Lenten Schizophrenia: My Lent as a 16 Year Old

Today I offer this recollection as a hopeful reminder that life gets better and that even when powerless in addiction, even when no one understands, God truly has the power to heal.

Sixteen, what a year-- Mommabear had cancer for the third time, I fell in love for the first time, I earned my coveted driver's license, I was confused about who I was and what that meant for my life, I received the Sacrament of Confirmation, I was completely addicted to masturbation and I found out that it is a mortal sin. There were many life-altering events that year, but nothing was more shattering than already struggling in the undercurrent of addiction and then being crushed by a tidal wave saying I was going to hell for something I no longer had any control over. I could not let that happen. I would not go to hell. So without any resources or support or know-how, I did the only thing I could think of: I gave up masturbation for Lent.

Previously my Lenten sacrifices consisted of giving up different candies or cracking my knuckles or other such things appropriate to younger ages, sacrifices that made 8 year old Theresa understand a little bit of Christ's sacrifice, that He willingly gave Himself up just as I was willingly giving up something I loved. But this Lent was different, this Lent I was not giving up something I loved but something I knew was holding me back from Love (and, coincidentally, love). This Lent I was scared, unsure, but determined. I also decided to begin reading the Bible from start to finish (and this has sparked my now typical Lenten routine-- give something up and replace it with something good).

This was all well and good until my parish priest said from the pulpit that we should be in Lent together as families, that all family members should share what they are giving up or doing for Lent to keep accountable or to choose something we could all do as a family. I almost broke out into a cold sweat in my pew. My parents knew of my addiction to masturbation as "my problem" or "the habit" and I was not in the habit of telling them about the depth of my problem. I wanted to keep this Lent under wraps. But while eating (wolfing down) my omelet and cheese danish with Meet the Press interrogating in the background, my mom looked at me and asked what I was doing for Lent. I scrambled and came up with giving up cracking my knuckles, swearing, and snacking between meals, to my mom's disappointed but consenting "okay". I was off the hook.

Until I went for a cookie a few hours later. Until I cracked my knuckles while helping prepare dinner. Until I cursed when I found more homework due the next day that I had forgotten about. Then I realized that this Lent was truly going to be different than any other Lent.

I quit my addiction cold turkey and was keeping it a secret and then, as a show for my mom, I was breaking the habit of cracking my knuckles, watching my mouth (which admittedly was a very good thing), and was skipping snacks while at home (what happened at school stayed at school). Truth be told, I remember next to nothing about those 40 days. All I remember is feeling stressed, pressured, and generally out of my mind. But whatever happened that Lent, I did not break, I did not fall, and I did not give up. I did not realize until that Lent that I could be strong.

I fell back into my addiction after that Lent but what I did gain was a thirst for truth, understanding, and healing. A thirst I have not lost today. A thirst that drives me closer to God every day. And I'm not afraid of my own weaknesses and limitations anymore because I am in love with a God who has none. When I was 16, I found that I was made for more than what I had been allowing myself to live in and I wanted more life. Holiness is pure, true life. That's what I wanted when I was 16 and that's what I want now that I'm 26. May this Lent purge us of whatever death we have been living in and open us to true life.

Fruit of the Vine, Work of My Hands

I have done a lot of damage to myself through the use of my hands. And somehow, through the mysterious grace of God, through those instruments of destruction, I will also find redemption. I always thought that meant through my writing. I have been a storyteller since I could talk and writer since before I could really write. I dreamed of growing up and joining the ranks of the great authors, in fact, I told my high school English teacher I wanted to be a combination of Mark Twain and Emily Dickinson.

While I find much good coming from writing, I find that much more is coming in other ways. Through making and packing my husband's lunch for him, cleaning our apartment, washing dishing, holding my husband's hand or giving him a massage after a long day-- things that some would consider extremely mundane and ordinary. But these are the things that have provided me with the most healing. Why? Because I am no longer serving myself, as masturbation led me to do, but I am serving others and most importantly the one who I am one with. Service and healing start at home and then overflow from there to flood the world.

While addiction and masturbation were horrible, it provided me with two necessary things: strength and trust to carry on through the dark times and a deeper understanding and gratefulness for mercy. Time to go clean the kitchen from our Italian Seven Fishes meal last night :) Merry Christmas!

Free At Last, I Am Free At Last

I was told love is the cure, that all I must do to find freedom from my bonds, my chains to "the habit" was to fall in love. To direct oneself outward, the easiest path is to fall in love with another person, be in relationship. I heard this from a friend who heard it from a priest. But we hear it all the time from the world-- love (in the shadow of lust and infatuation) is the cure to any problem you might have and it only has to be love a little bit. I'm sure the priest was well-intentioned and now I can see the higher wisdom in his words, but falling in love was not the cure to my addiction.

Love was the problem. Not because I could not "fall in love" (some friends described me as boy-crazy), not because I did not desire that, and not because I was not in love with the Lord. Contrarily, it was love of the Lord that brought me to this place of desiring to destroy this addiction and sin in my life. No, the problem of love was that I did not believe I was lovable. I did not believe I was beautiful or could be loved. And that fueled the infinite, fiery pit of addiction in my soul.

Only someone infinite could extinguish that hell and fill me.

Love was the answer. Not love for or from the Lord or another person, but self-love. I could list every minute problem, weakness, and failing I had, I could come up with every reason possible why I was not lovable or beautiful. It took Infinite Love for me to realize that it was not He who did not love me, but me who did not love me. I gazed upon the Crucifix like Mary Magdalen gazed upon Christ when caught in adultery and felt how she felt-- Love was standing before me, forgiving me, inviting me deeper, and I had one choice left, whether or not to forgive myself. The Magdalen followed Christ the rest of her days, even following Him to the Cross because she found she could not remain unforgiving to herself when so infinite a mercy was being poured out upon her. In a moment that can only be described as the Divine rushing wind in the small whisper of the Holy Spirit, I said, "Theresa, I forgive you for being too weak to stop masturbating."

Love is still the answer. Even though I have fallen in love and married a wonderfully godly man, my struggles have not magically left me. Those envious, parasitic temptations still vie for a place in my soul to dwell, but I recognize them now. I see them as they are now and I see me as I am-- Theresa, fallen yet good.

The chorus of "Martyrs and Thieves" (by Jennifer Knapp) begins:

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory

I am not afraid

To bear all my weakness, knowing in meekness

I have a kingdom to gain

I am a slave to sin nor to my own mercilessness anymore. I am free. And I am running and fighting, inching however slowly towards that Kingdom. I have left my chains and old ways behind.

Every Flower Must Grow Through Dirt

I've always been entranced by stories of homeless people, especially young people, and people who come through such debilitating and gritty situations to find life and love and meaning. I devoured stories about life on the edge, punks, rebels, addicts. My life seemed so whitewashed and clean compared to theirs and so...boring. I wanted a life of excitement and the straight and narrow path didn't really seem to accomodate that. Why did I find beauty and excitement in these other lives and not in my own? Because there is beauty in grittiness.There is rawness and realness to a gritty life, a life on the edge. There is no room for maybe or maybe not, only do or don't, live or die. In a way, it is a very profound life. You must always be real and up-front, in touch with who you are, and because, most often, a gritty life is a life at rock bottom or close, you can be who you want to be. Being empty leaves you with space to fill up with and what you fill up with is your choice.

But what we know about a gritty life is that it doesn't normally end well. With that emptiness come the natural desire to be full and some people do not know how to fill themselves with good things. Addiction, over-dose, death, and suicide often ensue. This does not appeal to me.

I want a raw, real life full of adventure and excitement. I don't want to just explore a place, I want to play in it. But I don't want a whitewashed life, never experiencing any suffering. Why? Because out of our suffering emerges such beauty and virtue, resistance and perseverance--all of the things that can make us great.

And that's how I fell in love with Christ. That's when I discovered who I want to be and how I want to live my life. God, Who did not spare Himself any pain or suffering but Who also led an amazing life of joy, excitement, intimacy, and love.

There is realness in pain. When we have nothing left, there is no fear in showing who we are or where we are at. This is Christ's call to us everyday, to be who we are, who we are created to be. And above all else, I am His.

Why I Love the Princesses (and fairy tales in general)

In today's society, we focus a lot on doing instead of being. We must do something great, earn something great, having something great to show off, to be great. Our doing should be a reflection of our being but our doing should not be the measure of our being. I find this especially true in the world of women since the feminist movement.

The princess fairy tales (and most of those commonly referred to as "Disney Princesses") are given a lot of flack for portraying women who only sit around and wait for true love to rescue her from whatever peril she is in. She does not do anything (other than fulfill stuffy old values of cooking, cleaning, marriage, and the like, if that). But what I propose is that the princesses show us the value of being over doing, show us that to amounting to something great is attainable because we are all born great because we are. I propose that the princesses teach us values that make us better, stronger, more feminine women who are then able to engage the world and because our personhood is great, we can then do great things.

This is why I (have come to) love the princesses. I don't have to do anything spectacular and I don't have to look all over the place for my spectacular thing to do to make me great, I already am great and therefore can do great things, even small things in a great way (like Uncle Ben [Spiderman, in case you didn't know] says, "With great power comes great responsibility"). We must do great things precisely because we are great.

Herein lies the problem, though: how do we measure this greatness? What scale is there to tell me if I am doing great things? What is great to a person in desperate need will not be the same as to a person with plenty. Then do everything with all of your heart, all of yourself; do everything in love. That is the true measure of greatness--how much you open your heart to those around you and simply love.

Lunch Club, Ex-Boyfriends, and God's Mercy

 Currently, the girls and I have begun week 2 of the Princessology lunch group and so far so good! The group grew from about 5 interested girls to about 10. Also there are currently 4 girls who cannot come yet but have requested the materials each week so they can at least learn it on their own. And when asked, all of the girls talk about how great the Princessology is, how much they are learning and growing, and how much fun they are having. I am overjoyed!

For anyone who has every wondered what girls are interested in or talk about at lunch, let me give you a peek inside the first week of our group when we were discussing Aurora (Sleeping Beauty). We were discussing what are the needs and desires of our hearts that we have tried to fill with other "love" instead of the love of Jesus. Blondie turned to me and with somber tone asked "Ms. Bey, has anything ever led you away from God?" Oh gosh. Being truthful, yes. And hence they fanangled me into sharing about my first love/high school boyfriend. Since I was 16 when he happened they of course wanted to know all about him and they started asking what he looked like. Having internet projection abilities, I was able to bring up a visual aid--some pictures of him, as we are Facebook friends. Punky was head-over-heels, in fact, I believe she verbally declared him to be her type of Prince Charming. What a discussion this led to! Oy! Thankfully (especially for Punky) we were able to see how damaging my relationship with him was to my relationship with God and how much more damaging it could have been to me if I had continued in the relationship and not had good family and Church support to guide me. The girls agreed that although he and many other boys are hot that it is definitely what is inside that counts and they resolved to only be interested in boys that could help them grow as women and in their relationships with God.

I'm pretty sure God was laughing at that entire lunch group, especially at me. Though that boy and I were never physical (didn't even hold hands), emotional damage can run deep and I have sought much healing from my relationship with him over the years and have reached a place of peace (which is good since I'm preparing to marry a man who truly does bring me to Christ in every way and helps to strengthen my relationship with Him). Apparently my journey with my high school relationship is not quite over. Perhaps it will never be. There is something of value in the relationship I had with that boy--I have learned what I was looking for in a man, what I am still looking for in a man, who I am as a daughter of God, as a princess, and that God's mercy runs wide, deep, and long. My fiance and I do not have a perfect relationship and there are some things from his past that we have had to work through, but because God has given me such an amazing opportunity to know Him and His mercy and to receive His mercy, we are able to work through those issues with open hearts and compassion. God's plan is so good and I would have never guessed that a relationship I had in high school would still help to inform my life, relationship, and spirituality years later.  Truly thank God for the Princessology and the lunch group, for my ex-boyfriend, for my fiance, and especially for His mercy. All for the greater glory of God!

Simple Reminder

Tonight I discovered what love is again.

I've been in Philadelphia spending the New Year with my family-- my mom's younger sister and family. My 13 year old cousin and I are very close; in a very real way she is the sister I always dreamed of. Tonight is my last night here as tomorrow the kids go back to school, my aunt goes back to work, and I fly home. K started trying to convince me to stay longer and when I said I couldn't, she made up ways that I would be forced to-- flight delays or cancellations, etc. We sat on her bed and she looked at me with her big, bright blue eyes. She melts my heart when I look into her eyes because she wears her love on her face, there is no way to miss it, and she loves me very dearly. We talked about how we will be able to spend much more time together after this summer because her family will be relocating to the west coast, as will I. She still tried to make me stay, and though not satisfied with waiting, she smiled and I knew that she understood.

K loves me so much she hates spending time apart from me, and vice versa, and cannot wait for the day when we do not have to be apart. But until that day, she is content to love me as fiercely as she can, no matter the distance. It's such a comforting thought to me when I worry about my dad and how hurt he feels when I mention moving away, especially now that Mommabear is no longer here. But K reminds me of Mommabear and something she said to me when I first started talking about moving away. Mommabear looked at me in the car that day and said, "Of course I want you to stay near me and get a job and raise a family, but more than that, I want you to be happy and to not miss any opportunities. We will always be a family no matter how far apart we are."

This is love-- so fierce that they want you to stay with them forever, but so encompassing that they let you go.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May this year be one of holding on, letting go, and loving fiercely.