Trudging with Despair

I have been quiet for months. My neck problems have still threatened to kill my spirituality. Church is painful, Bible reading is painful, spiritual journaling is painful and posting on my spiritual blog is painful. I may never get better.

Last night a priest (who I believe is a living saint), came to our home to bless our St. Benedict medals, bless our home and do the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick for my neck and for my husband's emotional problems. I offered my resentments to the Lord and tried to open myself to the love and healing that was brought to me by a faithful servant of God. This priest is going to Italy in a few months to study mystical spirituality - the kind that I have been privileged enough to experience a few times. His coming to our house last night was an unbelievable spiritual gift.

Yet I woke up today angry, hurting and wanting to give up on life. I am tired of being in chronic pain, tired of fighting with my husband, trying to summon up more strength than I really have. I feel like if I fought harder for spirituality in my life that it would help see me through these trials, but I don't feel well enough to pursue more spirituality. My daughter and I walked to Mass last night, and I cannot tell you what a huge step that was for me. Receiving the Eucharist for the third time in six months...a huge act of longing for the closeness of God. And I had gone to confession the weekend before. I received it with no guilt.

Somewhere in this hazy mess of my life with my failing marriage and the money I'm losing and the deteriorating health is the love I have for Jesus, the saints and angels. But will I ever see it again? Will it ever be more real to me again than the physical pain and emotional suffering?

I stopped posting on my blog for two reasons.

1. It has hurt to use the computer recreationally.
2. My spiritual outlook plummeted in November, and I've felt like I had nothing positive to offer the world through prayerful writing.

But something said to me this morning to post again, not to give up, not to let the Evil One convince me that my growth as a believer is finished. It feels like it's finished...it feels like everything good in my life is over. But today I am here. I can't get any lower, so take this useless, weepy, mess of a wife, mother and Christian and do something if you want to Lord. It can't be clearer to me that I don't have the power. Do what you will with me.

I can't believe that I felt like I was pilgrim on a spiritual mission a year ago. I can't believe that I thought God was taking my life and showing fruits and works to inspire agnostics and struggling Christians to dare to believe. I can hardly dare to believe. I don't have the strength to believe.

Jesus, you have allowed me to be in this position. I say again, do what you will with me.

Today is Day Four of my novena to the Blessed Mother. Mary, I say to you also, I ask for your intercession for the healing of my neck, but I ask for God's will, whatever it is.

Divorced

1. Sad but cool fact about my husband; he's in that odd upper echelon of intelligence and will not allow me to people share what his IQ is.

2. Just as Jennifer Connnelley's character in A Beautiful Mind struggled for years over what to do with her highly evolved yet barely functioning spouse, these have been my struggles for years as well. I have watched my husband not make the "popular, eating lunch together crowd" where he worked as minimum wage cashier. I have also seen him have profound conversations with janitors, key copiers and waitresss...usually when he was late to another meeting.

3. Besides working in jobs that were beneath him, he was too scared for apply to jobs in his pay range. Afte he quit cashiering, he simply surfed the internet for the next year and a half.

4. Most of my stress has come from either denying the situation or thinking that he would change. I wanted to be a stay at home mom, but over time I grudgingly returned to full time employment so that we would have health insurance.

5. Now he's had a 15 month long taste of being the stay at home parent and doesn' t like it. He was ranting and raving about how long he spent cleaning today

BUT THEN

He told me that HE felt forced into being a stay at home dad because he thought that the housee would never get cleaned properly without his doing it. I gave him many opportunies to soften his message, but it stands. Basically, even though I dream of being an at home parent and his profession is higher paying than mine, he says he needs to stay at home or the house will always be a pig sty.

I can't express how mad and heartbroken I am. I am actuallly considering divorce. That's how much of his view means to me.

Alone With Him In The Human World

On Sunday I left the house in a rage (my back being full of steroids from the nerve block), and my intention was to take a short walk and invite Jesus to be with me. I could feel the impact of my steps on the concrete sidewalk in my sore back, and I didn't feel my anxiety dissipate.

I tried to focus on Jesus' presence. I didn't feel alone, but I felt alone with him in the human world. Thud, thud, thud. He was with me as I walked, but what did that mean, I wondered. I don't remember what I said to him or asked him, but I think I asked him how much more suffering he's going to give me and if he's going to rescue me any time soon. I think I told him that my life feels like something I can't survive - the physical problems, the tense marriage, the surgery my husband wants to get with all of this going on, the financial fears - and I asked if he was going to help.

There have been times when it's been really, really hard, and it's seemed like he hasn't helped. Even looking back, I haven't been able to see the help. Maybe because for years I feel like I've been underneath an avalanche, and I haven't been lifted out yet.

Today I realized what my dream job (second to novelist) is: internal corporate communications specialist. That's what I'm already doing at the faith-based clinic I work for; it's just not reflected in my title. I realized that I want to get my Master of Arts in Organizational Communication and work for companies trying to make sure the left hand knows what the right hand is doing. I want this more than every other professional job I've ever considered. My current job has shown me that this is where my flair is, and I want to pursue it.

On some days, I'm in too much pain to get dressed. Go to school? Apply for a new job? I can't think past lunchtime.

What will happen to me, Lord? Is this going to let up? If it doesn't, I can't even write a freaking book about it not letting up because of the pain. I'm starting to regret my 13 years without alcohol. Not really, but Jesus - please. Please grasp my frustration with all of this.

Alone with you, God, in the human world. What will I be doing 6 months from now? I really don't know. I love you. It's crazy, crazy love.

Things I'll Do If I Get My Old Body Back

1. Write a book. I won't be such a perfectionist, and I won't write it for anyone but me. But I'll finally write it - something I've been planning on doing for 25 years.

2. Throw away clutter with glee. 3 months ago this would have been a chore. Now it's something that aggravates my neck. I long to do it, but I either can't or know that I will have rebound pain. An odious task has become a privilege.

3. Journal even more than I had been doing. The pen in my hand was like an ignition that took me to God. I will journal every 30 minutes if I want to and won't feel guilty.

4. Put a sound system in my car and take joy rides.

5. Invite more of my children's friends over and not obsess so much about whether the house is clean enough. I can truly understand "good enough" now.

6. Use the public library more and read all of the time. There is so much good writing out there that I can't take advantage of now.

7. Go to 4-5 Twelve Step meetings a week. I already knew I loved them. The hole I've been feeling is painful.

8. Go to church. I love my relgion but have never really enjoyed hour-long services. Still, that's another piece of me that's gone right now.

9. Write freelance articles. It never hurts to try.

10. Buy healthier groceries. My dear husband is buying me groceries that cause me to gain weight. I never thought I would miss going to the grocery store.

11. Fold laundry lickety-split and get it out of my hair. Why did I procrastinate about this? Why did I let it pile up when I wasn't in pain? I don't understand this. I would love to tackle laundry right now if it didn't hurt.

12. Be grateful every day if I don't hurt.

13. Enjoy my children more. I loved them, but was I enjoying them? I didn't realize how many options a healthy body gave me. If I hear, "Mommy's hurting today," one more time I feel like I'll scream.

14. Be a better listener. Talking so much about myself has helped me to realize how much I was already talking about myself. The small stuff really isn't worth talking about. I know that now.

15. Care about my husband's day. Right now I have to pretend I care. There was a time when I really could have cared because I wasn't disabled by pain. I don't know how much I can work on overcoming my self-absorption as I face a life-changing set of physical problems. But when things are returned to a state of normalcy, I am going to take a huge interest in his day-in and day-out experiences. I can't wait.

16. Laugh at myself more.

I write this knowing full well that if I'm healed, I won't do all of this. But this experience has changed my life forever. As a thirtysomething, I had been taking "feeling decent" for granted. I've done a 180 degree turn. I also write this knowing that some of it (such as getting out of my self-centeredness) can be tackled now. Baby steps.

Take away my pain and stiffness, Jesus. As you like, when you like, if you like. I've learned a lot; I know you can see that.

Still Here

I am still here, but my computer time is very limited to due to my neck and upper back pain.

I don't know why God has let me be afflicted with an ailment that affects my spirituality and my attempts be a written expression of his glory. Maybe I'll know someday.

I am still here. I hurt, I stiffen to the point of worthlessness, and I wait. I had a nerve block with trigger point injections on Friday. Please pray that the procedure accomplishes the Father's will for me. Prayers for all of my loved ones and readers.

Leave Now

Yesterday as I was leaving the office I had a feeling that some sort of unspeakable violence was looming. I saw images of blood. In my stomach I felt that there was deep, dangerous anger threatening people I loved.

I wanted to call my husband to check on him and my daughters, but I had a very urgent need to put gas in the car. It was 20 degrees, and for several miles my car had gone past being empty. I put aside my hazy feeling of danger and pulled into the gas station around the corner from my job.

As I was backing my car into the right position for a fuel pump, a man came out of nowhere and sped right behind me, stealing my place. I could not back up anymore, and my car was too far away from the hose. There were plenty of other vacant fuel pumps. There was no reason for him to have sped up to the one I was getting ready to use and take it. But that's what he had done.

I was startled and waited for a moment. There were a lot of vacant fuel pumps, but there were also a lot of customers around, emboldening me. Neither the man nor I got out of our cars. I thought about getting out of the car and trying to stretch the hose as far as it would go. I thought about getting out of the car and glaring at him. I was in a public place. I opened my door, craned my head to look at the man whom I was possibly going to confront, and I saw something in his eyes: he hated me.

Every now and then you encounter a stranger who hates you. You don't understand it, but deep inside of yourself, in your blood and in your bones, you know it. You make a choice whether to enter their insanity and have an altercation with them, or you leave the situation as quickly as you can.

When I saw the man's eyes, a voice inside said, "People can get hurt or get killed in seconds. Get away from him NOW."

I went to another fuel pump, not knowing whether I was scared he would shoot me or stab me or force me into his car. I didn't know if I thought he was on drugs or if he was acting on road rage for something I'd unintentionally done a half mile away. I simply went through the motions of pumping gas on a brutally cold day.

For a moment or so, my pride was in control. I held my credit card in my teeth and brushed my hair out of my eyes, trying to look nonchalant about the act of aggression I'd encountered and the fact that I had walked away from a confrontation. But the more I thought about the look in his eyes, the more disturbed I became. I was aware of the four or five other people pumping gas, but I was also aware that they weren't paying attention to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man looking at me as I waited on the fuel pump. The voice came back. "Do not fill your tank up. You already have enough gas to make it. Leave NOW."

As calmly as I could, I pulled out the hose, refastened the cap and got into my car. I didn't wait to be asked if I wanted a car wash or a receipt. I left, and the man left at the same time, driving in a different direction.

Once I was on the road, I called my husband to check on him and the children. Before I told him about my experience, he said he had something he wanted to say to me. An hour before, he had suddenly been struck by so much love for me that he felt he needed to thank God for me. So that's what he did.

Consciousness of God and his love consumed me. Suddenly I realized that I may have been the one who was in danger, and it may have been my husband's prayer of thanks for my existence that protected me. I won't know in this lifetime, but I am almost sure. Prayer is powerful, unselfish prayer for others is powerful and prayer of thanks is more powerful than we can begin to comprehend.

God, I don't really understand what happened yesterday or what it meant, but thank you for giving me people who pray for me, and thank you for this life.

Silenced

I am not still not able to write on paper without triggering or aggravating pain in my neck, and although I can easily type, I try to save my computer-posture strength for my job. I have only been to one 12 step meeting in the past several weeks because of how hard it is to sit in chairs in a group for an hour.

So the ways in which I expressed my spiritual thoughts - journaling, blogging, talking at meetings - are missing from my life most of the time now.

I talk to God, to the saints. I feel like my echo bounces back to me. It always did, but hearing my own voice at meetings and writing about God helped to make our relationship real to me.

This part of the journey seems to be a place where I depend on God more heavily than I ever have but without the spiritual helps I've relied on for years. I hate it even though I believe that I'll learn something that will be valuable to someone else eventually. Even writing that hurt. I vacillate between feeling shock, anger and self-pity over my condition and feeling embarrassment that I think about myself like I have a "serious" ailment.

My neck stiffened up like an iron plate as I typed, as if to back up everything I've been trying to express. I have no voice right now, not without pain.

Not without pain.

Exposure Part II: The Entries

This is what I read at our staff Christmas service:

I keep a spiritual journal where I write about my relationship with God, my struggles with faith and experiences I have on my spiritual path. And when I offered to read a little out of it during this service, I expected B. to tell me that it wouldn’t really fit into the program, but it turns out that what I wrote fits in with the peace candle, so here I am.

Last Christmas was a day filled with gratitude and tranquility. But as of December 23rd 2006, I was stuck in self-centeredness and shallow thinking and thought I was having my worst Christmas ever. I like to re-read the next two entries from my spiritual journal because they show how God was able to speak to my heart and completely change my attitude. So I thought I would share them with you.


Dec. 23rd 2006

I was telling my prayer group what a weird time in my life this is…still adjusting to going back to work full-time, missing my kids being underfoot, being new at a job, moving, having most of our things packed, not having Christmas decorations, not even having a tree and being so late doing my Christmas shopping that Santa’s only bringing my kids piles of educational toys.

I heard someone say that their motto about Christmas is “It is what it is.” I talked about how all of my negative feelings about this Christmas are okay if I give them to God. I need to give my Christmas to God and let it just exist and know that God is with me. I can let this Christmas be what it is and don’t have to agonize over it, make myself rejoice in it or try to control anything about it. My Christmas can exist, I can exist and God is with me.


Here’s what I wrote the next day, December 24th 2006

Christmas Eve. I listened to all of my Christmas CDs today while I packed. I was trying to let go of how empty this Christmas feels, but it was really hard as our own home got barer and barer. Then, when I was listening to a CD of Christmas hymns, I heard Silent Night, and even though I have known this Christmas carol ever since I was a little girl, today was the first time I ever really heard the word “silent.” I thought about that word for a long time, and I thought about what a difference there was between the Christmas songs I’d been listening to all day and my CD of Christmas hymns.

It seems to me that the popular Christmas songs are about how we can enhance the experience of Christmas for ourselves. I don’t mean the obvious, the gifts. I’m talking about all of the things that Christmas songs say make the yuletide gay: chestnuts, snow, parties for hosting, cups of cheer, turkeys, caroling, holly, mistletoe, lights, silver bells, busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style, shining stars hung on the highest boughs.

But the Christmas hymns are different. They are about receiving Christ’s peace. Silent Night. All is calm. God rest ye merry Gentlemen. Peace on earth and mercy mild. All the hymns ask us to do is just to be with God, just to be present. O come all ye faithful. O come let us adore him. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.

So my take on this is that the Christmas hymns are a guide to receiving and meditating on the peace God means for us to have, and the Christmas songs are about how we can wrest as much happiness and sensory delight out of Christmas as possible. There is no need for me to feel that anything about our holy day is lacking. The Christmas hymns tell me that God has already given me salvation and serenity, and all I need to do is to give this miracle my attention.

“Let Earth receive Her King.”

Exposure

Yesterday I had one episode of intense pain and took a painkiller, but otherwise I felt free of them. I had volunteered to read part of my 2006 spiritual journal at my charity's staff Christmas party, and I was nervous all day long. There were two problems: one was that I had written sincerely, so it seemed like I would be letting my coworkers see into my soul. The other problem was that part of me knew that it would touch some people and strike them, and I worried that I wanted to read at the podium for myself and not for God.

Despite my anxiety, I did it. As a preamble to our lighting of the Peace Candle on our Advent Wreath, I read two 2006 journal entries in front of everyone I work with. These will be posted as a separate blog entry right above this one. I told the staff that Christmas Day 2006 was a day filled with tranquility and gratitude, but that as late as December 23rd 2006, I was stuck in self-centeredness and shallow thinking and thought it was my worst Christmas ever. The journal entries showed how God was able to lift me out of my gloom and tell me what a gift my Christmas really was.

People came up to me afterward and told me that they had been moved by what I read. I felt exposed and felt that I had to brush their comments away lest I be making myself too huge. As a few moments passed I started to become able to look people in the eye and thank them when they told me my words had struck to them. One of my friends said, "What you read to me meant so much to me, more than you can ever know - really."

I wondered if my boss would say anything about what I read, and late that afternoon she came into the office to give me my organization Christmas present in it's uniform gift bag. Then she whispered to me, "I loved your story."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"Will you do some writing for us...please?"

I nodded. "Yes." (Right now I'm a secretary).

"We need anyone who can write as beautifully as you do to be writing for us."

I nodded and said yes again. How peculiar it is to me that in this job that I never wanted to go out and get that God has given me a voice to talk about his glory. How peculiar and marvelous. I love it when I can see God working like that.

Damage

A couple of years ago, I found my spiritual niche. I experimented in concentrated intercessory prayer for other people, and I nearly always saw beautiful things happen. When the outcome was good, I knew the gift had come from God. In the handful of times that I didn't see healing, rescue or deliverance, I began to understand that sometimes life on earth is so difficult that only a higher power could see a plan for ultimate good.

I have been so wrapped up in my neck problems that I've frequently forgotten to pray for others. Intercessory prayer has been so important to me that I couldn't believe I had let it slip out of my life. But last week, I was startled to receive a prayer shawl that had been prayed over and given to me so that I could wrap myself in God's loving care and then a letter in the mail that told me I had been chosen as a person that a prayer group would pray for throughout Advent. That's when I realized that intercessory prayer was still active in my life; I was just on the other side.

I have missed a lot of my normal life since these physical problems started after Halloween. I've missed being able to fold laundry, wash dishes or pick up toys as I saw the need. I've missed being able to read spiritual books and write in my spiritual notebooks by hand. I've missed being able to sort through papers without stopping after a few minutes due to neck pain. I've missed driving my car without pain. I've missed doing my own grocery shopping so that I can buy food that doesn't pack weight on me. I've missed sitting in church pews and the metal chairs in AA meetings without feeling my neck stiffen after a few minutes.

What I miss most about my normal life is knowing that I was on a spiritual journey and feeling like I was constantly growing. On an intellectual level I know that I'm still on my spiritual journey right now as I accept my powerlessness over my pain and my limitations. But do I feel it? No. Not really. I certainly didn't feel it all the time before my neck problems started, but I must have felt it a lot, because I miss it so much.

In October I felt like I was about to start working on something important. I was going to go to graduate school or start seriously writing a novel or begin some other challenging undertaking. Now I am flailing around just to make sure my children are clean and fed and that I show up to work no more than 20 minutes late.

I want my life back, I want my hopes back, I want my spirituality back. In several weeks, with a minor but debilitating physical problem, I've started to think of myself as an ailing person instead of a spiritual person. It embarrasses me to admit how much my neck condition has damaged me, but it's true.

I pray and wait for the day that I include these weeks in my spiritual history but that I have left the self-pity, the self-centeredness and sense of loss far behind me.

A Tribute

18 months ago I realized that my dream of being a stay-at-home mom was apparently not what God intended me to do. I had been trying for years to find a way to make it work financially, and our financial situation only worsened year after year. Finally I started to say, "God, it looks like you want me to get a full-time job. Please let me know forcefully if I'm misunderstanding you." And there would be silence.

So in the summer of 2006, I took my first tiny step toward aligning my will with God's. I updated my resume. I set a 15 minute timer and told myself that all I needed to do was work 15 minutes on it and that I could work on it for another 15 minutes the next day. The technical side of updating it was no problem at all since I write resumes for other people. I just couldn't believe the candidate described on the computer screen was me. It was so official.

I didn't start applying to jobs at that point, though. I was afraid that I would be hired too soon, and that I would miss out on my last free summer with my kids. I decided to start actually applying in August '06. And the whole time I waited for my deadline, and when my deadline came, I was terrified.

I overuse the word terrified a lot. But when I describe the way I felt about working full-time again, I truly do mean there was terror. Sometimes my body shook and my extremities quivered from the fear. I believed that I was incompetent and inept. I believed that in any job I started that I would learn so slowly and make such stupid mistakes that they would regret hiring me. These were not little worries being whispered in my ear. These were things that I believed at my core. I was scared about how hard it would be to find a job, but I was even more worried that once I found one, my coworkers and supervisor would be disgusted with me, and I would be miserable.

I asked God to please help me find a niche in an office where I could do the work well and everyone would be glad that I had come to work there. Later I started adding that since I didn't want to work full-time, it would be great if God could find me a job where I was actually helping people. Three months later I was interviewing to be the assistant to the director of a local charity, and I closed my eyes and jumped into the unknown.

Last night I had my performance review. I post this not to compliment myself, but as a tribute to how unbelievably wise, powerful and loving God is. Here are the remarks made about someone who, 18 months ago, was physically ill due to her fear of failure:

- Excellent work ethic...
- Accomplishes what is set before her every day...
- Quick study and good listener to learn how to do her job...
- ...Excellent thinker in deciding on how to proceed when faced with new issues
- Always willing to help no matter what the task and takes on new assignments with enthusiasm...
- ...I believe her capacity is much greater than we are currently utilizing
- I am very dependent on her eyes and ears and expect to become more so the longer we work together.

And these were snippets. My review was so outstanding that I can hardly digest it. I was so scared of working full-time, and God put me in a job where I could soar. So that is why I have written about my job review on my spiritual blog. It's another sign that God knows exactly what he's doing, and that he loves me.

Jesus, I love you and the Father. I love it when I know that the Holy Spirit fills me. I love the saints, Mary, St. Benedict...too many to name. Thank you all for loving me and taking care of me. I don't think there's anything I more I can add.

Reaching Into the Richness

I'm conscious of having a relationship with God again. This was helped by reading blog's like http://ragamuffindiva.blogspot.com/ and going to 12 step meetings 5 nights in a row. I also rebelled against my stiff neck and read recovery literature even though for weeks it's hurt to read. I left my (unwanted but necessary) universe of isolation and pain medicine and went back into Recovery Galaxy, where the more you want God, the more peaceful you seem to be. At least to others.

Unfortunately, I am not doing well physically at all. This week I had 4 days of widespread fiery pain across my upper back, shoulders and neck. This is the pain that forces tears from my eyes. For the past couple of days I've been having such strong muscle spasms at the base of my neck that I feel almost nauseated. I'm a mess. Reflecting back on times in the past month when I thought I was cured and started to grieve my pain pills makes me roll my eyes. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

It's a quiet Sunday morning, and I've woken up in the Unknown. My daughter needs to be taken to church since she has her First Penance soon, but my muscle spasms are so strong (not painful, but disturbing and uncomfortable) that I can't imagine getting ready, driving and going. I need a haircut badly and have one scheduled but feel like I can barely drive there or move my head for my stylist as she cuts it. There's cleaning to do, but I feel like I need to lie down as much possible. There's the week of work ahead of me, which I don't know how I can survive since working a full week last week did me in. And then there are meetings, which come last after church and cleaning and work. How will I go to meetings again?

I'm powerless over my neck, and the world is full of obligations that I need a functioning neck to fulfill and helps that I need a functioning neck to take advantage of.

Help me, God. Your will be done, not mine. As I type this post I realize that in all of this time, I haven't prayed the rosary to ask for help with this. Once I started taking pain medicine, I felt so guilty that it was hard to pray at all. But as I said above, I know I have a relationship with God right now. He knows better than I do how hard it is for me to be in AA, have a pain pill prescription and try to decide day after day if my pain is at a 4 out of 10 or a 7 out of 10. He's the source of understanding and compassion that I can't reach the bottom of.

I see this morning that my alcoholic shame has kept me from turning to many spiritual aids that God has given me. I have the rosary, novenas, meditation, prayers to St. Ursicinus of Saint-Ursanne, the patron saint of neck stiffness (I just looked this up, of course). They call out to me now like a mother calling out for her lost child in the grocery store.

I woke up facing the unknown, but one thing I do know is that my shame is not going to prevent me from reaching into the richness of my faith to find grace.

When He Was Enough For Me

It is hard to believe that a few weeks ago I felt like I had a spiritual core. Right after Halloween, I developed reactive arthritis from a virus, and I have been on prescription pain medicine off and on since then. I have had chemically induced moments of such peace and optimism that I could not help but rely on painkillers to give me relief from fear and darkness. I do not remember what it was like when God was my Higher Power and when he was enough for me. It does not seem like a relationship with God can ever be enough again.

I know what to do: pray, go to meetings, talk to people and let go. I also know that the feelings I want to escape from – fear, loneliness, sadness and shame - will trouble me until I let them surface. There is one more thing that I know, and it is probably the hardest part to accept. I know that I cannot control when I will feel better. I can pray, I can live in the solution, I can surrender and I can even truly want God’s will. However, I will feel better when I am supposed to, and I have no idea how long it will take for that feeling to get here.

And at a time when I need to feel a spiritual connection the most, reading and journaling cause more neck strain than I can tolerate. So as I wait to become assured of God’s care again, I cannot use the tools that I have relied on so heavily in the past. I can’t read my Emmet Fox books. I can’t read a few paragraphs of my Norman Vincent Peale books. I can’t read the story of a miraculous healing in The Miracles of John Paul II. I can’t read the daily meditations in my Al-Anon books. I can’t write in my journal about the day’s struggles or anything that gave me hope.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. That is my reality for the moment. I can’t; this will never work. I said once in an AA meeting that if I miss meetings, not only does my disease lie to me about how harmless drinking is, but it also lies to me about how good God is.

And that is the only faith I have right now. Life seems empty and bleak, I feel like I am in the world all alone, and I cannot imagine ever feeling joy again because I know that God loves me. But a tiny part of me says that this is just my disease lying to me again, kicking me while I’m down.

I hope so.

So Many Of My Tears

God is amazing. Sometimes you can look back at a course of events and see how he was working in your life and protecting you from something ahead of time. I am in the middle of this phenomenon right now.

Yesterday I woke up feeling mournful, but the fact that it was All Saints Day seemed very significant to me. I talked to the saints that are special to me and offered up prayers of thanks for them. I fell into a state of abundant willingness, which is a soothing albeit mysterious state for me to be in. There was no fear that God has a protective circle and that I was outside of it. If such a circle exists, I knew I was in the fold.

Within hours, I was in a family crisis, and my husband and I again talked about divorce and separation. My earlier contemplation of the saints and my awareness of God's love allowed me to become calm and rational. I was able to wear an impenetrable shield without hardening my heart.

I don't know what today holds, but I know I am loved and protected. And I especially want to say that I love Mary. I have turned to her again and again, and she has always helped me. I gave her so many of my tears yesterday, and I know that she listened to me, loved me and made sure I knew I wasn't alone.

Happy All Saints Day

Last night was wonderful for my children, and so sad for me.

First we experienced a bizarre social situation that no one but my husband and I seem to find ourselves in. A few weeks ago we had happily accepted an invitation to come to a Halloween party, eat chili and trick or treat with a neighborhood family. On Sunday we stopped by their house to see if the party was still on and to ask if we could bring anything. But when my husband showed up at their house ahead of us last night, he came right back home and said they didn't seem to remember inviting us.

I had a bad feeling but didn't trust my husband's judgment completely. So we started trick or treating with our children and quickly ended up at their house. The wife gave out candy to my daughters, flashed us a fast smile and waved goodbye to us, not inviting us in.

I felt like I'd received a blow, but I tried to get into the spirit of the night for my children. But now, without new friends and a party to distract me, I was up against the Halloween-induced shame that I experience every year. Nearly every house we went to had an immaculate lawn. Their front doors and treatmentless windows revealed beautifully decorated and scrupulously clean interiors. Several of the houses had Halloween lights, spooky figures and tombstones. One family even had a fog machine.

Once we headed back to our unkempt house, and I polished my dinner off with at least 12 Reese's cups, the night was complete. My children were feeling successful and excited as they inventoried their candy, but I felt extremely low. I called my sponsor, and she said, "M., I have seen you find so much peace in taking your feelings to your Higher Power and finding your safe place with him, that it really inspires me." But I didn't do that last night.

I haven't been doing it over the past several days.

I read a very all-or-nothing book about God's will last week. You're either walking with God, or you've turned your back on him, says the book. You either love him enough to make the choice to follow him, or you don't. You either have access to his grace through your obedience, or you have cut yourself off through your selfish disobedience. Reading books like this seems to damage my relationship with God instead of helping me to grow in my faith. Since I know that there are character defects that I'm manifesting right now, and since I know there are parts of my life that I'm not turning over to God right now, I read that book and thought, "What's the use? I want God to help me with A,B and C, but I don't feel ready to try to practice perfect obedience right this second, so I guess I'm cut off from God right now."

Last night the dull hurt of feeling cut off combining with the acute pain of feeling like a loser on Halloween really did not feel good. And what was the most troubling was my belief that I had brought every bit of it on myself by not being good enough, and that I'm not really ever going to be able to change. I feel the same way this morning. But last night was a party, and today is a holiday. It is All Saints Day.

I believe that God led me to the Catholic church because he knew how much I would grow to love certain saints, how much they would help me and how much I would grow to trust them...all of that, of course, resulting in stronger faith in God. Today I have woken up feeling like a messy, fat, selfish failure, but I am called to celebrate the gift we've been given of having friends of Jesus in heaven who hear our needs, love us and delight in helping us through the power of God.

Today is a day to take my self-hatred to Mary, Pope John Paul II, St. Monica and my other friends in heaven. Today is a day to be with them, be thankful for them and find my safe place with them. I won't make any demands. They are my way back home.