A Mental Health Journey

 [Originally published on https://www.thosewhoseek.org/blog/amentalhealthjourney]

Almost exactly four years ago, I was sitting on my bedroom floor sobbing. 

I was in an extraordinarily emotionally draining, entry level job just a few months after college graduation. After only a few weeks on the job, I felt like I was about to either implode or explode. The internal chaos I felt was getting pushed to the forefront by my emotionally taxing job. The job wasn't causing the turmoil though – that turmoil was already present in my mind and heart. 

My thoughts raced as I thought about my mom’s break down two years previously that had caused so much pain in my family, the unexpected divorce of my parents who had been married for 40 years, my own years of unresolved emotional pain and dysregulation, and the knowledge that I was a mostly poor, idealistic, anxious, and depressed college graduate with no idea where her life was headed.  

As the tears rolled down my face, and as I sat rocking back and forth on my carpet, I knew I needed help. I was hurting and felt like there was nowhere to go. Around that time, a friend, who had been through some struggles of her own, suggested I think about therapy for my own healing and well-being. In theory, I was all for therapy. I was a psychology major in undergrad, with plans to become a therapist until life happened, and I got a Master’s in Shakespeare (but that story is for another day). 

I had a heart for those suffering from mental illness, because I had seen it so many people from a young age, but I realized I wasn’t willing to give that same empathy to myself as I got older. I did want to go to therapy when I was much younger, but my mom, ironically enough, always said that I would be labeled and that I shouldn’t go. Therapy had a weight attached to it for me. 

People might judge me. 

Maybe it would be a waste of money.

People wouldn’t like me. 

What was the point in talking about my problems? 

Was it vain? 

Those were thoughts that came up when therapy came up – an odd mixture of anxiety itself and the all too common Christian confusion about what therapy really is.

I had been to one psychiatrist one time before my mom’s breakdown.  After enough disagreeing and anxious meltdowns with my mom, she agreed I should try therapy. That psychiatrist basically Freudian-ly summed all of my anxieties into the fact that I was a lonely youngest child. While that may have been true at the time, it didn’t really hit to the heart of the issues. So my confusion on psychology as a whole remained lingering for a while, and I didn’t go back to him.

I didn’t yet realize that, just as there are teachers that we understand better, there are therapists and psychiatrists that can help our individual hearts better.

 That summer after graduation, at the suggestion of my friend, I continued to mull over trying again and reaching out to a recommended therapist. I finally did. And it radically changed my world. 

While I think some stereotypes make therapy look like a passive blame game, and perhaps some misguided therapists encourage that, I wouldn’t know because my time in therapy was more of a workout for the mind and heart. I learned coping skills, journaling exercises, how to ask myself what I need in a moment of stress and be able to give it to myself, how to set boundaries in order to love better, and how to be real with people instead of keeping all of my boundaries too tightly wound up around my heart. My therapist gave me insights that I had never heard before. My favorite quote from her has always been: boundaries are teaching people how to love you better. In my people pleasing younger years (I’m sure a cause of a lot of anxiety in and of itself), I thought that saying “no” was always mean and bad. When in fact, prudently being able to say no to things you can’t handle, is a way of loving yourself and gently calling the other person to love better. 

I worked with my therapist for about a year on many different subjects, unraveling hard emotions and built in lies that I had told myself for years. Then I went off to grad school where I couldn’t really afford nor focus on my mental health, unfortunately. This was probably one of my poorer decisions in life, as I don’t think there’s been a time where I have needed a good therapy session more than graduate school, but thankfully I moved back to the same area as my old therapist after I graduated.

The circumstances surrounding my move weren’t exactly ideal, and the move triggered a lot of old issues, but God works in mysterious ways. I started working with my therapist again after my grad school hiatus, and I got my official ADHD diagnosis from a wonderful psychiatrist. I started taking medication for both ADHD (a non-stimulant that helps with emotional regulation) and an antidepressant.  While some worry that medication is a Band-Aid that keeps you from progressing, I have found that it has given me the ability to function and choose the good without my brain telling me not to.  For instance, my ADHD medication has greatly helped with a symptom called “Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.” I now know to take a step back and examine the situation before allowing myself to dwell on what I perceive to be a rejection. These perceptions, and the emotional pain of these perceptions, have lessened due to the workings of my medicine. 

Choosing the good for myself is still difficult, but with the medication, it’s a difficulty I can strive towards without feeling like I’m carrying the entire world on my shoulders as I do it.  I take the medicine for my hurting brain; I go to therapy for my hurting heart; and I go to the chapel for all of the above.

My therapist is also a Christian. I don’t think that is necessary for everyone’s therapy experience, but she beautifully integrates reminders of who God sees me as with practical steps for mental well-being. I want to encourage anyone that feels like they might benefit from a professional un-doer of mind knots to think about reaching out. A healthy mind is a peaceful mind, and a peaceful mind is able to hear God so much more clearly. 

And if not therapy, I challenge you to ask yourself how you can love yourself better today. Because God loves you and wants you to know that you are worthy of a healthy soul, body, AND mind. 

Hope

Tomorrow is the day the world celebrates the quiet appearance of a child----the child who fills the hearts of the world. But sometimes... we still feel holes. And these holes don't always seem filled because we're looking in all the wrong places.

One of my own heart holes,  is in the shape of a 67** (68 today!) year old woman. Carol. My mother. She was one of the fiercest, smartest, most sacrificial women you've ever met. Remember that.  She had her flaws, but those aren't the things to remember right now. Remember her humor and her passion and her dreams.
But I'll spare the backstory, and ignore my now natural use of past tense, and skip to the story of a festering wound that began just a few years ago.

I won't begin to pretend that I can tell her story. I can't. I can only tell my own.  Full of perceptions and emotions that come from a little broken soul who is full of, I'm sure what some would call, dramatic (irony or no) recollections.  But there is something in me that needs to write.

3+ years ago (almost 4 now), my mom, quite literally, lost her mind. Sorrow, anger, pain, hate, a journey of forgiveness, and a journey of trying to love within helplessness followed. She has all the labels that not even psychologists agree about yet insist they're true: schizoaffective, bipolar, hallucinations, paranoia, delusions, bullshit.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the proper diagnosis. But when the labels can't help heal any more because someone is too sick... it hurts.

All that I know, all that my family knows, is that we've tried every avenue for help with my mom. She fell into hospitals and jails. We've pleaded, cried, talked to experts. But she doesn't want our help or the expert's help. And therefore...no help can be given.

[the joy of a patient's unending rights.]

I don't know what she's doing for Christmas. I'll probably try to call.  But I'll be honest, I don't want to make that call.  It will be filled with anger spewing about everyone she hates. I've managed to not be put on her list of hated people...yet. This is through nothing born of my own merit. She has no reason to hate many of the people she does now besides the main reason... the broken chemicals in her brain.

But the pain in knowing that my calls won't do anything, won't really touch her, hurts me deeply. And how selfish is that? --- to worry about whether she thinks that I'm loving her well, more than actually worrying about whether she actually feels loved or worrying about how best to actually love.

But I never said I deal with things perfectly.

I'll wish her Merry Christmas and let her rant about everyone who has abandoned her, while I hold the knowledge that she (or who her mental illness has formed her to be) has abandoned us.

The temptation arises in me to compare and then to yell and scream at anyone who complains about their own family issues, especially this time of year.

But other suffering is just as valid as mine. It's just different. I've just created a wall to block people out. I've isolated myself into thinking I can't ever talk about this. Well, except for the many, many times I have shared this with the kind people in my life.

To those that have listened, prayed, and suffered with me, my family, and my mother, I thank you.

Your witness has allowed my stubborn belief that no one cares about mental illness to shift radically.

But some days it feels impossible to believe in a world that will ever allow this cross to be spoken of without awkward silences, and pitying looks. But I must remind myself that those are things that come with any story of loss. Not just mine. Ours is just one of on-going loss, and so the natural uncomfortability goes on because.... people can barely handle their own pain, let alone  someone else's messy pain arising from mothers that don't have their minds any longer.

I've made so many mistakes in this process. Mistakes I'm too ashamed to share right now.
I've cried til I've screamed.
And I have clung to the hope that one day my mother will return to fill the hole in my heart.
Hope must always stay alive, even if we can't feel it yet, because without it, we crumble into a million pieces.

Hope.
A child born to save man.
Hope.
 A child born to a mother.
Hope.
A child that fills our holes before we heal in any natural way, before we realize.
Hope.
For a mother to return to her children.
Hope.
It is the season of hope.

Please pray fiercely for our mother's healing. Please love your family fiercely this Christmas season. (Almost Christmas season) 

Please hope.
Merry Christmas, my dear ones. (Almost!) 



For all the Catholics reading this, please pray this prayer for my mom's healing and safety. It's a prayer asking for the intercession of a dear priest that my mom loved. 

That summer I walked across the country...warning: clickbait. ;)

Ok, so I only walked for two weeks, and I didn't walk across all of the country in those two weeks. Shocker.  But I walked, and I learned.



From July 8th - July 22nd 2017, I had the privilege of walking with Crossroads Pro-Life, and this particular group did, indeed, walk across the U.S. of A. (To explain in brief:  the group started in California and finished just a few days ago in Washington, DC). Their mission? To walk, pray, and sacrifice for the hearts in this country to recognize the dignity of human life in every stage.

The Logistics

During the week, the group traveled around with an RV and a van. The ladies stayed in the RV at night during the week, and the men stayed in tents.The van was our best friend during the days we were walking. Those assigned to morning shift would get in the van and head out for the day. A shift usually consisted of 6-7 walkers. The shift would split in about half, and the groups would take turns walking 1-3 miles. In the vans, waiting to walk, you would find us  napping, reading theology books, or scavenging around to find the last granola bar. When actually walking, you would find us praying, laughing, grimacing, or taking in whatever beautiful view was present. Usually, the morning shift would meet up with the rest of the group for Mass in the middle of their shift.The walking/van rotation then continued until the afternoon when the next shift would take over from wherever the morning shift had finished walking. A few people would make dinner at the RV camp, the group would pray together, and bedtime would hit so fast you couldn't even remember blinking. The whole journey would begin again early the next morning.

During the weekends, we were housed by host families (more on them later) and would speak at parishes.

My friends, it was a beautiful whirlwind.

The People

How crazy do you have to be to walk across the country promoting a message that you wholeheartedly believe in? Just crazy enough. The walkers that I was blessed to walk with had varying types of personalities with one thing in common: a fiery passion for promoting the sanctity of life. It is one of my favorite things in the world to meet people who care. And care they did. Not only were they passionate about people in the abstract, these men and women were sacrificial in the most concrete of ways. I was the newbie in the group, and one lovely lady slept on the RV floor so that I could have a bed my first night in the RV before we figured out sleeping situations that could accommodate everyone. One of the men on the trip had someone hand him two cold water bottles to replace some of our room temperature ones. Instead of keeping them for his half of the shift, he ran out to give it to our half. People cooked for one another, prayed for one another, made each other laugh and loved each other as best they could. And they offered me that sacrificial love as a stranger joining their midst. I won't completely sugar coat it though. Obviously, with many varying personalities come many varying conflicts of wants, opinion, and just personality itself. However, the underlying bigger picture of their journey kept them as a family and kept them walking each day. The fact that these people offered their entire summer to this cause was truly an inspiration.

My fellow walkers weren't the only people that I encountered that inspired me. Like I said earlier, we would stay with host families on the weekends. The host families that I encountered were sacrificial, thoughtful, and overwhelmingly generous. They would feed us. They would allow us to do laundry. (Many loads, my friends, many loads). They would make sure we were awake in time to get to the churches we needed to get to. They would let us ride their 4 wheelers through sunlit flower patches. (THAT was a highlight).  My heart was touched by their acts of service and their care of us.

We met generous parishioners at the parishes we spoke at, and we met many that needed prayers for difficult situations (if you're still reading this, say a prayer for them if you get the chance).

We met a priest that pulled over on the side of the road to donate to our cause and to say a prayer with us.

So many beautiful souls were encountered, and it gave me new hope.

The Lessons

I've heard it said that pro-life people only care about the fetus and never afterward. If that is the extent of a person's pro-life beliefs,then that is a despicable travesty. Pro-life means caring about all people, all injustices, and all uniqueness-es of each person from conception to natural death. Crossroads recognizes this and puts it into action.

In the middle of one of the shifts, we had stopped the van at a rest stop. A few of us had gotten out for a bathroom break, and upon our return we saw a lady talking with some of the walkers who had stayed in our van. I'm not sure why she had come up to us that day---maybe our bright yellow pro-life tshirts drew her to us or maybe just the fact that we were all young people had something to do with it. But she started talking to us and explaining her story. She had been taking care of a grandson.She had a mentally ill daughter. She had just gotten kicked out of her apartment and had to live in her car for a few days before finding another place to stay. We gave her money for the hotel room she had asked for, gave her a ton of our snack food/water bottles, wrote down her prayer requests, and prayed with her on the spot. I'm not writing this up to sing our own praises. I'm writing this to show how much the group cared about this woman ( who wasn't a fetus) in need and jumped into action by helping her as best they could. I wish I had taken a picture of our group giving what they could to this lady, but I will  have to make do with the one in my mind. This is how we should all be living our lives.

Another man we met while walking reminded us that when prayers go up to Him---> blessings come down. A simple statement of faith that most of us have forgotten about.


Finito

I learned about myself in those brief two weeks, and I learned about other people. In the eyes of my fellow walkers, I saw the strong, kind, patient, fierce passion that we must all gain in order to become preachers that walk the walk as well as talk the talk. Because it matters. To quote Pope St. John Paul II: "The person is unique and unrepeatable, someone chosen by eternal Love." Real talk paraphrase: there will never be another you, that fetus will never be the same as any other fetus, we belong here, and we are loved.

Grateful doesn't really begin to cover my time on Crossroads, but it's the word I will leave you with.

If you have any interest in donating or walking with Crossroads next year, go to: https://www.crossroadswalk.org/

Blessings,
Paula

Personality, intuition, other people, oh my!

I am a self-proclaimed Myers-Briggs expert. I diagnose people with their four letters like it's my job. I'm a melancholic-phlegmatic (diagnosed by another personality test: the four temperaments.) All of these tests point to some overlapping truths about myself:  I'm a not-so-secret romantic, deep-feeler, and have a tendency to be overly critical.

And what else have I learned through years of these tests and some (hopefully) honest self- reflection? I get a sense of people rather quickly. I've gotten somewhat prideful in this ability, actually. I get vibes, and I share vibes with other people. Scientific? No. Experiential? Yes. Reliable? Enough that I can brag about it. When the vibes turn out right, I get all Adrian Monk, and I think: 'It's a blessing and a curse.'

But really this blessing has turned out to be a curse because of the way I've used it.
Yes, I can usually tell when someone is insecure when I first meet them. I can tell when there's a wound on their mind. I observe shallowness, and I immediately file it in my List of People w/ Certain Characteristics to be Avoided. I don't really realize I've made that list in my mind until later, but made it I have. Because I pick up on select things, I think I've picked up on the whole person. What a joke. (And this blog isn't even touching on the times when I'm just plain 180 degrees off.)

I cannot continue to brag about my gift of understanding people while simultaneously dismissing the whole person in front of me because I've intuited he has such and such a trait. I obviously didn't intuit the fact that all people long for something: to be understood truly for who they are, not for characteristics that compose them. How prideful of me to not realize that even the people with the most awful characteristics could (and do) have a depth that I cannot even begin to fathom.

As St. Augustine says: 'Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.'

I beg you, sisters, to apply this quote to your neighbor, and to always listen more closely than your intuition can infer.

The Lord gives some of us the gift of understanding (and buzzfeed personality tests to tell us so), but it is not to be used to dismiss the complexities of the person standing before us. It is to be used to start a conversation that only the other can complete.

 Love  boldly and humbly.

Blessings,

Paula

We are the theater people...

There's something very precious in the act of performing for other people.
 If done right, your heart will be open, vulnerable, and free to feel deeply.  It's like you've entered into a special dimension of reality that hasn't been discovered yet. It's a secret inside you that you are meant to tell when the exact right moment hits.

There's a silence of such loud anticipation from the audience as you stand backstage peeking through the curtains --as all old time professionals do, of course. You quietly speak with your fellow performers but all of you can feel the gentle excitement building in each others' hearts as the time for the start of the show grows closer. You smell hairspray and foundation. And you laugh because the guys, no matter how old, still complain about the make-up.

The director comes in and gives some notes, some kind words, and leaves with a prayer. You stretch. You warm your voice up in ways that would make the rest of the world think you were a dying chicken--not the theater world though.

You prepare yourself for your first scene: spiritually, physically, emotionally. You go over scenes, lines, emotional prep questions in your mind as you take in the crazy people around  you in the green room. It's funny---you remember them as their character for a few moments after each show run until life slips back into the regular drudgery and the life as an undercover superhero swiftly comes to a close...It remains only until the resounding last clap has drifted away. But the show run hasn't ended yet. You snap back to the present moment.

You listen for God's...err, the stage manager's cue that the house is open and you prepare your little heart to give itself away.

When you finally step on that stage you are transported to the place where your scene is. You have the precise relationships with the others on stage that make a story worth watching. It's time to stop crafting and molding and you start giving your finished creation (though you don't forget to get those notes if it's not your last show!)
You finish your scenes. You come off stage. Your heartbeat continues faster than usual and it'll stay that way for a while. Your mind and soul and being are lifted high. You see the same reactions in your fellow thespians. You then see your audience...The reason actors  come back again and again to the beautiful place called the stage.

The people smile, tackle hug, or express some sort of thanks and their hearts feel light; You can tell from where you're standing. It makes your heart light too.

The crowd starts to trickle away. You remember you're still dressed as your character, not yourself. It must be noted though, that during show week, your costume feels more like you than any regular clothing ever does.

You thank your audience. You change. You say goodnight and good job to those you've worked to share an alternate reality with. And you leave to go sleep and to calm your heart and hopefully to thank the Lord before the cycle starts all over again.

We are the theater people.
We are the crazy people.
We are the deep feelers, and therefore the overthinkers.
We are the creators.
We are the heart lifters.
We are a people that long to give the world the realness and the beauty it has forgotten.

We are the theater people.

Acting is not meant to be a selfish show of one's faked abilities, but instead, it is meant to be a diligently attempted creative process that allows one to fully give himself away to all the audience members desperately in need of all that theater can give: truth, beauty, reality, and love.

We are the theater people, and we. love. you.

Blessings,
Paula

A tale of an almost graduate

I remember in my youth as a first semester freshman in college, a friend casually mentioned "we only get 7 more semesters of this!" We laughed as we faked a freak out, not knowing how fast our college careers would fly by. 

I'm a month away from the beginning of the end of my days as a college student. Only two semesters left of living with best friends, taking "study breaks" to get ice cream, going to college dances, falling in and out of love with subjects, dream chasing like its my job, and just everyday normal college student shenanigans. 

I know it's a little early to be writing this post, after all, I have a whole YEAR left before I say good bye to my little undergraduate career. But something in me tells me I'll forget where I was right in this  pre-senior year moment when I cross that stage at graduation... and I don't want to forget. 

The thought of having one more year left to squeeze in all the events, classes, and new friendships I can is really scary to me. I WANT TO DO EVERYTHING. Why didn't I take Rhetoric when I had the chance? Should I have added a theo minor? What about a math minor? MATH PEOPLE MAKE ALL THE MONEY. Should I even bother making new friends? I run out of time just to have coffee with the old ones most of the time! 

These are the worries that fill the mind of the silly little girl in me. And those don't even cover the worries of the future AFTER graduation. My heart is currently being pulled in about 5 different directions as to what I should do when I graduate. I've prayed and I've talked and I've thought and I've  given up.  And in the process...I'm learning a few things.

I'm going to sound like a hippy, please bear with me though.

1) Go with the flow. Or rather, go with the Holy Spirit guided flow. 

I know, I know, we get told "just trust" quite a bit. And it ends up with us frustrated, lying on our beds, staring at the ceiling, hoping that someone will bring us caffeine because otherwise we aren't getting out of that bed for anything. 

But that's not trust. Talking our worries into the ground is not trust. Going with the Holy Spirit guided flow involves planning what we need to take the next steps, and trusting that as long as we keep walking, the H.S. will open the doors for us to walk through. 

There's nothing wrong with planning, we need to plan a lot of things out. 

But for almost college grads? Pick an option, walk towards it, and open yourself up to walk through the doors that just seem to flow. This applies to the friendships that start your senior year AND any after graduation plans. The Lord doesn't work through unrest, he works through peace. 

2) Remember that the unknown is a beautiful thing. 

When you don't know which passion you'll be following next year, but you still say "use me God"... you're in the right spot. This time of unknown can be a beautiful place to grow. 

 

3) Give a "perfect effort" as that famous high school football coach once said. 

You don't have to be a perfect friend, a perfect student, and know perfectly what your future will entail. Because... ummm that's not going to happen. But you should strive to try in everything to do the best you can, with a humble acceptance of our limitations. 

It is such a blessing to be in the numbered few that have gotten a college education, I don't want to waste it in worry. 

Dear future Paula,  

I hope you lived a beautiful senior year, making decisions based on love and faith, and trusting that when you leave in May, you are exactly where you are supposed to be. *

The Handmaid's Example

“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)  Imagine you are 14 years old. You are doing the same thing you are doing every day, perhaps you are outside taking a quiet walk. Suddenly, a huge angel appears to you. He tells you not to be afraid. He tells you that you are going to become pregnant with the Son of God. You have never been with a man though. But the angel tells you this is what God wants. You say yes, simply because it is what God wants. You do not need any other reason. You accept all that the yes means. This is what Mary, the Mother of God, did 2000 years ago. From that yes the course of history and the course of our lives were forever changed.

On this feast of the Annunciation, I want to meditate on Mary’s trust in God and how we can learn from her.

We walk through life with a pile of worries on our hearts. A range from the smallest to the largest of concerns is what consumes our minds. We hear “trust God” over and over again in Church, from our friends, and when we read any Christian literature these days. It has gotten pounded into our heads since we were little, at least the words have. It just seems so cheesy when we hear the words coming out of our mouths now.  But why does it feel so overused? Why does it feel so strange to tell our friends to trust? It is because we don’t have that trust. We’re frustrated when we hear it because we haven’t reached a point of trust yet. We feel awkward when we tell a friend to trust in God because we ourselves do not know what it means to trust.

Let today be a renewal of trust though. Let Mary be an example. She had free will and she chose God’s will. I firmly believe that our lives will be totally peaceful if we learn to let go of the tight grasp we try to have on our lives. We do not realize how much more difficult our lives are when we hold tightly to our own will and worries. Let us again think of the words “let it be done to me” that are said in the gospel. Mary does not say “I will do this, this, and this. Then I will know I am doing God’s will because I am powering through it with all of MY might.” No. She is simply receiving. She is simply allowing God to work through her, to mold her, and to use her. She has opened her hands to receive all that God wants to do with her. With her trusting hands open to receive God’s blessings, there is no room left to cling tightly to her own will.  This is the model for trusting we should follow.  Stand with your hands open today. Tell God you are letting go. Ask Momma Mary to wrap you in her arms and push you towards her Son. And watch the peace that will come from following our beautiful Mother’s example.

“Am I not here, I, who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need anything more? Let nothing else worry you, disturb you.” ~Our Lady of Guadalupe

Broken and beautiful

Thoughts crashing. Pain rising. Hearts breaking. Minds screaming.

Broken. Broken. Broken.

Does it ever end? We ask ourselves this every time we get out of bed. We struggle to have any thoughts at all in the morning, let alone a joyous one, as we make our way to our coffee makers.

We look at our phones. We see the smiling faces.

Smiles. Happiness. Cheesy quotes. Christian thankfulness. Laughter. Perfect. Perfection.

Our minds fight to understand this dissonance caused by the influx of information that shouts at us: YOUR LIFE SUCKS and everyone else's is perfect. YOU ARE A MESS and everyone else has their life together. YOU ARE BROKEN AND WEAK and everyone else is stronger than Hercules.  YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WITH DOUBTS and everyone else would think you're insane if you admitted it.  You are B R O K E N...and everyone else is whole.

This is what we hear; this is what we tell ourselves. It is good to share our joys but that is not what people do. People mask their sorrows by sharing false perfections. "MY LIFE IS PERFECT" we scream from our facebooks. The practice of sharing our joys to uplift others has turned into a mantra of: "don't you dare mention brokenness, I wouldn't know".

What a sad thing that we no longer know how to really see the other people in our lives. It's a paradox. We know the brokenness in ourselves, but we don't share it. We forget that others are human, and therefore we forget that they are silent about their brokenness too. Facebook, twitter, instagram, pinterest, snapchat...they consume our life and they are what is filling our souls. They show us the beauty of all our friends, the special moments in a life, and laughter of a night. But what they can never show us is a whole person. Because a whole person is not a constant stream of happys.

A whole person is messy. A whole person is broken. A whole person is weak. A whole person cries out because he cannot do it anymore. We know this. We know this deep in our soul because we have to fight daily to not give up. There are both ups and downs to life of course, but every day we see our  brokenness manifest itself in one way or another. But as soon as we feel we are the only one that has this brokenness, we feel alone. And the more we see the false perfections projected everywhere, the more alone we feel. The more alone we feel, the more we share our own false perfections. And then the more others around us feel alone. It is is a vicious, vicious circle.


But breaking the circle is not something that is out of reach for us. Know that you are not alone on this journey. Know that your weakness is something beautiful. Know that you can share in others brokenness because you are broken too.  The communion of persons is something deeply rooted in ourselves. Rejoice with others in their joys and mourn with others in their sadness. But do not forget the beauty of a real live soul: The beauty of brokenness, not the beauty of a screen.

Do not forget the most beautiful brokenness of all: the cross.

"[Christ's] power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Cor. 12:9
"Love endures ALL things."  1 Cor. 13:7
"In my deepest wound, I saw Your glory, and it dazzled me." ~ St. Augustine


***Inspired by life and also by articles written on theyoungcatholicwoman.com

   There are people everywhere, in every state of life, with as many different stories and problems as snowflakes in a snowstorm.  But there is something that the human in all of us shares in…suffering. Pain is no stranger to a college student with a broken heart, a husband in a nursing home with a sick wife, a little girl who won’t sleep because she lost her teddy bear, and all stories in between. It’s funny though. We make comparisons about our suffering. We look at others and we wonder how well their lives are really going. We get nosy. When we see that their suffering is worse than ours, we feel relieved that we don’t have it as bad as it could possibly be. When we see someone that is suffering less (in our eyes) than us, we get frustrated. Why does God give ME this cross and let them have a burden which is so much lighter?

If you ever feel this way, stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Please.

We do not know the extent of the pain someone is feeling. We will never understand that. Only God knows how hard someone’s journey is. We only know ourselves.  We do not know what they do not reveal. Even if someone does reveal their most intimate sufferings to you, you still will never experience the pain that rests in their heart.  We should share in their pain and try to love them as best as we can. Regardless of if their problems seem bigger or smaller than our own. The pain turns into hope when we rest all the suffering at the foot of the Cross. Jesus is calling you to lay all of your hurt, pain, brokenness, and suffering down at His feet. And then He calls you to help your brothers and sisters in Him do the same.  Keep calm and love on.

“Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you.” 1 Peter  5:7

“Courage, dear heart.” C.S. Lewis

Blessings,

~Paula

Sanctity

This blog post is really going to be preaching at myself. Because I need a lecture. Desperately.

So bear with me.

 St. Joan of Arc won battles, Bl. Mother Teresa helped the poorest of the poor, St. Thomas Aquinas wrote beautiful theological texts.... what do all of these have in common?  They are examples of awe inspiring saints and the actions that the grace of God allowed them to perform. 

What else do they have in common? They get overlooked as flukes by the rest of the world. As if it was all just one big accident that these feats were accomplished. It is so very easy to distance ourselves from the saints. We look at what they did and we think we can never be where they are. They are beautiful examples of what God can do in our lives, but sometimes it's just too scary to handle. 

I wanted to talk about another type of saint though. The type of saint that found Christ in the little things. A saint that learned that being a saint was  something that all are called to.  A saint that knew that being called to be a saint is the same thing as being called to be entwined with love itself. St. Thérèse of Lisieux. (I'm sure all of the saints that I mentioned above, and all saint in general know all these things... but St.  Thérèse  by her life and writings, explains this in a very simple and beautiful way that I'm learning to love) 

I've been learning more about her recently and she is so very precious. It is still a temptation to look at her life and dismiss it as an accident of one sweet child who happened to stumble upon sanctity. But ignoring that temptation,  it is very encouraging to look at her little way of loving  and to learn that little things bring about great things too. Sanctity isn't just for the people who accomplish world changing things for God's plan. It is also for those who trust Him and love Him in everything.  Even things like choosing a smile instead of a harsh word towards someone that annoys us.

And you can do that. You can love Him in everything. And I can do that. We all can do it. I promise. It scares the heck out of me, but  God sends His grace when we call upon Him--It's not us. It's NOT us. It's Him. 

Whether we are called to change the world one Summa written or one hug given at a time, He sends the grace we need. 

YOU. YEA YOU. Are called to be saint. YEA YOU ARE. And you know what? That's not some vague, maybe, sort-of calling.  And it's NOT some terrible, rule-filled for the sake of rules, unhappy, mess of a path. It's simply a  deep, loud, crazy, beautiful message written on your heart. Because becoming a saint is learning to let God love you. Rest in His love. Breathe in His love. And understand that He wants you to rest in Him forever. So change your hearts and minds towards Him.

"Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7

"I must become a saint, my Jesus expects it." ~St. Bernadette

Peace,

Paula

Roma

                 I had a brilliant plan to blog every week that I was in Europe. Thaaaaat didn't work out so well. (I'm currently blogging from a Panera in home-sweet-home Maryland.)  So, my next best plan is to write out something akin to a summary of the semester post. I'm not really sure  that's completely possible... But there were so many beautiful things that happened and so many blessings poured out that I'm going to at least attempt to share about them.  God's love was in the ups, downs, middles, everythings, and simple nothings of this semester. I hope I get across in this even the slightest glimpse of what this semester meant to me and I hope it brings joy to those reading along.

Rome is like every city you've ever been to and nothing like every city you've ever been to...all at the same time. You've got your graffiti, you've got your smoggy air, your smelly buses, and your camera vetted tourists. But you've also got sisters and priests appearing around every street corner, getting to watch the amusing antics of 50 purse vendors running away from cops every other day, people playing accordions on the subway, and coffee taking the place of water in any Italian's diet(---so therefore, your little studying abroad self's diet). It took me probably til I was about to leave to really say I was comfortable with the city and comfortable finding my way around. (Although it only took me a few days to get annoyed by the ACTUAL tourists... ..something I was never...cause please, I belonged in my Roma from day one) That's how life works I suppose.  It was amazing to be walking and then all of a sudden come across the Pantheon...or the Colosseum. And the amount of stunningly beautiful churches in Rome is absolutely mind blowing.
Now...Pasta is everywhere. Gelato is everywhere. And coffee is everywhere. I'm ok with all of those things though, so it was all good. Oh, and Romans love their dogs. I didn't see that many families, I guess just the nature of living in a city. But there were many...many dogs. There were tiny smart cars everywhere, umbrella vendors appearing out of nowhere when it started to rain, and pictures of Mary on many of the apartment buildings. Oh and there was St. Peter's 5 minutes away from where we lived. Rome is a city with a life and mind of its own.

So that was the city life. (And I talked a bit more about that in my first post I posted-- that was supposed to be one of many--- if you want to go back and read it :p) But besides the city itself, it was really the people that God sent this semester that made this trip the biggest blessing....Firstly, I'd like to send a big shout and thank you to Father Scott and Deacon Taylor and Josh!  They came every week so we could have a holy hour (and confessions from Father) and they brought so much joy and peace to our group...I'm so grateful for all they did for us this semester and for all the laughter they brought every time they were with us.  I'd also like to talk about our super fantastically amazing RD for a second now... Miss Corinne. She is one of the most loveable and giving people I have ever met. I am so grateful for all that she did for our whole group. Between planning our smaller pilgrimages and trip to Poland, she still found time to help us with little things and make us all fall on the floor laughing with her crazy and silly self all at the same time. (Example: the day we all pretended we could actually legitimately African dance ... inspired by Corinne. Hopefully...uhhh...  that video never goes anywhere). Annddd I can't talk about inspiring people without including our RAs: Miss Erin and Mr. Henry.  I'm pretty sure those two both have a little ray of sunshine that they bring around with them everywhere. They would probablyyyy deny that. Ya know, cause they've got their problems: Erin's meanness which I've explained to her is similar to butterflies hitting people, and Henry's sassiness on about the same level of meanness. Butttt on a serious note, they shouldn't deny the joy they brought to all of us... They shouldn't because it's true. These two self-sacrificing people showed our group what it means to really be joyful followers of Christ. (We were the founders of the Happy Bear club... tis a grand club... you should ask me about it sometime. Or just come up and shout "Happy Bear!" as loudly as possible when you see me. Either is acceptable) Annnnddd I'm super de duper uber grateful that they stated getting us all to pray the Liturgy of the Hours with them recently...some favorite memories and Jesus time right there that will hopefully continue... (yes,yes I am a holy roller who asked for a breviary for her birthday because of those two...shhhh don't tell anyone)

All the kids of the program were blessings too. I want to send a huge thank you for the silliness, caring, love and friendship that all the students in the program this semester showed me and everyone else. There were SO many little things that brought such joy to my heart over the last 3 months thanks to all of them.  Some of my absolute favorite memories were from the impromptu jam sessions and dances we had in our tiny little common room at the residence, VIP wine&pizza nights with guest speakers, playing the cup game wayyyy too many times after dinner, and taking random trips to gelaterias or the 30cent pastry shop... Oh, and bar beato. Can't forget bar beato. Corinne, and some of the other girls in the program would make coffee in our common room and we'd pay a few cents and the money would go to a pregnancy center. Speaking of loved shown, the sweetest little old Italian man, who runs a cafe right by the residence we lived at, would donate pastries for free so we could use them to make money for bar beato. So kind.

There were SO many other people who came into mine and everyone else's lives just briefly for the semester who  were amazing blessings. There was the bus drive in Pollone who let about 10 of us ride for free. There was the Missionaries of Charity ,who some of us got to work with a few times over the semester, who showed us what real love was. There were the men at the Missionaries of Charity houses who also showed us just as much  and more love as we thought we were going to show them. (I remember some of them saying over and over again to us as we left one night: "God bless you!!!") There was the Italian lady who worked at the bread shop down the street from our residence who said she had never managed to get to St. Peter's in her whole time there. (St. Peter's was down the street from us). I'm not really sure why she hadn't gotten to go, probably just from too much work. But her working there didn't keep her from being overly generous. She, on more than one occasion, threw in lots of free stuff for our group when we bought dinner there. There was Claire who by an act of God's providence I got to meet.  She was a consecrated virgin, who was one of the kindest and realest people I have ever met.  There was the Assaf family (Mr. Assaf is the head of the program), who showed us huge amounts of love and generosity in many different ways.There were the host families we stayed with when we went to Poland, who fed us and housed us. There was our tour guide when we went to Auschwitz who wanted to make sure we understood how grateful we need to be for our lives. There were two beautiful students in Prague who showed us around Prague and helped us get housing when we were there for two nights.  There were the many many people who worked at all the gelato shops I went to that put up with me asking them to pick flavors for me.  There was SO much love shown throughout the whole semester that I can't even really fathom it.

Our trip to Poland was probably one of the highlights of the whole semester. We went to Warsaw, Krakow, Czestochowa, the city JP 2 is from, Auschwitz, the city Maximilian Kolbe lived in, and saw so many other amazing things too. While Roma will always have a special place in my heart, Poland is a place I want to go back and live forever....No exaggeration.  The people had so much faith. At one point we went to stations of the cross that were walking stations, I think in Warsaw. We went to the most amazing Palm Sunday procession I've ever seen  in Krakow(there was Polish music and fire dancing... enough said) and then mass afterwards at a beautiful basilica. It was one of the most touching things I've ever experienced. You really could feel the people on fire for their faith in that city and really everywhere in the country. We also got to visit the Divine Mercy shrine and learn more about St. Faustina. One of the sisters there gave a little talk to us. She was pretty amazing. She talked about how St. Faustina fell in love with Jesus.
We went to mass at a church Maximilian Kolbe and some other men had built in another city. There was an amazing priest ever there who said mass for us. He spoke of how Jesus had really appeared to him once and he spoke of his encounter with Him. He spoke of how we need love in our lives desperately. He reminded us of what St. Paul said about how if we don't have love we are nothing. Love is the only language that we need. We had the opportunity to visit Auschwitz. It was one of the most eye-opening and saddening things that I have ever seen. Our tour guide made sure that we understood that we must never let those people go forgotten. They had dignity and we must always remember them. We go to see the cell of St. Maximilian Kolbe where he died after he took the place of another man in the starvation cell. That is what true love really means. That was beautiful to see that light in the darkness.
We also ended up getting to spend a day in the Czech Republic, on our way home from Poland. There were so many people there who showered kindness on us too. People made sure we had a place to stay and showed us around to special places in Prague. We met the most amazing people on that trip that I don't think I will ever forget.

Then we came back to Rome and amazing things were about to happen. I have to tell you about Easter and the Canonization. Easter was beautiful.I got to go to the Easter vigil inside St. Peter's and then the mass outside St. Peter's on Easter day. What a huge gift that was. And it was so amazing to get to see Papa Francesco so many times! Easter day we all had an amazing time at the villa where the program has had their campus in the past. It's a little outside the city. It's a good thing that it wasn't where we stayed this semester though, or I would never have gone into the city. That campus was stunning.  There were trees and flowers and an open field. It was lovely. It was the first Easter I've ever been without my family, but it was a filled with friends, laughter and happiness.

Annnnnddd goodness gracious. The canonization was absolutely insane. It was the week after Easter. Our group by the grace of God, was in the right place at the right time. We had been wandering around the millions of people squished everywhere in the city the night before the canonization, trying to figure out where to camp out.Anddd at around 11:30 we were standing right by where the crowd started moving towards St. Peter's. We followed the crowd and then got swept in. We were squished into standing room only for about 8 hours. Most of us took turns sitting. We napped, we prayed, we sang, we laughed, we took 5 minute power naps, we got grumpy,  we went a little crazy at points. The crowd would move a few feet every hour or so. It was quite the strange sensation to move only because a million other people are moving around you. At around 7am though, by Mama Mary's intercession and the grace of God we got pushed right into St. Peter's square. We were right next to people who had been in line since 2pm the day before and 9pm...when we had only accidentally stumbled into line on that street at 11:30pm....wow... God is good. Then the canonization mass was beautiful...the sun came out for part of it. JP2 and John 23rd wanted to make sure there was at least a little sunshine. :) There was such joy when Pope Francis named them official saints! The priests came out to distribute communion with yellow colored umbrellas and they all marched down the square all in a row. It was a beautiful sight, especially since we were farther back in the square and I wasn't sure we were going to get communion. It was so special that we did get to receive communion though! Not going to lie though, I think I fell asleep during part of the readings... only for a second or two though. ;)  Also... sleep is a beautiful thing. I don't think I've ever been more grateful for sleep than the night of the canonization. (Fell asleep at 5pm on Sunday... woke up at 6:15am on Monday...like a pro.)

The last few days were kind of a blur. Went on a few adventures. Met up with some Domincan sisters on one little side trip. Got to visit Nettuno, where St. Maria Goretti is from one of the last days. Walked around the city by myself on my very last day. Said goodbye to everyone who was left whilst eating gelato.
Annnnddd then said  my goodbyes to Roma.

I feel like I've just woken up from a dream, ever since I've been home. It was one of the most amazing trips I've ever had. It was definitely hard at some points, don't get me wrong.. But it was all such a blessing..every single second of it. I cannot believe I got to see and experience everything that I did. It's crazy. Absolutely crazy. But a good crazy. :) This little summary can't really begin to cover the 3 months...but I hope I was able to share at least partly the blessing that this semester was. Thank you Jesus for all that you have shown us all this semester. Annddd I will now leave you with a quote from one of the books we read this semester (....or rather, were supposed to have read) that I think summarizes the feeling of all who get to enjoy the beauty and peace of Roma.
 "And joy pervades her quiet heart." ~from the Aeneid.

If you stuck with me this whole time... I thank you :)
Ciao!
Blessings,
~Paula

Welcome to Roma! ---The start of an adventure.

I've been in Roma, Italy for one week today.

It feels like 10 years have passed. 

I had never really been attached to a place before. I've loved places because of the people or things there, not for the sake of loving the place itself.  I can honestly say though, all cheesiness aside, I am in love with this city already.. I didn't think I was a city girl...I still don't think I am one. But there's something different about Roma that makes it feel like home more than any other city I've ever been to. 

Someone told me before I came, that Rome was a little on the grungy side for a European city. But that's pretty typical of cities...and yes, Rome has it's graffiti and cigarette filled streets, but there's a strange beauty in it. A beauty that other cities don't possess. Maybe it's just me being a wide eyed American saying this, but I really feel like this is such a special place. I'm sitting here on facebook on the same land that soldiers, saints and martyrs lived. The history is overwhelming and the Catholicism is at the center. As much as I love St. Patrick's in NYC, you find an equivalent church on every street corner here in Italia. I'm certain that is why this place feels so much like home. Because this city, at it's heart, has Christ residing.

 And as much as I've always claimed to dislike history, you can't ignore the complete and utter amazingness   of the history of this place. It just leaps out at you everywhere you go. We were all doing a typical 21st century activity (walking to a bar--ha)  and someone pointed out that we were passing the spot where Julius Caesar got stabbed.  So crazy.

I won't go into detail about all the things I've seen so far (if you want more details, you can always ask me more--I've been writing pretty much every single detail down...but I figured that wouldn't make for a very interesting blog post)  But I will talk about a few things I've seen...

First, St. Peter's....is absolutely gorgeous. St. Peter's is about a 5 minutes walk from where we're staying. I cannot believe that there are people here that have grown up next to that and it's nothing special to them anymore. Some of us had joked about grabbing little Italian children and telling them how absolutely lucky they are to grow up here. Probablyyy not the best idea... but seriously, that's how we feel!

The basilica is enormous. I haven't explored it all yet; I've only been in inside once so far.  But the ceiling reaches so high. There are beautiful pieces of art inside. (The pieta, for one) And there are mini chapels everywhere throughout. We went inside at 7am on Thursday...and this is the time before many people come..so it was fairly empty. And there are priests saying mass at almost every chapel. You can hear the different languages as you walk by and it is just an amazing representation of the universality of the Church. 

Another thing I want to talk about is just the Roman streets and people themselves. I've explored a little on my own the past few days (for any parentals of mine that happen to be reading this---don't worry, during the day :p) The colors of the buildings themselves put me in such a joyful mood. There are yellows and beiges and oranges and most of the buildings jut out towards the streets giving everything a more village-like feel. There are dainty restaurants, shops filled with beautiful things, cheap souvenir shops, and street vendors everywhere you turn. I'm still working on figuring out how you can just tell who's an Italian and who's a tourist...but somehow, you just kind of know. The  Italian women always seem to be put together and I don't mean this in a negative way, but they have a colder look usually. And the men...well... no offense to American men, dress a heck of a lot better over here.  It's a little embarrassing how easy it is for them to pick out Americans too though. You'll walk by a vendor without having let your American secret out by speaking English, and they'll still start talking to you in English anyway...Although, someone did think I was Italian last week and was really surprised when I told them I was American. Highlight right there.

Oh, and I've had some school too already here. Can't forget about that part. ;) We're taking an art/architecture class, humanities, poetics, and theology. It's all going to tie right back into this whole Rome experience and I'm really excited about them! (Although homework is slightly a depressing prospect)

A few more things I've noticed: 

---Personal space? Not really a thing here. You'll be walking on the sidewalk and where in America, people will walk a good few feet to avoid the person walking next to them, here everyone moves about a centimeter away.  

---If a car's coming and you want to cross the street... If you're legit Roman.. you start walking anyway. Haven't quite gotten to that level of legitimacy yet. (This is more of a city thing than a Rome thing, but they're even more aggressive about it than I've seen at other places) 

---If it's raining, there will be an umbrella vendor every 2 feet--- so have no fear! 

---I know you can't buy happiness... but you can buy gelato and cappuccinos.. close enough. 

Anyway, as you can see... a lot can happen in a week. In the words of the director of our study abroad program: Rome...will change you, but it is up to you to decide if it is for the better or for the worse. Heavy words to remember. 

It's only been a week and I can already see my heart changing because of this place. I'll be praying that my growth is towards the good. If you've read this much with me, I thank you . :) Let me know if you have any prayer requests and please keep me in all of your prayers too! 

Ciao,

~Paula(:

The 5 Stages of Finals

The 5 stages of Finals

I have come to the conclusion today that college students during finals week go through their own version of the 5 stages of grief and loss: 

1.  Denial and Isolation— One ignores reality and hides from others. Example: “I’ve got like 3 days bro… Plenty of time…and who needs to study when I’ve got netflix to watch in my room???”

2. Anger— Anger at self and others.. Example: “WHY DIDN’T I STUDY SOONER?!?!?” “WHY AM I SO STUPID?!??” “WHY DIDN’T YOUUUUUU MAKE ME STUDY?!?!?” “ASAGDHDGHKJSHGDHJKLHSGAJKSGKAJS”

3. Bargaining— Trying to bargain with God or others or yourself to get it to work out. Example: “Ok God, if I pass this final…. I’ll be a nun. Well… maybe not. But JUST HELP ME PASS PLEASE OH PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF YOU” 

4.Depression: Falling into a funk because of finals. Example: “I’m just gonna sit on my bed and cry. Life. What is life. What is study. Who am I? Why do I pay for this torture? I just want to cry foreevvverrrrrr and eat doritos. Mmmm doritos… time to gain 50 pounds. Time to sleep. Time to sob. I WANT MY MOMMMYYYY”

5. Acceptance.  One has come to terms with the looming final and buckles down to study. Example: “Well now that the test is in an hour. Better start studying. Whatever happens, happens. Life goes on. Bring it test. BOOYEA….hakuna matata” 

And then after all the craziness… you will look back on your life and realize that this too passed and you survived and life was happy once again. ;) 

Blessings,

~Paula

Source:http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief

We are loved more than we will ever know

I am not perfect.

I am not perfect.

I am not perfect.

And neither is anyone else in this world. 

But you know what? I am loved. And so are you. 

We are loved more than we will ever know. 

Christ knows how hard this life thing is. 

He experienced the brokenness of the world in a more full way than any of us could ever imagine.

I think we all go through the delusion of thinking that everyone else has this life figured out besides us. We think we forgot to make that right turn somewhere along the way that got everyone to happiness street but us. 

But ask anyone if they think they have their life together and you'll probably get most people saying they don't. And if anyone answers with a resounding: "yes, I have my life perfectly together."...I'd start to question their sanity just slightly. Even those who legitimately have found a  very good balance in their life recognize that life is hard. And usually it is these people who  recognize even more that they have a need for help...from God, from family, and from others. 

We all experience little annoyances. We all experience pain. We all experience hurt. We all know what it's like to collapse into tears because we just couldn't hold it in any longer. We may showcase it in different ways, but we all are broken people. It's just a fact, thanks to the fall. But that's a beautiful fact if we look at it from the right perspective.  This brokenness that we all experience on a day to day basis allows us to recognize that we are all part of a beautiful humanity. And in a deeper way, we are all part of the body of Christ and He experiences all of our brokenness with us. And with our hearts set on Him, we can hope for that one day those tears will be turned into joy.

But don't worry that you aren't perfect. No one is, as much as they might try to convince otherwise. Yes, we are called to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect...but He is helping us every step of the way. He knows it is a journey. A beautiful beautiful journey. 

God does not call the equipped...He equips the called. 

Blessings,

~Paula

An open letter to all girls:

Dear girls of this society,

 I would just like to say… that I am so so sorry. I’m sorry for all the lies you have been told by this world. I’m sorry for all the hurt that you have experienced. I’m sorry that life has pushed you to a point of utter confusion. I think so much of this confusion comes from girls not recognizing where their true worth actually comes from. We were not made to be scared, dependent, broken or unhappy little weak creatures. We were made to be bold, joyful, strong, beautiful, and whole. We must recognize where our true worth comes from to become all that we were made to be.

               First, we have to realize that our worth does not come from things. I know this sounds obvious to most. But just take a second and think about a few things. How much does your mood change depending on if you like an outfit you put on in the morning or not? Personally, I get frustrated at my morning self’s pick of an outfit when I’m groggily picking something out to wear before my 8:15 class. Does that happen to you? Do you ever define yourself by your style? Do you classify yourself by abstract things like “writer”, “emotional”, “wild”, or anything like that? We think we are what we look like or we are what we act like. We think that defines us. We think if we didn’t have a cell phone, no one would be able to find us, so no one would ever talk to us, so no one would love us, so therefore we will die old maids and will not be worth anything to anybody. Yep, I know you have at least subconsciously had those thoughts if you’ve ever had a broken phone. Things are easy to fill our lives with, the simplest to let define us. But we need to stand above all that. We need to detach ourselves from the physical objects, at least emotionally. And from the abstract things? As cliché as it sounds, don’t let the words of others (or in some cases, the words coming from yourself) make you feel inferior or superior. If your feelings of worth in this life change based on what other people say about you then you’re never going to be content with yourself. I know a secret that every girl needs to know: Your worth stays the same, regardless of the clothes that you choose to put on that day or the daily opinions of others.

Secondly, your worth does not come from other people. We all know that girls tend to bounce from one friendship or relationship to the next, especially when they have been hurt. We do this in the hope that at some point the emptiness will be filled by another person.  Well, as many broken girls can tell you, that isn’t much of a solution. We do this even if we haven’t been hurt too. We run to tell our stories to our friends and can’t make decisions without others' input. But the more we seek fulfillment in other people, the more we realize how broken others are and how we need to be seeking something outside this crazy world to fill our longing hearts. This doesn’t just apply in the extremes in life either. It goes for the girls that make their best friends their everything. As much as we desperately need community with other strong girls, there are some things that should be saved for our daily conversations in the chapel. We need to rise up and recognize that to be whole we need a healthy dose of independence from other people. Occasionally, it’s good to try something new, without the same group of people you always do things with. And don’t fall into the female jealousy trap. When others do things without you, it usually is not meant to be a slap in the face. It is our scared little girl that is left in our hearts that makes us hate when we feel left out. But actually, sometimes being left out is a beautiful occurrence that lets people recognize that depending on people is not the way to live a healthy life. Sometimes being slighted by other people is a good thing for us, a blessing almost. And as I stated earlier, girls tend to make decisions based on others. Having a few good friends who you trust is beautiful. Not being able to make decisions on your own or not being able to go places by yourself though… is a distortion. We need community, yes. But overly abundant attachment to anyone is a good way to fall, headfirst, in the wrong direction.

So where does true worth come from then? We don’t get it from things; we don’t get it from people. We get it from God. He made us. We are His princesses. We need to dive into His love to become what we were made to be.  If we stop clinging to the objects and people in our lives so tightly, our hands will be empty to be filled with the hands of the Savior. When we rest in Him, he guides us in everything. He listens to every hurt better than any human. He fills every void better than every relationship. He brings more joy than any Instagram picture on your cell ever could. He gives us our worth and is crying out for every one of His beautiful daughters to turn back to Him to find out what true happiness is. We can only learn this if we stop holding on so tightly to the broken things of this world and go running back into the arms of the one who longs to bring our hearts joy.

Blessings,

~Paula

Sparrow

Sparrow, fly out into the open

Sparrow, you have new life to find

Don’t hide your heart

The maker sees and knows

The world you wish to fly to

The hope that everything will rise

Sparrow, the blue skies call

Sparrow, the girl can see you

Fly higher just to show your beauty

The maker gave it to you

Don’t leave without a grateful thought

Sparrow, you don’t need to cry

There are things that break others

But you still fly on and better

Knowing the maker cares

Knowing the maker cares.

Keep Breathing

You know that thing that's really bothering you right now? That thing you can't get off your mind? That worry that won't leave your heart and mind alone? Let it go. Just let the thought go. Right now. Just for a second. And breathe. Breathe in...and out.  And pray:  "Lord, if I can let this go for that one second by my own actions, I know that with YOUR help, I can let it go completely."

Peace. Nobody really has much of it anymore. Why? Well, we allow the constant stream of everyday problems along with the mind boggling amount of meaningless social media to attack us every waking moment.  And we let ourselves seep in it. Enjoy it even . Someone has a problem? If we don't know them well, we might talk to other people about it, gossiping or just searching for answers. If we do know them well, we might not talk about it much...if you're a fellow introvert with the author, you might just let the worry sit in your mind and weigh you down. Or you might speak about it to other people, but then it's weighing them down along with you.

No one really tries to pray these days. No one really wants silence. Because both are scary.
If you pray, God might ask you change. If you sit in silence, you might figure out that answer about something that you've really been hoping to avoid.

Dwelling on problems and wallowing in that grief or anxiety is WAY easier than doing what God might be calling you to do to actually DEAL with that problem. Allowing distractions into your life also helps you miss what you're supposed to be seeing.
If it's a problem with another person, it's easier to grumble about it than to actually recognize that you're called to treat that person like Christ too. If you're trying to make a decision, you're not going to get an answer by mass texting your whole contact list. I promise. At the end of the day, you need silence to pray and prayer to hear.

It's so hard to remember but God really does have bigger and better things in store for us than we could ever imagine. He gives us the peace and hope we're craving, if we'll just ask.
So take some time out before this whole school years starts up...and turn off the phone, sign out of facebook, stop dwelling on your problems and hoping it will give you answers or consolement. Give it all up to God in the silence. Because His story for you is a beautiful one. But if you drown out the plot with constant chatter, worries, technology and noise, you'll miss the whole section of the plot that you're supposed to be in.

And yes this is a cheesy post, brought to you by the fact I am leaving for my sophomore year in 8 days and nostalgia about leaving has officially hit. ;)

He has a plan. Keep breathing, keep smiling, and keep praying.

Blessings,
~Paula

"Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his saints, to those who turn to him in their hearts." -Psalm 85:8

"But all that I know is I'm breathing.
All I can do is keep breathing.All we can do is keep breathing now." 
~Ingrid Michaelson

Time is a crazy thing

So just so you know, the best time to write a blog post is when you have a paper due in a few hours... at least that's what my brain thinks. :)
Woooo for procrastination! (Haaha ironic because of this blog topic...) Anyways, let's talk about summer and time, shall we?
At first, the hundreds of hours that we have in our freed-from-school lives seems like they could go on forever. But as we all know, time never quite works the way we want it to. For example, the last time I wrote on this blog was longer than a month ago...on one hand it seems like 10 years ago and on the other hand it legitimately feels like yesterday when I wrote that last post. I know you've all had experiences like that.
Time is always weird and always relative.
Summer just makes it 10 times worse because all the time available is less structured. And even if you have a super tightly structured job to get to everyday, you still have free time that you don't have to spend writing a paper or studying like you do in the school year when you're done with work. (Unless you're me and thought it was a good idea to take Philosophy over the summer for some unknown reason... )

What do YOU do with your free time?
It's almost dangerous.
I'm starting to realize that the days that I sit around watching Netflix are not only not helping me grow in any way, that time wasted is actually making me go backwards. Time is so so very precious and if we let time slip through our fingers mindlessly we're missing out on so many opportunities, so many chance to grow, and so many openings for learning. I've noticed the days I've take advantage of the time available to me in Godly, productive ways have been some of the most content days I've had this summer. I definitely feel growth when I use that extra 20 minutes to read the Bible or pray the rosary instead of staring at Pinterest like a zombie. And when I stare at Pinterest for that 20 minutes...well I definitely do feel like an empty zombie, and I definitely don't feel like I'm becoming the woman God wants me to be.

I'm not saying we shouldn't take advantages of all the amusing activities we have available to us now to relax and have simple fun...but we shouldn't let our weeks go without a second thought of where our time goes. If we waste the gift of time this summer, we shouldn't be surprised when we're less of the person we wanted to be by the time the new school year starts. We should learn to take advantage of this time to grow...in a strange way the summers between college semesters are just, if not more, as important as the semesters themselves. Most of us aren't taking classes for our majors over the summer, you're right. But we are coming home to the people we love who we have to get readjusted to. We have to re-learn how to listen to our parents wishes in a gracious and grown-up way. We have to learn to use our time even MORE wisely because we have so much more time available to us. (One can only hope we all can learn to use our time more wisely than freshman... let me tell you, I think pretty much anyone could be wiser than  I was last year about time management.) We have to work. We have to make sure we're making Christ the center of everything, and doing what He wants for us over this break from school (and sometimes it's a  chance to have a break from the real world too before we graduate... but that doesn't mean a break from God's wishes). It's hard to use our time in the right way. It's hard to not go to either extreme: lying in bed all day versus guilt tripping anyone who doesn't get to daily mass.  We all have different battles to face this summer. But if you remember anything, remember that we only get a certain amount of time on this earth...and I bet that on your deathbed you're not going to say how much you wished you spent more time online... you're going to wish you had lived life to the fullest. And hopefully you and I will be able to say we did.  It's gonna take effort, but it's going to be worth it. Promise.
Now...excuse me as I go attempt to write that paper. Philosophy papers should be good for growing into the person I was made to be, right? That's what I keep telling myself. ;)

I hope you all have amazing summers.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." ~ John 10:10

"When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute - and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity." ~Albert Einstein



Blessings,
~Paula(: