Not isolated

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I’m drafting a post, but am still thinking about it; likely to be pondering what I want to say for a while. However, one of the reasons I can’t think on the topic for long is because I’ve got barriers. These barriers come from daily life, specifically the content of my daily life. Let me split the hair a bit more: work life.

 

I try not to talk about work online, people start clamoring for information, resources and “oh, hey can you do therapy on the internet with me…for free?” Uh, let me put this simply:  NO. Why? Because when I work 12 hours a day driving around to different schools, homes, and other places (ever done therapy in a dentist waiting room? Or Burger King?).

 

However, when some events are brought into the realm of social media and infotainment such as very public disclosure of childhood sexual abuse of Michael Egan. It’s very timely considering I’ve had several clients and parents disclose their own experiences of sexual abuse, rape, assault, and molestation in the past week or two. What better way to answer all their persistent questions of “why didn’t he/she tell me?” That a celebrity’s mother explains the fear, threats, and conflicting emotions. And it rips off the gag, the message of “don’t talk about it” and “it’s shameful”. Your daughter making a choice to sell herself on the corner for drugs or food is shameful. Your son or daughter enduring abuse from trusted adults (aunts/uncles, parents, neighbors, teachers, friends, siblings, grandparents etc) is uncomfortable, embarrassing, confusing, angering, saddening, depressive, anxiety-provoking, scary, upsetting, distracting, etc. I can normalize PTSD, re-living and avoidance, flashbacks and nightmares all day long, but there’s something about hearing about it on television, that the “untouchable” people in Hollywood are suddenly very touchable. I mean that in more than one way, how many ways can you take it? (oh, the puns are coming out now … oy vey this means one thing)

 

I’m going to bed now.

A Most Blessed Easter!

He is risen, but only having to take a Chalice as willed by the Father, and embracing us with His Blood upon a cruel and sweet Cross.

 

I don’t know how Lent has been for you, but it’s been interesting for me. Some years the fruits come early, and other times, as this year I only get a few consolations before being dipped into the darkness again. I have been more open and honest with my spiritual director in the past two months. I told him of how I feel nothing, gain nothing from the Sacraments, from His holy Presence. I know I do, I use my intellect, my reason to inform my faith. I’m not faithless, nor hopeless. I simply have no sense. It’s been this way since Vigil of Divine Mercy (or Low Sunday) four years ago.

Good Friday always pains me; mourning the thought that despite my best penances and efforts for 40 days, I’m still full of spite and sin; mourning pride that I’m not able to do for myself; mourning the death of Christ on a Cross. But in the Matins & Lauds, and readings of Good Friday, I found what He was pointing out to me, and today on the celebration of His resurrection, I have another place to cross off my list.

As on my birthday, Easter tells me that the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters are not available to me. They don’t take anyone after the age of 30. I’m trying to find my Easter joy again. There will be a place for me, as Joseph of Arimethea opened his tomb for Jesus, someone will have a place for me to die to this world. I know it’ll come. It’s the waiting, between his Death and finding a tomb that I reside in, those minutes of “you go ask Pilate for the Body”…”no, you go do it!” I feel like Nicodemus, a creature of Day forced to come out night.

May we all find the grace and fortitude to drink from the Chalice He offers each of us!