The Beauty of Vulnerability

It was, to me, a profoundly moving moment. I watched her face move from sorrow to devastation to tears she just could not hold back and I was shocked that her words almost didn’t even seem to reflect her emotions.

Sobbing, she said, “Please don’t leave me alone. Please reach out to me. I’m just really scared that I’ll always be alone.” My heart was breaking for her but simultaneously I was filled with awe and wonder. This girl was doing something I had never, ever done before: in all my years of isolation, anxiety, depression,  and loneliness, never once had I been brave enough to ask people to reach out to me. I was afraid of rejection. I believed that no one saw me, wanted me, or cared enough to care about me. Now in this moment, I was absolutely in awe of the strength and courage that she showed in her fear and vulnerability.

She taught me that it’s always ok to ask for help. I’ve recognized that the main fear that holds me back from asking is others’ reactions to my need. “How can you be so stupid as to not already know this?” are the lies that swim around in my head. “You’re better off Googling the answer and figuring it out for yourself. Spare yourself the embarrassment of their reaction.” Or perhaps ask anyway and the relationship that that invites opens the door to all kinds of possibility! Maybe you’ll create an inside joke or stumble on something awesome that you never knew you had in common with the other.

I remind my little preschoolers a million times a day to use their words. I wonder how much my life could change for the better if I practice what I preach? The art of communication can be so daunting —  right? —  but art invites creativity. Fear is suffocating and crippling. Mold thrives in darkness but shrinks away in the light.

As I watched her tears stream down her face, I thought how beautiful it is that she was fighting against despair. Her words and her tears showed that she had no intention of living in the darkness. And let me say this: I don’t think it’s an accident that tears are shaped like seeds. Allow them, give them the proper care, and watch them blossom into the seemingly impossible, beautiful reality of what God intended them to be.

How I Managed to Continue Feeling Great While Being Overwhelmed

We all know the feeling: there are a million things on the checklist and they all have to get done. Like, yesterday.

A few months ago I had a checklist of three significant things that needed to be done by the end of the month. Only one of them was critical within the timeframe; the others were simply important to me. Per usual, I stressed myself out at the thought of them. So I took a really deep breath, then said aloud “Sarah, which of these is THE most important?”

The car. If that state inspection didn’t get done then I’d have a ticket before too long and one of the stressing factors about getting the car taken care of was my dislike of spending any amount of money. All right, take another deep breath, find an available morning in the first two weeks of the month, schedule the appointment for bright and early (get it done sooner in more ways than one!) and get it done. CHECK! It was all taken care of by the 10th of the month and I no longer had to worry about the possibility of a ticket.

Next, I asked myself which of my next two things sparked the most joy in me since neither of them was time sensitive. That one was harder than I thought! Here was my dilemma: I’m a musician and I finally - after 10 years - had an opportunity to get back into violin lessons, this time with a new teacher and a different style of playing. The violin is the love of my life so this seemed an obvious runner up to the car in light of “What sparks the most joy.” But actually, my choice was a haircut.

My hair was about mid-back in length and I don’t enjoy getting haircuts. It’s not for fear of a bad haircut; it’s actually due to my breaakdown happening at the end of a haircut. I wanted to get back into music lessons but I wanted to really enjoy them, even if they proved to be hard. My hair was long and heavy enough that headaches were happening with increasing frequency even when I wasn’t doing anything. So I called the hair salon while still on the high of checking the car off my to-do list and scheduled that appointment. While still on the high of accomplishing another hard thing, I emailed my soon-to-be music instructor and we confirmed a lesson time slot without yet committing to a starting week.

I realize that the lessons learned and successes of these accomplishments are not a one and done deal. I’ll continue to have anxiety and the car will probably stress me out year after year because that’s what it does. Haircuts might sometimes be enjoyable and other times not so much. This year, I’m proud of myself for personalizing the word “adulting” so well and accomplishing these hurdles without having any panic attacks. Breathing through it, prioritizing well, and appropriate self care really do go a long way towards living an abundant life!

15 Steps I Took When I Knew I Was Suicidal

Now that my letter has been published, you know more of my story and the journey that I’ve been on for most of my life. But there's only so much that can be included in a letter that’s meant to be no more than 1500 words, so I want to follow it up with this post to share what would have been much too long to share in the letter: the steps I took while being suicidal.

Although these are numbered, they are not necessarily numbered chronologically. I was in an emergency situation, had no guide book, and — out of fear — wouldn’t even tell my mom at first and didn’t know what to do (other than act on the ideations but, even then, that still, small voice inside me reminded me of my desire for Heaven and I knew that suicide was no guarantee that I would get there). Terrified and alone, the first thing I did was...

1. Told My Priest and my Doctor

This part of my story begins with a text message from my brother. Knowing I was struggling with depression and anxiety, he asked how I had been doing that day. “Other than thoughts of cutting my wrists, I’m great” was my reply (a dry sense of humor runs in the family). He immediately asked permission to call me and we spoke on the phone for the next two hours. I told him truthfully that I was not suicidal and, by the time we hung up, I was feeling pretty good.

But the very next morning, I awoke to a suicidal ideation which included a plan. Thankfully, I couldn’t act on that particular plan because I don’t own the instrument that I saw in the plan. It was, nonetheless, terrifying. My depression and anxiety triggered due to the ideation, I met with my priest after Mass that morning and told him of my ideation. He immediately prayed with and for me, which was helpful and I did relax a bit, but additional help and support was clearly necessary.

That night, my doctor called me and I told her that I was suicidal. She asked me to put my mom on the phone and told my mom that I would be spending the night at home and that, if my mom wouldn’t take me to the ER the next morning, she would.

2. Went to the ER

My Mom took me to the ER. I still hadn’t told her. I couldn’t. I was so scared. I told the nurse in triage. Then I saw my first psychiatrist who prescribed my first medication and also gave me the choice between hospitalization or Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP). I didn’t want hospitalization. By now my Mom knew and I had a surge of confidence in our ability to communicate so, if I had to do one or the other, it would be PHP. I was put on the waiting list. The waiting list was about a week long (which is forever for someone who was in my situation).

3. Told EVERYONE in My Family and Made Sure There was Always Someone With Me

Mom and I left the ER and went out for ice cream. I felt more confident since it seemed like we had an action plan. We now both knew that I was suicidal and I determined, hard as it would be, to call everyone in my immediate family (I have 5 siblings so this was a big commitment) and tell them that I was suicidal. I knew that if I had any chance whatsoever of survival, we all had to know. I needed that support.

As I began to communicate more openly with my family, gifts began to show up on our doorstep with my name on them. It was puzzling because I hadn't ordered anything. There was a fuzzy panda bear blanket from my brother and sister-in-law and a necklace with Philippians 4:13 on it from my sister. Though my love language is not gift giving or receiving, these little things from my further-away siblings went a long way in helping me to feel their love, support and encouragement.

Meanwhile, they also made sure that I was always with someone with whom I felt safe. The chances of attempting suicide are far less when with company so my local siblings, family members, and closest friends all jumped on board. I appreciated this very much, especially because my love language is quality time and so spending hours with people who I felt safe with was so good for me.

The occasion was my brother's college graduation. Remember that mental illness is a very hidden suffering: you would never know that I was depressed, anxious and suicidal; in fact, I hadn't eaten anything that day and was considering starvation. Please don't be afraid to ask your friends how they're doing. I mean, how they're *really* doing.

4. Switched Therapists

Within just a couple of days, I was admitted into a Partial Hospitalization Program but not the one whose waiting list I had been on. (My daily and nightly panic attacks were hospital level and very, very scary so my Mom and my Aunt did a lot of research while I was sleeping off some medication one afternoon and, when I woke up, they had my next step figured out.) At PHP, I met daily with a Psychiatrist and, due to schedules on their side, worked with two different therapists. My psychiatrist — who was absolutely wonderful to work with — recommended his practice for after my discharge not because I could continue working with him but because his colleagues have an excellent reputation. Longer story very short, I left my first therapist (who I mentioned in my letter. The reason is that we were not the right fit for each other) and switched to a group therapy at his practice. From there I stayed at that practice but eventually switched to individual therapy again to do CBT. That was an incredible experience and the story is in my letter.

5. Left My Job

The first 4 steps were chronologically what happened. Here, I’m transitioning out of the story and into the facts. Prior to my breakdown (please read my letter if you have not yet already), I could not admit that I was miserable. I wanted so much to love my job but I just didn’t. Since I was suicidal, my psychiatrist at PHP encouraged me to get a new job. Apparently, that’s the advice he gives to all patients who are suicidal and that makes sense. I did leave my job and accepted unemployment. I will forever be immensely grateful to my parents for welcoming me back home and caring for me.

6. Texted the Suicide Hotline Number

Once I learned of it a few months in, I began texting the National Suicide Hotline Number. I texted that number so many times that they recorded my name/number and would greet me by name when I texted (that was only creepy the first time). Was it helpful? Kinda... although I already knew the coping skills and breathing exercises that they recommended from my time in PHP. For me, it really was just a reason for me to not think (or not think entirely alone) about my ideations and severe anxiety.

7. Had a Physical List of People to Contact When I Needed To and was as Transparent as Possible

There’s nothing worse that being alone when you’re triggered. The isolation means that the lies swimming in your mind are suddenly on steroids, the battle feels too big and overwhelming and giving up seems the easiest way. At PHP, I created a physical list of people to contact in these moments and I would text all of them and engage with anyone who responded. In those moments, it’s literally ANYTHING you can do that keeps you from acting on the ideations. 

Further, I told my family and closest friends what I saw in my ideations. Subsequently, my parents hid the kitchen knives. To this day, I have no idea where they kept them for those several months. They only brought them out for cooking, then quickly cleaned them and put them right back in their hiding place.

8. Got a Temporary (“transition”) Job

I was unemployed and dreading employment, having lost trust in employers. I’m a preschool teacher and, as it turns out, the Preschool Director at our Church has a great relationship with our family. She offered me a very part time, temporary job and I reluctantly accepted it. It was a great choice and, within only two weeks of that job ending, I landed my current job where I am, to this day, very happy.

9. Using a Weighted Blanket

Simultaneously to getting a temporary job, we learned about weighted blankets and did our research about them. They are helpful for people who suffer from nightmares, anxiety, depression, sleeping disorders, etc. My mom bought me one and that coupled with a medication change and a new job seemed to work its magic on me and I finally began to be consistently better and better.

10. Met with My Priest on an As-Needed Basis

My priest has known me for half my life and, if my Mom texted him to ask for his soonest availability because I needed to talk to him, he was ready. I am painfully aware of how great a gift this is but I do encourage you to talk to a priest after Mass about your struggles if any of this resonates with you.

11. Prioritized Daily Mass, Listened, Prayed and Trusted

I prioritized daily Mass and that was the majority of my prayer life outside of my ultimate intention to offer up all of my suffering. There was no consolation at Mass except for the head-knowledge of Jesus’ True Presence in the Eucharist. At this point, it was more conviction than anything else. I was in intense physical pain, the anxiety was so great, and the only consolation the Eucharist gave me was the strength to keep fighting for another day. I received the Sacrament of Anointing several times throughout these 10 months of suffering and it’s really the graces of the Sacraments that kept me going.

People around me were praying for me and I leaned on their prayers. It was hard to trust God, hard to trust their prayers and hopes for me but, simultaneously, I literally had nothing better to do. I didn’t know when or if my suffering would end. They told me it would but I didn’t know if I could believe them. The only person who I came close to believing told me, with tears streaming down her face, that she had heard God whisper in her heart, “Soon, but not yet.” Within three months, I entered remission.

12. Wrote Letters

Several friends asked what they could do to help. There wasn’t much, honestly, because my group of trusted people was very small. I would always ask for their prayers and I would sometimes ask if they enjoyed letter writing. To my delight, I was able to exchange letters with several people for a few months. It’s also the little joys that kept me going.

13. Avoided Alcohol

Countless times while in PHP, I was asked when my last drink was. I’d self-medicated on alcohol in the past but, after my mental breakdown, I began to take my recovery seriously. I knew that if I wanted any chance of survival, alcohol wouldn’t be part of my journey. So my last drink before my breakdown was Christmas day and it would be months before I had another one. There was so much trial and error with different medications that I was grateful that alcohol had no influence on any of it.

14. Never Attempted Anything

As real as the ideations seemed, as intense as the pain was, as lonely as I felt, and as much as I wanted out (believing myself to be a burden to the world), I never attempted anything.  It seemed like I had every plan in the book and sometimes circumstances would reveal new plans. It was terrifying. And it’s only by the grace of God that any of this is true.

This is the baby who I so desperately wanted to meet, one of the forefront reasons in my mind for not acting on the ideations in those moments. Holding him for the first time was the moment that I chose life once and for all because I wanted to get to know him.

He is all joy and I've never once regretted that choice. Also, that necklace is the one from my sister with Philippians 4:13 on it.

15. Celebrated the Milestones

The therapist with whom I worked the longest (a year) and I celebrated together every milestone along my path to recovery. The first time that I talked myself out of a panic attack, we celebrated the following week with ice cream. It truly doesn’t take much to celebrate and it goes a long way for the client's recovery and for the relationship between therapist and client which, I believe, is what's more important: a therapist can give you the tools that you need but a good relationship with your therapist is really what makes all the difference.

My Family, Aug 2019

It's a hard journey but it's a worth-it journey. Life is worth living. Keep your heart up!

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Thank you so much for your positive response to my letter, for sharing it on your own social media accounts and to everyone who took the time to message me. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people in my age group (which is absolutely gut-wrenching and heartbreaking); I wrote my letter (and this post!) to be shared in hopes of helping others catch a glimpse of hope in the midst of their struggles. It's why I have this blog, why I've chosen to share my story and it's given greater meaning to all the suffering that I endured.

So thank you for your responses, your encouragement, and your prayers for me and for everyone who has read and will read my letter. I truly believe that prayer makes a difference!

I Talked Myself Out of a Panic Attack

I already knew that my anxiety was triggered. This was obvious because I could barely eat anything for dinner the night before. This, uncharacteristically of me, did not concern me too much even though a light dinner typically means a rough morning the following day. I've made some significant and successful changes to my early morning routine so I was feeling confident as I fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up and knew immediately that my body was a little off. I still ate my protein bar first thing while sipping water, then took an extra minute in a slightly cooler than usual shower. I was starting to feel better.

After I spent some time in prayer accompanied by my iced tea, I put in an online order for a smoothie to top off my breakfast, got my lunch together and set off for another day with some of my favorite kids.

The weather was cooler, like Fall even though it's still early September and I live in Virgina. Still, it made our early morning outdoor time at school more enjoyable as we wrapped ourselves in sweaters.

Around 9:30, though, inside doing Circle Time with my class, I felt my stomach drop and, with it, my anxiety heighten. I quickly took off my sweater as I got hot and a bit lightheaded. My mind started telling me that I wouldn't make it through the day, working with kids is too stressful, I'll never live on my own because it's just not safe, I won't be able to keep my job because I'm not strong enough... all of it.

This is what anxiety does for me. I started that sentence in the last paragraph with "My mind started telling me" because not one of those things is true. And I know that when these racing thoughts come, they are lies and if I let myself dwell on them I will plunge myself into a downward spiral and end up in a panic attack. Typically, panic attacks last 20-30 minutes and you feel like you're going to die. (But you won't. No one has ever died of a panic attack.) I knew I had to get myself out of this thought pattern before I came to deeper waters.

The children now happily sitting around the tables eating their morning snack, I quickly took my emergency meds, grabbed my water bottle, sat down under the AC to slowly drink my water and started repeating over and over quietly in my head: "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

I continued repeating it. The Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 2666 says "The Name of Jesus is the only name that contains the presence it signifies." I knew that by praying His Name and saying this truth over myself, I was slowly bringing myself to an awareness of His presence right there and then, reminding myself also that life happens a day at a time, a moment at a time and all those lies that my mind was telling me are only empty words. They have no truth in them.

I continued praying "Jesus loves me" in my mind over and over and over as we took our class outside to read a book and explore the outdoors. Sitting around a picnic blanket with my class, I put my hand gently on top of the grass and I noticed how it felt on my hand. I took slow and steady deep breaths, noting how the air smelled and tasted. I looked around at my class and noticed each of my students' faces and outfits. I continued to note my breathing to make sure that it stayed calm. This is a practice of Mindfulness. My goal was to make sure that I stayed engaged with reality.

As the children scampered around like little squirrels exploring the outdoors, I continued to sip my water. I purposefully kept a little smile on my face because this relaxes my face and my body. All the while, I'm still praying - sometimes softly saying it aloud - "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

My body still felt heavy. But my mind was now in a place where I could think more rationally. I told myself that calm is contagious and that I was proud of myself for taking ownership of my body and of my mind, and for reaching out to Jesus for help.

By the time I was back to a place where I was confident about being at work and life in general, two whole hours had passed.

You'll read more about "young Sarah" (birth to age 12) in my letter when it's published on Sept 25. For now, I'd like to share that this "new Sarah" -- the Sarah that utilized her coping skills to make it through a hard morning at work --  is a lot like "young Sarah" but she's so much stronger now having gone through what you'll read about in my letter. It's not easy to share this story with you (my letter or this post). But I am because maybe you can relate to it and maybe you find peace and strength knowing that you're not alone.

Lord, find me grateful! _____________________________________________________________

Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. 

When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I'm also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there: @sarahloutherese God bless and keep your heart up! For more information on Mindfulness: https://catholicpsych.com/ Calligraphy by The Oodles of Doodles: Etsy shop and Instagram

Detached: How I Learned to Put My Phone in Its Place

I’m a little embarrassed to admit how easily I get sucked into technology though I suppose that’s not especially unique to me. Frankly, I don’t even understand technology that well, despite my being as young as I am (I listen to Frank Sinatra on the weekends). So when I finally, 5 months later, admitted to a friend that I have a phone addiction and told her the story of how it came about this time around, I was glad that I had finally named my struggle and shared it with someone who wouldn’t try to fix me but would pray for me and keep me accountable.

This time, it began in February 2019. I’d been blindsided by a panic attack while at work and turned to my phone as a mental distraction, telling myself that it was a “coping skill”. Oh, what a lie that was! But I didn’t challenge myself on it. Instead, I picked up my phone with increasing frequency and slowly but surely began experiencing daily headaches, restlessness, and even some guilt and shame. 

When I finally realized how many months had passed, I felt worse but, simultaneously, I knew it was time and I was ready for a change. I know what life is like without a phone addiction and I wanted that freedom again. I didn’t and don’t think I’m called to cold turkey my presence on social media but I believed that I could learn to figure out a healthy balance. The primary ingredient, I believed, was self-discipline and, if I want to be completely satisfied and fulfilled by Jesus both here and hopefully someday in Heaven, then the struggle to get there is completely, totally and utterly worth it (thank you, Jesus, for the great gift of redemptive suffering!). Motivated by my desire for Heaven, I listened to the first piece of advice given to me by my friend: take more walks.

I’m a firm believer that moving your body (i.e. exercise) is of paramount importance for anyone who struggles with mental illness. And the great news is that it doesn’t take much: taking walks around the block several times a week does wonders for clearing the mind and releasing endorphins. If, like me, this is less likely to happen for you when the temperatures are cooler, consider a monthly gym membership with access to a pool or treadmill or anything else simple that you might discover you enjoy. That’s my personal goal for this Winter!

After a couple of weeks of taking more walks, I visited our local Catholic bookstore to pick up Bible Index Tabs. Those little things are so handy and I don’t mind putting them on, so I have for several of my friends’ bibles in addition to my own! Since I was there, I of course took the time to browse the bookshelves. The title that I would never have been looking for but which was only too relevant that nearly jumped off the shelf into my hands when I saw it was this: Detached: Put Your Phone in Its Place. Someone wrote a book about this? And it’s in a Catholic bookstore? After I briefly skimmed it, I decided to make the purchase.

I have enjoyed it so much more than I expected to! It’s written as a 21 day retreat so it has a goal or reflection to do every day and each day is only 2 or 3 pages long. At the very beginning, the author asks you to think about this book as a little retreat and even write down the names of the people for whom you want to offer up this retreat. Redemptive Suffering is so real and so beautiful and the author knows that overcoming any addiction and reworking one’s priorities is hard work that’s worth offering up. Beyond that, it took me a few days to really get into it, but once I saw that it quotes St. Thomas Aquinas, studies the Our Father and offers practical tips for helping you to prioritize your overall health and happiness above your phone use with the intention of using your phone less and better, I really loved it and began utilizing its advice in my own life. It challenges your priorities and gives suggestions of practical ways you can remind yourself of your priorities when you find yourself reaching for your phone. I can tell that this book has already helped me because I’m feeling better and am happier. I don’t get headaches every day anymore, there aren’t as many Amazon or other packages showing up on my front doorstep, I suddenly have more time to enjoy my musical instruments and the time that I spend with my family and friends is notably more enjoyable. Having said all of that, it seems so ridiculous to think how much time I gave to my phone. What a difference it makes to name the struggle and ask for help!

Speaking of asking for help, I’m further encouraged and motivated by devotion to Our Lady. When Our Lady appeared to St. Catherine Laboure and gave her the Miraculous Medal, Mary said nothing but Catherine heard these words: “The ball which you see represents the world, especially France, and each person in particular. These rays symbolize the graces I shed upon those who ask for them. The jewels which give no rays symbolize the graces that are not given because they are not asked for.” Indeed, on Calvary, Mary’s Heart was pierced with a sword, as Simeon had fortold (cf. Luke 2:35). But her pierced Heart is different from that of her Son’s; when Jesus’ Sacred Heart was pierced, it became a Fountain of Mercy, the source of Mercy. When Mary’s Immaculate Heart was pierced, it became an instrument of grace that opens hearts to receive God’s mercy. 

For as long as you and I own phones, we’ll be struggling to find the appropriate balance of phone use vs real life. It’ll probably differ a little bit from day to day depending on season, family, work, travel, etc. but I know it’s possible. With the help of God’s grace and the intercession of Our Blessed Mother and our Guardian Angels, all things are!

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For more information on Marian devotion as cited in this post, please see: 

33 Days to Merciful Love (Fr. Michael Gaitley) and 

http://www.marys-touch.com/Saints/medal/medal.htm

Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. Sometimes what people won’t hear from their family members they will from someone else. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I’m also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there! @sarahloutherese.

God bless, and keep your heart up!

Investing in a Passion

Last year, I did a show. I portrayed a poor musician in a community theater production of A Christmas Carol that was set in St. Louis in the 1930s. I played fiddle.

Intending to be honest with the director, I told her that I was terrified even though, upon request, I had no lines to memorize. I do love my instrument but I hadn’t played consistently in a while. I love the arts but I hadn’t been on stage in 16 years and my anxiety had been under control for almost a year but I still had my doubts. The director told me that she understood and literally promised me that I would fall in love with the process and come away from the experience having completely enjoyed myself. I think that’s what she would tell just about anyone but, I will say, she’s known me for 20 years. I chose to trust her.

Before the show opened, it had been about 6 weeks of daily rehearsals and feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and excited by it all when I came across this quote while looking at jewelry on Amazon. The necklace that I never bought had this etched on it: “To play a wrong note is insignificant. To play without passion is inexcusable.” (-Beethoven) It was at the core of what the more experienced musicians around me were telling me but it was hard for me to believe (further, it was not what I expected any of them to say). At this point, though, I began to trust it — partially because Beethoven knows what he’s talking about. I didn’t want the necklace but I still made the quote look cute in my violin case.

The show was amazing. Frankly, I can’t believe how much I loved it and I’m so grateful. Afterwards, while watching a recording of the show, I finally saw what everyone had been telling me all along. All those notes that I missed on stage and was so worried about? I still noticed but I finally saw that it really didn’t matter. The violin merely faded for a couple of beats then came back strong (but that’s really only my opinion as someone with a trained ear. The audience most likely didn’t notice anything remotely amiss). What I saw was that none of the perfectionism in me that was rallying my anxiety was worth it. Perhaps my skill level does not equate to concert violinist — as I once dreamed it would — but I’m realizing how grateful I am for that.

For the first 3 years after graduating college, I was basically a workaholic. It wasn’t by choice and the extreme lack of a balanced lifestyle nearly killed me. But due to exhaustion and a somewhat shy, introverted nature, I never did anything other than work and isolate myself when not at work. While recovering from my mental breakdown and in the midst of therapy, I learned a lot about the importance of self-care. I began thinking of a balanced lifestyle from the perspective of self-care and even began considering going to work for a healthy amount of time at a time as self-care. When not at work, I knew what wasn’t healthy for me and so, steadily over the last couple of years, I’ve been learning that it’s good to have fun and investing in something I’m passionate about is a good compass for having fun.

I’m still figuring things out but my first big priority did become investing in something that I’m passionate about. Violin isn’t my only instrument — it’s not even my first instrument! — but it is the instrument that I’m most passionate about. While preparing for the show, I found out that a friend’s husband teaches violin and I was able to meet with him before getting into the thick of rehearsals to help me get back into practice. 

There are purchases — big and little — that I regret; I’ve never once regretted what’s ultimately learning more about violin. Violin has always been a great joy for my heart and I love sharing that joy when I have the opportunity to. Once upon a time, I dreamed of seeing my name in lights. Now, I don’t care whether or not that ever happens. What’s important to me is that I love playing and it’s a great joy to do so. I don’t ever want to forget it.

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Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. Sometimes what people won’t hear from their family members they will from someone else. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I’m also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there! @sarahloutherese.

God bless, and keep your heart up!

The Princess Bride and Your Prayer Life

“As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. And really, that’s all this is, except that instead of sucking water, I’m sucking life. I’ve just sucked one year of your life away.”

This is quite the bitter pill to take. Hardly uplifting, affirming, or encouraging - much less comforting. If you’ve seen The Princess Bride then you know the scene well: Westley is in the pit of despair after surviving the Fire Swamp with his beloved Buttercup and Count Rugen is testing his new invention. While Westley insists on his own invincibility, the dwarf’s forewarning of the machine’s terror and power seems to have come true as Westley’s body lies lifeless on the table. I watched The Princess Bride for the first time during my childhood while on a family retreat in New Jersey - I would guess that I was about 10 years old. Of course I’ve seen it many times since then but only recently did I notice a layer of deeper meaning to this particular scene and so I began pondering what The Princess Bride can teach me about prayer.

I love prayer. My relationship with God has been through many different seasons over the course of my young life and that’s as it should be; nonetheless, I’ve always felt like a failure when I didn’t pray a daily rosary, make it to daily Mass, read that spiritual text that I said I would, or finish a scripture study in the allotted timeframe. Simultaneously, as a perfectionist I would pray that rosary, go to daily Mass, read that text, and finish that scripture study because I wanted a perfect prayer life. My inclination towards perfectionism always rallies my anxiety and makes me think that I absolutely have to check these things as complete else God might love me less for not maintaining the appearance of an active prayer life. But that is a lie and I now realize that just as I am not defined by my clothing, my makeup (or lack thereof), or my car, neither am I defined by my prayer life.

Once I asked my Confessor if there was some way I could possibly be better at prayer. His response? “You just gotta do it.” I didn’t like his answer because I’ve always wanted a switch to go off and then I magically have this perfect, Saintly, amazing prayer life. To my surprise, I don’t want that anymore because now I realize how severely lacking of an authentic relationship with God that would actually be. Now I see more clearly the beauty of embracing the struggle, starting small and recognizing that God’s invitation is not to fall back into the comfort of my chair when I trip up but to fall into His embrace so that, like the Apostle John, I can lean my head against his chest and rest in his love. (cf. John 13:23-25)

What this scene from The Princess Bride is teaching me is that my prayer life should never make me feel bad. God is love (cf. 1 John 4:7-8) and authentic love is life-giving not life-sucking. Although it still and probably always will take intentionality to think of my prayer life as a relationship rather than a checklist (because relationships by nature take a lot of intentionality), I am learning and growing. I attend daily Mass and Adoration regularly because I truly believe in the Real Presence in the Eucharist. I pray the rosary because the prayer is genius, comes straight from Heaven, and is literally a bible study on a string. Plus, when I’m feeling anxious, the rosary doesn’t actually overwhelm me: its rhythm is soothing and its lyric is beautiful, and there’s literally no pressure or particular reason why I have to finish it in one sitting. Take Up and Read bible studies are my favorite thing and I’ll continue using them because it’s a great way to read the Bible with Lectio Divina and their work has borne great fruit in my life. God won’t love me less if I fail to finish these devotions; the Lord is faithful and it’s relationship over perfectionism that truly matters. 

Some days coming before the Lord to attend Mass or pray a rosary literally feel like I am climbing the cliffs of insanity. But what keeps me going is the fight for True Love that is so, so worth every peril and affliction along the way (the lives of the Saints are testimony to this truth). Anxiety can literally feel like I am fighting skilled swordsmen, up against giants, or trying to outsmart the anxiety itself; the truth is that the light shines through the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. (cf. John 1:5) The Lord is constant and faithful and it’s to be in an authentic relationship with Him that I desire most of all. And on that note, The Princess Bride also teaches beautifully the correct thing to say to Jesus when I choose to submit myself to his will, letting God be God: “As you wish!”