Apparently Not

I am a horrible liar.

Today, I went to Thursday Night Mass at our university Newman Center.

I felt like an outsider trying to be religious. It was pretty horrible.

I know I have been avoiding church this past year. I have just felt that a person who doesn’t value their self worth… what are they doing in a church where we are supposed to be giving thanks? How am I supposed to love God and myself because he created me when I violate and harm my body? 

What hurt more was one of my friends. She was so happy that I was there. So happy. I felt fake.

And of course during the homily, I opened up my fat mouth and started talking about my “faith conversion”.

Once upon a time that happened.

Then I broke.

I can’t really say if I know I’ve been close to God. I feel so objective and frightened by it. I have been raised my whole life Catholic- mass, school, everything. Family. Then when my mom passed, my family just kind of feel apart in a lot of ways. I don’t even know. I can’t explain it at all. There are no words that can explain the pain and stupidity that kept us apart and still keeps us at an arms length. 

But if God isn’t real… then what?

Is there eternal life? If not… then what? 

I thought when I returned to the church in high school that… something would happen I guess. I got involved in the music at my church and that was really the only reason why I went. I would tune out during the readings and homilies for the most part. I went through the motions. I was on and off with the Newman Singers. With as many masses we did as a group, you’d think something in me would change. 

Maybe I’m just not ready. I don’t know.

I doubt everything now. 

I doubt my relationships with people.

I really just want to hole myself up, not go out and see people unless I’m going out to party (a.k.a. I don’t want to see people sober), and stop telling people things. 

Talking to my dad last night… I’m getting so frustrated with people.

He refuses to accept that I could be suicidal, that I self-harm, and that I’m depressed. He just won’t listen.

Even one night when I called him during a suicidal episode, he was yelling at me over the phone. He gets so personally offended about me talking about it.

I know what it could do to him. I know what it could do to others. But then, who am I living for?

Yes, bible teaches us, live for others and most importantly god… yup, uh-huh.

But if I’m only keeping myself alive just for people to not be upset with my passing, then I’m already dead.

It’s not cowardly.

It’s not running away.

It’s helping the numbness.

That’s all I felt during mass today.




I just don’t feel like I can get someone to listen to me and then help me. Everyone is offering opinions. 

Opinions are very different from answers.

No one knows. Literally. There isn’t really anything that can just take this away. It’s a fact, a fact that I’m well aware of. I’m tired of people reminding me that as if I didn’t know that and I was some angst-y, ignorant teen that doesn’t know shit about what I’m going through.

I read.

I’m interested in the health field, you really think I’d be stupid enough to not read into this?

I am my own greatest nightmare. 

But still, isn’t there something to help with the constant stomach ache, the rapidly changing heartbeat, the overwhelming sadness, the disappointment, the self-loathing, the anger, the helplessness?

Apparently not.

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