The Case of Not Liking Being Catholic

Read on before you judge based off of the title alone. Or go ahead and judge me, although you’ll just help sanctify me in the process.

Two posts in one week? I must be going crazy. Or I’m just itching to write something before I go crazy. Both are true, more or less. It’s like I get these pounding ideas from keywords, phrases, or inspirations from anywhere, and I’m uncomfortably antsy until I spit it out. Or until I lose interest, it always depends. It’s been fun and interesting figuring out how I work as my personality settles in, because so far not many have been able to handle it. I blame it on being choleric. Well, the blame doesn’t solely lie there, but it is a momentum of prominence since some temperaments mesh better than others. My sister is phlegmatic and we get along fabulously, until someone wants to borrow a blouse or misplaces makeup. That’s sister life, yo. 

Anywho, all of the above has little or nothing to do with the continuation of this post. 

Source: Tumblr

A few days ago I was finalizing the outline for a talk I gave, and I started wondering why I’m still Catholic. I can be pretty terrible about it. Confession isn’t a sacrament for nothing, let me tell you. Having a veil and carrying around a rosary don’t count for much, not all the time. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving the Church or even questioning the faith, not at all. Quite the contrary.

 So I continued to think about it, with Milky Chance accompanying my thoughts and the click-clack of my bright red nails pushing down letters, tying together biblical typology between Jesus and Jeremiah. Secret’s out, that’s how I (always) work, even writing this. As I continued to (surprisingly) think, I had one whiny thought.

Being Catholic is hard. 

The raw truth is that I don’t always like being Catholic. Romanticism aside, being Catholic is one of the most difficult feats I’ve ever attempted to accomplish. Sometimes my only reasons are just fides et ratio… faith and reason. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m quitting or throwing in the towel. I know damn well that the Catholic Church is the fullness of truth, and to go anywhere else would be to cheat myself not only of salvation, but also of complete truth. I couldn’t comfortably live with that, and the thought of living without truth is a scary one. Because if you don’t possess complete and full truth, what do you have instead? 

Nothing. 

I like to think that even in my choleric state, I pick my battles very wisely and carefully. I somehow know when to stand my ground, and when it simply isn’t worth it. This isn’t one battle I’m going to cave on. By the grace of God alone, I’ll reach the finish line, even if that means crawling on my gravel-filled hands and blood soaked knees. Graphic, but triumphs have never been for the pansy-hearted.

So I don’t always like being Catholic. That’s precisely because of my fallen nature, my own vanity, my own pride, my own blindness, and above all, my own sinfulness. However, because being Catholic is hard and because I don’t always like it, that’s exactly why I have to be Catholic. In continuation of that premise, I need to be Catholic because I don’t always like being Catholic. I keep saying I don’t always like being Catholic, and God could smite me for that, or you’re probably thinking, “Then just leave, you crazy girl.” 

But I won’t leave. I also hope God doesn’t smite me, because my beloved St. Teresa of Avila didn’t pray for years and she came back with superhuman holiness. Checkmate. 

No one is forcing me to be Catholic, I’m a grown girl and it’s my decision to remain where I’m constantly challenged and pushed. I am painfully aware of my faults, shortcomings and imperfections. I won’t pull a Popeye and say, “I am what I am.”, because that’s not what I am. And guess what? The only thing that uproots it all from the inside out, is Catholicism. Through Catholicism, faith, reason and maybe even nights like this, I am most myself. How could I ever leave that? Sure it’s not always pretty and petite, but I don’t believe life is meant for that. Without struggles, there is no celebration, and without pain, there is no comfort. Without Catholicism to challenge me and make my life difficult, I can’t imagine what I’d be. I actually can, but I’d rather not be that. 

So that’s it. I don’t always like being Catholic, but I am precisely because I need to be. It’s a paradox of sorts, but I can safely say that that is a part of me, and I’m fine with it. 

I think I forget that people actually read what I toss out in the open, so thank you for putting up with my choleric schemes and ridiculousness, because half the time I take to the keyboard, my mind is half here and half there, wherever there is. I’ll tell you when I find it. 

The Post with No Moral

First off, there is no moral to this post. Sorry, I can’t muster one up at the moment. Frankly, I don’t even want to try because this isn’t about a moral, underlying inspiration, or anything like that. I don’t want to talk about modesty, chastity, virtue or any other repeated topic because I currently have nothing new to say, since it’s all been said anyway. This is just going to be keyboard smashing from a 19 year old Catholic girl, who happens to need a good keyboard smash. But I can say that this post has been influenced by circulating thoughts and Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. Technically I don’t really write about myself, even though this is my platform. It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, I simply don’t like airing every aspect of my life, since it’s not necessary until it’s necessary. On second thought, the song really doesn’t have much to do with anything in regards to this post, I just really like it right now. It pairs well with dark coffee, since coffee opens up your voice and I only pretend to know how to sing.

Anyway, I’m done with school (for now) and it went fabulous. From the beginning I asked St. Maximilian Kolbe to help me, and dedicated it all for God’s greater glory, so the past four months went academically well. I have no plans to stop until I reach my goal, because even through the occasional (and healthy) meltdowns, I can and will do it. I’ve found that not only do I enjoy public speaking, but I also like playing with and rearranging words, and most of all, studying logic and rhetoric. That’s what gets my wheels churning, and I delight in it. I don’t have the kind of mindset or personality to settle for less, and that doesn’t make me snobby or arrogant. I don’t think anyone should settle for what doesn’t make them really think or feel something. Not everyone expected much from me, and I met passive aggressive discouragement, so that just motivates me even more. It doesn’t even piss me off and I don’t hold grudges either, so thank you. 

Yet, college still isn’t the be-all and end-all of my life. It is important because right now my vocation is to be a student to the best of my ability, buuut it doesn’t govern my life. I’m only 19 and I don’t have every little detail figured out, but I’m at peace with that. I also won’t pretend to have it all figured out, because that’s just lying to myself, which is something I refuse to do. Except when I decide to go running and tell myself it’ll be great. Anyhow, I won’t go on a tirade about how wonderful my walk with God has been, because it hasn’t always been lovely and fantastical. Sure, I’ve had my amazing moments, I won’t ever deny that. Other times it’s been incredibly painful, leaving me breathless and on my knees, literally. Sometimes I have to sit back and just laugh, because I know so little when it comes to God and His wonderful and aggravating ways. Eventually I see the purpose in the pain, and it’s usually to purge and strengthen for some other seen or unseen purpose, so I don’t try to run from it anymore. That’s one thing I will always love about being Catholic; no matter what, there will always be purpose in the pain. I’m no expert, but pain is much easier when you just accept it and ride it all the way through, because that’s where the grace lies. 

Even so, my life isn’t a constant oh-woe-is-me tale, and I won’t paint it that way. Where pain has been, there is eventual joy, like Psalm 30:5. It’s a joy that only Christ gives. Sure I have difficult moments, but don’t we all? It’s almost like being Catholic makes everything 10x harder, since we’re not called to live ordinary lives. To be Catholic is to abandon the ordinary, to take up the extraordinary. I take whatever the Divine Will throws at me, and pray to God that I’m still somehow doing His will, or at least on my way to fulfilling it, whether I’m crawling or running. A few weeks ago an anon on Tumblr asked me what my greatest desire is, and I re-realized that that’s just it; to do His will and nothing more. The details of this will aren’t something I worry over anymore, because as long as it’s His will, I’m all good. Thank you, nosy anon. 

However, despite the roller coaster, I know who I am, and who I’m becoming. I’m about to get Tumblr-esque, but I’m really not the same person I was even a year ago, and I’m grateful for that. Of course I’m still me. I still like singing to Lana Del Rey (and currently Ed Sheeran), admiring the night sky, binge watching The Office, eating mochi, having good conversations, buying little plants, gladly paying for that extra shot of espresso, bantering with my friends, and so on. But those are all just exterior things. They shape and influence what I am, but aren’t who I am. My life is coming together like a puzzle, sometimes the pieces don’t fit and need to be examined more closely in order to find their niche. Which does happen, usually. Do I know what image is being formed? I occasionally catch faint glimmers of the finished product, but they also could just be smoke and mirrors. I suppose in a way we’re all like uncompleted puzzles. We won’t know until it’s done.

All of the above is great, and I’m not perfect. Even if I realize that, it doesn’t mean I have to acquiesce to that fact. I’ve learned to be totally honest with myself, and I am keenly aware of my faults and imperfections. I would hate to become stagnant in them. In The Interior Castle, St. Teresa of Avila describes stagnant souls as becoming like putrid pools of water, if I remember correctly. The current situation isn’t the final destination, so we can’t treat it as such. Instead, she prompts her readers to remain as fresh pools of water, clear and constantly flowing. St. Teresa knows what’s up. I should probably read past the fourth mansion.

So there we have it. I’m still not sure what the point of this post was, so I won’t make one up. There’s no fancy clincher or call to action, because this is where I stop. Despite the word vomit, it could have been much worse. Sometimes word vomit is necessary. 
Just sometimes.