The Unexpected

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So far this week, at least the start of it, has been something else, in many ways, both good and bad. My anxiety reared its ugly, irrational head, some personal and family issues came up, and to be honest, this is my only week and I’m ignoring them/head sanding for the moment. That’s not to say that I’m not thinking about them or the situation; on the contrary, I’m thinking about them a lot, but this is the one week I can concentrate on me and not feel guilty about it. There are some health issues that I need to think about and deal with and I’ve been praying on that as well. That is one of the reasons I went to the healing/anointing mass on Monday. The one regret that I have for this week is that I can’t afford a couple of nights at a hotel/motel, like a pretend vacation, but not a vacation, kind of a prayerful, working (writing) vacation or some other word that hasn’t come to me yet.

Back to the guilt, I have always been in Mommy-mode, even in high school and college. I guess it’s hardwired in my nature, but it backs me into a corner and despite the instinct that everyone comes before me. It hasn’t always bothered me; it’s just the way it is, and because of that it’s kind of expected, including by me.

Part of the last two years, as I write often about, is discovering who I am. Part of that person has been hidden under fear of expectations of who I was supposed to be. The past can’t be changed, but those losses can be acknowledged and mourned.

The enormity of how much has changed for me is almost too much to confront, but who I am now is still evolving.

An obvious change is my level of religiousness. It isn’t just that I believe, because I’ve always believed in G-d and afterlife, but I believe in other things. I attend church at least four times a week. I’m thinking of joining a ministry. I didn’t become Catholic to fit in, but because Jesus asked me to follow him, much in the same way he called to the first disciples to follow him. For me, not the literal words, but the essence in a shimmering light. I don’t often talk about my moment. I still may write separately about it.

I have ideas of what I want to do this week. Primarily, I try to jump start my writing, but it appears the Spirit has other plans for me, guiding me to more spiritual places: the water, the train station and the city murals, the Anointing Mass and now today, to St. Kateri. I almost took her name as my confirmation name; she was one of my choices before settling on St. Elen. St. Kateri’s story is somewhat similar to mine, choosing the path apart from her family; speaking openly of her conversion.

I’m meditating and pondering more on what G-d’s plan is for me. Where do His wants and my wants meet? Can I openly, more openly be the spiritual person I feel deep within myself, rising more insistently to the surface? How can those around me get used to my love for the church and church things? I don’t have to go to church; I want to. I need to. My soul needs to. Not my immortal soul that goes to Hell if I fail my “obligations” but my soul-self, the me I am deep within who needs the church like I need writing.

Like I need air.

I know it’s not who I used to be. I know it’s not what my family and friends are used to, but it is who I am, and while I’m still changing, this won’t.

It won’t all spill out at once, but I can’t keep myself hidden. Some things are still hidden from me. I can feel them poking, but they’re not ready to be released and I’m probably hot ready for them just yet.

I’m not the same person. And once I truly accept that, I can start being my authentic self and slowly the people around me can adapt, hopefully.

As you can see, this consciousness streamed. My impromptu writing almost never ends up where I’ve expected it to go. I do wonder where tomorrow will take me. Maybe somewhere to help me explain what I need and who I want to be.

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