Into the Mysterious Dark

I spent most of yesterday afternoon seething in anger, pounding my steering wheel in rage and biting my lip until my whole mouth ached. Why I was angry doesn't matter. Once I calmed down enough to think clearly, I reminded myself that it didn't matter why. I was angry, and that that was okay, and that as long as I didn't decide to plow into the wrong direction of traffic because of my anger, there was nothing wrong with letting that fire pound through me in my emotion.  It's sad how often I have to remind myself that anger, in and of itself, isn't a sin.  It's also sad how often I have to remind myself that this isn't my fault, my aversion to the natural inclination of anger.  I can hear your inner questions now, dying with curiosity to know why I was angry. Is that just because I'm female? I know that sounds trite, but really think about it. If I were a man writing this, and I wrote about the subject of anger, how would you react to his ...

I vividly remember the Good Friday when I first experienced the haunting reality of that day. I was 12, and per my mom's annual tradition, she stayed home from work and we kids stayed home from school. Being old enough to understand what the Passion was, but not yet old enough to have seen the film that bore its name, I remember wandering through that day in a foggy, grey area of subconscious sorrow and intellectual consternation, having no idea why that day felt so heavy. I was always told it was of grave importance, but I'd never felt it like this before. I knew that Christ had died (it wasn't until years later that I knew He'd died for me , as though He'd come only for me), but the earth's soil lapping up His blood, the ground splitting open in rage, and the skies weeping down their protest hadn't yet touched the dark, ignorant caverns of my soul's eye. My heart was still encased in deep, impenetrable ice, and I didn't know it yet. There w...

You would think there would be a strange comfort In finding so many women who suffer as you do Women who are woken in the middle of the night Hyperventilating Screaming Cursing At facing the same tainted face in the mirror As you do. You want to throw your arms around them Provide them comfort you can't give yourself Because no one should live the way you do. No one should torture themselves the way you do. No one should hate themselves the way you do. No one should wish to disappear as you do. There's no longer such a thing as Hiding from triggers. They are Everywhere. Time passes, and it does start to help. You can broach the subject And not feel suffocating fear at who will hear you Because they understand. They know that fear, too. #MeToo, they all say And you weep not because you were alone But because we were all alone together. And you have never wanted to take revenge more In your entire life. Vengeance is mine, says the Lord, And you turn y...

Since I was conscious of myself as a person (which was at the very ripe age of three years old), I have been aware of the shape of my body. It couldn't be helped, really. Nevermind the dark period of my life when I was six years old (detailed in my recent blog post,  "Chastity Talk from a Rape Victim" ), which certainly didn't help. I was always very aware of the shape of my body. Like any young girl, you wait eagerly for the initiation of breasts (which was a total let down; they're so annoying and a total pain in the butt). There was always this fascination with who I was, in the shape of my person. When your awareness of your placement in the world in an existential way comes at so young an age, you find yourself examining everything about you and the little world you inhabit in great detail. The first time I was made fun of for my weight was when I was six by my cousin and his friends. Looking back, I know that I didn't weigh any more than the average si...

The past year of my life has been one of the toughest I've ever experienced. I've moved four times, had three different jobs, and am currently unemployed. I was enrolled to attend graduate school in John Paul the Great University in California, but three nights before I was supposed to drive out, I was praying and the Lord told me outright, "I want you to have faith and trust me. I want you to unenroll." Needless to say, that was a punch to the gut, but despite the shock of it, I had total peace, so I unenrolled. That's when the floundering started. But I never felt without peace. It was maddening, infuriating, and still is. St. Paul summarizes it brilliantly:          "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present           your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding , will guard           your hearts and your minds in ...

There is more than enough banter online and in any number of Christian circles debating the ever-inflammatory topic of purity, sexuality, and chastity, that ever elusive rabbit everyone is so ready to define, and yet so few can actually describe without making their audience want to wretch from its clichéd and unfair analysis and definition. But what about for those whose choice did not matter? Who didn't give into illustrious passions let off into the distance and painted in brilliantly forbidden colors of stark and poignant reality? What about those who wished they'd had the choice but didn't? Ready to condemn for falling into delicious passion, chastity talks and the discussion of the virtue of virginity and sexuality fall woefully short of that hazardous territory of sexual assault victims, of all ages, situations, both male and female. She did not remember until her freshman year of college that it had even happened to her. Too small to understand its evil, her min...

"I am determined that only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony. So, I shall end an old maid, and teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill."                                                                                        -Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice Like many women my age (and more men than most would admit), I am a huge Jane Austen fan and have been for many years. Whether I am re-devouring the books or sighing and daydreaming with the movies, her storylines are still so universally applicable to relationships and the longing people feel for them. They are clever, witty, sardonic, true. And I'm not going to lie, one of my favorite tools she employs is her biting sarcasm and her parody of the class sy...