After I got attacked by a priest who was on Xanax, I was told, by another priest, to take the Anxiety Pills a doctor prescribed, for me. I got prescribed them pills, after seeing a patient neglected so bad, at a Nursing Home – that her mouth was black inside, and I and another nurses’ aide cleaned her mouth up, but she died a week later, of pneumonia, charted as such to cover-up severe Nursing Home Neglect which occasioned her pneumonia. [RIP] I thought having a job at a rectory would help me, kiss those pills goodbye. Handling life’s crap with meds, rarely work; and only postpone dealing with problems, head on.

Years ago, I altered my looks — and had a breast reduction surgery. Why? Priests, laity, regular lewd mouthed folks who were strangers or family — irritated me enough to want to dock myself, so their harassment would stop. The Chill Pills made me top-heavy. It was a Side effect of Prozac I took for a few year: to be able to work in a hostile work place, on a daily basis. I know now why God warned me not to work in a Rectory. I could have been spared all, of that.

Saturday, after walking a mile and an eighth to the bus stop: to get a bus going in the direction I wanted; and that would cut down 2-3 hours on the bus, I caught the bus to go to Mass, Lowes and the Grocery Store. This is not my home parish. Which albeit has its own problems, is a nicer parish than this one? The poor aren’t welcomed at this other parish. I have no pocket-book, for them to mine, so I am considered trash and are treated like it.

When I worked at this Parish —- I was “used” occasionally as a trophy to show off they’re “helping the poor” photo-op. Which really pisses off the poor, to no end? Who wants to be used for a photo-op? Not me. [It was a tangible photo-op, not a literal one.]

Actually, last Saturday, the only bright spot to my day, was talking to an ex-Seminarian bus driver. I offered my Mass up for him.

I rushed into the Confessional not well prepared because I was so tired. But, I thought that it would be over soon, thus the rush. I asked the Blessed Mother to prepare me. I sensed she wanted me to stand and confession behind the screen. But, I did not listen to Her. I was tired and wanted to sit. I wish I had obeyed Her. I convinced myself it wasn’t Her.

The priest was one whom I was warned about, before I ever met him, in a dream from God one night. I was shocked when I first met him, because I had met him in a dream and in the dream he was hollering and screaming at me after a Confession. I really did not like meeting him, because I sensed God was warning me about him. As dreams go, it’s hard to tell if they are from God, from eating before going to bed or one’s own imagination. But, the fact I met the unknown, never before seen priest in the dream after the dream – is a God Incident – IMHO.

Anyways, I went to Confession to him. I confessed my sins. Even confessed a sin, I did not think was a sin. Eating too much ice cream. I paced myself and the ice cream lasted a long time in the freezer. Why did I confess it? That dad gum priest looked at my stomach. My stomach is huge, since I had several abdominal surgeries, several pelvic surgeries, and a Cholecystectomy which usually makes folks gain weight and have digestive problems after that. And, I do. I went from have a flat stomach, to looking like I am PG with three kids, any time.

I even confessed to gossiping, which I have not done. So, basically, I was trying to make the priest feel better; even though he made me feel like SHIT.

I came out of confession – kicking myself for my Pollyannish trying to be nice to a jerk again. And, yes I saw he slovenly had his ROMAN Collar disheveled and unbuttoned, during Confession all the while he was judging me, rashly. I ended in judging him as well, once I let the devil work on my memory of the whole matter.

Then the guilt of committing more sins than I went in with, upset me.

I’ve pretty much learned my lesson, this Parish is toxic for me to go to for Mass or the Sacraments. They just do not stay converted. And, they lead from behind, not in front. Meaning they cannot teach me anything but sin. And, I refuse to follow a “blind lead.” Because, that is not Jesus.

I guess I will now feel “compelled” again to have my stomach reduced, by a Bariatric Surgery, to stop their judging. But, the Gold Standard Bariatric Surgery, is dangerous for me on several points. It will re-route my colon. And, I am already having problems with it. My mom had colon cancer, so a surgery that will increase the likelihood of more diarrhea, is not a surgery I want. I have weighed the risks and the benefits. Even a doctor told me that the other surgery not covered by my insurance, would be better for me. I have yet to get cleared for surgery. With as many surgeries, that I’ve had, the doctors are scared to do it.

Go Figure.

Well, that’s my rant for the week. I do not think I have learned much. I was dropped off at Lowes & I bought the electric fuses I needed to get my electric working again, and I bought a flash light. Then, I walked some more across the street to Meijers. My refrigerator was empty. I have been sick, since painting two weeks ago. The oil-based paint makes me, the dog and the cat very sick. But, I used it up.

I saw my sister came back to town and she stopped by Meijers while I was checking out. She drove me home. I was grateful. She stayed and helped me put together my new flash light. I never had one that big and it was only $4.97. It helped me to put in the new fuses, because the house was all dark, except the back bedroom which has a different fuse box. Wa la! Lights came on. I had my sister tell me when they came on. She helped me get the groceries into the house too. That was nice of her. She told me our former brother-in-law died that day, while hunting. RIP. We talked a little more and she left.

I was still cold, because my furnace is not working well…the thermostat goes up for a few minutes then goes down to 64 or 67. The fix-it guy programmed it. And, my house is cold. I watched the end of St Teresa of Avila. I was going to watch Hallmark, but, I sensed God wanted me to watch the end of the St Teresa movie. I watched it and was amazed that the things St Teresa said, resonated in my heart, and seemed applicable to my situation – that day. She lamented that only St John of the Cross knew her heart, and that other priests did not. She was sick too, a lot. I saw her death scene and I was thankful, that I had watched it, instead of another channel.

Sunday was hell on earth. I decided to eat the old meat that had been thawing out in the refrigerator, and it gave me food poisoning. I had gastroenteritis all day. Being cold and sick, and with the constant trips to the bathroom, I wondered why on earth I was fat. Nothing stayed in me. Consequently, my blood sugar was wacky and I was super irritable. I kept trying to thank God for this. I do not have a good sense of smell, since I had my nose and sinuses operated on twice.

I’ve had 17 surgeries. So, you would think those idiot priests would get a clue, that I am disabled, and leave their snide innuendo’s to themselves. I really do not appreciate their un-Catholic BS. Even relatives and complete strangers, do the same. So it’s just evil and not specific to a religion. It’s the effects of Original Sin, I guess.

Monday, I felt better. Today, so-so. I give it to God, because what else do I have to give God, but myself. Such as I am. A raggedy, disabled Catholic. But, one just the same. A child of God. And, headed to home. Jesus is already promised me a room in His mansion. He will be heaven for me. I won’t mind cashing in on that Eternal Rest, because weeks like this quite frankly wear me out.

When my health returns, I figure it’s another sign of God’s Resurrection Love for me. And, when my health takes a dive, I figure God is allowing it for my purification, and that of others. Catholics use everything for God’s Glory. Even pain united to Christ‘s on the Cross gives meaning. It’s a prayer, when united to Him. I can barely think of my prayers, and it is a huge effort, to even think of Christ, when I am sick. But, I take it moment by moment and that then is doable in Christ.

All things are possible with God!!!

It’s pretty bad, when you have, to have 2 body altering surgeries, just to get Catholic Priests, and People to stop harassing you socially. It’s pathetic, to give their harassment any attention. I hate it when I allow them to have that much anti-God like power over me. Getting a mutilated body, so’s people will leave you alone is really pathetic, if you ask me. But, the sexual harassment stopped, after I had the 1st surgery. Maybe the newly stepped-up harassments and mean spiritedness will stop; with a Bariatric Surgery. And, I don’t let them fool me, they’re acting up in the confessional …. because these priests know it will upset me. Applaud and laud them? Never. They are wrong, and deep down they have not let the “Year of Faith” change them. They do not want to be good. They are impenitent.

I am Catholic by sheer will. I am Catholic because, I know it is the True Church, that Jesus founded on the Rock of Peter and himself, the Cornerstone. I have had, to pray at times, to stay Catholic.

And, I always say: “If it weren’t for Catholics, there’d be more Catholics.” Their sinful behavior has occasioned my useful quips, to get me through it, and to tell others if they are having a down day, from a Christian Person. It gives them courage to go on, with Christ, and not worry about the WINDS & WAVES  others try to whip-up in your life. Look at Jesus.

Jesus bids us all to “walk on the water” towards HIM! Don’t look at the waves others try to place on your way.

It’s the only Way, that works. His Way.

“Jesus, Mercy!”

“Our Lady of The Way – pray for us -—to the Lord, Our God. Amen.”