Tag Archives: Emotional

Let It Go

“Your will, not mine be done.” That was what Jesus said to His Father the night before He died. I never fully appreciated what that meant until this afternoon. Being God, Jesus could have saved the world some other, less violent way. Nonetheless, He died for us; He died for me.

I’m going to briefly pause here to explain the difference between God’s perfect will, and God’s permissive will. God’s perfect will is exactly what He wants to happen, and when it applies to humans and our freedom, it’s when what we choose is what He wants. God’s permissive will is what He allows to happen. God does not want bad things to happen. Illness, wars, natural disasters, etc are not part of God’s perfect plan. However, He allows those things to happen because He can take something bad and turn it into a greater good. It was not the Father’s perfect will for Jesus to die on the Cross. He allowed it to happen, however, because He can take the worst thing humanly possible (we killed God), and turn it into the best thing possible (God saves us).

On Monday I had a bit of a tantrum. I had asked for assistance with something (a thing I can’t physically do), and my dad somewhat sarcastically told me to wait. For the record, sarcasm is practically my family’s native language. The issue was ultimately that I would have done it myself had I been able to. My parents, of course, tried to talk me down from crazy, but it didn’t help, so I bolted to my room, and prayed. It was a bit nonsensical for a bit, but finally I got to, “I’m not angry at them (my parents), and I’m not angry at You. I’m just angry at… bad luck, I guess, and I don’t really know what to do with that.”

I sat there with Him for a bit, and neither of us said anything, but after a few minutes (I don’t actually know how long), He gently reminded me of two things. He wasn’t able to carry the Cross Himself; He needed Simon to help Him. He allowed Himself to be needy, and the help wasn’t totally willing. Then He reminded me of His time in the Garden. His friends were willing to help, but were unable to. I have always had willing and able help.

An approach the Catholic Church takes to suffering is to “offer it up.” I can hand over certain sufferings to God for Him to use for His glory and for my good and/or the good of others. How this works, I don’t fully understand, but I can attest that it makes things more bearable. As I said, I’ve been struggling with “dependence” for a while. I simply don’t like it. I tried several times to simply hand it over all at once, but I couldn’t.

I prayed about this most of the day on Monday, and Jesus helped me devise a plan of how to deal with it. He inspired me to write a list of things that piss me off because I can’t do them, and write a list of things I can do. The “I Can’t Do That” list was longer, but what I realized was that the things on the “I Can Do That” list were much more significant. Then we made a deal. I couldn’t hand everything over all at once under the umbrella of “dependence,” so I made a sort of spiritual “Let It Go” box. I made it pretty and put a lock on it, then I handed over the key to the Lord. Yesterday I looked at the “I Can’t Do That” list, and started putting things in the box.

This afternoon, I was finally able to put the last things in the box because I realized something. While I was praying today, Jesus brought me to the moment when He said, “Your will, not mine be done.” Neither Jesus nor His Father wanted things to happen the way they did, but both the Father and the Son allowed the worst possible thing to happen to bring about the best result. God doesn’t want me to have epilepsy or muscular dystrophy, but He’s allowed it to happen. What I didn’t realize is that I have a choice in the matter.

I can choose to be continuously pissed off about it, or I can choose to accept it and do what I can to glorify the God who made me and loves me. When I say “Your will, not mine be done,” what I’m really saying is, “Okay, this happened. Neither of us like it. Moving on.” I know myself well enough to know that if I were “able-bodied” I would have played hockey, I would have been, and still would be into skateboarding, and I’d be a drummer, not a singer.

I also am inclined to think that I wouldn’t know the Lord. That means three things: 1) I wouldn’t have much hope of getting to Heaven, 2) my peeps would have less of a chance of knowing Him, and 3) I would be unhappy. What must be understood is that generally speaking, I am happy. I’m not always in a state of euphoria, but most of the things in my life do bring me joy. What also must be understood is that my faith is what gives me the most joy.

Your will, not mine be done.

Living The Pipe Dream

When I was fourteen, I got a guitar for Christmas. It was an absolute piece of crap that would go out of tune after playing one song, or even before the end of a song. Soon after I got it, my friend, who had been taking lessons for a little while, taught me to play “Brain Stew” by Green Day. At that point I only knew how to play power chords, and I wasn’t going to start lessons until January, but I was immediately hooked. I learned some basic things in my first few lessons, and I wrote my first song. It was an angry punk song about a teacher I hated at school. It was terrible.

Like every other angry fourteen-year-old with a guitar, I had the pipe dream; I was going to be a total “rock star” in a punk band, tour all over the country, and generally be able to “get my way.” After my sophomore year, I mellowed out a little, which actually meant I went from being angry to being sad. That’s probably the best way I could describe it. Slowly, I resigned myself to the fact that the “rock star” thing wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t find band mates, and quite frankly, it was just unrealistic.

Still, I kept writing songs. A lot of them sucked, as would be expected. By the time I was nineteen, I was still playing guitar, and writing an occasional song, but mostly I was learning covers because I could play them by myself, and people at open mics sometimes recognized them. I enjoyed that, but it wasn’t “the dream,” and at that point, I had no real vision in mind for what my future might look like. I was your average college freshman without much of a plan.

At the time I started school in August, I was agnostic. By the end of October, I was Christian. I’ve written this part of the story before, but it’s important, so I’ll make it short. I was lonely, and I thought I needed a boyfriend. I had started learning how to pray, so I had been asking God for help with that. I didn’t know it was a deeper loneliness that couldn’t be filled with another human relationship. He let me get desperate. I begged. He needed to make me wait because He needed to teach me that He was there to listen, and that I could trust Him, and even though I was ultimately asking for the wrong thing, He was going to help me. He needed me to be desperate because He needed to use that to build an actual relationship. At my lowest point, I said something along the lines of, “Please! I need your help! I love you!”

I hadn’t known it until I said it, but I knew it was true. As soon as I said it, a feeling like I have never really felt before or since came over me. I don’t know how to describe it, but it inspired my song, “You Answered.” The third verse goes:

You came to me soft and slow
Sweet and warm like a summer dream
And fantasy starts to fade away
As you replace my empty spaces

After that, I started writing more songs. Most of them were worship songs, and a lot of them were terrible. Eventually, I had enough songs to put together my first album, which came out in 2014. I graduated in 2015, and took a hiatus from songwriting to take a stab at writing a novel. After about three years, I realized I was much better at music.

Actually, I hadn’t stopped writing songs altogether, but most of my material was terrible. Still, I had one good one hanging around that I had never recorded, so I went back to the studio. I had thought I would just release it as a single, but one night before one of my studio sessions, I wrote a song in about two minutes. That’s barely an exaggeration. Now I had a dilemma because it was good. I decided if I could pull together one or two more good songs I’d do an EP. Now that we’re nine songs into what will be a full length album, I’ve realized something.

When I was fourteen, I had the same pipe dream as every other angry teenager with a guitar. Most don’t get to be musicians as their career. A lot of kids just give up playing after a while. A lot of people keep it up as a hobby. A lot of people have regular 9-5 jobs on top of their music careers, which don’t often amount to more than playing a few local gigs every week. I’m not a “rock star,” but songwriting is my career. Am I a success? I’d say it depends on who you’re asking. Do I make money at this? Not yet. Do I write good songs? Heck yeah! How do I know? People like them. More importantly, I know God is helping me.

My God gave me my pipe dream. When my epilepsy came back in my sophomore year of college, I had to face some hard facts. Travel isn’t easy to begin with because of my Muscular Dystrophy. Performing is often hit or miss because my meds don’t completely control my epilepsy. Being a performing artist just wasn’t possible. What I didn’t realize for some time was that it’s precisely because of my disabilities that I’m able to do this. Having a “normal” job isn’t exactly an option for me. That’s why I have time to work on a book and have a songwriting career.

As I’ve grown in my faith, I’ve realized that my “issues” have brought me closer to God, and He has had a plan all along. He has always known how much I love music. He allowed me to be that angry fourteen-year-old with a pipe dream, and in the end He gave me a choice. I could give up on that dream, or I could embrace it, or rather, His version of it. I’m great at writing lyrics. I’m a decent, but not absolutely fabulous singer, and I’m an average guitarist. I can write lyrics that glorify my God and hand them off to people who can glorify Him with their performing abilities that are doubtless, better than mine.

My dad suggested this to me several years ago. I didn’t choose this option because I was being overly possessive. Now I’m ready. It doesn’t make sense for me to hold onto something that I can’t use. I’m ready to write not for my glory, but for God’s. I don’t need recognition. I don’t need to be the star of the show. If nobody ever knows who wrote these songs, that’s okay. I will be overjoyed if one of my songs becomes popular because somebody else rocked it. I just want these songs to be heard. I love writing them, and I love the process. I even love struggling through my writer’s block because a lot of times, that’s when I pray the most.

In my song “Nothing Else,” there’s a couple lines that go: “This is enough/ a spark to start a fire.” I didn’t know God when I was fourteen. That first crummy guitar was a spark, though, and God could start a fire with that spark. Writing songs was the first thing I was really passionate about, and God used that passion to lead me right to Him. Of course the path was a little convoluted, but now I have more than a spark. I have His burning love that’s closer than touch, and He has my songwriting skills to use as He sees fit. Because of His love, I am living the pipe dream.

Cry

I have a hard time being vulnerable. The trouble is, I’m kind of sensitive. I take certain things too literally. I let things get under my skin. I over-analyze. Sometimes I’m too critical of myself. I used to just let things build up. I would hide my emotions. I would refuse to cry because I was stronger than that. Instead I would block out the world and play violent video games while silently hating everyone.

The reason I’m writing this is because I saw a post on Facebook today that said “When life gives you a hundred reasons to break down and cry, show life that you have a million reasons to smile and laugh. Stay strong.” The problem with this idea, is that this is exactly what I used to try and do, and I don’t think it’s healthy. If you have one hundred reasons to cry, then you should cry. You should cry your heart out because that’s what you’re truly feeling.

Sometimes you do simply have to disregard perspective. You might have a million things going for you. You might have a pretty darn easy life compared to so many millions of others simply because you life in a first world country, etc. While that’s important to remember, it’s also important to take care of your emotional well being, and if something really crappy happens, it’s perfectly okay to forget everything else, go to your bedroom and cry.

It also helps to have someone to cry to. For you it might be a friend, or a parent, or a pet. Personally, I still don’t like people to see me cry, but I’m comfortable letting God just be with me while I cry because he knows I’m upset anyway. Sometimes you’ll want to talk, and sometimes you just need someone to be there. It’s important to have someone like that.

I don’t claim to know much about psychology, but burying reasons to cry in reasons not to does not seem like a good idea to me. If we widen the scope beyond our own lives and the things that directly impact us and the people around us, we see almost nothing but sadness and devastation on the news. In the past several months I am guilty of almost entirely ignoring the news for a multitude of reasons. Staying uninformed is a method by which one can bury reasons to cry in reasons not to.

Powerlessness is an unpleasant feeling, and waiting for results is hard. We watch the news, and we think, “What am I watching this for? I can’t do anything about it. I can’t end a war. I can’t bring those people back to life. I can’t change (insert social justice issue).” The thing is, on your own, no, you can’t, and even if you get organized with a bunch of like-minded people, change takes time. Peace takes time. It’s just the dreadful truth.

When you scale it back to your own life, though, the dreadful truth is that crap happens–crap that is out of your control, and maybe you have to lose a battle to win a war. You don’t always have to impress everyone. You don’t always have to be perfect. You don’t always have to agree with everyone. You don’t always have to be liked. When crap happens, sometimes you just have to let go and recharge so to speak. It’s counter intuitive, but I have found that allowing yourself to lose is often the only way to get through.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

“Get Over It”

The world deals us crap and then dares us; maybe even expects us to smile, and fight a battle we can’t win. It’s like a game, or some kind of twisted performance that we have to take part in. As soon as it seems like things are okay, something terrible comes along that’s worse than the last one. Survival instinct or contemporary culture or something tells us to “get over it,” because the consequences are even worse if we don’t. We have to keep our eye on the prize, or at least keep our heads above water, because no one’s going to help us, and we can’t be left behind.

Jesus doesn’t expect you to fight. He doesn’t expect you to keep going. When all you can see is darkness, and all you want to do is fall, he says, “Go ahead. I’ll stay with you. Take your time. Cry. Scream. Do what you need to. I love you.” He doesn’t even expect you to “get over it.” Sometimes you can’t get over it. Sometimes the darkness is so overwhelming that it’s hard to see any light at all. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to see the good in things, but there is good in things. The world dares you to see it, but sometimes you just can’t. Jesus says, “If you can’t trust anything else; if you can’t trust what’s beautiful and good in this life, just trust me. Just trust that even if it doesn’t happen in your lifetime, the world will be made perfect. Your world will be made perfect. You will live. Everyone will live, and there will be no more hurt. I promise you that.”

This has been a bad week. I’m tired, and I’m honestly having a little trouble being the unshakable optimist I usually am. The world has been looking a little darker than usual. At the same time, I see a light on the horizon. Honestly, sometimes I’d rather let the darkness take over, but the fact of the matter is, it can’t. There’s simply too much life and light and beauty in this world. It’s sometimes hard to look at, but it’s there nonetheless. I know that God created a perfect world, and no matter how badly we screw it up, it can never be utterly lost because Jesus saved it, and he’s still saving it. I simply can’t ignore the fact that it was a perfect summer day today. I can’t ignore the sweetness of freshly-picked strawberries. I can’t ignore the strange, but good smell of my bird. I can’t ignore the way my favorite songs make me feel, whether I’m happy or sad. Love is alive in the littlest things, and that’s a fact.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Breaking Up

I’ve seen a lot of break-ups lately. They haven’t all been very close to the heart, but they’re never easy to watch. I’ve seen siblings break ties. I’ve seen relationships fail. I’ve seen parents fail their kids, and I’ve seen people give up on their parents. Still, I’ve never really been directly involved in a break-up until today. I haven’t wanted to be.

When I was in middle school I broke ties with a kid because he was being a turd to one of my friends. If you mess with my friends, you mess with me. He moved to our town when we were in seventh grade or so, and that’s a hard time even of itself. We were misfits, so we sort of “adopted” him. It took almost a year for me to completely “break up” with him. I didn’t want to. The truth is I always want to make someone better. I always want to make things right. By the end of eighth grade, though, we were done. I just couldn’t do it.

Today I broke ties with someone else. It was a different kind of break-up because I’ve tried to fix things. The issues weren’t between me and (?). The issues were between (?) and (!). Once before I was able to make things better, and I’ve never broken ties because (!) hasn’t wanted to, and hasn’t wanted me to. We’ve both wanted things to be better. It’s just gotten so bad that (!) decided to stop trying completely, and to cut (?) out of her life. She asked me to, as well, so I did. The hard thing is that (?) was never angry at me about anything, and even though she’s been really crappy to (!) through the years, I’ve never really been angry at her.

I’ve just wanted things to be right. I guess they simply can’t be. It’s not my fault, it’s not (!)’s fault, and I don’t think it’s (?)’s fault either. The truth is, though she’s never been diagnosed, she obviously has serious mental health problems. I think (!) will take this harder than I will. She’ll think about it. She might regret it. I’ll probably think about it from time to time, but there’s nothing I can do, so I won’t regret it. I’ll pray about it. It’s a complicated situation because there are other people involved, but I think the more we do, the more complicated it will get. It doesn’t feel wrong. The whole thing just feels weird.

I’ve been thinking about forgiveness today. I had to ask myself if I forgive (?) after the latest crap she’s pulled. It took me years to forgive the kids who were nasty to us in middle school, but I ultimately did. The truth is, I forgave (?) a long time ago. I just hope (!) can. I don’t really know how to go about the whole thing. I don’t think talking about it will help. I don’t want to talk about it anyway. It’s just weird because it’s like (?) doesn’t exist or something. I now have to live like a real person who was once part of my life was never even in the world.

Our families used to have a ton of fun together. I don’t know how things got weird. I won’t let the memories be tainted. They were good memories. I think that’s the trick. Relationships often don’t work out, but I think a lot more people could at least forgive each other if they just remember the good things. The people don’t have to stay “together,” but the good memories become ugly far too often because the present disfigures the past. Unfortunately, what’s worse is that sometimes the past can disfigure the present. I’ve seen this happen, too. Bad relationships end, and even when the future looks brilliantly bright, it’s hard to see it.

The one thing I do know is that love always wins. Ultimately, I think it’s better for all of us if the ties stay cut. That never has to mean that we don’t love (?) and her family. If trying only makes things worse, then not talking to them is the best way to love them, and that’s weird and kind of stinks, but it’s the best course of action. Love will win. I don’t know what that will mean in the end, but I do know it’s true.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Katie’s Can Of Worms

My bird is snuggling with me and chewing on my necklace, which is cute. I just beat my dad at our nightly racing tournament. I’ve been making a lot of spiritual progress in what feels like very short order. I’m being intentional about things. It feels like I’m doing everything right. It feels like I’m in control. At the same time, I feel weird, for lack of a better word.

I find myself thinking “I can do that,” as I read about being dedicated to God in one way or another. Normally details scare me. At the beginning of each semester in school, there was always one class that would scare the crap out of me as the professor explained the requirements for success, how much homework we would have and other details. It always freaked me out, and I always did just fine. I find myself thinking about this movement in my life like I thought about that class, except I find myself thinking “I can do that.” I’m going to have to learn stuff, and I’m going to have to change… but I can do that.

Today I got in touch with the “Delegate for Religious” (whatever that means), Sister Marian, for the archdiocese of Boston. I want to meet with her. She got back to me fast. She wants to meet in person. I guess I’m bugging out because on one hand, I hear God calling me–practically yelling “Hey! Hey, Katie! Tell people about me! Love them! Love me! You can do this!” On the other hand I find myself thinking, “I’m a sinner. I’m a scatterbrain. What the heck am I getting myself into?”

I almost didn’t send Sister Marian an email today. In fact I found her email address yesterday, thought about contacting her, and found stupid reasons not to. Today, as I was somewhere between sending and trashing my message, I thought, “What’s my problem?” Then I realized I was scared, and I remembered that Jesus said not to be scared, so I hit “Send.” My message to Sister Marian contained a question: am I jumping into this too fast? She said I’m not. In fact, I don’t think you can jump into this too fast. I think this is one of those things you have to jump into head-first. I’m taking a pretty freaking big leap of faith, and I don’t know what I’m going to find when I land. Then again, I still find myself thinking not only can I do this, but I want to do this. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a situation quite this perplexing before.

Actually, I’m freaking out about this because I’m in control. I have free will. I can say “no.” Saying “no” would be way easier. There are so many possibilities that would open up if I said “no.” In fact, as I write this, I’m realizing that life could be absolutely amazing if I said “no.” I don’t want to say “no.” For at least the last week I’ve been constantly reading things and watching things about nuns and other religious people and thinking “Yes! That’s what I want! That’s perfect!” This is actually hilarious, because when I was a kid I was scared of nuns, and when I was a teenager, I thought religious people were all old and annoying and weird.

I need a third (fourth?) hand because there’s another reason I’m freaking out. I intend to meet with Sister Marian. What if I tell her my story, and she says I’m not meant for this? What if she says, for whatever reason that I can’t take a vow in the Church? What if I’m wrong? What if I’m hearing God’s call, but I’m interpreting it wrongly? I feel like I do before any kind of audition. I hate auditions. I’ve had three big ones in my life. I auditioned for the drama club in my Freshman year of high school, and didn’t get a part. I auditioned to get into Berklee College of Music, and didn’t get in. I auditioned to be a singer for my college’s worship team and didn’t get the gig. I know this probably shouldn’t feel like an audition. I know God loves me and has a plan for me no matter what. It’s the people involved in the process that I’m worried about.

The fact of the matter is that I know God is calling me. I know for sure that he’s calling me to love people and to love him. I think; I believe that he’s calling me to something else, too, and I think I might know what that something else is. I really hope I’m right. While this process is scary, a part of me kind of feels like the kid who doesn’t know what she’s getting for Christmas and still believes in Santa Claus. I’m excited.

Okay, I definitely needed to open that can of worms. The worms have been buried outside and the can has been discarded properly. Maybe I’ll find another one tomorrow, but that’s okay. Apparently this is an emotionally complicated situation. I am now going to bed.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!