Into the Mysterious Dark

It's hard to call myself Catholic , at least as it's understood in the treacherous, deceitful, dark, and perverted way it is being viewed, and in so many ways proven to be, in the US right now. Even if it weren't riotingly painful for me to discuss the sex abuse scandals, there are so many infuriating discussions right now that warrant otherwise. Needless to say, one of them is the virtual civil war dividing cardinals, bishops, priests, and lay people alike in declaring the issue to be latent homosexuality, instead of sick, pedopheliac perversions as they actually are (or just plain ol' hetero perversions that we're all far too familiar with). And blaming any and all popes, especially Pope Francis, in a terribly obvious ploy for power and attention. Amidst these discussions are the random shouts of declaration that "These terribly treacherous things are not why I'M Catholic!" Maybe I'm just embittered (if I'm honest, there's no maybe abo

I am in tears as I write this. Pope Francis' homily today has taken the rusted knife already stabbed into my side from these sex scandals overhauling the Church and has twisted it, all while he begs relief from accusations and places yet another layer of blame on the victims. So today I ask myself, what do you do when your father abandons you? What do you do when the only earthly embodiment of a paternal figure you have ever had has turned on you, a sex assault victim, and has left you out in the cold? What do you do when the last safe place you had has turned into the very hell and nightmare you have fled? You scream. You curse. You demand better of God, because He is the only One Who can provide it. You flip Him off, shouting and sobbing until your lungs are sore that you can't take any more hurt. You can't take any more reminder that you are a burden on those who violated you, both by their actions and by their standing by and watching, simply because you are a