Shutting Down / Moving

I obviously no longer maintain this site/blog. I have moved to wordpress:
http://itishabitforming.wordpress.com/

I'm on there, mostly with brief clips on life, roommate, vocational stuff.

I'll be shutting this down soon.

Darkness

So much has occurred that I don't know what to tell you, or even where to begin. And yet, when I look back on my life, not much has changed either. Funny how life is.

In July 2012 I moved out of my parents' house and moved about 15 minutes away (for Los Angeles, that's a decent distance), and got an apartment with a girl friend. It's nice because it's close to my base office in Torrance and many of the stores and malls in the area.

Since November 2011 I have been working as a social worker/therapist for children. I got to watch (and inwardly cringe while) a 6 year old poured purple glitter on orange playdoh; done a few suicide contracts; discharge some, and tried to convince parents in broken Spanish how "speed" can prevent their kid from flunking the 4th grade the second year in a row.

Since moving out, a Mister Hamster has moved in; the only male allowed to spend the night. =] His name is Sam, and he's quite the quiet, neurotic introverted Syrian hamster. We're on the same temperament wave-length. Might be acquiring a Mr. Bunny in the near future...not sure though.

Finally got the depression & anxiety of the past 3 years old control thanks to chemicals: two years of insomnia finally ending, and three years of yo-yo weight changes stabilizing. Fewer headaches and migraines; less chronic back pain.

Vocation-wise: 3-4 years in the desert/darkness. I go to Mass because I obey; same for Confession, and other trappings of the faith. I started attending the Tridentine Latin Mass almost exclusively August 2011. Wait, you want to know the reason! I could not muster enough energy with depression & fatigue to withstand the Novous Ordo for more than 15 minutes, and then would sit through the rest of the Mass. With the Tridentine, I could get through past Eucharist, which was an hour into the service. I continue to be almost exclusively Tridentine; maybe 3 N.O. masses per year.
   Not sure if I mentioned it here, but I had to turn down the acceptance into the convent in June 2009 due to student loans. I still have those loans. I'm a social worker by trade; not exactly rolling in it. I wish I had more to say about my vocation. I don't. It's dreary, dark and unanswered stillness.

A Rare Sigthing

When was I last on here? Can somone check the time stamp for me?

What's changed?

1. Got a job as a social worker at a ADHC November 2010
2. Left the job 3weeks prior to being there a year. October 2011
3. Got a job as a social worker/therapist November 2011
4. Moved out of my parents' place 2 months ago

Where's the vocation?

Still here, going through the desert.

Paying off my loans, which have gone down from 50k to 42k. Hey, I don't make a million as a social worker. They don't pay me very well to make sure kids don't kill or hurt themselves; to help them out of depression or anxiety; or to teach parents to, well, parent; connect kids and parents to community resources.

a thought

I defend.

Noun, subject, verb, predicate.  It's a complete sentence; and it's complete thought.  Although it's only two words, it's far from simple.

What have I been up to?

Not much.

Still working 6hrs/day at the senior day center, and volunteering hours in the evenings at the mental health clinic.

Recently downed by a summer cold that had the revenge of winter; I evaded the flu all season. Now I have earaches (plural: 2), pink eye(s), and a cold. I'm bored as being sick sucks all the fun out of skipping out of work.

Moved over to the TLM perhaps permanently. Not teaching Confirmation much; becoming a substitute teacher and will help with any, all (?), retreats. 

Some photography, some quilting.

Note: TLM = Tridentine Latin Mass / Traditional Latin Mass

take the cake

When something is mandated by law, it overrides any standing company policy.

 

If standing by legal and ethical standards makes me a disappointment to my boss, then I want to be a complete and utter humiliation and black mark upon him forever.

 

 

Pride and Spite

A little over a week and a half ago, I applied for a therapist position. I recieved an intake call from their HR manager and was able to arrange an interview last week. This position is a boon: competitive starting salary, compensates gas and mileage, full benefits after 90 days of probation. There's also growth opportunities, CEUs, trainings, &c.

 

I recently landed a second interview for later this week. My father told me that he and mom were happy and proud. Dad came up to my room last night and quietly told me this twice. My mother, has yet to speak to me at all, and she's upset. Sounds proud, doesn't she?

Maundy Thursday

Holy Week. It's always a drain.

All the usual temptations, and then some, are ramped up; seeking you around each corner to trip you out of your best intentions.

Stress hits an all time high, and emotions like anxiety or sadness come out of the woodwork.

All good-intentioned actions run short, get bumped off, or go awry.

*

And then there's stuff with family. My family goes a little nuts, and not like buying eggs, plastic grass and baskets crazy. They just get nuttier.

Now, tonight. Today was a mess. I was late to work. I got out of work past 2:30 after being in a meeting since 12:45pm. I get to internship, and my client misses his appointment time. I go to Mass at 7:30pm and walk out at 10pm. I have 25 missed calls on my phone, 11 voicemail messages and 3 text messages. Dad's in the ER; now they're keeping him overnight for observation.

*

I asked for today, Good Friday, off from work. So much for time off, time to relax, time to breathe and let be. 

****

Pray as though everything depended on God. Work as though everything depended on you. -- St Augustine

 

Faith lives on things that are most dark, just as hope lives best on the elements of despair.  -- Blessed Nivard, OSB Cist.

All our religion is but a false religion, and all our virtues are mere illusions and we ourselves are only hypocrites in the sight of God, if we have not that universal charity for everyone - for the good, and for the bad, for the poor and for the rich, and for all those who do us harm as much as those who do us good. --  St. John Vianney

Dinner?

Today I hit an insight: I can deny how I feel all day long and tell myself "No, I'm not" or "No, I don't" feel x, y, and z or want to a, b, and c. Or I can say "yes" to these feelings and wants and desires, and not follow through on them. Hah! How's that? I can admit, yes, I'm nervous and anxious and don't know why. I can also say that while I'm nervous and anxious, it doesn't have to rule over me.  This state of mind feels better than constantly denying how I feel, which created more anxiety as I tried to fight off my natural inclination.

Meanwhile, I've put off a number of things:

1. writing a letter to Monsignor for why 2 teens should not be Confirmed in May
2. Eating dinner
3. getting back to work on my novels
4. Need to find a better job
5. I'm probably forgetting something here...

So, putting off dinner - I get home from internship on Tuesdays sometime around 9pm; I've spent the past 12 hours of my life taking care of other people, pushing paper through shredders, gripping about slow computers and worrying about the psychosocial status of 120 elderly clients. That's just my job. Internship; I coordinate and co-facilitate well-thought out groups for substance abusing teenagers; activities are underappreciated, therapeutic moments are lost to the world of wanting ipods, quickies, and booze. 

I get to come home and be bombarded with "Hey, could you...." and I just stammer "No. No.  I can't." 

"Well,  are you going to eat now or later?" 

"I don't know Dad. I just got home, okay?"

Sheesh. He's been home all day, thinking of more things for me to do to appease himself and mom. Things to keep things on an even keel.  All I want to do when I get home is to relax, not do more things. I want to listen to music, lose myself on Facebook, get feed back on my short story, and eventually shower and go to bed.  Oh, wait, dinner is supposed to be somewhere in there - but in my haste to get all the things done, and if I can't relax, I'll skip dinner. It's hard enough to relax, since by the time I wind down and am starting to feel tired and ready for bed, guess what, it's midnight. Turn on the alarm, crawl back into bed with my stuffed animal, and wait for 6:45am to roll around.

yep.

For the Greater Glory of God

can be seen in the small things. Like the care taken to pleat ribbon for a chapel veil.

Here I am 

at the end

I'm in need of Resurrection

Only YOU can take this empty shell

and raise it from the dead

*

Realise that you were delivered from

the futile way of life your fathers handed on to you,

not by any diminishable sum of silver or gold,

but by Christ's blood beyond all price:

the blood of a spotless,

unblemished lamb

chosen before the world's foundation

and revealed for your sake

in these last days.

It is through Him that 

you are believers in God,

the God who raised Him from the dead

and gave Him glory.

Your faith and hope, then,

are centered in God.

Amen.

1 Peter 1:18-21

be

When the Dept of Aging Visits

Have I been too quiet for my non-existant readership?

 

The State came to my work yesterday and this morning. Department of Aging has little to complain about regarding us. This is really good news! So, now that its all over, my body is telling me how stressed it is: the pain is more apparent. I skipped my evening class yesterday and took a hike instead. It took me nearly 3 hours to relax on my hike. The photos are up on FB.

 

I'm waiting on my next paycheck to go get a back massage - daily pain is really really irritating.

 

In the meantime, I'm writing a short story. I'll post a link to it when its completed and posted.

Rent

The rent is more than 1/2 of my monthly income. In L.A. that's a no-go.

Next time ... in the meantime, budget!

Work in Pain

In the past week, I have experienced a few things, and they're unpleasant.

I had to file a Child Protective Services report on behalf of a client at my internship. Wednesday evening the matter came up, and on Thursday after discussing it with my supervisor, I had to file it. I have no memory of last Monday or Tuesday. I recall vague details of Wednesday, and most of Thursday. I remember Friday clearly, but I don't recall much of my counseling session on Saturday.

What I am attempting to describe is the experience of getting so stressed out that my brain shuts down; I essentially enter "power save" mode. I lose memory of what happened prior to the event, sometimes what happened during it, and usually after it.  I have no memory what so ever of my 2 client sessions on Thursday evening, and if I did not have homework on Monday & Tuesday evening to write about what I had accomplished at internship, I would not have anything to fall back on to.

This is not my first experience of losing memory.  There are entire months that I cannot recall from being unemployed for 1.5 years prior to the job I currently have; and there are many instances of arguments and rages that my mom exposed me, my sister and dad to, that I have spotty memory of, or none at all. One example would be last July. I don't recall a large portion of what went on, not even the day. I know it was the same day as a housewarming party. That's about it. But I also know that I hid in my closet that day, and in doing so, I remembered a similar incident many years ago, of hiding in my closet, trying to muffle the noise and block it out.  Actively trying to block it out.

I'm okay. I'm not great. I have daily headaches, and back pain. Add shooting pain to that back pain, and I've now been sleeping with the heating pad for over a month. Saturday evening my back pain was so bad that I took two Excedrin at 10:30 pm and at midnight I was struggling not to cry over it - the medication didn't work.

Emotionally, I seem to hold it together pretty well at work. I feel like crying in the morning sometimes. I definitely cry in my therapist's office, and if you know me, you know that I do not cry. I'm very stoic, even for a young person. 

 -- -- 

I got a text this morning from a girlfriend who needs a roommate. I texted her back saying that I was interested: what's the rent? Where's the location, etc. Turns out, it is a condo in Signal Hill.  I want to work out a budget for myself to see if it works out. So I'll be meeting up with my friends to make a budget and see if I can afford the place. I'll go out on Monday to see it, even if I have to ditch my internship class. I cannot shake the feeling that I need to ask permission to move out!

I'll keep you up-to-date.

Reverie

Ever seen someone who just looked like they belonged to a different era? She’s like that.  Every movement carries delicacy and I’d rather cut than to say a coarse word in her earshot. She walks like a waltz and her gaze like a forbidden secret, one that your father hasn’t told you about yet regarding women and the way they make you feel.  Yet, she’s not terribly ethereal.  Garish taxi-cab yellow polish tries in vain to hide gnawed out stubs of nails. Her flaxen hair just adds to the way her brown eyes claw at you.  She makes you exhale the way you gasp when walking into those old law libraries, rows upon rows of books; tile after tile, feeling like you’re looking into eternity, and you remember to breathe only since you’re about to pass out and the spots come out across your eyes. Have to touch, have to reach out, see if she’s really there; perhaps a vision, a fantasy, an Angel. Just as I’ve memorized her every fiber and cell, she’s slipping away from me, weaving between the crowds with the ease of a creek between boulders. But she’s weaving me behind, floating through the crowds on the subway platform. Then, then she’s just gone. Perhaps an angel.

Back to me, my dragging raincoat and battered briefcase. I only ground myself to the spot on the platform just to keep from being pushed over the edge onto the rails, and I can’t but help and believe that the Angel would come back, and I could gaze at her one more time. Never enough, though as much as I want it. And what could she want with something disgustingly wretched like me? Angels don’t get involved with us, do they? They’re there with God, doing His better Will and we’re just milling around down below hoping for the most minor of crumbs to fall from the manor-owner’s table. No, the lovely angelic sight won’t be around until she’s needed to whisk me away.  Better for me to be taken when my lungs are clogged and cackle like an old hag under the chains of emphysema, and my hair natty and gray. At that time, wouldn’t I be wandering though – lost in another time and completely unaware of my surroundings? I’ll be like my Angel, from another time and place with only a few traces of the times to bring someone back out of reverie.

Comment Reply

I have not read St Gemma's autobiography, but after Lent I'll try to find the book.  I've promised to not by anything new during Lent unless it's absolutely necessary (i.e., deodorant).  However I did find a website that transposed the autobiography from Italian to English, and then posted it up online through permission of the Passionists.

I hadn't been aware that she was a nun, since she had been so sickly.  I wonder if Jesus puts mystics into the convent since it's the best way to assure that they have spiritual directors and care?

St Gemma definitely inspires one to want to be a Saint.

The website about St Gemma: here.

Some Thoughts About Japan

I can't watch the videos any more. Or look at devastating photographs.  I don't turn on the radio to hear about possible nuclear meltdowns (whatever that means, no one's bothered to break it down for non-physicist me).  I'm not hiding under a rock, I know what is going on. Rather, I'm not seeking out footage, airwaves, etc.

Psychologically, it's mind-boggling. Emotionally, it's heart-wrenching.  Spiritually speaking: I'm not asking what God has done, but what He has permitted.  I'm asking what I can do spiritually to help out.

Pray, united with the intercession of the Angels, Saints, and Our Lady of Akita.

-- edited 9:30pm --

Consider the lost Souls:

• no Last Rites were available
• no Consolation
• their Guardian Angels
• the demons tormenting and spiritually attacking them
• the moments of doubt of a benevolent God

Consider the resulting damage:

• Nearly inconsolable grief
• Doubts of God's Mercy
• Turning away from God
• Anger at it all
• statement's like the psalmists'  Where is their God now?
• Spiritual attacks of doubt and despair

a quote about the Holy Cross

"My daughter, if the Cross was not felt, it could not be called a Cross. Be certain that if you stand beneath the Cross you will never be lost. The Devil has no power over those souls who weep near the Cross. My daughter, how many would have abandoned Me, if I had not crucified them. The Cross is a very precious gift, and many virtues can be learned through it." -- Jesus to St. Gemma

Lenten Reflection

Lent is a solemn and sober season.  It is at once my most favorite, and one that I do not always look forward to with eagerness, but I do look forward to it with a certain spiritual sobriety and longing.

In 2008 I fasted particularly strongly: no noise, music, or auditory stimulation at all. The only music, conversation etc occurred every Sunday at Mass.  It took me a good two weeks after Easter to turn the radio on in the car.  I cannot fast that way this year, however I am curtailing my music choices.  I'm cutting certain practices out, and resuming some spiritual reading.  What I mean by cutting certain practices out, is not like giving up chocolate or not watching television to gain more time to read.  Rather I'm gouging out unsavory practices: habitual sin. I know that it's going to flare up before it ceases, but it will end.

As Lent is somber, there's a pervasive element of despair.  It's the desert season: without water, without seeming refuge; exposed under scrutiny however painful.  It's a time that I give myself permission to spiritually flounder, and I pray for it as well.  I know that I need pruning and trimming.  It's a difficult process, but in being aware that I need to go through it, I have to let it occur.  I do not like it.  I do not willingly seek it out in joy.

Do we enjoy scrubbing the toilet? No, but wouldn't you rather have a clean toilet to purge into when you've got food poisoning?  Well, it's the same spiritually. We need to enter into Lent and it's sobriety to purge our Souls.

More Abalone Cove Photos

Lent 2011

Lent is off to a good and somber, despairing start.