Stay alive...and live!

I had this thought the other day that I just have to write down. I don't think I can remember it exactly as it was in my head (and damn, it was so brilliant), but I'll try to flesh out the gist.

I was thinking about suicide. Not planning my own, but thinking about the idea of taking one's life and what it means. I thought about this while I was at a crosswalk in Madrid and watching all the cars and Vespas zipping by. One wrong move, one foot into the traffic and I could be killed in an instant. I thought about God and faith and that I can't believe that people who don't believe are just living their lives for nothing. How can so many people be on this earth and not know why they're here? I looked around at the people walking by on the city sidewalk and realized that this is exactly the problem - they don't know why they're living, so they're not really living. I scowled at all the people smoking (because practically everyone does here) and thought about the tragedy of how unhealthy it was; I thought about all the millions of other ways humans in general mistreat themselves on a daily basis. Drinking, hoarding, self-harm, and overall neglect are just a few. Cities make disease seem so prominent; I'm constantly taking note of people's skin, their facial features, their posture, and general demeanor, and I notice how indicative it all is of their wellbeing (or lack thereof). How truly sad it is that we waste our precious time, youth, and natural-born health destroying it all, and for what? We gain nothing.

I looked up at the scaffolding on a building under construction. I am terrified of heights, and every time I see construction way up high, I am in awe at the brave men working up there. How can they not be afraid? I thought. Don't they know they could so easily fall and lose their life? In one second? How are they not afraid of that possibility? It's not irrational or unrealistic, after all.

Then I realized this: the truth is that most of us don't actually value our lives. We're just afraid to die, so we keep on living, existing mundanely. We don't actually value our lives, in the grand scheme of things. And this scares me! We don't want to kill ourselves because we're afraid of what may or may not come afterward. If we didn't have that fear of dying, of the experience itself, and if we didn't think there would be any consequences, then maybe we'd all be jumping off buildings. Life is tough and unfair, and people can be cruel. We all experience struggle, and sometimes it can seem so unbearable it's just not worth living through. But we wouldn't actually go through with suicide as a means of taking the easy way out. Neither do we strive to look for God and meaning amidst the struggle and misery. So we settle for indifference, for apathy, and we just accept the fact that so many things in life suck. And we survive.

But if we valued our lives, we'd have a million times more of a reason to stay alive and live. If we actually knew, realized, admitted, acknowledged, celebrated the fact that there is no one like any one of us, and that God breathed life into each of us with our own unique purpose, then we might treat ourselves differently. But it's just so obvious that we don't care enough. Or we forget to care. There are so many other filthy humans walking around that it's easy to melt into the mix and forget that it is AMAZING that I or you even exist. I mean, there never has been and never will be another me. I am precious and valuable beyond anything I could imagine. Sure, I'm a sinner and I always will be one. But that doesn't make me or anyone else less special. Of course, I won't live forever, but that's only here. My body is on loan. My soul is eternal. What I do here does make a difference.

I've realized that no matter what I do in life, no matter where I am, no matter how many wonderful things could be happening for me, I can generally find something to feel depressed about on any given day. (It's just like that for me. I have always suffered from varying levels of depression.) But I also know that God is keeping me here for a reason. There's just no way that I could have gone through what I've gone through for absolutely nothing other than that's just the way life is. I believe that my struggles are all significant. I believe they're shaping me as an individual but that they're also affecting the world. I believe that God sent me here to change the world, because no one else can do it in exactly the same ways that I can, since there's only one me. I believe everyone else on the planet has a purpose to fulfill as well, not just me. We all can change the world because we are all equally loved by God.

The key ingredient here is believing in our own worth and the value of our lives as part of a greater context. My life isn't only important if I have family or friends who love me and make my time enjoyable, or if I have talents and hobbies that are interesting, or if I have enough money to donate to a cause and feed an entire village in Africa. No, my life is important because God made me. My life is important because it is human.

Humans are horrific and incredible beings. We're capable of so much (good and bad), yet our imperfect nature keeps us vulnerable. It should keep us humble as well, but interestingly enough, there still exist many humans who must face multiple trials in life before learning the key component of humility. I happen to be one of those humans. I didn't realize just how human I was until shit hit the fan. Thanks, God (no, seriously)! I really needed a kick in the butt. For real. I couldn't have gone on living so inauthentically because all I was doing was denying my own humanity for years, because I thought being a good person meant being a perfect person. Wrong!

I'm going to admit something to you (or probably just to myself, since I doubt anyone is reading this): I am afraid of mediocrity and the mundane. I want to be fabulous and famous (eek, it's horrible to write but I think it's true). I want every day of the week to feel special. I want to be on fire for God and for my life and its purpose at every moment. But that will never happen. We can't always feel that way, because the external world lets us down now and then. However, what I'm suggesting is that we at least think about this stuff more often. Remind yourself that no matter how lame or boring or difficult or distasteful or frustrating or unfair your life is, you will always be a priority for God. His love for you can never be defeated, and He always has your best interests at heart. He can never do you wrong. He is love, and He is all that is true and good.

I went to Mass last night here in Madrid, and the priest said something that really struck me during his homily (and I'm pretty psyched that I was paying attention at that moment specifically):

We shouldn't try to behave well in life (i.e. make good choices, do good deeds) in order to make God love us; instead, God's love for us should inspire good choices and good deeds.

Wow! Okay, it sounded much better in Spanish, but that is my basic translation and I think you can still get the point. I was dumbfounded and also not that surprised...I mean, this is a pretty simple and what should be obvious conclusion. Why do we think God will love us or help us more if we do something good for our neighbor? That is so backwards! Why isn't God's love for us (which is the biggest Love you could ever hope to find) enough? (Well, it IS enough, but we don't always realize it.) Why aren't we doing more to act on His Love? God's Love should be a springboard for us to change the world. Yes, I realize that not everyone has access or the means or the capacity or the health to do all the amazing things out there...but that is why He created you and me! If not someone else, then why not us??!

I'm grateful for the gift of writing. I'm grateful for the gift of language. I'm grateful for the gift of beauty and my ability to see it and seek it. I may seem quiet on the outside, but there's a rumble inside that I know God is helping me to hone so that I can change the world. And maybe I won't make the history books or receive any recognition whatsoever, but that won't undo what I'm going to achieve in this world. The knowledge of God's Love for me and His purpose for my life will be enough.

The Woman of My Dreams

This is going to be my last blog post in English for a while.  Tomorrow I move to Middlebury College for six weeks of intensive Spanish immersion, earning the first nine credits of my Master's degree (or so I hope!).  It's unnerving, exciting, scary, and overwhelming, all at once.  Even though I still have my doubts, I can't help but think that the past several years that have been so difficult for me were all part of God's master plan to bring me here, to the beginning of this most important chapter of my life thus far.

My twenties have been anything but easy and full of sunshine and daisies.  Sure, I have experienced many, many wonderful adventures, met some amazing people, and grown immensely in some important ways, but none of it has been without struggle.  The road has been extremely painful at times; I have suffered from depression, anxiety, E.D., hopelessness, despair, frustration, self-hatred, low self-esteem, and a bounty of other mental and emotional ailments.

College was especially difficult.  I hated most of my experience (at two different schools over 5.5 years).  I honestly only went to college right after high school because I was following the prescribed path that society had set up for me and everyone else in my class.  Looking back on my high school self now, I have so much sympathy for her, and I wish I had had the strength back then to follow my own path and my own heart, instead of looking at everyone around me, which I was constantly doing.  I never felt comfortable in my own skin and I never felt like a valid, substantial individual capable of blazing her own trail.  My classmates were all excited to graduate and go off to their out-of-state colleges and start whole new lives.  Me?  While I was happy to leave high school, I was terrified of the unknown and the big decisions I was faced with, and I did not feel ready or very willing to go far.  I only applied to four schools, was rejected from one, and in the end had to decide between SUNY Plattsburgh and UVM.  I chose SUNY because at least then I could say I was going out-of-state (little did I know then that I would end up attending both schools anyway).

Academically, I did well at PSU during my two and a half years there, staying on the Dean's List every semester.  My perfectionist part kept me in line with two majors and one minor, in addition to leading the church choir back home in Vermont, holding a volunteer position in the Plattsburgh community, and maintaining my part-time job in Vermont as well.  When you look at things that way, I was pretty successful.  Too bad I wasn't also happy.

When I was twenty I started dating my first boyfriend.  He was charming and sweet and everything I wanted.  But before I knew it, the E.D. fire I was playing with at the same time caught up to me and I was forced by my college to take a medical leave of absence for a semester.  This devastated me.  It was already five weeks into the semester and I had completed so much work that I never received credit for.  My entire world changed during this time; I would never be the same again.  I broke up with my boyfriend and it was the best decision I had made at that point in my life.  I could not be with another person while I was engaged in such a deadly personal battle.  I only wish now that I had stayed single until I was at a more stable place in my recovery.  All my relationships after that first one were pointless, wrong, and damaging.

While I was on medical leave, I knew I couldn't go back to PSU where I had so many memories and triggers.  So I applied to transfer to UVM.  It's funny that things played out this way, because amongst all my anxieties and worries during college, transferring to another college had been something I'd wanted to do while I was at PSU (before the medical problems) but never knew how, and thought I could never be capable of doing.  Transferring had always seemed like an overwhelming process.  Well, it's funny that when life itself prompts you in a certain direction, you have no choice but to act.  So when I knew I could not go back to SUNY, I somehow figured out on my own how to transfer.  This in itself was a huge victory for me.  I know it may sound silly to most "normal" people, but for me I'm very proud that I achieved that back then.  At the time, of course, it did not necessarily seem like anything important, because I was doing it to get away from Plattsburgh and simply finish my degree.  I was glad for a fresh start and different surroundings, but I still did not actually care about school.  I was just going through the motions.

I cried on my drive to UVM on my first day of classes.  And I cried every day that first semester.  I was miserable.  Not because of the school, really, but because of everything.  I hated everything about myself and my whole life during this early period of recovery.  I remember just wanting to drop out, every day.  Every day, I wondered if this would be the day I would drop out.  I also remember praying to God to just let me drop dead, just take me out of my misery and out of this stupid world.  I had absolutely zero desire to live.  But my body was growing stronger, so I knew it wouldn't be as easy to disappear like it had been before, when everyone really did think I would die.

It's a miracle that I pushed through two and a half years at UVM, hating the entire experience.  I had no friends there; I just went to my classes and otherwise had no desire to be on campus.  But I know now that GOD got me through it.  His grace carried me all the way to graduation in December 2011.  I remember sitting in my seat during the ceremony, and feeling the tears sting my eyes at the moment I realized how much I had gone through to get to this point.  Even though I picked the wrong majors and the wrong schools, and even the wrong year to go to college, I had made it through and I was finally receiving my degree.  This was really happening.  I was free to go on to something new.

I spent most of my time since college working a paycheck job that I hated because it had nothing to do with me and my fierce heart.  BUT I also learned to salsa dance (and became really good at it), traveled by myself, performed in community theatre productions, performed local gigs and open mics around town, got to know Burlington like I never did before, made more Spanish-speaking friends, attended Spanish conversation groups, started a portrait business, applied to volunteer and mission service programs, made many mistakes and poor decisions, and finally stopped trying to figure out my whole life all at once.

Last summer, after I returned from a trip to Washington, D.C. for discernment with a mission service I had applied to (and was not accepted to), I wrote an email to the Middlebury Language Schools with interest in their graduate program in Spanish.  I initiated a campus visit, where I met with the graduate coordinator and assistant director, and sat in on a class (it happened to be the last week of classes, so my timing in writing to the school was perfect).  I got home and decided to apply, even though I doubted I would be accepted because of how my grades had plummeted from SUNY to UVM, and the mere fact that I haven't taken a single Spanish course since summer 2011.  In December 2013, I was accepted to the Master of Spanish program in the Middlebury Language Schools.

I am 26 years old and I still live in the house I grew up in.  I don't know how to do many things.  The world is big and scary to me.  People are awful and incredible and I often want to be a hermit because of them.  I'm definitely an introvert.  I'm also a singer, a visual artist, a writer, an editor, a lover of foreign languages and cultures, a passionate salsa dancer, an aspiring humanitarian, and a follower of Christ (or at least I try to be).  I don't know where I'm going to go in life but I'm trusting that the Lord will connect the dots for me, as he has already been doing my entire life.  I spent the last two and a half years hating my life situation -- hating my job, hating the fact that I still live at home, hating not knowing what to do with myself or where to go, hating that I should have achieved so much more by now.  I'm 26!  I thought I would already be successful, in some fancy career, living in some sweet apartment in a big city, being super confident and using all my artistic skills to their fullest and not wasting a moment.

Well it sure as hell felt like I was wasting countless moments.  But it only felt that way.  See, the truth is, none of it was for nothing.  Now that I'm about to embark on this truly special opportunity with Middlebury, the pieces are all coming together for me.

That job I hated?

1. I did make some really great connections and friends, which is always important in life.  These people quickly understood my free-spirited nature and longing to spread my wings, and I sincerely appreciate all their encouragement and support along the way.
2. I made MONEY -- first, to travel to figure out what I wanted and didn't want -- and now for school (for which I've already had many expenses).
3. I made major steps in PERSONAL GROWTH from all the skills I learned and the people I had to interact with in that particular environment.  Those skills are coming with me to Middlebury and abroad!

Living at home as an adult?

1. The obvious: I SAVED A SH*TLOAD OF MONEY.  This is money that I would not have had if I had been living on my own in some crappy apartment like all the other twenty-somethings around here, just for the sake of having my own place.  I would have been scraping by to make ends meet every month, and I would most likely NOT have been able to go to school simply due to lack of startup funds.
2. I chose not to arbitrarily move into an apartment in Burlington just to be near the job I hated because I already knew all along that I did not want to stay in that job or in Vermont.  I have felt called to make important change in the world all my life, and I want to do this on an international level, not by living in the same cozy little place and working a 9-5 just because it's all convenient (or the norm).  It's fine for some people, but if I can help it, I want to avoid this lifestyle at all costs for myself -- at least, at this point in time.  So I took my time figuring out what I wanted to do, all the while considering my living situation as temporary.  It's been challenging to overcome my shame or feeling badly about it, but when I look at the bigger picture I know that I'm okay :).
3. Flexibility, Support, and Independence.  Even though I didn't know where I was aiming or what I was really doing in the long run, during this temporary in-between time I organically created a schedule and lifestyle that provided the flexibility I needed to explore my options in life.  I couldn't be nailed down by a full-time office job schedule.  So I worked per diem, creating my work schedule around my life goals and interests.  Living at home also provided the support I needed to do this, both economically and emotionally.  My family has been great about giving me this option so that I can "figure out what to do with my life"!  I also have enjoyed some much-needed independence; taking vacations by myself has been a huge blessing in this department, and already living at home means I had the money to do this.  My "me" time is sacred -- I am a naturally solitary person.
4. I am seeing and spending time with my family by living with them.  This is important because I likely will not have this time again, or at least not as much of it.  I am very close with them, but I have always known I wanted to get out and see the world, and have a constantly moving lifestyle.  I don't want to settle down.  I want my work to take me around the country and around the world.  I want to BE the change I want to see.

Many days have felt mundane, bleak, and repetitive, but God has taught me over the last few years that following your dreams looks different than what we are made to believe.  It takes commitment, passion, struggle, suffering, and the very willingness to struggle and suffer in order to achieve our goals.  It has been extremely painful not knowing which path I'm supposed to be on, or how to get to the paths I want, but somehow, I have still been heading in a forward direction (even when it didn't feel that way).  

I am now following one of my many dreams by attending the Middlebury Language Schools: fluency in Spanish.  My desire to be fluent in Spanish has been with me for as long as I can remember.  Cuchara was one of the first Spanish words I learned.  I remember my mother teaching it to me in the kitchen when I was a little girl.  And I remember how I named one of my dolls "Lupita" because I wanted her to have a Spanish name.  The beauty and intrigue of Latin culture and Spanish language is what keeps my beautiful inner child alive, and I cherish her!  I love the fact that when I think of Spanish or anything Hispanic, I see the color orange in my mind, and I think of heat and palm trees and the circular movements of hips swaying in dance.  Spanish and all things Latin make me think of vibrancy, of what makes my blood flow and my heart pump and my soul keep trying, every day, to be the Woman of My Dreams.  

Who is this Woman?  She is the one who walks with her head held high, her back straight, and who carries an agenda she intends to see complete in life.  She's a powerhouse humanitarian by day, a singer and salsa dancer by night.  She never stops learning languages.  She connects with as many people as possible.  She trusts in God and believes His Way to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  She paints (literally) the beauty she sees and experiences.  She laughs genuinely and lifts up those around her with the joy and grace she wants them to feel, too.  The Woman of My Dreams has no age; she is timeless, limitless, and overflowing with love and light so that she must share it around the world.  She is reverent and observant, wise to the finite nature of her body and respectful of the unknown.  

She cannot predict the future, so she uses her earthly life to be well and do good.

May we all seek the best of life, strive to do and be our best, and aim to serve God and others to bring peace to this troubled world.

Attraction, Physicality, Spirituality

Physical attraction.  What makes a woman attracted to a man's body?  I'm not going to get into the science of it, of course, as I'm no expert on that matter, but I'd rather express my personal belief/experience from a more intuitive/emotional/spiritual view.  (Yes, I really did include the word spiritual in there.)  I struggle with the subject of men and relationships for many reasons, but I often notice that no matter how annoyed or turned off I can be at every member of the male gender in a given moment, I still have the ability to physically see them as attractive.  And it makes me curious, because I know that I'm a human being, not merely an animal who behaves on procreative instinct.  I know that this attraction is higher, is linked to something beyond the simple fact that a man's body contrasts with my own.  The beauty in this contrast is most definitely a large factor for me, personally, but I want to share a revelation I had in my thoughts recently.

I am a visual artist, and my forte in subject matter is portraiture and figural work.  The human body has always fascinated me.  In high school, my concentration one year for my AP Studio Art portfolio was the male figure.  But even as a child, I was always pretty aware of people's bodies and how they all have different shapes and even exhibit different senses of character.  Everyone has their own unique gestures, postures, gaits, and manner of holding themselves physically.  It really is amazing that we humans are all mechanisms, structures, built to move and accomplish such a wide variety of tasks in life.  When I draw people from life, I relish the way an individual is physically recognizable by his or her natural body expressions.  No two pairs of legs walk quite the same way; similarly, no two pairs of hands rest or flex the same.  Weight is distributed differently.  Some bodies are softer and some are edgier, which affects how they move, how clothing drapes over them, and more.  Everybody simply holds themselves in a different way, and it's quite striking when you are able to notice and appreciate this.

What intrigues me initially about the male body, in addition to what I've noted above, is that it is so different from mine from the very basics.  I'll never know what it's like to be in a man's body, but to be aware of it is very important to me.  As a Catholic woman, I do believe that God designed and created us humans, male and female, with a higher purpose, but one that intentionally includes physical attraction.  So what is it that has always innately made me feel attracted to a man's body?  It can't be just that the male body is different from mine -- it just can't.  That's too simple.  And as previously stated, I know I'm more than an animal with basic instincts.  I'm an animal with a complex psyche, free will, and spirituality.  So I know there's more to it than the fact that a man is just "different".  But what?  Well, here's the thought I had the other day that finally enabled me to articulate what I'm acknowledging when I see a man as physically attractive.

A man's body is impressive.

What does that mean?  Why the word "impressive"?  (I really do appreciate the way some thoughts just appear to me as if they're not my own, and I get to watch them flow from one to the next...)  The more I stayed with this idea of a man's body being impressive in my thought process, the more I was able to follow it and break it down.

First of all, what do I admire in the male body, exactly?  What am I seeing when I think to myself, "Wow, look at his body"?  This is important to lay out first.

I see firmness.  I see strength that far surpasses my own (seriously, it's amazing to me how even a man who doesn't look much bigger than me seems to have about ten or twenty times my strength).  I see sturdines, rigidness, solidness, and grounded physical presence.  I see more lines, edges, texture, and variation in form with the male body than with a female's.  I appreciate the details: heavy brows, thicker necks, greater height, broader hands, fuller deltoids (I do think this is my favorite part).  As an artist, all of these things are exciting to me because I make a mental drawing of everyone and everything, constantly.  It's all a journey, an adventure, and a visual opportunity for me to study human anatomy (without having to take a class or actually know the scientific names of our body parts).

So you see, when reflecting on my reactions to a man's body, I reflect upon what appeals to me.  And this brings up the question of why "impressive" is the word that seems most fitting for my assessment of my attraction to the male body.  Here's what I think:  God.  It must be that the word "impressive" came to my mind in particular because I already believe that human bodies were intelligently and divinely created.  I believe that every function of our bodies is part of a supernatural design -- by our one and only Maker!  Therefore, I feel impressed when I admire a man's body because I am appreciating God's handiwork.

Wow.
Boom.
This hit me.  This really, really hit me.  I haven't read John Paul II's Theology of the Body but I know of it, and this revelation I had about men's bodies being impressive must have some correlation with JPII's writings...  Feel free to comment if you have anything to add about that.

I worry I may not be able to express the profundity loudly enough here...  It sounds too simple, but let me restate:  I feel impressed when I admire a man's body because I am appreciating God's handiwork.

WHOA!  Do you know what this means?  This is great news for you and me, male and female, all humans alike.  This has a direct significance for us on an individual and interpersonal level.  This idea is HUGE because it gives us a purpose and a reason to treat each other with unearned respect.

"Unearned respect"?  Maybe that's not the best phrasing.  But what I mean to say is, we don't have to prove anything to anyone to be respected as human beings.  God already designed our bodies beautifully, to do and be so many things.  He made us different, male and female.  He personally created you and me, with His own Intelligence that exceeds anything we here on Earth could ever attempt on our own.  And our bodies prove it!  The way I feel when admiring a man's body tells me something: it tells me that I acknowledge that man as one of God's creations.  One of God's creations.  God is holy.  Therefore, that man is called to be holy.  That man comes from holiness.  WOW!  And God doesn't arbitrarily create people to just fill up space on this planet.  Oh no, no, no.  If that were the case, we'd have no reason for living at all and it would be perfectly okay to murder someone on the spot for calling us a name or cutting into our lane on the highway or forgetting to give us our change in the convenience store.  Thankfully, that's not the case; we all know, somehow, that there is a meaning to our lives, even if we don't know what that meaning is.  God brings us here with tools, skills, personalities, gifts, dreams, and goals.  He gives us to each other to contribute something and make an impact of some kind.  So we are each pretty damn important.

I also need to restate that, by respectfully appreciating God's handiwork in another person's body, this is great news for the human race.  If we are capable of doing that much - of acknowledging that the people we feel attracted to were uniquely and intentionally created by God, who is Love, then we are capable of so much love and value.  We are capable of holding other people's lives in high esteem because they were specifically engineered by a loving Creator.

This blows my mind.  Being attracted to men's bodies makes me respect them physically but also now spiritually...  We are inherently linked in our attraction to what is different, what we do not know, because the work of Another is impressive.  It is something we humans cannot match, cannot recreate, cannot duplicate or originate.  A man's body is the impressive work of art that innately requires respect and value in this world (and the same goes for women's bodies, of course).

So men, although you will forever confuse, annoy, and frustrate me, you will also continue to impress me (at least physically, for now, ha ha)...  Maybe stop trying and start being, from your own artistic structures that can do so much for this world.  Maybe when you realize this, you will realize that your physical power is a gift and a wonderful responsibility.  You are called to be holy, inspiring, intelligent and awesome, just like the God who made you.