I went on a retreat this weekend and didn’t even realize it.
I’ve been feeling a combination of being ‘sorry for myself’ and dealing with recurring stress and anxiety (who isn’t these days?) Much of my stress is over chronic pain (fibromyalgia, arthritis, osteoarthritis… if it’s a muscle or a joint, it hurts. And hurts really bad, too. Plus I’ve had two tooth extractions over the past month. Can anyone say “Broken down, crotchety old man?” Not to mention that I’ve been plagued for the past few months by a voice in my head that has been repeatedly putting me down.
When this happens and I want to remain at home, I often select one of Mother Angelica’s books. I’ve written about this before .
And so I opened Mother Angelica’s Little Book of Life Lessons and Everyday Spirituality and read a few passages on pain, meaning accepting it and the benefits of offering it up. I knew all this as I continually ‘offer it up’ for the usual devotional suggestions (reparation for sins – mine, yours, other people’s; reparations for sins committed against the Immaculate Heart of Mary; for the conversion of sinners; for saving souls…….)
And so I felt better. But I could feel even more better. So I watched a few of her classic programs on EWTN On-Demand. I caught one on using the scraps of your life. “Scraps,” according to Mother, are those things in your past that you cannot let go of. All the mistakes, the stupid, rotten, bad things you’ve done or were done to you, traumas perpetrated against you, and so forth that still haunt you. I know all about scraps; they are the fuel for my fiction writing. I am a firm believer that writing is a form a therapy. Even if you don’t publish a word, creating stories in which you dump all the dumb things you’ve ever done or traumas you’ve experienced to flesh out characters and backstory helps your perspective on them. It also objectifies the pain. But she went on about how the scraps can be used to sanctify yourself. That the scraps of you past life can make you sensitive other people who also are carrying bags of scraps. People who are hurt often are more sensitive to other people who are hurt.
That latter sentence is where I have some difficulty at times. I’ve seen social media memes that say something like “Hurt people hurt other people.” Meaning that hurt people often lash out at others. Their pain causes them to make others feel pain. (This is often the reason why the ‘bad guys’ in fiction often become bad guys. Something bad happened to them long ago, they never got help or justice and so their pain festered and transformed them into a ‘bad guy’ and they kill a lot of people, or rampage across the galaxy enslaving entire species or go around blowing up planets or are just truly wicked. I wrote about that on my other blog.
The “where I have some difficulty ‘at times’” is the feeling that lashing out at others can be justified if the ‘bad guy’ never got justice, help or some kind of moral satisfaction against whoever perpetrated the evil done to him. Of course that’s wrong. The ‘bad guy’ is just creating more victims from innocent people; he is extending to others the evil done to him. It is easy to fall prey to the idea of being justified in one’s victimhood; hey, if no one helped me when I was being driven to suicide by my family long ago, why should I be considerate of others?
OK, I went off on this topic longer that I thought I should, but I’m leaving it in. The thing is, and this is what struck me out of the blue as I was watching Mother talk about sensitivity to others and the marginalized seeking solace in one another due to the accumulated scraps from their past, is that although I didn’t really have an ally or advocate during the many times in my life when I was bullied, mocked and ridiculed or made an outcast, (or driven to consider suicide,) I really did (though I didn’t realize it until later, but that’s OK.) This may sound trite, but my allies were Jesus and His Blessed Mother. I may have mentioned this in a much earlier post (I can’t find it) but I often go to my nearby Adoration Chapel… because I felt summoned to go there. Or to attend a Daily Mass when I didn’t feel like it….because I felt summoned to go there. Same for prayers, at time…. I am just ‘not up to it’ but feel that call to pray a rosary or whatever.
To me, that means that Jesus and Mary want me around them. Therefore, there is no need for me to ever feel like I’ve never had an advocate or an ally. Yes, it would have been nice for God to have ‘done something’ back when I was going through trials, but we all know, but often forget, that trials are there for a reason. (Mother Angelica has lots to say about that in the book I mentioned way up above. In short, they are there to prune us of our pride, self-will, self-love, and teach humility.) In God’s time, justice will be served, and not earlier. I can, right now, just take some comfort in the fact that I am not alone; besides my wife (who also seems to enjoy having me around, go figure) there is Jesus and Mary asking me to spend some extra time with them every so often. They know about the bad things that have happened to me in the past, all the scraps of my life that still haunt me and mutter in the recesses of my mind that “I’m a loser.” But in their own fashion, they will deal with the people who’ve hurt me. And what they can do about them is far better than whatever I could have done. By some divine combination of Mercy and Justice, all will come out in the end. I just have to remain cognizant that my pains and agonies can be companions on the journey and not tormenters. I can convert them into assistants to help me to be kinder and more compassionate.
Incidentally, I watched more than just a few of Mother Angelica’s classics on EWTN On-Demand, but the other shows are beyond the scope of this post. But they all contributed to the feeling that I went on a retreat this weekend for a few hours and my head got rescrewed back on. The little negative voices that have been tormenting me these past few months have fallen silent, today. I hope they stay quiet as it may have been a case of demonic oppression, but I hesitate to give extra credit to Satan to what may have merely been low self-esteem. But on the other hand, given the voice’s persistence….
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