I had quite an experience going to Mass this morning. There were times and places mixed up, wishing I didn’t understand parts of the Spanish, and judgements made.
It all began when I walked into the church parking lot at 9:20. I was startled to see the outside overflow seating full until I read the sign with times and remembered that Mass in English was actually at 10:30 not 9:30. No problem. I walked home and had an avocado/pineapple/peach smoothie before returning. Have I mentioned how amazing the produce is here?
An hour later I was back. Below the listing of the Mass in English is a Mass for children twice a month. I didn’t think anything of it because it’s every other week and two weeks ago Mass was in English and just happened to have more kids. It quickly became clear that this was something else entirely. There were tons of kids - awesome - it’s great to see lots of kids at Mass.
Then the opening song started and things went downhill fast. The lyrics of the opening song had a refrain which translated to “the Mass is a party for Jesus.” Say what? At this point, I also noticed that I had left my phone at home so I didn’t even have my Mass app for the Spanish translations. Unfortunately, it didn’t get better. While I appreciate the priest’s explanations to help the kids understand, a totally improvised opening prayer, skipping the second reading altogether, and having a lay woman start the gospel so Fr. could read only Jesus’s words were less than desirable. The homily involved kids holding signs with words about Jesus as the Bread of Life as well as a loaf of bread and a ciborium of (please God) unconcecrated altar bread. The priest kept asking leading questions to the altar boys on either side of him... which they couldn’t answer. At least it was clearly connected to the readings. When the homily was over and we moved immediately into the Prayer of the Faithful (skipping the Profession of Faith entirely), I finally leaned over to the woman next to me and asked what time Mass was in English. It turned out to be happening concurrently in another chapel. I hesitated then left to find it. I figured, at worst, I could come back for Mass in Spanish this afternoon and it was better than wondering what would happen next.
I found the English Mass easily and the priest was only in the middle of his homily so I felt pretty good about that. It turns out the parish has THREE Eucharistic chapels - the main church, this smaller chapel, and the perpetual adoration chapel. Pretty awesome. After the homily, there was a blessing for two men who were being commissioned as EMHCs. It was reverent and taken very seriously. Fr. really stressed the honor and duty of the role. Mass cntinued as normal except for two teen girls in front of me who were far more interested in hip checking each other than paying attention to anything that was happening. I managed to refrain from letting them know they might fit in better in the kiddie Mass downstairs.When it came time for communion, I was shocked and disappointed to see the priest sit down and leave distribution to the EMHCs. I understand the need for them (they use intinction with one person holding the ciborium, another the chalice, and a third the communion paten) but after the seriousness with which Fr. addressed the commissioning, it was clear he wasn’t a flake so I was confused about why he was sitting. It turned out my judgement was misplaced and I felt ashamed of myself when he explained/apologized to the congregation after Communion telling us how he had burned his right thumb in a firecracker accident the week before and it was hard to hold the hosts. I then wondered if I would have had a similar feeling had I stayed in the Mass for kids. Considering most everyone was leaving the church with a lollipop in their mouth when I passed them, I’m doubtful that judgement was as off.
So now I know where and when English Masses are and can avoid the Mass (more of a Mess unfortunately) for kids in the future. All’s well that ends well, right?
Showing posts with label Lessons learned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lessons learned. Show all posts
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Friday, November 23, 2012
Shakespeare and the monkey
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, an actor and an actress met and fell in love. Eventually, they had a daughter who they named Elizabeth. When Elizabeth was young, she promised she would never be an actress like her parents. As time passed, however, a strange sequence of events resulted in Elizabeth being thrown into a season of Shakespearean dramas. To her great surprise, she loved acting. Shakespeare was her favorite because there was so much substance to his plays. She decided that she wanted to become a professional Shakespearean actress.
After many failed audition attempts, Elizabeth secured a place with an acting troupe. It was not quite Shakespeare but she was confident that she could use (and continue to develop) her talent which would help her be a better actress. As with any company, the first few shows were rough but Elizabeth thought it just needed time. Unfortunately, time only made things worse.
Eventually, Elizabeth realized the awful truth. She had been hired by a circus and turned into a performing monkey by a powerful magician. She had been reciting monologues and blocking scenes when all they wanted her to do was stand on a ball, pat her head, and rub her tummy. At first, Elizabeth tried to resist. They might have turned her into a monkey but she knew who she really was. She continued on, trying to share Shakespeare with those who visited the zoo. Unfortunately, the zookeepers were not happy with this. They had to find a way to make her stop.
The answer came with a simple strip of duct tape. The zookeepers placed this tape across Elizabeth-monkey's mouth and sent her back into the cage. Poor Elizabeth was heartbroken. After rejecting acting for so long, she was finally ready to perform and was now restricted to eating bananas (yes, there was a mysterious way she still could eat them even with the duct tape.. it's a fairy tale... don't question it) and scratching her head and armpits.
One day, a wiser monkey came to visit Elizabeth. This monkey knew that Elizabeth was not really a monkey. The wiser monkey told Elizabeth that the zookeepers did not really want an actor but only a monkey. She knew that she was better than that but she also had to accept that all the zoo wanted was a performing monkey and they would keep finding more ways to punish her when she tried to do more complicated performances. Elizabeth was still sad but she agreed to pretend to be a monkey. It was simply not worth fighting about because the zookeepers would always win.
TBC?
In other news, I still love extended metaphors and Happy Thanksgiving (one day late).
After many failed audition attempts, Elizabeth secured a place with an acting troupe. It was not quite Shakespeare but she was confident that she could use (and continue to develop) her talent which would help her be a better actress. As with any company, the first few shows were rough but Elizabeth thought it just needed time. Unfortunately, time only made things worse.
Eventually, Elizabeth realized the awful truth. She had been hired by a circus and turned into a performing monkey by a powerful magician. She had been reciting monologues and blocking scenes when all they wanted her to do was stand on a ball, pat her head, and rub her tummy. At first, Elizabeth tried to resist. They might have turned her into a monkey but she knew who she really was. She continued on, trying to share Shakespeare with those who visited the zoo. Unfortunately, the zookeepers were not happy with this. They had to find a way to make her stop.
The answer came with a simple strip of duct tape. The zookeepers placed this tape across Elizabeth-monkey's mouth and sent her back into the cage. Poor Elizabeth was heartbroken. After rejecting acting for so long, she was finally ready to perform and was now restricted to eating bananas (yes, there was a mysterious way she still could eat them even with the duct tape.. it's a fairy tale... don't question it) and scratching her head and armpits.
One day, a wiser monkey came to visit Elizabeth. This monkey knew that Elizabeth was not really a monkey. The wiser monkey told Elizabeth that the zookeepers did not really want an actor but only a monkey. She knew that she was better than that but she also had to accept that all the zoo wanted was a performing monkey and they would keep finding more ways to punish her when she tried to do more complicated performances. Elizabeth was still sad but she agreed to pretend to be a monkey. It was simply not worth fighting about because the zookeepers would always win.
TBC?
In other news, I still love extended metaphors and Happy Thanksgiving (one day late).
Monday, March 19, 2012
Finally
After almost six miserable months of no direction, the needle on my compass has finally found its way back to North. I've been barely surviving these past few months: living at my parents' house, just got a job last month at Walmart, singing a little, reading, and wasting time online. I wasn't working towards anything and didn't even know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. If asked where I saw myself in 5 or 10 years, the honest answer was, "no idea." The future was a huge hole. Rather than a light at the end of a tunnel, I felt like I was on a train hurdling faster and faster into a cave with no other end. And then my "fever broke."
I was in a meeting with my counselor on Wednesday when I gave her one of the "missing puzzle pieces" which I thought she had known all along. With that information, she helped me make sense of connections and priorities between my main goals/dreams in life. By the end of the session, I had a plan of action (somewhat) and something to work towards. Later that day, I was able to understand a decision I had made a few months ago. I knew that the decision was somehow logical, but until I saw the connection, I had no idea how or why it made sense. I get it now. And, with changes I'll be making in my life, the decision will probably be reversed in time.
In the short-term, my plans are still being worked out. There are a number of different paths I can take but at least now I know where they are leading.
I was in a meeting with my counselor on Wednesday when I gave her one of the "missing puzzle pieces" which I thought she had known all along. With that information, she helped me make sense of connections and priorities between my main goals/dreams in life. By the end of the session, I had a plan of action (somewhat) and something to work towards. Later that day, I was able to understand a decision I had made a few months ago. I knew that the decision was somehow logical, but until I saw the connection, I had no idea how or why it made sense. I get it now. And, with changes I'll be making in my life, the decision will probably be reversed in time.
In the short-term, my plans are still being worked out. There are a number of different paths I can take but at least now I know where they are leading.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Smoking and a deer
My two favorite moments about Valentine's Day yesterday were a man smoking a cigarette and a song about a deer. A close second (which would probably be first if it actually happened on the day) was a comment from Mass on Sunday.
It's been just over a year since one of the worst mistakes of my life began. Thankfully, it's also been about six months since it finally ended. I can dwell on the "if only I had known"s but that wouldn't change the facts. I ended up in a toxic relationship. I allowed that person to affect multiple areas of my life which they really had no business interfering with. I am dealing with the results. While there is still a long way to go, I am making progress. More and more days I make it through Mass without thinking about the fact that I'm wearing pants or worrying if my shirt is cut lower than "two finger-widths below the pit of the throat" OR snarkily wearing a shirt precisely because it's cut lower than that (I can assure you that if anyone EVER tries to admonish me about those blasted two fingers again I will tell them exactly what they can do with them). My medicine doesn't get a second thought . . . well, except for needing to talk to my doctor about upping the dosage or finding something else because after almost weaning all the way off of them in the fall they aren't enough anymore. Even knowing that there was a chance Mass would be a TLM, I still went to St. Pete's on Sunday, admittedly telling myself over and over "even if it's TLM, it's still Jesus' Mass and no one else's. I don't go on the guy's blog or check facebook. I haven't even been on Catholic Match since December.
But Valentine's Day was nice. I was walking across the FUS campus to daily Mass when I happened to be behind a student smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. Never have, never will. And I'm not a big fan of smoking in general. But as I smelled that smoke for a few seconds I realized again just how free I really am. No one can yell at me because I'm "endangering my future children" because the five seconds of second-hand smoke exposure will harm my eggs thereby resulting in deformed descendents (I wish I was kidding). No one can embarrass me by loudly exclaiming "EWWWW SMOKE!!!" and pulling me to the other side of the street (again, I wish I wasn't speaking from personal experience). No, I am free. And in that moment of smoke, my freedom was clear as day.
The second moment of Valentine's Day was at the end of church choir practice. I had jokingly told the choir director last week that if I "had to be at choir practice on Valentine's Day we had better be singing more of the Tallis and Palestrina and less of the rest" although, the music we're working on now is nothing compared to some pieces we've done (in the words of my sister "kum ba ya by any other name is still kum ba ya"). We had gotten to nearly the end of rehearsal and neither of those pieces had shown themselves. Finally, as the last piece, our director passed out Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. We sang through and I realized (not for the first time) that my love of this piece of music is one of the few things that I shared with my ex with which I do not have negative associations. I think that comes from the fact that I had loved it long before he was part of my life and I will continue loving it now that he is no longer part of my life. In any case, I'm very glad that I didn't "lose" it in the mess.
Finally, Sunday was World Marriage Day. As I mentioned, I went to a different parish and so, got to hear a homily by a priest I rarely see. There were a set of very interesting coincidences about this particular Mass.
It's been just over a year since one of the worst mistakes of my life began. Thankfully, it's also been about six months since it finally ended. I can dwell on the "if only I had known"s but that wouldn't change the facts. I ended up in a toxic relationship. I allowed that person to affect multiple areas of my life which they really had no business interfering with. I am dealing with the results. While there is still a long way to go, I am making progress. More and more days I make it through Mass without thinking about the fact that I'm wearing pants or worrying if my shirt is cut lower than "two finger-widths below the pit of the throat" OR snarkily wearing a shirt precisely because it's cut lower than that (I can assure you that if anyone EVER tries to admonish me about those blasted two fingers again I will tell them exactly what they can do with them). My medicine doesn't get a second thought . . . well, except for needing to talk to my doctor about upping the dosage or finding something else because after almost weaning all the way off of them in the fall they aren't enough anymore. Even knowing that there was a chance Mass would be a TLM, I still went to St. Pete's on Sunday, admittedly telling myself over and over "even if it's TLM, it's still Jesus' Mass and no one else's. I don't go on the guy's blog or check facebook. I haven't even been on Catholic Match since December.
But Valentine's Day was nice. I was walking across the FUS campus to daily Mass when I happened to be behind a student smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. Never have, never will. And I'm not a big fan of smoking in general. But as I smelled that smoke for a few seconds I realized again just how free I really am. No one can yell at me because I'm "endangering my future children" because the five seconds of second-hand smoke exposure will harm my eggs thereby resulting in deformed descendents (I wish I was kidding). No one can embarrass me by loudly exclaiming "EWWWW SMOKE!!!" and pulling me to the other side of the street (again, I wish I wasn't speaking from personal experience). No, I am free. And in that moment of smoke, my freedom was clear as day.
The second moment of Valentine's Day was at the end of church choir practice. I had jokingly told the choir director last week that if I "had to be at choir practice on Valentine's Day we had better be singing more of the Tallis and Palestrina and less of the rest" although, the music we're working on now is nothing compared to some pieces we've done (in the words of my sister "kum ba ya by any other name is still kum ba ya"). We had gotten to nearly the end of rehearsal and neither of those pieces had shown themselves. Finally, as the last piece, our director passed out Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. We sang through and I realized (not for the first time) that my love of this piece of music is one of the few things that I shared with my ex with which I do not have negative associations. I think that comes from the fact that I had loved it long before he was part of my life and I will continue loving it now that he is no longer part of my life. In any case, I'm very glad that I didn't "lose" it in the mess.
Finally, Sunday was World Marriage Day. As I mentioned, I went to a different parish and so, got to hear a homily by a priest I rarely see. There were a set of very interesting coincidences about this particular Mass.
- The priest preached about marriage (OK, not surprising as it was World Marriage Day)
- The girls sitting in front of me thought that was funny.
- I'm pretty sure their amusement was due to the fact that they are two of his granddaughters.
- Yes, Mass on World Marriage Day was celebrated by a married priest (he used to be Episcopal)
- Fr. mentioned at the end of Mass that it was also the 29th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood.
While that collection of coincidences was fascinating, my favorite thing was something he mentioned in his homily. He told the story of a couple who were meeting with their pastor for the last pre-marriage counseling session before the wedding. The priest told the couple that everything they had learned about the Catholic Church's teachings on marriage could be summed up in one sentence: "And the two shall become one." The groom-to-be nervously asked "which one?"
On hearing this story, the congregation appropriately chuckled and then Fr. continued, reassuring us, as the other priest had the groom-to-be, that this did not mean that the couple would become totally absorbed into one indistinguishable entity. According to Pope Paul VI in Humanae Vitae, they do become one in a mystical sense while retaining their individual personalities and the like. Although I have no plans to get married, this was such a relief to hear articulated. At one point in our relationship, I had been chatting with my ex about the idea of women keeping their last names when they married (yet another red flag -- we should NOT have been talking about marriage a few months into a friendship when we hadn't even spoken to each other let alone met). He vehemently opposed the idea saying that by keeping her maiden name a woman was "saying the marriage meant nothing more than a partnership and not a true two become one union." I tried to articulate what I believed (basically what Fr. described on Sunday) but he still disagreed. The only concession that I managed to get out of him was "well I suppose you still have individual souls." God help the woman (if she exists) that marries him.
As I'm sure as been evident by this post, I'm still a mess. Healing from this relationship is going to take plenty of time and the other circumstances which have surrounded it don't make it any easier. I'm trying not to be bitter and, in some strange way, the fact that I'm done with relationships has helped. I pity my ex as he has many issues (some of which he can help and others not as much) which may prevent him from having the type of relationship he wants. All I know is how thankful I am to be out of the situation.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Open Letter To My Soon To Be Former Landlady
So, I'm getting kicked out of my house, thanks to my nutso landlady. Because she is, quite literally, crazy, I know that nothing I could say to her would break through her skull. To satisfy my need to express my feelings towards her, despite the fact that she will never see this, I am writing this letter. I'll call her Ursula, because it's a good villain name (and it's what her parents conveniently named her).
Dear Ursula,
I was very sad to see the email you addressed to me for a number of reasons. After past experiences, I am not surprised to see you make such a bizarre and over-reactive action of telling me to leave. Your handling of the situation, however, really saddens me. To say that I am not angry would be a lie, but stronger than the anger is pity.
Yes, I pity you. I cannot imagine living with such OCD/anal retentive-ness that a simple request for privacy in a room I am paying to use would result in throwing me out of your house. That must be a very difficult life. The idea of being so upset over being asked not to clean a room that you have no reason to ever be in and to let the people who are paying you for the use of the room arrange the furniture in the way most comfortable to them is unfathomable to me. If these are considered "unreasonable demands," (your wording, I believe) especially when phrased in such a respectful, diplomatic way as C. (my roommate) and I did, then I can only imagine what the reaction would be should we have actually wanted something extreme. Thankfully, we will never have to find out.
You may notice that I mentioned C. and I phrasing things together. This is because that is exactly what happened. In reading (if you actually did) our email, you should have seen that everything was "we" vs. "I," it was signed by both of us, and sent from her email address. Most people would have interpreted that the email was from both of your tenants. I am at a loss as to how we could have spelled it out more clearly. The fact that you singled me out in your response and told me that while I have until December 15th to leave, C. can stay as long as she likes was appalling. As was the fact that you sent the email, addressed to me, to her address. I think it is incredibly sad that a grown woman would stoop to such levels. We have communicated many times via email both when I was living here previously and also in the past two months. There was absolutely no reason to attempt to avoid dealing directly with me. That was nothing short of childish. The same can be said for the additional emails which you sent to C. mentioning me and your asking that I leave prior to contacting me personally. Your assurances to her that you hope she will continue living here are laughable. What incentive could she possibly have for staying now that it is painfully obvious that we have no rights as renters and are, essentially, paying you for the privilege of house-sitting for you?
In conclusion, I will be out of your house well before your deadline. Additionally, I will make sure to be gone this Thanksgiving weekend while you are here so as not to disturb you by anything "unacceptable" that my presence may entail. Finally, if I ever see you advertise this room on craigslist or anything similar (which I anticipate you will be doing soon), please be assured that I will be writing to the website and/or posting an ad of my own warning people. While I will not stoop to your level and make unintelligible statements (They are crazy, wahh, wahh, wahh) I will absolutely tell them the truth. That you do not consider the renters to have any rights, they may not arrange things in their room, you do not want them to change the temperature so that they are comfortable, and, above all, you will give them no lease so if you change your mind about them living here on a whim, they have no recourse when you evict them.
Sincerely,
Rose
Dear Ursula,
I was very sad to see the email you addressed to me for a number of reasons. After past experiences, I am not surprised to see you make such a bizarre and over-reactive action of telling me to leave. Your handling of the situation, however, really saddens me. To say that I am not angry would be a lie, but stronger than the anger is pity.
Yes, I pity you. I cannot imagine living with such OCD/anal retentive-ness that a simple request for privacy in a room I am paying to use would result in throwing me out of your house. That must be a very difficult life. The idea of being so upset over being asked not to clean a room that you have no reason to ever be in and to let the people who are paying you for the use of the room arrange the furniture in the way most comfortable to them is unfathomable to me. If these are considered "unreasonable demands," (your wording, I believe) especially when phrased in such a respectful, diplomatic way as C. (my roommate) and I did, then I can only imagine what the reaction would be should we have actually wanted something extreme. Thankfully, we will never have to find out.
You may notice that I mentioned C. and I phrasing things together. This is because that is exactly what happened. In reading (if you actually did) our email, you should have seen that everything was "we" vs. "I," it was signed by both of us, and sent from her email address. Most people would have interpreted that the email was from both of your tenants. I am at a loss as to how we could have spelled it out more clearly. The fact that you singled me out in your response and told me that while I have until December 15th to leave, C. can stay as long as she likes was appalling. As was the fact that you sent the email, addressed to me, to her address. I think it is incredibly sad that a grown woman would stoop to such levels. We have communicated many times via email both when I was living here previously and also in the past two months. There was absolutely no reason to attempt to avoid dealing directly with me. That was nothing short of childish. The same can be said for the additional emails which you sent to C. mentioning me and your asking that I leave prior to contacting me personally. Your assurances to her that you hope she will continue living here are laughable. What incentive could she possibly have for staying now that it is painfully obvious that we have no rights as renters and are, essentially, paying you for the privilege of house-sitting for you?
In conclusion, I will be out of your house well before your deadline. Additionally, I will make sure to be gone this Thanksgiving weekend while you are here so as not to disturb you by anything "unacceptable" that my presence may entail. Finally, if I ever see you advertise this room on craigslist or anything similar (which I anticipate you will be doing soon), please be assured that I will be writing to the website and/or posting an ad of my own warning people. While I will not stoop to your level and make unintelligible statements (They are crazy, wahh, wahh, wahh) I will absolutely tell them the truth. That you do not consider the renters to have any rights, they may not arrange things in their room, you do not want them to change the temperature so that they are comfortable, and, above all, you will give them no lease so if you change your mind about them living here on a whim, they have no recourse when you evict them.
Sincerely,
Rose
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Leaving
Since I've "officially" announced this everywhere else and passive-aggressively alluded to it on my blog, it's time that I let the world know what's going on in my life.
I quit my job.
And am moving back to the US.
Next week.
I don't feel like going into all the nasty details but suffice it to say working here has become a danger to my mental health thanks to a variety of people and their actions. As I mentioned before, I am truly heartbroken to be leaving Budapest. I feel as though I am being forced to breakup with someone that I deeply love because of circumstances far beyond our control. I know that I will be back but, in some ways, that makes it worse. Leaving just seems so futile. However, I know that this is the only decision I could make at the moment.
One of the most telling things that this decision was the right one is how violently my employers have reacted. It reminds me of breaking up with my ex this summer. There were things that bothered me enough to the point where I realized that I had to end the relationship (or in this case, job). But it was when I actually ended it (or turned in my letters of resignation) that things REALLY went sour. Anyway.... more on that (maybe) when I leave the country. Suffice it to say, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am better off not working for this organization.
I've gotten a lot of comfort from music lately and want to share a few songs which have really "spoken" to me.
1. "Moving On" by Sixpence None the Richer (I couldn't find a recording on youtube)
It has gotten to my head. Permeates the path I tread.
But I tread, I'm moving on in a new and happy song.
I can sing about the night, how my tunnel without light
Led me to the other side where the sky is blue.
It's all I can do to not let them ruin me.
I will not let them ruin me.
I will not let them ruin me again.
This song reminds me of the saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." That's why I'm leaving -- so it doesn't get to the "fool me twice" stage.
2. "You Can Still Be Free" by Savage Garden
No regrets or promises
The past is gone
But you can still be free
If time will set you free
Time now to spread your wings
To take to flight
The life endeavor
Aim for the burning sun
You're trapped inside
But you can still be free
If time will set you free
But it's a long long way to go
In the middle of my struggle with my decision, this song came up on my ipod one day on the way home from work. As I listened, it moved me to tears. That was one of the first moments that I knew what I needed to do. Yes, I can't change what's happened and it will be a long way to go, but in the end, I will be free.
3. "Find Your Wings" by Mark Harris
I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams
And that faith gives you the courage
To dare to do great things
It's not living if you don't reach for the sky
I'll have tears as you take off
But I'll cheer as you fly
The same day that "You Can Still Be Free" spoke to me, this song did as well. At this point, my parents weren't completely on board with my decision. I'm very different from my parents in some ways and one of those is that I am much more open about feelings and emotions. This song has always seemed to be what I think (and hope) my parents would say to me if they talked about things like this. Also, the line about needing to reach for the sky is so key... if you're just existing that's not much of a life.
4. "Kell meg egy szo" by Dolhai Attila (you know I had to include at least ONE song by him)
Nézz rám, s ne ígérj,
nézz rám, sose félj!
Ha nincs hely, ahol élj,
indulj haza felé!
(ROUGH translation -- courtesy of google)
I love, love, love this song. But the last line is especially perfect for this situation. "If you can't find a place to live, turn towards home." (That's my rough translation) It reminds me of what Deb keeps telling me: "don't postpone living." While living in Budapest has always been my dream, this work mess is turning that into a nightmare. It's time to wake up from that nightmare and get back to living!
*** NOTE ***
Not everyone at work has been causing me problems. I have made some good friends who I will miss a ton. Also, I love my kids. They made the decision excruciating because I have formed such an attachment to them. In the end, however, if this job is beating me down to less than my best then I am not capable of giving them what they deserve.
I quit my job.
And am moving back to the US.
Next week.
I don't feel like going into all the nasty details but suffice it to say working here has become a danger to my mental health thanks to a variety of people and their actions. As I mentioned before, I am truly heartbroken to be leaving Budapest. I feel as though I am being forced to breakup with someone that I deeply love because of circumstances far beyond our control. I know that I will be back but, in some ways, that makes it worse. Leaving just seems so futile. However, I know that this is the only decision I could make at the moment.
One of the most telling things that this decision was the right one is how violently my employers have reacted. It reminds me of breaking up with my ex this summer. There were things that bothered me enough to the point where I realized that I had to end the relationship (or in this case, job). But it was when I actually ended it (or turned in my letters of resignation) that things REALLY went sour. Anyway.... more on that (maybe) when I leave the country. Suffice it to say, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am better off not working for this organization.
I've gotten a lot of comfort from music lately and want to share a few songs which have really "spoken" to me.
1. "Moving On" by Sixpence None the Richer (I couldn't find a recording on youtube)
It has gotten to my head. Permeates the path I tread.
But I tread, I'm moving on in a new and happy song.
I can sing about the night, how my tunnel without light
Led me to the other side where the sky is blue.
It's all I can do to not let them ruin me.
I will not let them ruin me.
I will not let them ruin me again.
This song reminds me of the saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." That's why I'm leaving -- so it doesn't get to the "fool me twice" stage.
2. "You Can Still Be Free" by Savage Garden
No regrets or promises
The past is gone
But you can still be free
If time will set you free
Time now to spread your wings
To take to flight
The life endeavor
Aim for the burning sun
You're trapped inside
But you can still be free
If time will set you free
But it's a long long way to go
In the middle of my struggle with my decision, this song came up on my ipod one day on the way home from work. As I listened, it moved me to tears. That was one of the first moments that I knew what I needed to do. Yes, I can't change what's happened and it will be a long way to go, but in the end, I will be free.
3. "Find Your Wings" by Mark Harris
I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams
And that faith gives you the courage
To dare to do great things
It's not living if you don't reach for the sky
I'll have tears as you take off
But I'll cheer as you fly
The same day that "You Can Still Be Free" spoke to me, this song did as well. At this point, my parents weren't completely on board with my decision. I'm very different from my parents in some ways and one of those is that I am much more open about feelings and emotions. This song has always seemed to be what I think (and hope) my parents would say to me if they talked about things like this. Also, the line about needing to reach for the sky is so key... if you're just existing that's not much of a life.
4. "Kell meg egy szo" by Dolhai Attila (you know I had to include at least ONE song by him)
Nézz rám, s ne ígérj,
nézz rám, sose félj!
Ha nincs hely, ahol élj,
indulj haza felé!
(ROUGH translation -- courtesy of google)
I love, love, love this song. But the last line is especially perfect for this situation. "If you can't find a place to live, turn towards home." (That's my rough translation) It reminds me of what Deb keeps telling me: "don't postpone living." While living in Budapest has always been my dream, this work mess is turning that into a nightmare. It's time to wake up from that nightmare and get back to living!
*** NOTE ***
Not everyone at work has been causing me problems. I have made some good friends who I will miss a ton. Also, I love my kids. They made the decision excruciating because I have formed such an attachment to them. In the end, however, if this job is beating me down to less than my best then I am not capable of giving them what they deserve.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
So much to say and no idea how to say it
HUGE changes going on in my life right now.
I'm at peace with the decision I've made but I'm absolutely heartbroken by the side effects. Last night was the first night I cried myself to sleep (I've got the headache this morning to show for it) and I'm sure it will not be the last. Since I am trying to respect (although I don't feel it deserves that!) this ridiculous "adult time-out" which has been imposed upon me, I can't say exactly what's happening. Most of my close friends know and if you don't feel free to shoot me an email... not guaranteeing that I will respond right away, but it can't hurt to try. All I can say is if anyone thinks I'm the least bit happy then they must have met me about 10 years ago and haven't seen me since.
(Yes, I do plan to finish blogging about WYD (and the Miss Saigon production that I saw the other day) ... so sorry for the delay, this problem has been eating away at me and I'm too mentally and emotionally exhausted to deal with much more at the moment)
I'm at peace with the decision I've made but I'm absolutely heartbroken by the side effects. Last night was the first night I cried myself to sleep (I've got the headache this morning to show for it) and I'm sure it will not be the last. Since I am trying to respect (although I don't feel it deserves that!) this ridiculous "adult time-out" which has been imposed upon me, I can't say exactly what's happening. Most of my close friends know and if you don't feel free to shoot me an email... not guaranteeing that I will respond right away, but it can't hurt to try. All I can say is if anyone thinks I'm the least bit happy then they must have met me about 10 years ago and haven't seen me since.
(Yes, I do plan to finish blogging about WYD (and the Miss Saigon production that I saw the other day) ... so sorry for the delay, this problem has been eating away at me and I'm too mentally and emotionally exhausted to deal with much more at the moment)
Thursday, August 25, 2011
WYD part 4
Thursday was the day that Papa Ben (The Pope/B16/etc) arrived in Madrid. After catechesis, I went with most of the group to the welcome ceremony. We arrived around 2pm and got pretty close -- we had a good view of a screen and could even see the stage somewhat.
People that arrived after us:
There were pilgrims from ALL OVER the world.
We had to wait from 2pm until the Pope arrived at 7:30 so we saw a ton of strange/awesome things... for example
The "Monk-arena"
(sorry it's turned sideways, I couldn't figure out how to fix that)
It was terribly hot. I'm amazed that I managed not to get sunburned. That's only because I was reapplying sunscreen about every hour. Unfortunately, some people got really nasty as well. I went to the toilet with a couple of the other girls and we had a serious problem getting back to the group. Some other pilgrims wouldn't move a few feet (they had loads of room because they were sitting in a circle playing cards) to let us past and even when a girl fainted from the heat right behind us they didn't want to move. They did finally move so that the girl could get medical assistance and we were able to fight our way back to the group.
Over all, though the atmosphere was great. So many young adults so excited to see the Holy Father. Seriously, there has to be something to the papacy. Otherwise, there is no reason for 100's of thousands of youth to be gathered in the 40+C (well over 100F) heat to see one short, 84 year old man. There is no other reason for us to be chanting with one voice (as we did dozens of times throughout the week, both in the presence of the pope and anywhere else... opposite platforms of the metro, walking down the street, you name it) “¡Esta es la juventud del papa!” ("We are the youth of the pope!") He really is our spiritual father. Forget Dumbledore's Army... I'm in Benedict's Army. Which, ultimately, is Jesus' Army.
Finally, Papa Ben arrived! And we could see him!!
Five young adults representing the five continents presented welcome gifts to the Holy Father. I didn't catch a picture of him putting on the cowboy hat from the North American representative but I did get one of him wearing the flower garland from the Asian rep.
After the gifts, there was a short prayer service with a reading from the Bible and intercessions. Papa Ben greeted the pilgrims and gave a short message in each of the "official" WYD languages (Spanish, French, Italian, German, English, and Polish) eliciting massive cheers from each language group in turn.
After the prayer service, he rode back out of the square in the pope-mobile. We were kind of disappointed because there had been plenty of space right along the fence on the street where he came in but we chose to get closer to the stage rather than stand there. Oh well... we were still there.
We waited a little while for the crowds to start to clear (hah) a little bit and then headed out of the square to find some food. On the way, we passed two cardinals walking down the road. Now, one doesn't normally see two "Princes of the Church" ambling down a city street. I caught a picture and then some of the group decided we should talk to them.
American's are often very irritating in international settings. Not everyone and not always but there is enough truth in the stereotype for me to downplay my citizenship when abroad. Because of this, I was telling people at WYD that I live in Hungary. When we met the cardinals, the rest of the group said they were from Canada and I chimed in (as I had been doing up until that point but sort of stopped afterwards) that I was coming from Hungary.
One of the cardinals looked at me strangely and asked
"Where?"
I figured that he either hadn't heard or didn't know where I was talking about so I repeated "Budapest, Hungary."
No sooner had I said that then, in flawless Hungarian, he says
"Dicsértessék a Jézus Krisztus!" (Praised be Jesus Christ!)
Now, you have to understand that for Hungarian Catholics, that is the common greeting from a
priest to the people. If you're Hungarian and Catholic it's about as well known as the Sign of the Cross. Basically, if you don't know it (and the proper response), you are either not Hungarian or not Catholic or neither. When I'm in Hungary, the response flies off the tip of my tongue as easy as pie. However.... I was NOT expecting this random cardinal to be Cardinal Erdő -- the archbishop of Esztergom-Budapest (my home diocese) and the only Hungarian cardinal. I knew that he had to be in Budapest on Saturday for St. Stephen's day so I figured he wasn't going to be at WYD. Apparently, I was wrong. My poor brain was so befuddled with the sudden switch from English/Spanish to Hungarian. I recognized the phrase to be Hungarian, I knew it was the standard greeting from a priest, and I knew that I knew the proper response. What I didn't manage was to come up with the response. Instead, I mumbled, "igen," (yes) looking quite bewildered, I'm sure. The cardinal frowned and, somewhat sharply, gave me the response "Mindörökké, ámen!" (Forever, amen!)
I can't blame him... the poor guy was probably thinking "who is this girl and why is she claiming to be Hungarian/Catholic?!" ... Sorry, Your Eminence, I promise I'm not that thick - just wasn't expecting the language switch.
After that excitement (read: embarrassment -- at least for me) we got dinner and then headed home after a LONG day in the sun.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Telling the truth is not enough
"Jesus said to him, "I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me."
- John 14:6
"Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love."
- 1 John 4:8
No one comes to the Father except through me."
- John 14:6
"Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love."
- 1 John 4:8
When I was a kid, I learned a hard lesson. I thought that honesty was always the best policy. While I don't deny that, taking into account both of the verses above, it seems to me that honesty with charity is really the ideal.
For as clearly as I remember the other details of this story, I can't remember what year it was. I must have been between eleven and thirteen but I'm not really sure. My friend "Amber" (names have been changed) and I were hanging out nearly everyday that summer. A younger neighbor "Monica" always wanted to play with us as well. This irritated Amber and I because Monica was younger and not nearly as "mature" as we thought ourselves to be. Monica wanted to do everything with us but her mom wouldn't allow her to do some things that we were doing. So, Monica wanted us to only do what she was allowed to do so that she could always be involved. We tried avoiding her. We tried not being available. We tried hiding. Nothing worked. Finally, in our pre-teen frustration we wrote a letter to Monica telling her that we didn't want to be friends. Not only did we lash out at Monica, we also made some comments about her mom because of the way Monica was trying to restrict what we could do in order to include her. We wrote this letter, sent it, and thought our problems were over. After all, we had done what was honest, right? We didn't want to spend time with her and we thought that it was nicer to actually tell her rather than just ignoring her.
Unfortunately, Monica and her mom did not see things the same way we did. I'm not really sure what they would have preferred that we do but apparently this letter wasn't it. Monica's mom called my parents and Amber's parents and the result was my being grounded the entire summer. All for telling the truth. The whole truth.
Since that time, I'm much more careful with how I tell the truth. Sometimes, it's not necessary or charitable to use all the details. For example... (these are made up situations that could realistically happen)
Say a friend asked me how a dress looked on her... I could say
"it's not really your style, why don't you try this other one. I think that cut/color/etc. would be more flattering on you."OR I could say
"UGH... that is awful, it makes you look like a watermelon. Seriously, you look disgusting. The red emphasizes that big pimple on your chin and it's too tight so it looks like you're about to have a 'fat baby' .. NO NO NO."(Please note, I would NEVER say that to any of my friends... can't even imagine thinking it!) Both of these statements could be telling the truth. But only one of them is charitable.
Another example: My mom makes something I don't like for dinner. Do I respond with
"Thanks for making dinner, Mom, but I'm not hungry." or a simple "it wasn't my favorite. I wouldn't ask you to make it again"OR
"Mom, that was awful. It makes me want to gag. NEVER make it again when I'm home."Again, both might be the truth but only one is honesty with charity.
Bottom-line: sometimes, it's not necessary to give all the details. As long as you're being truthful it can be more charitable to leave out some of the nitty-gritty. Despite what people might think from reading this blog, I do not express every thought that comes through my head. There are many many things I could say about people, places, things, etc. which would be less than charitable. Do I always succeed in not saying these things? No. But I do my best. And the idea of people calling me dishonest because I try to avoid saying hurtful things is both offensive and immature.
Stepping down off my soapbox now.
Friday, August 5, 2011
What I did this summer (Part 4)
The promised story of my trip to the States... Again, without all the gory details. And, I'll do my best to have it make sense... well, at least as much sense as this story can make.
I love socks. I have for as long as I can remember. Some people go out and buy movies or overeat or get drunk or etc. when they are angry/sad/frustrated. Not me. Buying socks is one of the most common things I do in those situations. But this story doesn't start with me buying socks... at least not recently.
Once upon a time, I bought a pair of socks. Well, once upon a million times I've bought socks, but this time in particular, I bought a little pair of pretty pink ankle socks with the inscription: "Kiss Me, I'm Single." I loved those socks. They were cute, comfortable, and I liked the message. No, I didn't want some random guy to come up and kiss me because I was single, but I really wouldn't have minded meeting someone who might change both my (seemingly) perpetual single-ness and my status as "23-and-never-been-kissed." However, year after year went by and no such guy appeared. Until, it seemed, this January.
For the past five years or so, I've had an account on CatholicMatch. (**despite this story, I do believe this website is a great thing, I've heard plenty of success stories and I may be back on CM at some point**) Sometimes, it was active, sometimes not. I had communicated with a handful of guys from around the US but nothing seemed to "click" until this year.
At the end of January, I began communicating with a guy from Texas. I was thrilled. Here was this guy I could talk to about anything, Catholic, had direction - was pursuing a medical-ish degree, similar values (although, I realized pretty early on that he was much more conservative than I... and it takes quite a lot for someone like me to say that), a number of the same interests, etc. The emails quickly became pages long and CM chat was cumbersome, so within the first few weeks we moved to skype chat (just type -- no voice/video). These skype chats soon became an enormous part of my life. Hours and hours at a time were dedicated to chatting with him.
Things were progressing rapidly. By mid-March, he had bought a plane ticket to come out and visit me in Steubenville this summer. We were sharing pretty much everything about our lives with each other. That only increased when we started actually speaking at the end of April. This was building up and building up towards July 1st and neither of us expected that it would do anything but continue to grow past that. My friends and family were generally very supportive with the exception of one sister who insisted that "this summer would be awful. I would get my heart broken and move back to Budapest lonely and depressed." While I didn't put much stock in her fear (it seemed to be motivated out of jealousy more than anything else), I did recognize that no matter how unlikely I felt that to be, it was still a possibility.
Finally, I arrived back in the States on June 26th with less than a week until he was coming to visit. The next few days were filled with cleaning and organizing the house, getting over jet lag, and freaking out. (One of the most memorable moments was when we discovered that the caulking which had just been used on the bathtub would render the only shower unusable for a day and a half before the time he was to arrive... Miriam, bless her dear heart, spent an enormous amount of time - tearing the original caulking off, putting down new stuff, tearing off the new, and recaulking it again ... I love her!!)
Friday, July 1st arrived and I found myself at the Pittsburgh airport waiting to meet this guy I felt I had known forever. I was nervous but excited. After all, we had such a connection online/on the phone that meeting in person could only be better, right? He came down the escalator and we hugged. There wasn't any "jolt" or specific "spark" but I didn't think anything of it because I felt just as comfortable as I had when we were talking. We spent that evening with my family, eating dinner, playing a board game, and watching a movie.
Saturday, I was both looking forward to and dreading. I looking forward to a Kennywood trip with some of my friends. I was dreading the time that he wanted to spend praying at an abortion mill in downtown Pittsburgh prior to that. That is so far out of my comfort zone. I realize that everyone has to do things that get them out of their comfort zone, but this was a stretch. It went fine, however, and soon that was over and we were on our way to Kennywood. I was very curious to see how he got along with my friends. It seemed that everything was fine. It helped that I had friends from both my "Catholic" group of friends and my "regular" group of friends (this is not a slur on either group... they are both great and represent two different parts of my personality... this is also very important later on). The day progressed and everyone had a lot of fun. Something was nagging me in the back on my mind but since I couldn't figure out what it was, I ignored it. The evening ended with a rip-roaring time at Eat 'n Park with three of my friends before the drive back to Steubenville.
We had decided long before the visit that on Sunday, we would take time just the two of us. He also had this idea that he wanted to make me like hiking (which has always been a "four letter word" in my book). So, on Sunday afternoon, we went out to one of the state parks in PA. And I enjoyed it. After walking a while, we ended up sitting on a huge rock for over an hour... cuddling, holding hands, talking, not talking (no, there was nothing more than that). Just like the hug when we met, it was nice. Nothing earth-shattering, but I was content and comfortable being with him. On the walk back to the car, he asked me if I wanted to continue ("make official") the relationship. Because I was comfortable with him and couldn't imagine not talking to him as I had been doing for months, I said "yes." (Note... some of my friends jokingly called me a "holding hands whore" because we were doing that before we were "officially together" ... LOL ... BTW I don't think it was wrong in the least.)
Monday flew by in a blur and soon we were sitting at the airport waiting for his, delayed, flight. At this point we changed our facebooks to reflect that we were "in a relationship" with each other. Although I wasn't happy when he left, I also didn't feel distraught like I expected to feel.
Over the next couple of weeks, I spent some time in PA with three of my closest friends, started preparing for a recital I was asked to give at the school/store where I took voice lessons in high school, went to MN with my parents and brother, got to spend time with my friend, Jen, who I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years, saw various relatives and family friends, and spent a ton of time thinking. I still couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was that was bothering me, but I knew it was related to the relationship.
Finally, after many hours talking with friends and mulling it over in my mind, I accepted the fact that I needed to end it. The bottom line was: I wasn't ready for a relationship. But it was more than that. I mentioned my two groups of friends above. I can function just fine in both, although, I act differently in those settings. In this case, I felt I was involved with someone who fell even further on the one side as do my "Catholic" friends. That is not inherently wrong! And compromise is always possible as he pointed out when I ended the relationship just shy of three weeks after it began. But, in this case, there were so many things that would have needed to be compromised so much. And because I "float" in the middle between both groups of friends, I would have had to compromise so far to one side I felt I would be losing the other part of who I am. Conversely, he would have had to move so far to the left, even to meet me half-way. So, perhaps, it's not even that I'm not ready for a relationship. Perhaps, it's just that I wasn't ready for *this* relationship. I am not secure enough in who *I* am, me, Rose, by myself, not in comparison to anyone else, to not have changed into someone I really am not just to make this relationship work.
Now, when I say "Perhaps, I just wasn't ready for *this* relationship," I am not implying that I see any possible future with this guy. To be blunt, I don't. He is a great person, but he's not the guy for me. AND... I wouldn't really be the girl for him either.
It would be nice if this story had a "happy ending" even on the level of we stayed friends. But that is simply impossible. When I ended the relationship, he asked if we could be friends. I cautiously agreed, but it soon became apparent that we have very different meanings and expectations of the word "friends." Add in the fact that, while our emotional chemistry (as seen by our online communication and to a lesser extent, in person) was great, there was - at least on my end - no physical chemistry. That's what was missing when we met. There wasn't any "spark" making it "better" than spending time talking online. When he left, I wasn't distraught because going back to talking online wouldn't be much different. Friends have told me, and I agree with them, that when I actually do meet the guy who I am meant to spend the rest of my life with, it will feel like an immense emptiness when he leaves. And, that when I am with that person, I will feel much more of myself. My whole self. Not like half of me would have to be compromised to become the "right person."
I'm not saying any of this to talk badly about this guy. Although things didn't work out between us and I can't see a friendship continuing for both the reasons listed and some that will remain unstated, I wish him well. The fact that my necessary decision has hurt him to the extent that it seems to have, makes me unhappy. But, that does not compare to the peace I feel knowing that I made the right decision. And, knowing that I made the right decision isn't even all of it. I know that I have nothing, NOTHING, to regret about this relationship. There is nothing that I would go back and "unsay" or "undo," nothing I feel guilty for, nothing I would have done differently. I wish it did not have to end with my being completely at peace while he is in pain. But, I can't change the way he has reacted. I only pray that he will be able to move on and find the same peace I have. And that someday, we will both meet the persons who will be everything we couldn't be for each other.
OH, and, Miriam, I know I gave you my socks, but I'd really like them back. They were my favorites!
I love socks. I have for as long as I can remember. Some people go out and buy movies or overeat or get drunk or etc. when they are angry/sad/frustrated. Not me. Buying socks is one of the most common things I do in those situations. But this story doesn't start with me buying socks... at least not recently.
Once upon a time, I bought a pair of socks. Well, once upon a million times I've bought socks, but this time in particular, I bought a little pair of pretty pink ankle socks with the inscription: "Kiss Me, I'm Single." I loved those socks. They were cute, comfortable, and I liked the message. No, I didn't want some random guy to come up and kiss me because I was single, but I really wouldn't have minded meeting someone who might change both my (seemingly) perpetual single-ness and my status as "23-and-never-been-kissed." However, year after year went by and no such guy appeared. Until, it seemed, this January.For the past five years or so, I've had an account on CatholicMatch. (**despite this story, I do believe this website is a great thing, I've heard plenty of success stories and I may be back on CM at some point**) Sometimes, it was active, sometimes not. I had communicated with a handful of guys from around the US but nothing seemed to "click" until this year.
At the end of January, I began communicating with a guy from Texas. I was thrilled. Here was this guy I could talk to about anything, Catholic, had direction - was pursuing a medical-ish degree, similar values (although, I realized pretty early on that he was much more conservative than I... and it takes quite a lot for someone like me to say that), a number of the same interests, etc. The emails quickly became pages long and CM chat was cumbersome, so within the first few weeks we moved to skype chat (just type -- no voice/video). These skype chats soon became an enormous part of my life. Hours and hours at a time were dedicated to chatting with him.
Things were progressing rapidly. By mid-March, he had bought a plane ticket to come out and visit me in Steubenville this summer. We were sharing pretty much everything about our lives with each other. That only increased when we started actually speaking at the end of April. This was building up and building up towards July 1st and neither of us expected that it would do anything but continue to grow past that. My friends and family were generally very supportive with the exception of one sister who insisted that "this summer would be awful. I would get my heart broken and move back to Budapest lonely and depressed." While I didn't put much stock in her fear (it seemed to be motivated out of jealousy more than anything else), I did recognize that no matter how unlikely I felt that to be, it was still a possibility.
Finally, I arrived back in the States on June 26th with less than a week until he was coming to visit. The next few days were filled with cleaning and organizing the house, getting over jet lag, and freaking out. (One of the most memorable moments was when we discovered that the caulking which had just been used on the bathtub would render the only shower unusable for a day and a half before the time he was to arrive... Miriam, bless her dear heart, spent an enormous amount of time - tearing the original caulking off, putting down new stuff, tearing off the new, and recaulking it again ... I love her!!)
Friday, July 1st arrived and I found myself at the Pittsburgh airport waiting to meet this guy I felt I had known forever. I was nervous but excited. After all, we had such a connection online/on the phone that meeting in person could only be better, right? He came down the escalator and we hugged. There wasn't any "jolt" or specific "spark" but I didn't think anything of it because I felt just as comfortable as I had when we were talking. We spent that evening with my family, eating dinner, playing a board game, and watching a movie.
Saturday, I was both looking forward to and dreading. I looking forward to a Kennywood trip with some of my friends. I was dreading the time that he wanted to spend praying at an abortion mill in downtown Pittsburgh prior to that. That is so far out of my comfort zone. I realize that everyone has to do things that get them out of their comfort zone, but this was a stretch. It went fine, however, and soon that was over and we were on our way to Kennywood. I was very curious to see how he got along with my friends. It seemed that everything was fine. It helped that I had friends from both my "Catholic" group of friends and my "regular" group of friends (this is not a slur on either group... they are both great and represent two different parts of my personality... this is also very important later on). The day progressed and everyone had a lot of fun. Something was nagging me in the back on my mind but since I couldn't figure out what it was, I ignored it. The evening ended with a rip-roaring time at Eat 'n Park with three of my friends before the drive back to Steubenville.
We had decided long before the visit that on Sunday, we would take time just the two of us. He also had this idea that he wanted to make me like hiking (which has always been a "four letter word" in my book). So, on Sunday afternoon, we went out to one of the state parks in PA. And I enjoyed it. After walking a while, we ended up sitting on a huge rock for over an hour... cuddling, holding hands, talking, not talking (no, there was nothing more than that). Just like the hug when we met, it was nice. Nothing earth-shattering, but I was content and comfortable being with him. On the walk back to the car, he asked me if I wanted to continue ("make official") the relationship. Because I was comfortable with him and couldn't imagine not talking to him as I had been doing for months, I said "yes." (Note... some of my friends jokingly called me a "holding hands whore" because we were doing that before we were "officially together" ... LOL ... BTW I don't think it was wrong in the least.)
Monday flew by in a blur and soon we were sitting at the airport waiting for his, delayed, flight. At this point we changed our facebooks to reflect that we were "in a relationship" with each other. Although I wasn't happy when he left, I also didn't feel distraught like I expected to feel.
Over the next couple of weeks, I spent some time in PA with three of my closest friends, started preparing for a recital I was asked to give at the school/store where I took voice lessons in high school, went to MN with my parents and brother, got to spend time with my friend, Jen, who I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years, saw various relatives and family friends, and spent a ton of time thinking. I still couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was that was bothering me, but I knew it was related to the relationship.
Finally, after many hours talking with friends and mulling it over in my mind, I accepted the fact that I needed to end it. The bottom line was: I wasn't ready for a relationship. But it was more than that. I mentioned my two groups of friends above. I can function just fine in both, although, I act differently in those settings. In this case, I felt I was involved with someone who fell even further on the one side as do my "Catholic" friends. That is not inherently wrong! And compromise is always possible as he pointed out when I ended the relationship just shy of three weeks after it began. But, in this case, there were so many things that would have needed to be compromised so much. And because I "float" in the middle between both groups of friends, I would have had to compromise so far to one side I felt I would be losing the other part of who I am. Conversely, he would have had to move so far to the left, even to meet me half-way. So, perhaps, it's not even that I'm not ready for a relationship. Perhaps, it's just that I wasn't ready for *this* relationship. I am not secure enough in who *I* am, me, Rose, by myself, not in comparison to anyone else, to not have changed into someone I really am not just to make this relationship work.
Now, when I say "Perhaps, I just wasn't ready for *this* relationship," I am not implying that I see any possible future with this guy. To be blunt, I don't. He is a great person, but he's not the guy for me. AND... I wouldn't really be the girl for him either.
It would be nice if this story had a "happy ending" even on the level of we stayed friends. But that is simply impossible. When I ended the relationship, he asked if we could be friends. I cautiously agreed, but it soon became apparent that we have very different meanings and expectations of the word "friends." Add in the fact that, while our emotional chemistry (as seen by our online communication and to a lesser extent, in person) was great, there was - at least on my end - no physical chemistry. That's what was missing when we met. There wasn't any "spark" making it "better" than spending time talking online. When he left, I wasn't distraught because going back to talking online wouldn't be much different. Friends have told me, and I agree with them, that when I actually do meet the guy who I am meant to spend the rest of my life with, it will feel like an immense emptiness when he leaves. And, that when I am with that person, I will feel much more of myself. My whole self. Not like half of me would have to be compromised to become the "right person."
I'm not saying any of this to talk badly about this guy. Although things didn't work out between us and I can't see a friendship continuing for both the reasons listed and some that will remain unstated, I wish him well. The fact that my necessary decision has hurt him to the extent that it seems to have, makes me unhappy. But, that does not compare to the peace I feel knowing that I made the right decision. And, knowing that I made the right decision isn't even all of it. I know that I have nothing, NOTHING, to regret about this relationship. There is nothing that I would go back and "unsay" or "undo," nothing I feel guilty for, nothing I would have done differently. I wish it did not have to end with my being completely at peace while he is in pain. But, I can't change the way he has reacted. I only pray that he will be able to move on and find the same peace I have. And that someday, we will both meet the persons who will be everything we couldn't be for each other.
OH, and, Miriam, I know I gave you my socks, but I'd really like them back. They were my favorites!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March?!
Is it really March already?
Are we only starting the third month of 2011?
Are we only starting the third month of 2011?
Looking back over the past two months, I can't decide which of these questions is more fitting. In some ways, they both are. It's hard to explain how I feel about time right now... it seems to be flying by but at the same time lasting longer than usual. I've seen unexpected doors open, close, other doors open, and windows fly open and shut at what seems to be lightning speed. 2011 has been full of surprises ... and it's only been 60 days so far. There's no telling what God has in store for the rest of the year.
It's strange how long the past few months have seemed ... or maybe a better way to put it would be, how much has happened in them. I almost feel like it's New Year's Eve and I should be writing a "recap" of the year... but it's not even a quarter through. Good, bad, funny, uncomfortable, exciting, painful: the experiences have run me through a gamut of emotions.
What I've learned this year ... so far ...
~~There are some situations you can't know how you will react to until you're in them.
~~Maybe God does answer prayers even if you've been praying them for years while subconsciously expecting Him to ignore them.
~~I'm still having moments where I think "Wait?! I'm an adult?! How did that happen?!"
~~Even with the Internet, being so far away can be really difficult.
~~Worrying doesn't help anything (I've known that)... but if you do worry, make it about something important, like staying healthy and not letting a cold develop into bronchitis. Don't waste the time worrying about silly things, like what someone might think of the fact that you watch dumb TV shows.
~~The fact that someone has a medical degree does not mean they will give you good medical advice.
~~Sometimes the right decision is the most painful... at least in the short-term.
~~God is a good author for my biography.. and He loves throwing in surprises.
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