Here's to a New Year

In 2011, I experienced the best times of my life as well as the worst times of my life.

Studying abroad in Austria was the biggest blessing I've ever experienced in my entire life. So much changed in me while I was there. I learned more about myself than I ever would have imagined. I saw things that I never thought I would. I saw the current pope and I saw the bones of the first pope, St. Peter. I saw one of the nails that crucified Jesus. Those are just 2 of the countless incredible experiences I had in Europe. While in Romania, I found my purpose in life.

I also experienced the darkest times of my life. I went from a truly happy person in Austria to an extremely depressed person. There were nights I didn't know how I was going to live to see the morning. But, I fought through all that and I learned what a fighter I am and that I am one hell of a stubborn, determined woman. I learned that I couldn't quit. God wasn't going to let me. And He didn't, even when I begged Him to let me quit.

Well, here's to a new year. I'm ready for the blessings and challenges that will come in 2012. I've got my INCREDIBLE friends, the communion of saints, and the Blessed Mother by my side and the Lord behind me and the strength that comes only from Him. I can't lose.

Bring it on, 2012.

A mission trip to Haiti, graduating college, and starting life as a missionary in Romania sounds pretty stinkin' good to me.

Happy New Year!

Reasons to Recover

2 weeks clean today.

Today I found a Tumblr called "100 Reasons to Recover" (there are almost 350 reasons posted there now) and I want to share some of the ones that hit me.

Inner Strength

Home hasn't been nearly as hard as I thought it would be. I finally got it across to my parents that I'm serious about my mission work and that them making it out to be a joke really hurt me. So, they've finally stopped criticizing me and I'm going to Haiti in March and then Romania in September.

Something that's been bugging me this last week though is something that happened last week right before I came home. Last Monday night, with the stress of finals hitting the high point with sleep deprivation as well as the depression, I cut. I made a 7 inch cut from right below my "Love" tattoo almost to my elbow. It's healed now, but has left a nasty, nasty scar that if I'd known that was gonna happen, there's no way in hell I ever would've done it. It's a scar that's very obvious (part of it's because it's still pretty fresh. It'll fade more with time, but probably never go completely away) and long. I think I've only ever once posted a picture of a cut or scar, but I'm going to post one of this one because it'll show you what I mean...

It's made me think about all of this stuff. How much this has controlled my life. My life's consumed by hiding it. I know I'm strong (that's finally gotten through my thick skull) and these scars are my battle wounds. I've survived a lot of shit, but I'm still here and I'm still fighting. I don't cut nearly as often as I used to. It tends to be about once a month. I don't think about killing myself anymore (thank God). I've got a purpose in life. I'm not trying to be conceited here, but if after all the shit I've gone through I'm still here, God instilled a HUGE amount of strength in me, through Christ (Philippians 4:13). It kinda goes back to that conversation I had with Fr. Greg right before Christmas last year about how he has a lot of respect for me because I keep fighting. He's right. I could have given up a long time ago, but I didn't. I kept persevering when I thought I couldn't. So, here I am. A fighter with all her strength coming from the Lord. I'm fighting the good fight of faith (there's a reason that's the tattoo on my right arm).

"I have fought the good fight. I have run the race. I have kept the faith." -2 Timothy 4:7

I'm not sure if I'll post again before Christmas, but if not, I wish you and your family the most blessed Christmas. The God of the universe humbled Himself became one of us...crazy, huh?

Who am I?

I've been thinking today about who I am. I have my likes and dislikes, but who am I? I could give you many answers, but these 4 are what hit me today.

A strong Catholic
A college student
A future missionary
A cutter

Why is it that I allow my mistakes to define me? I've messed up a lot in my life. I've hurt people. I've cut myself countless times.

I looked at my legs today and looked at the scars. I looked at my arm today and ran my hand over them. I let these stupid little things define me. But, how can I be loved when I've done so much damage. I'm a very broken person and I've accepted that. I'm trying to turn to the Lord and allow Him to fix it, but I'm not really sure how to surrender. Matt Maher's new song Rise Up has the line: "When you don't know how to surrender 'cause your whole life's been a fight..." There you go. Story of my life. I'm one hell of a fighter, but sometimes I wonder how much I have left in me. I've been fighting every day for the last 1,127 days.

Maybe that's who I am: a fighter. Hopefully the Lord can show me. I don't want to define myself as a cutter anymore. I just can't help thinking that I am. I'm reminded every single day by the scars. But I'm fighting.

"I was a fighter and very determined. There was no way I was going to back out without winning." -Christine Lahti

Fixing My Life

"You don't have to fix your life for me. I die a little every time that you leave, so come home." That's part of Meredith Andrews' song "Come Home."

I feel like I have to fix my life to be able to be true friends with people or come to the Lord. I know that the Lord wants me to take my shattered little heart and let Him fix it, but I feel like I have to at least get part of my shit together before I can REALLY do that. I'm tired of going to the Lord with my heart in a million little pieces. I've given Him that countless times. He always gives me a new one, but I ALWAYS mess that up and it gets shattered again.

I'm just a really broken person right now. Just looking for healing, somewhere. I'm trying SO hard to find it. I feel like I'm unlovable because I'm such a freakin' mess. Fr. Greg told me last night that he's not giving up on me, but I'm starting to wish he would. That would make it easier to give up. I'm sick of being strong. People have no idea what's going on in my life or my heart. I don't talk about it because it only triggers stuff. In talking to Fr. Brad about stuff yesterday afternoon, I left wanting to drag the blade from my wrist to my elbow. It's sick.

Fr. Brad and Joe keep telling me that I have to change my thinking. I know that, trust me. But for the last 21 years, all that's ever been pounded into my head is that I'm not good enough and I'm not really all that important. It's not going to be an instantaneous change. Joe, as a counselor, understands that. He told me that this is probably going to be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do. I had to really emphasize that to Fr. Brad yesterday. He seems to think that 21 years of thinking can be changed instantaneously, which is oh, so wrong.

They want me to change my thinking by thinking truth when I begin to think lies. Well, that's never worked before. I tell myself those "truths" and just end up thinking that it's complete bullshit. It's not gonna happen.

I've got it hidden so well. If I don't let anybody see it, they won't know. The way to know how I'm really feeling, look at my face when I think no one's looking. That's the only time anyone would know. I act like I've got it all together, when in fact, I'm SO close to cracking once and for all. I don't know what else to do.

I feel like I'm just wasting everyone's time: Fr. Greg, Fr. Brad, Joe, God...everyone. I feel like a waste of space and that if I was gone, it really wouldn't be that big of a deal (I'm not going to do anything, so don't worry about it).

One thing I hate is that no where feels like home. Not Cincinnati, not Steubenville. Only Austria felt like home. I'm PRAYING that when I go to Romania (hopefully in September 2012) that I can finally feel like somewhere is home. It's frustrating as hell.

So, I'm still lost, trying to find my way, wanting to feel loved. How could someone really love the broken, scarred up mess that is Catherine? That's what I keep asking myself.

Lord, I need You to bust into my life. Please, I'm begging You. Bring peace to my mind and my heart.

On My Own

"For the battle is not yours, but God's" -2 Chronicles 20:15

There's a song by Ashes Remain called On My Own about how we, as humans, are not meant to fight the battle alone. We need God. The chorus says, "Bring me out, comes and find me in the dark now. I don't wanna fight alone anymore. Bring me out from the prison of my own pride. My God, I need a hope I can't deny. In the end I'm realizing, I was never meant to fight on my own." I don't want to fight on my own, but I don't want anyone involved except Joe and God.

As time goes, on, I'm realizing that I can't do this on my own. In the last 2 days, I've cut twice. I went to Confession today and it started to help. What Fr. Dan said was simple, but deep, and helped a lot. The only problem is that I've really shut off to people. I saw Fr. Rick yesterday and he said that he noticed how well I hide stuff. He said that when he sees me, I look happy, but then I talk to him in Confession or just one-on-one, he can see my brokenness.

I talked to Fr. Greg on the phone Tuesday night and I came to a realization. I feel like I don't matter. The good things in my life, like studying abroad, having a paper published, or raising all this money for starving kids, don't matter to me. I don't think they're a big deal, but to other people, they are. Fr. Greg told me that the fact that I'm graduating college even though I've been through all this shit really impresses him. Again to me, that doesn't matter. I don't know...I feel like if I wasn't here, it wouldn't really matter.

In talking to my counselor, he reminded me that cutting's a symptom of the depression. He and I actually don't talk about cutting that often. It's always about the other stuff. It's not because the cutting doesn't matter. It's because it's a symptom.

I just feel bad because I'm not talking to people. I told Fr. Rick and Fr. Brad that I didn't want to talk to them anymore. I'm not going to talk to people about it anymore. Joe's the only one I'm going to talk to about it. I'm sick of talking about it. I sound like a freakin' broken record. I told Fr. Greg that I'm not going to talk to him about it anymore.

I don't know. That's all I can say. I don't really know what's going on, but I just need to be. I am the way that I am. I've shut off and it is what it is...

Last week in prayer, the Lord put on my heart that things were going to get worse...a lot worse, but through that, I would draw closer to Him and He would bring me out in time for me to go back to Romania. I didn't really expect things to get this bad this quick, but it's God's will.

I just keep going back and forth. I want to keep fighting and then I also want to quit. I want to be happy, but then the depression just takes over. I don't know. Hopefully it'll eventually change.

AHH!! I JUST WANT TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER ONCE AND FOR ALL!!