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