In this chapter I'm going to back track a little, touching more upon the wound of feeling not good enough, of feeling I could never measure up... of worthlessness. It was at home that these feelings took root deeply in my heart.

I'm a perfectionist. I was raised by a perfectionist. Everything had to be done a certain way and not a thing could be out of place.

Toxic one may say? Yes and no. With no understanding of balance, yes, this way of being/living could become extremely toxic. On the other hand it motivates and inspires us to be our best. In that balance, lies the danger. We want to achieve a perfection that in reality can never be achieved.

Now, as I grew older my perfectionism pressured me to behave a certain way. I would always seek to please others; I needed the "approval". If I felt I "failed" in any way, I would begin to feel worthless. That's when it became toxic. If I felt there was no way I could ever measure up to these expectations, I easily would give up. In my mind, there was no more point in trying because I knew I'd only disappoint everyone else and myself. Again, yes, very toxic. Add life's experiences into the mix, feeling inadequate, feeling like I'll never measure up, feeling not good enough, all this outweighed the good. I wanted to try to succeed, to live up to the expectations people had of me, to be “perfect”, but then came the competition.

I have a sister, six years older than myself. She was an overly exceptional student to say the least. When I was in the sixth grade, I ended up having the same teacher my sister had. She spoke very highly of my sister and her expectations were the same for me. Again, I was forced to live up to the ideal of perfection, to meet someone else’s expectations for me. This is when things began to go downhill. The idea of having to compete with my sister’s achievements created an imbalance in my world.

I started by not doing my homework and making up every lie possible as to why I was unable to do it. This was not normal for me. I was a great student before this. A "perfect" student. I was the teacher's pet. However, this burden of competing, with my own sister even, was too much for me. It became too easy to just not try anymore. This was the first in what would become a habit of my "running away" from a situation when things became too difficult to handle. I retaliated by not giving a darn whether I did my homework. I made the deliberate choice to stop succeeding at 11 years old. This too became a very unhealthy pattern in my life. The running away from my problems and now the lying to sugar coat everything, became my defense mechanism in dealing with life and it’s disappointments.

Once I was in ninth grade, I made the switch from Public to Catholic School. My constant, serious lying got me in some pretty deep trouble and all the rejection and humiliation finally caught up to me. I had no choice but to make the switch to another school.

Do you think it stopped there? Nope! I acted out in the same unhealthy patterns here as well. In the middle of eleventh grade, I made the "great" decision to quit school. I just refused to go altogether. And so for several months I again retaliated. I chose to make the rules.

I guess in desperation I sought help. My parents already had me speaking to a young priest from our parish for a few years now, so I turned to him in this desperate time. All I ever got in life was tough love from everyone, so I did not expect anything different from him. He did not disappoint. This was actually one time I wanted to punch a priest in the face! His words hurt me so deeply. I had told him I thought of going back to school, that I was ready to face my responsibilities. I thought maybe he might shed a tear in happiness, be overjoyed that finally I was coming to my senses! But no, he pretty much told me that I was not capable of being better or of changing my ways, that I'd never actually do it and dismissed me. This devastated me! But it worked! After what he said, it made me want to prove him very wrong! I still don't know till this day if he actually meant for it to work out that way. I'm grateful either way.

I did prove him wrong! I left the Catholic School I had attended and started out fresh by going back to my old Public School... Lol! I had to face the consequences of having left in the middle of the school year, so I had to attend night school for the time being. Night school was an experience, but I did what I had to do. The next year, I was able to attend twelfth grade with no problem. And to add that I even was an early graduate!

Through this and many other life experiences, I learned a valuable lesson about the true nature of perfectionism. It's not so much about being "perfect" but rather desiring and striving to give your all and not give up.

I can't remember a night I did not cry myself to sleep. I so badly wanted to die. My hatred for God grew and grew, yet in the silent recesses of my soul, I yearned for His Love. When things did not change, I took my pain which had turned into anger, out on God. I blamed Him for everything. I cursed God with all kinds of profanities, I tore up religious images, I broke statues.  In my wrath I had destroyed or threw religious medals and other holy objects of the sort  out my bedroom window. I did some pretty disgusting things as well. Evil consumed my soul like a disease.    

One night I told myself that I was going to end this pain and suffering... I was going to end my life for sure. Again I aimed my pain and anger towards God. In silence I "screamed" profanities at God. I tore every image and holy card I had in my bedroom. I tore the pages out of many of my holy books. I had given in completely to the anguish and despair and all I could do was weep bitter tears. I had placed a bottle of Aleve under my pillow and planned to do what I did once before... to overdose. I wasn't happy at the thought of me taking my life, but I felt I had nothing left. I too was very fearful. I was as afraid of death as anyone else would be. Again I looked under my pillow, and held the bottle in my hands, it was then I saw a brown scapular I must have once placed on my bedpost. It was hanging there. I can't explain what took place next or why. Almost everything holy I had destroyed, but this scapular that I did not even see. Even in my horrid anger and hatred towards God and all that is good and holy, I placed the scapular over my head and wore it. Again, I cannot explain what possessed me to do it, at least not then. I cried and cried and then fell asleep.

Although this next part may seem fantastical or even hard to believe, I assure you it is truth. Lies would profit me nothing at this point. I write for the Glory of God and what He has done in my life.  It is hard to write because I'm afraid that some will not believe me or will think me to be some crazy person. I place these worries in God's Hands and I ask that He touch those hearts which may be hardened. It is also difficult for me because I have lied in the past and the evil one seeks to destroy whatever faith I have, little though it be. He's placed doubt in my mind so many times about this. I have often wondered why God would allow such things to happen and yet allow so much doubt. 

I digress... as I wrote above, I ended up falling asleep. I can't recall how much time I lay there sleeping. I just remember being awakened violently and opening my eyes to the sight of a hideous face before me. I then experienced an unquenchable fire that I knew to be of hell. I felt a horrific pain interiorly as I saw the state of my soul at that moment. Again I cannot fully explain the phenomenon that took place, but I recall a moment after, my soul having left my body. It was being pulled towards this fire.

When I say a moment, it seems to me now to have been as a moment, and it is easiest to explain in this way; but while going through the experience, it felt as if there was no time. A moment after that, a blue light appeared in front of me on my left and suddenly all else disappeared. Everything went back to the way it was. I lay in my bed with the pills still under my pillow and me still left with the choice to end my life or not. But the choice was now clear. God showed me the punishment I was deserving of. I deserved to burn in hell for all my grave sins. For I had offended God so greatly! God gifted me with an experience, horrifying though it was, that I may know His Great Love and Mercy for me. I felt it as I never had before. God Loves me... me... a wretched sinner! How grateful am I to "this God"! 

I remembered how I wore the brown scapular and I too remembered its promises. I guess one can say, it was a Mother's Love so Tender, that of Our Blessed Mother in Heaven... it was She arrayed in a beautiful blue light that protected me from the devil. It was She that scattered the darkness and caused the devil to flee. The only explanation I can give you as to why I did not destroy the Scapular and as to why I placed it on me in the midst of my bitter anger, was that it was not I who placed it around my head, but Our Lady. She covered me that night in Her Loving, Motherly Mantle. 

As I remained hidden in this “unrealistic” world I created, I became very well acquainted with loneliness, depression and despair. I fell further into sin. From my youngest years, I learned about the existence of “this God” and now all I hoped for was that he did not exist at all.  I felt the harshness of the world and it made me bitter inside.

Every time I would masturbate, it felt good for those few minutes, but then afterwards, I felt enormous guilt. I felt that if I didn’t please “this God”, He would surely punish me. I believed He despised me…that He expected perfection of me and if I failed to measure up to his expectations in any way, He would strike me down in all His anger.

When I say I masturbated, I did so every day, at least 10 or more times a day. This new drug was so addictive that I could not find the power in me to stop. The guilt which plagued me every day was unimaginable! Though God did not strike me, I still feared it every time I fell into sin.

I became fascinated with pleasure, and if this God would not allow me the simple “happiness” that I thought was best for me, He might as well be dead to me. I wanted happiness… I craved happiness… and so would do anything to attain it. My thoughts turned to the devil and how he too was not good enough for “this God”. I began to feel as if the devil and I were very alike, maybe he could understand me. This led me to consider making some sort of pact with him. And I did. I was not so much an occultist or involved in witchcraft per say, but it was certainly evil what I allowed to take place in my soul. I have no need to go further into this. The past is the past and I have no desire to return to it.

The pull I felt towards evil, towards sin, increased greatly. My hunger for pleasure increased. When “normal” porn no longer does it for a person, the evil one surely has a hold on that person. I am too embarrassed and sickened to describe the images and videos I would browse online...  the things that would incite lust in my heart are just too disgusting… overly inappropriate. There is no humanity or dignity in the things I once did! Tears run down my eyes as I now write this because all I wanted was to be loved, to be happy, how many people in this world are hungering and thirsting for the same and in their hunger and thirst turn to the same “promises” that I did? All too often, we are tricked into choosing the counterfeit because we’ve been lied to, in our blindness we choose to eat right out of the dumpster when a feast is prepared just around the corner.

Pornography and masturbation were not the only sins that plagued my soul. I was living in my own “unrealistic” world and in such a world, one could not live in the light or in truth. One could not accomplish his/her dreams or goals. As I believed wholeheartedly that I was a failure, I had found no purpose in succeeding. I knew only how to run from my problems. I chose not to face them anymore. I did so in my relationships with boyfriends, I did so in my home environment by attempting to run away at least twice, I did so when I chose to give up in school and most sadly, I did so when I attempted suicide many times.

Running away became the simple solution to my problems. I broke up with every boyfriend I had out of fear of rejection. In order to get out of class or to explain why I did not do my homework, I spewed lie after lie. And not just some small, “white lies”, I’m talking about lies that were so serious in nature that I almost was arrested for one. One time when the police were brought into a certain situation, they had told me that if the story I was telling was found out to be a lie, it was a criminal offense and I would be arrested. They did investigate, having found out that everything I had said was a lie… and I could only say now that it was only by God’s Mercy that I was delivered of my just punishment. I had to change schools twice because of my lying. I was embarrassed once people began to find out the truth and my friends of course did not stand by me. I was the laughing stock of my school.

I felt alone, I felt not good enough, I felt the disappointment of my parents; my sister no longer living at home because it was what she felt she had to do, I too felt compelled to do the same. I couldn’t handle the stress at home anymore. This is not to say anything bad about my parents or my sister for that matter. It is just the reality of family life. Sometimes things get really ugly. I left home for a day or two. I stayed over a friend’s house but then returned home. Later on in years, I would leave home again, but that’s for another chapter.

Depression took over my entire self. I found no purpose being alive. I would cut myself to relieve the pain I felt inside. I attempted suicide at least twice, once almost having succeeded. I overdosed on over 30 pills of Aleve. I didn’t even want to go to the hospital. I didn’t care. No one seemed to care. All I felt and experienced was everyone’s disappointment in me. And I certainly felt that God loathed me. I couldn’t even turn to Him because of how I felt. I needed someone to show me love so in desperation I called my sister. Thankfully, she came, but I was so angry and depressed that I refused to go to the hospital. She brought me to her apartment and I began to feel faint. Then and only then, did I consent to call the ambulance.

The doctors took good care of me. I would not die. At least not yet. Things would get better. And I assure you that it was this God I “hated” that saved me in my time of utter darkness, sin and despair. My old self would soon die, but after another great trial and tribulation that was necessary that I may know the Truth about God.






 

Every heart yearns for love and happiness. This is what I want(ed) most. Though I began to believe that these desires were not within reach – they were just not for me. The sin of masturbation became more appealing to me because I felt I was just not pretty enough, good enough, worthy enough… the list could go on and on. With the escape offered by masturbation, I didn’t have to be any of those things! I could just live in my little world of fantasy, and not give a darn anymore. What I wanted most, I assured myself was not possible. 

I began noticing boys as early as kindergarten. I might have been young but that was when I had my very first crush on a boy and I was not shy to let him know. Boys at that age are not in the least bit interested in girls though. “Eww, girls have cooties!” you would always hear them say. I think by the time I was in the fifth grade I saw boys a little differently. I wanted to date; I wanted to know what it was like. I had my eyes set on “Nick”.

He was very cute. I had butterflies in my belly each day I saw him in class! I later found out that he liked me too and we began to date. We liked each other a lot, but past memories soon began to haunt me. Ultimately, my feeling inadequate is what lead me to put up a wall between us. I felt afraid of being hurt and rejected as I had been by boys in the past. I wasn’t going to allow for that to happen again. So, instead of allowing myself to go through that similar kind of rejection, I found it easier to be the one in control of things. I refused to give any boy that power over me. I broke up with Nick and went to the next boy. Sadly, this would become a pattern in my life. Every time I dated someone, I would break up with them soon after the relationship began. 

Just recently, I came across a familiar name on Facebook. I could’ve sworn it was the name of a boy I dated in ninth grade, so I sent this person a friend request. For so long I thought how if I ever came across this person, I had to apologize for the way I treated him. I was a freshman and he was a sophomore. My friend introduced us and a day later we began dating. We were so into each other. I really saw this working out and us possibly being high school sweethearts. He was popular and yet he liked someone like me, so ridiculously ordinary. I’ll never forget how he treated me with the utmost respect. He wouldn’t even kiss me until he knew I was ready. He said he’d wait as long as he had to... that I was worth the wait. We actually even spoke of marriage. He was certain that I was the girl for him. As happy as I was, the feelings of inadequacy again crept up, especially just feeling unworthy of it all. I broke up with him. I broke this boy’s heart in such a distasteful way. Every day that followed I hated myself for what I had done to him, how I treated him. In a twisted way, this was what I needed to do to protect myself from the rejection that I would have felt if he were to break up with me first. I truly cared so much about this person that I could not imagine the possibility of being hurt by him. This became my defense mechanism in every relationship I had.

One can clearly see that this pattern and lifestyle was not a healthy one in the least bit. Feeling so worthless, I became a slave of habit. My habits became necessities and later addictions. They became the “drugs” in which I hid my pain. Masturbation and pornography: Oh, I got my kicks, my “high” but after it was all done, what was I left with?

Not love nor happiness…        

I move on with my story and ask the Lord for help and guidance. 

I certainly dreamed that one day I might meet my “Prince Charming”. I loved fairytales with romantic endings and “happily ever after(s)”. To love and to be loved was my greatest yearning. Somehow that image of man became shattered in my mind and heart and it is only now that I begin to dive deeper into the reason why.

This little girl who dreamed of being swept off her feet by a “Prince” much like the ones I had seen in the movies, was instead taken into the arms of a man who made her see herself in an unpleasant and uncomfortable manner. I cannot recall how old I was, but I was probably around five or six years old. My sister, (six years older than myself), and I were spending time with our Abuelita (Grandmother) that day. She took us to her friend’s party. There my sister and I listened to loud Spanish music and looked at the tables full of delicious food. Neither one of us really knew much Spanish so we spoke to no one. Our Abuelita was talking with some friends at that point, so we just sat there.

There was a man a little distance away on a chair who kept gesturing for us to come to him. I, being so shy, had not wanted to go, but my sister said that he looked like he kept pointing for me to go over there so I should. Very timidly, I made my way over to him. He sat me on his lap and quietly spoke to me. To my surprise, he spoke English. I already felt strange sitting on a man’s lap that I did not know, but then he began to whisper quietly into my ear things that no little girl at that age would have understood. The only thing I can now recall is him saying that he wished to take me to the beach and give me a special present. He then asked for my address, but thankfully my nerves took over and I could not remember it. 

I knew something was wrong with what he was saying to me and I felt “dirty” all over. I don’t believe he touched me in any real inappropriate manner because there were so many people around and it would have been noticed, but I do remember him holding my hand and caressing it. My Abuelita must have seen that I was not where she had left me and began looking for me. When she saw me, she came over with an angry look on her face and told me, “Let’s go!” She was upset at my sister and I for talking to a stranger. I put the blame on my sister. She got the brunt of it from my Abuelita and my parents when I told them what happened. 

That incident tortured me inside though I never really shared much of what I was feeling to anyone. My fear kept it bottled up inside. For the first time I felt ugly. I also felt as if my innocence was taken away from me. Though I did not understand fully the meaning of those man’s words, deep inside I knew they were “dirty words”. I knew by the weird expression on his face, by the whispering in my ear and by the way he touched my hand, that something was different about what he had said to me. I could not stop thinking, “What was this ‘present’ he spoke of?” My mind was overwhelmed with images and feelings that I was deathly afraid of. It was not in the least bit pleasurable at first, but as the days went on, my mind became sickly infatuated with these thoughts and feelings. It then took on a different nature. The more I thought about his words to me, the more I found myself enslaved to them. It gave me my first taste of sinful pleasure, though I had no idea why I enjoyed it.

As time went on, I became even more obsessed by these emotions. Just thinking about these words were no longer “doing it” for me. I was too young to go into anything sexual. I really knew nothing at that age about that kind of thing. Nevertheless, the evil one was ready to strike! He had his prey! He only needed to present the opportunity. 

Every morning on school days, my mother would drop me off at my friend’s house down the block. I would wait for my friend to get ready and eat her breakfast and then the two of us would walk together to the bus stop. One morning while at her house she said she wanted to show me something, I walked over to where she was and as she stood there by the front window inside her house, she lifted up her shirt and began to laugh hoping to get the attention of any one of the drivers that passed by. She did it innocently, not thinking about what she was doing. She was just being silly. 

Something changed in my brain that day. It was as if someone turned on a switch. When I got home from school that day, I tried it. I did the same thing by my window in my house. I then realized that the “sinful” feelings I had felt earlier were coming on full force. It gave me pleasure to do this. After this first time I started to make a habit of this. Every day I would spend time in front of my window and I enjoyed it more and more. As time passed, I would even go as far as to say it became an addiction. The pleasure I received, I did not understand fully, but I knew I wanted more of it. When this “activity” no longer satisfied my hunger for pleasure, I experimented with new ways of achieving it. This would later lead me to discover masturbation. 

The dreams of my “Prince Charming” quickly began to vanish. So innocent were those dreams and now the evil one’s deception clouded my mind. I’d always go back to the memory of the man who promised me this “present” and realized to my disappointment, that I had received an empty package. This “package” had taken my innocence and left me with a void, a void that I was left to fill without knowing what I truly desired to fill it with. I went for the most immediate answer, the answer that had provided me with momentary glimpses of the happiness I lost that day. Masturbation. Thereafter every time I masturbated, I felt the same way I had that day: I felt “ugly” and “dirty”.  Little by little, I even began to feel unworthy of what I wanted the most: Love.