not really sure.

I long for Christ. I want to go to Mass. I want to receive Him. The humanness of everyone else is hurting me too much. I'm hurting me too much. I don't even feel safe blogging.

Lord, help me.

Forgivness.

"I'm not sure what to feel." Among my blabbering of words that sentence resounded in my ears the most. My friend April looked at me with understanding and I felt a tiny sense of peace even before she spoke. Her advice quieted my fear. A quote from a book she shared with me gave me exactly what I longed to hear. Yet later that night as I stood in line for confession I wanted to run away. Anxiety plagued me. Fear wrapped its vicious claws around my lungs and began threatening my life support. I felt nauseous. Light headed. I joked around with April and another girl in the line with me, but it was all a show. My thoughts were eating away at me and every minute that passed I could feel myself getting weaker. When it finally came to my turn I walked up the steps toward the cabin and my feet felt like lead. I got half way and I stopped. A voice in my head screamed at me to turn around. I squeezed my eyes close and took a step forward and then proceeded to walk into the cabin.

I closed the cabin door and I stared at it, my back facing the priest. A wall of emotions and tears came crashing down on me and my body quivered and a sob came exploding from within me. The priest spoke and asked if I was going to come sit down, and I asked him to give me a second. I attempted to compose myself but I just cried harder. Father just nicely asked me again to come sit. I took a deep breath, turned around and sat down in the chair. In typical Stephanie style I apologized to him and then told him that it was extremely difficult for me to be there. Then I took another deep breath and began my confession. I'm not going to blog all my sins, but my open statement was "Father, I feel like I'm a terrible person and I can't handle it."

After my confession was over I received my absolution and then I just stared at my priest. In perhaps a tone that could have been more respectful I informed him that he had missed a very important step. My penance. He just laughed. I didn't find it funny. Then he looked at me and said, "Child, be at peace. You have already done your penance. You've been in your penance for months. You're absolved."  That's the second time in my life that a priest has laughed at me in confession. And a second time I wanted to argue. But it also is the second time I found myself just smiling and saying, "Thank you Father" and walking away. I walked out those doors of that cabin and I saw April waiting for me and I started to laugh and cry. I began to cry tears of complete joy because I felt completely free.

I received Jesus Christ, the God of the Universe, tonight at Mass. His Holy Presence is physically present within me. I am a living tabernacle. I am overwhelmed with love. Overwhelmed with Love.

Losing The Fight

I'm losing. So much I want to say. But I can't. I make everything worse.

I have saved memories. But maybe they're lies. Everything fades.

I'm losing.

When its convenient. I'm always around. But I'm disposable. A doormat.

I'm losing.

I feel sick. Exhausted. My head won't stop spinning. I just want to sleep. But I hurt too much.

I'm losing.

I want you to know how I feel. I want understanding without anger. Without frustration. I want to be able to speak without feeling guilty for the things I say.

I lost.

Don't Steph.

Down Goes Frazier

I threw my ipod against the wall last night. I still haven't checked if it works. My desire to cause myself pain was too much to bear. I feel weak. As I sat on my bedroom floor last night sobbing, texting Jamie and doing everything I could to ignore what I heard in the other room in this apartment my mind collapsed around me. I feel weak. Prior to even entering this apartment I sat in my boyfriend's car and I kissed him and then I felt myself crumble for an unexplained reason. I wanted to jump into his arms and deteriorate.

Stop. I'm having an episode. Everything is exploding. Why I'm continuing to blog I have no idea. The insanity of this is ridiculous. Fight through the noise. The noise. The fucking noise. Oh my gosh. I want someone to understand how LOUD everything is. That adorable little boy outside. His voice is outrageous. Typing. I'm torturing myself. That fucking clock. I'm insane. Lock me up. But could I still write this if I was insane? Probably. I mean more insane people have done better things. But it is SO loud. I wish someone understood. STOP. I don't want to be crazy.

I feel unwanted. Not good enough. Like I'll never be what I want to be. Second best. Maybe even third. Maybe not even in the race.

Last night I only had to hold myself together for a few more minutes longer. And I couldn't even do that. I went into my room to take a breath, maybe go hit my pillow or something and frustratingly the door was in the way. I don't know where all this anger is coming from.

I am so useless.

A switch went off in my head. I WANT so many freaking things. I used to go into a store and think, "Oh, that would be nice to have" or "That's cute, I wish I had it" but then walk away and never think about it again. Never. But all of a sudden I'm plagued by these desires. I'm shedding tears right now because I feel so guilty over it. I find myself wanting to purchase myself something. The last thing I bought myself was a book over a year ago for less than ten dollars and I drove home crying because I felt so guilty. I almost turned around and returned it. These wants that I'm having are making me ill. They're creating numerous thoughts I do not want and they're just not worth it. I want to go back to how I used to be.

Where did my happiness go? And what the hell is wrong with me?

And I swear, if it ever comes back...

Everything and Nothing.

I'm simply overwhelmed with everything inside of me. I have too many conflicting thoughts. Conflicting emotions. I make no real sense. I have this desire to write. I want to describe myself. Hence me blogging. Yet I'm stuck. What exactly is there too describe? Once again I'm frustrated with the issue of it being too much. I'm too much. I want to rant and rave. I'm so very irritated with myself.

How cryptic can I be without exposing myself? How much can I dance around true meanings? How playful can I be with words? The aches, the torment, the anguish. Little gestures here and there that will forever go unnoticed. Crying in the dark. My pathetic sobs the only noise that breaks the silence. At times they're even more painful than my episodes. I rather feel insane than feel.... Maybe that's it. I want to stop feeling. It's too intense. Far too intense. Unnatural.

November will be here soon. I haven't written my essay. Why? Because I do not want to go to Catholic Distance University. November 1st deadline seems silly to me although I think about it often. I want to go to the Franciscan University of Steubenville. No idea how I will pay for any of it. But I want to go there so badly. I need three letters of recommendation. Three great letters of recommendation. The rest is on me. But I'm worried about the letters. I don't even know who to ask. The whole idea of it all makes me sick. I want to go there oh so badly.

Youth ministry. My heart just leaped. I've never wanted anything more. I've never been more passionate about anything more. I've never been more confident in myself in anything. I just want it now. I'm growing impatience. I have this crazy desire to just take over. I want to be thrown into something. I want to go crazy. I would be so good. I have the fire. When I get up there and talk words flow effortlessly. I feel on fire. And in fact, I am! The Holy Spirit washes over me and He burns straight through my heart. Last night when I was talking about the Holy Eucharist and I held my Bible in my hand and I was flipping through it and I felt my voice rise in excitement and I saw the teens eyes latch onto me I was overwhelmed with joy and love and energy that I can't even begin to describe. In their eyes I saw understanding. A light bulb switching on and burning bright in some, a flicker in others. Regardless I knew in that moment that I had done my job. I caught a couple teens tearing up as I spoke and after the night one of them came up to me and hugged me and told me that next time they received communion they were going to say the words "Amen" loudly because she does truly believe.

Have you ever felt so useless? Like you want to do so much but there is absolutely nothing you can do? I hate it. My heart is broken. I'm so very depressed.

Last night my mom made me a pina colada and then left me to drink it alone. She even turned the light off on me. I wanted to down it and do various others things that would cause me harm. My mind tortured me with flashbacks of things that I rather not write out. But instead I drank it slowly, sent a text to my best friend and stared at my phone wanting her to text me back, held my tears in, and waited for my boyfriend to come pick me up.

Something about dancing and singing with Michael sends me into another world. I'm still in disbelief that we're at where we are. But he loves me perfectly. I don't deserve it.

The smell of alcohol on your breath completely threw me. I enjoyed drinking with you. You amused me to say the least. But when you got close to me and kissed me my mind couldn't help but go there. I'm not sure how that makes me feel.

I have so many issues.

Clap On. Clap Off.

Something is wrong with me. Like really. I want to blame it on something. My hormones. That terrible movie. This stupid weather. Some random thing that I can't think of. But this is ridiculous.

I have this dark cloud hovering over me. It was almost like the world spun off its axis when I experienced happiness and in order to regain balance I have to be thrown into this darkened abyss once again. I keep fighting it. Like a mad person I keep throwing myself into my escapes but it isn't working. I keep sinking and sinking and I find myself just wanting my bed and the blanket Jamie made me. I'm being tormented by thoughts of this, and thoughts of that. I want to be alone but then again I don't. I'm consumed by loneliness. It's this constant presence. And then there's this thing that I can't even talk about. This ache I just want to get rid of. I'm so tired of how I feel. I'm tired of the things I keep inside of me. I'm tired of this desperation. I'm tired of my need. I make myself sick.

I have so much to say. But I don't even want to hear myself anymore. I just want to shut off.

Sometimes, I ramble.

The internet is a powerful thing. Ha. I've been without it since Saturday evening and I've gone a little crazy. I attempted to blog by phone on Monday and in fact did so and then my phone decided to shut off on me. It was complete. I just needed a title. It didn't even save as a draft. I actually liked what I wrote. Oh well. Apparently some thoughts are supposed to be kept to myself.

I'm all over the place. Is this what happiness is? Perhaps. It certainly is a feeling I have never felt before. An exhilarating rush of emotions that carry no ounce of sadness. A high that penetrates my core and overwhelms my senses. I'm filled with more energy than I know what to do with.

There is not enough money in my bank account to do the things I want to do. There is not enough time in the day to accomplish the things I want to accomplish. I'm on an entire different level. To describe what I want to describe would be impossible. I can only laugh at the fact that I can't stop smiling.

I like that you mess up the lyrics to songs. I could dance with you forever. I'll sing to you, you'll sing to me.

Best friend! We need to go out. Yeah? Yeah. LIU bestie.

Jamie Ann, I miss you more than words can say.

I'm on core at Holy Cross. No one will ever take my teens away from me again.

Nothing.

I just got off the phone with my mother. I had planned on writing this blog even before my conversation with her but even the way our conversation went gives me more, for lack of a better word, energy to write. I told her about my desire to apply to Franciscan and having to spend a summer there and she just dismissed me. Why I even chose to discuss my education with that woman I don't even know. Why I'm allowing it to hurt me right now I don't even know. I'm smarter than this. I know better. I cannot retreat into that little kid that would bring home perfect grades and show them to her parents and watch them just get tossed into the trash can. STOP STEPHANIE MARIE. Breathe.

I lack self confidence. My entire life I've been told everything I've done wrong. It doesn't matter how many A's I've received. How many MVP's I've won. How many first place ribbons, trophies, medals, awards... None of it matters. I'm still nothing.

I don't have the desire to be the most beautiful girl in the room. If I did, I would probably try harder. Or maybe I know I never will be so my attempt is just mediocre. Who really knows. The point is I know that I'm not the girl that when I walk in a room all the boys stop and stare and I'm thankful for that because I'm far too shy for that sort of attention. No matter what, I'm never going to lose my curves and my short legs are here to stay. I'm just nothing special.

I wonder each and every day how much of every bit of my circumstances is my fault. I've never really had myself in my corner but for the first time I'm right there. Katrina is there. April is there. Jamie is there. Michael frustratingly tiptoes on both sides. My precious little sister is dying to jump in the ring and kill someone. I feel like I understand the situation the very best because it is MY situation but maybe I'm blinded somehow. At the moment I'm on the edge of turning the sword on myself. But I don't want to. I'm an adult and I'll take accountability for my actions. In my rants and conversations and my breakdowns with various people in fact I think I have. I know that I did not handle myself correctly in all matters. However in not a single circumstance was I handled correctly with. It's in the past now. I'm moving on and perhaps I shouldn't even bring it up. Yet the situation is not really what's eating me. What is bothering me right now is the notion that I'm defective to someone. That this "situation" was a long time coming. I had an expiration date.

I feel like I can't move. I'm nothing.

Decision.

I feel slightly light headed. Time today has just passed me by. Is it really almost 5? I'm so filled with energy yet I can't do a single thing. I want to rant. Possibilities. Oh possibilities.

It would only be six weeks. Ha. I could see myself loving every moment. Completely drenched in Catholicism. Oh boy. This is ridiculous.

Do I dare?

Next Page.

Depressed is unfitting. Lost is undescriptive. My state of being simply wasn't being. For the past few months I ceased to be the person that I am. I had flickers of her. In quiet conversations with friends when they needed me to be strong and say the right thing I felt myself flow with the words that would bring them to tears and give them the strength to carry on but it never reached my heart. On August 8th I was pronounced dead but months before that I had already begun to die.

Monday afternoon I sat in the waiting room of my doctor's office too scared to take in an actual breath. I kicked myself for being there alone. Screaming silently trying to understand that after everything why I still was doing everything alone. I wanted Erin there more than anyone else. Even knowing that she couldn't be there and maybe even shouldn't be, I wanted to rely on the strength she gives me. I had the desire to call Jamie and hear her voice. I wanted to be in his arms. I felt sick. Tears wanted to stream down my face and I did everything I could to fight them off. Doubts plagued my mind. Everything that could go wrong danced in front of me. I closed my eyes and began to sing to myself. My heart beat slowed. My breathing steadied. Someone called my name.

As I stood in the parking lot waiting for my mom to pick me up I stood motionless. I was fighting a mixture of emotions. I reached for my phone and pushed the number 2 but then for some reason decided against it. I began getting antsy and was pacing back and forth. I saw my mom's car and I couldn't contain it anymore, a smile spread across my face. My sister opened the door and I got in and I grinned and I asked if I could drive.

It's like a veil has been lifted. A veil that sadly I didn't even realize was there. My doctor simply told me that my health is all things considering, well, and I can go back to work, drive and begin working out and all of a sudden I'm this different person. My circumstances are really all the same. I have no job to go back to. I have no car to drive. Yet I'm filled with this overwhelming sense of motivation. I'm me again. The me that honestly, I love. The one that goes on overdrive. I came home on Monday and I went straight to my computer and pulled up a grad school application and began filling it out. I'm not sure if I'll be in school in January. It depends on a few factors. But the point is nothing is going to limit me. I'm done with it all. I'm so done. Because you know what? My name is Stephanie Marie Gonzalez and I kicked three brain tumors butts and I'm determined to become the best version of myself no matter the cost.

Thank you to those who love me, even when I'm not at my best.

Impatience.

I have this surging energy inside of me. I want to describe to my tiny minion of readers the contents on my inner most wants, my deepest fears, my constant failures, my fleeting past, my dawning future but alas I cannot. I keep myself at bay, curled together in a ball, thoughts pacing back and forth in the crevices of my mind. I'm afraid to even smile. Guarded. Oh but the things I want to say.

Shell Shock

I had two moments today where the wind was knocked out of me. Where I couldn't manage to breathe a single breath. I felt my insides shake and my body tremble. I held myself, scared that if I let go of my sides I would surely fall to pieces. My heart beat quickened. I could feel a rush of anxiety flood me and I wanted to run. Tears burned into my eyes and I heard myself speak but I didn't recognize my own voice. Two different conversations. Two different situations. One single question lingering in the very back of my mind. Who the fuck do you want me to be?

Things are good. Things are bad. I'm running. I'm battling. I'm winning. I'm losing. I do everything right. I do everything wrong. I'm wise. I'm naive. I'm everything and nothing all at once.

I can't do this.

Short on Air.

I can feel the ground shake from beneath me. I want to go for a walk right now. Destination unknown. I have this desire to hold you in my arms. My senses are heightened, like I can feel the calm before the storm. Though perhaps I'm just paranoid. Everything around me feels fragile.

I miss the sound of crickets in the night. I want to open windows and let fresh air in but the heat of the night won't bring the satisfaction that I'm desiring.

I want to take the plunge and never look back.

Someone pull me out of my head.

Aaaahhh.

This blog is pointless. I would just like to say that my head is killing me. Like seriously. I'm about to be sick. I'm extremely frustrated with the fact that my blog will not look the way I want it to. I mean really? Dumb picture. Ahh. I really feel sick. My head is exploding. Someone fix my blog for me. It may make my migraine go away. Okay it won't. But it will make me feel better in some other way. Hah.

I'm going to be sick and then go hide under my blanket now.

Ask. Seek. Knock.

I'm standing at the doorstep. I can feel myself leaning. It was in that moment of pure perfection when everything seemingly changed. When the tension building was more than I could take and I was tired of my holding up my walls. Like a flame set to my heart it caught fire as my every breath escaped me in the most euphoric sort of way. I felt weightless. A moment of complete surrender where nothing could touch me. A smile crept onto my face and my blazing heart beat violently in my chest. I'm not quite sure I care what anyone thinks.

I stand at the doorstep and I hesitate to look behind me. There is so much to say. So much still that is left unspoken. I feel fear fill me. The beauty of your eyes haunts me. Your words haunt me. I have this desperate need to... I don't even dare say it. I'm trying to decipher everything.

I need to know who I am. Just who I am.

Falling Through.

I feel exhausted. Almost like I've just been in a fight and the outcome was surely not in my favor. I didn't sleep well. I wanted to. I was desperate to. My mind and body desired any sort of reset no matter how temporary. Having Erin beside me chased away the storm of tears that longed to engulf me and rack through my worn out body. My gratitude cannot be expressed toward her and her presence. I'm tired of crying.

I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and had to look away quickly. My hair grew back so fast but I can see where my skull indents slightly. I know where my scar is. I looked at my doctor's note taped to my mirror that was supposed to free me from all this madness and I wanted to scream. My eyes were swollen. I lifted my shirt up that revealed my ribs and I wanted to break them. My temptations to hurt myself keep building. I began to think thoughts that maybe I should refrain from writing down. My life is going nowhere. But then in order for it to go somewhere I would actually have to have a life.

I'm so confused about so many things. Yesterday brought on too many emotions. I have a bone to pick with God. Really. I would love to have a conversation with Him.

I feel sick. In every way.