Captured Little Heart

I wrote this article as a part of a Valentine's day essay contest 2 years ago. Apparently they liked it, given it was published in the online newsletter (the original post is here: http://thegorettigroup.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html).

Happy Valentine's day, to all the single ladies!!


Captured Little Heart
Everyone loves a good fairy tale, although many believe that they are something to be left for children—a fantasy too far from real life. This is a real story about a princess, her capture, and the fight to win her heart by the perfect prince. This is my love story, and it is entirely true.
I was born on the east coast and lived there with my parents, older sister, and younger brother for six years. My loving parents announced to me just after first grade that we were moving closer to my mom’s side of the family, to the Midwest. I, the outgoing, spunky middle child was excited to make new friends. We made the big move, and as far as I knew everything was wonderful.

A year after the switch Dad left to visit his side of the family. I found out soon after that he wasn’t planning on moving back. He still loved us and wanted to see us, but it just wasn’t working out for him to be out there, for reasons unbeknownst to little me. I don’t remember much about that time, but I do remember one thing: Dad made Mom cry. I made a decision that night with no idea how it would alter my life. I chose a life without Dad.

The three of us kids spent the school year with Mom and the summer with Dad, which worked out fine. For years I was civil to Dad, but I had always felt like he didn’t just leave Mom, but he left us too. I secretly wanted to let him in, but my stubborn pride had too strong of a hold on me, and it grew stronger as time went on. The wound was too deep for me to let go.

I am forever grateful to Mom for teaching us the Catechism and to love the Lord with all of our hearts, and the grace we were given through her is immeasurable. Although I knew Christ as the Son of God who died for my sins, I hadn’t yet known him as someone who could fill the hole I had in my heart. I tried to make up for it elsewhere. I thrived on attention, especially from boys. I loved flirting and learned to use my feminine wiles to get whatever I wanted. It seemed like I couldn’t keep good girl friends for long, but that didn’t bother me as long as I had some guy to remind me periodically that I was pretty or that someone was thinking of me. When I was 15 I got my first boyfriend and was swept up in a whirlwind romance. He was 2 ½ years older than me and leaving for basic training for the Army. We made up for our time apart with intimate visits and phone calls that only fed our infatuation for each other. The whole affair spun out of control and I ended it multiple times, but he was the most constant man in my life at that point—and I couldn’t let him go. We were on and off for years, and I filled his absences with late-night hookups. I fell into habits of grave sin, but I needed affection, and boys gave it to me. They made me feel beautiful, appreciated, and wanted.

My lows were balanced with spiritual highs from Catholic conferences and retreats, where I could see the error in my ways and promise God that I would change. However, my broken heart needed that physical person to whisper he loved me and give me kisses. I entered as a freshman into a wonderful Catholic college, surrounded by holy, attractive men who knew how to treat a woman right. It was there that I met a man I thought would be my future husband. He was everything I could have wanted. He respected me; I could see it in his actions. We were chaste, we went by the book, and we even prayed together on the phone! Betrayals and broken hearts in my past made me hesitant, but after much coaxing, I gave him my entire heart. I had a new home in him.

The emotional honeymoon didn’t last. Just over six months into our relationship, he flipped a switch and everything came to a bitter crashing end. I cried and screamed to God, begging for no more pain. I was blinded by my hurt and flung myself at the feet of the Eucharist in adoration. Slowly, the flow of my tears slowed and my breathing began to slow. I heard no voice, felt no touch, saw no apparition. But I calmly returned to my room and listened to music. A song began to play with a soft pace. He sang to me:
“He is jealous for me.”

The words struck a chord in my heart. Someone is jealous for my love; he wants it for himself first. I kept listening.

“Loves like a hurricane; I am a tree bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.”

I pictured a tree, swaying back and forth by strong but gentle winds. The beat reminded me of a waltz.

“Oh, how he loves us.”

Jesus does love me, but it’s not the same as a man in front of me that I can touch, feel, or taste.

“And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss and my heart turns
violently inside of my chest.”

All of a sudden it all came together for me. Heaven met earth when God became man, and Christ meets me at my lips in the Eucharist. This was the dialogue of love that I had been longing for: the man to meet me at the altar with an incarnate kiss. Christ is my beloved, the rock upon whom I build my days and spend my evenings dreaming of. I was captured by pain and freed by the Prince of Peace who sacrificed his life for this princess.

Happy Valentine’s Day, from this little heart captured by Christ.

Maybe It's Me

I have a confession for all of you: I love Taylor Swift's songs. People remind me all of the time that she writes about high school drama, makes something out of nothing, and is always whining about a messy breakup or empowering herself after dumping Joe Shmo for the last time. Whatever... they're catchy! I admire that she uses her music to express herself, writing her own stuff, and sings about real things. And she's managed to stay a pretty good influence, despite the crazy showbiz whirlwind her life must be. Good for her.

As much as I enjoy her catchy tunes, this someecard got me thinking:

I understand that great music, poetry, prose, art, etc comes from heartbreak in one way or another. So yes, many of her songs that relate to listeners are ones that her fans can identify with, who seem to not only enjoy the song hooks like I do, but also have experienced some drama that at least kind of fits the lyrics. Not the point.

Maybe the makers of the meme have a point (not necessarily for Taylor specifically, but you know). If someone gets stuck in the victim mentality, some serious relationship issues can arise: both in the present and developing into bigger problems in the future. Where is the line between looking at what isn't working that the desiree is/isn't doing and identifying where you might need to make some changes?

It is good to have expectations in relationships, potential relationships, plutonic friendships, and so on and so forth. Both parties should at least have a pretty good idea of what he/she is getting into and how the two plan to function together. Expectations keep us goal oriented, focused on the good stuff, and keep us from losing our heads. However, too many expectations can make things a little bit dicey.

We grow up dreaming of someone who will love us for all that we are, including everything: strengths, weaknesses, successes, faults, annoying habits, passions, hopes, dreams, and all of that great stuff. It's a wonderful ideal that is totally fine to aspire to. The important necessary flip side that should accompany that is recognizing that the beloved will too have weaknesses, faults, and annoying habits... along with the fun parts. We have (fair and balanced!) expectations for them that should be there, but they also have expectations for us.

Here's the tough part: that means we have to keep looking at ourselves and identify where we can do better, where we can grow, and what we might need to change. 

*GASP!!* "How dare?! Why would I ever have to change! I am me and that is more than enough and any man should be lucky to be with me!!!!" you might say. Disclaimer: I don't mean become a different person, pretend you are someone you're not, or put up a front of perfection until you rope a man into loving you no matter what and then open up the real can of crazy.

I mean, we should constantly be challenging ourselves to be growing in virtue... all the time. We'll always mess up (some of us less than others), but an attempt should be made to see ourselves as others see us so they can help us identify ways we could be growing or things we could be working on that we might not see. If ex-boyfriend (and w-boyfriend, and v-boyfriend, and u-boyfriend, and t-boyfriend...) all break up with you because you constantly talk about how you are jealous of other girls or telling stories of ex-boyfriends past or you chew the ice in your glass when you eat out until the ice starts to melt and excess water drips out of your mouth... these are things that are helpful to know so we can fix the little things (or in some cases big things) and be that much closer to forming happy, healthy, and lasting relationships.

Another thing to keep in mind on this foreboding part of the path to self-discovery: sometimes the critiques of exes aren't accurate or they're just incredibly biased/tainted. Take them with a grain bucket of salt. And never, ever get nitpicky. You are a wonderful human being, and don't ever lose sight of how much you are loved, the fact that you are a gift, you are unique, you are irreplaceable, and you have infinite value! This is all about becoming more you--the best you! Becoming the best version of yourself isn't always fun, but it is always rewarding. Virtuous people are happy people, and according to our classy girl Audrey Hepburn, "happy girls are the prettiest."