Tag Archives: love

Moving In, Moving On

Well hello there, people! I’m back! I’ve done another of my disappearing acts, and its again due to a lot of stuff that’s been going on. I’m trying to consider whether I should end this blog, continue, or start a new one, where I won’t be anonymous, and the focus might have changed.

Not that it won’t be full of Catholic ranting. Of course, that remains a constant.

So, what’s with the long absence? Well, I’ve quit my job at the call center. It was either that, or I’d get fired for being nothing more than a temp worker. Plus, I had no ambition to become a permanent member of a business devoted to scamming the ignorant out of money, while claiming to help them.

Anyway, bitterness about that stupid low  paying job aside, other things have been going on. The wedding is no longer going to be held in Mexico. It was excruciatingly difficult to hear the lawyer let us know our options and to realize that going to Mexico would be a bad idea. Yeah, my fiance is illegal. Go bitch about it on YouTube or something because I don’t freaking care.

Because of that we’ve had to re-plan the entire wedding, and our budget, and everything. On the one hand, its great, because a certain maid of awesomeness won’t have to blow her money on a trip to Mexico, and I get some more control over decorations. On the other hand, its heart breaking. Mr. Serrano misses his mother, grandfather, and siblings so much, and he’s losing hope that he’ll ever see them again. I cried for days, feeling guilty that in an indirect manner, it is my fault he’s not with them now. He doesn’t blame me, and I don’t blame myself anymore, but its not fair that his mother can’t see her oldest son married. I’ll find a way to make it up to her- she seems to be an awesome woman from what I can see in the photographs.

However, the wedding is now bumped up to September, which has me excited!!!! In an unprecedented show of generosity my parents are allowing the party to take place on the farm, so I’m going to have a wedding that looks like it came out of Real Simple. We had had to break the news to them about Mr. Serrano’s status, and they took it well. In fact, they had assumed he was illegal anyways.

Thanks, Mom. Glad to know you really did mean all your racist comments in the past months before we said anything.

But, count your blessings, right?

For a while, it actually seemed like my family was going to act like a family. I was cautiously surprised and happy, but I’m always cautious when it comes to them. Just like I feared, the initial glow wore off, and life went back to “normal”. Then, Mr. Serrano finally got his own apartment!

The previous tenants were something else. Let’s just say I can’t stand white trash, especially anyone who buys enough cigs and booze to keep them stocked forever, but can’t be bothered to clothe, feed, and love their kids. My family has screwed up royally, but at least they weren’t alcoholics. Thank God. The trash people finally moved out, after dragging their heels for months, making excuses, and finally actually trying to squat in the apartment. They DID have another place they could stay- this one was just “better”.

We were insanely happy to get that apartment. Mr. Serrano’s stepmother is pretty much straight out of Hansel and Gretel, and probably invented frenemies. I savored the look on her face when she saw me cleaning in the kitchen window (they’re our next door neighbors…so charming). I was especially happy in a triumphant way (probably not the best moral way either) because the charming old hag had tried to pawn the apartment off onto someone else, just to make sure she could keep her stepson paying her bills and on her couch, rather than a real bed.

This was right around the time we went to visit the lawyer, and since I got us so lost down in Chicago area that he had to pay 30.00 in toll fees (not kidding) I figured I’d stay the week over at his house and clean it up while he went to work. I needed a project to keep my mind off the stress, and re-doing a house sounded like fun.

That is where the trouble started. It didn’t matter how much I told my parents I was waiting till marriage to move in with him, and it didn’t matter that the stuff I had in my room I had saved for him, which is why it was being moved out. Every day that I came home, I was asked when I was moving out. The verbal abuse got worse, and my ever-charming ever-honest brother fell back into his habit of calling me a bitch. Mom literally ignored my existance, which I guess is better than her usual screaming (although screaming did occasionally happen).

Without even intending to, without wanting to, I ended up living in Mr. Serrano’s apartment. The first few weeks I was amazed. I woke up, and no one was going to scream at me. Nobody was yelling at me, glaring at me, or calling me names. In fact, I got a peck on the cheek and a “good morning, I love you”. Its taking a while to get rid of some of my bad habits- like skipping breakfast. I can’t eat at home. If I eat at home, I’m “stealing” from whoever Mom is favoring at the moment, which means I eat out or not at all. It took me a few days to leave my bedroom with confidence- inside I still expected to be criticized for something.

I started to feel something I haven’t felt in a long time- freedom and happiness.

I can listen to Catholic Radio, pray, listen to music, cook, go take a walk, eat, drink, be happy!!

But… at the back of my mind I kept getting nudged. This was beautiful, and wonderful…but I had said nothing to my priest. In fact, I avoided the subject entirely. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to tell the truth. Then my friends started nudging me. The universe was nudging me.

In short, God was like “okay, you’ve had your fun. Now trust me and go talk to my priest!!!”

So I did, even though its instinct now for me to not trust authority (lol, and I end up Catholic. wtf) I went and talked with him. I had this whole prepared speech in my head which of course fell apart as soon as I tried to speak (complete with crying, which I hate doing in front of men. They are wayyyyy too vulnerable to it). He thought at first it was financial.

HA! Nope, actually the money saved is a bit less, since starting an apartment is expensive.

Its humiliating. Its absolutely embarrassing to explain to someone that your mother is abusive, your father doesn’t really care, and that your brother has been trained to join in. Its worse when you have to do it to someone you consider an authority, because you’ve been trained your entire life to believe that no one in authority thinks you are worth anything, and everyone believes you’re a liar. The irony is that you believe that if anyone does believe you, they’ll think that you’re less of a person for what you lived through- that you’ll be just like the people who raised you.

I didn’t even have to explain everything like I had thought I would have to. Father did ask about my dad, and his role, and whether my dad is abused himself. (I guess, in a way, he is. Mom *does* bully him a lot.) In all honesty, the actual talk was very short, and I didn’t have to come up with a litany to explain what goes on in my house. I think, perhaps, Father knew, at least a little bit. It makes me wonder how many people have known that I’ve never told. It did “help” that I’d already moved out, but I was prepared to move back in again with my “family” if the priest said otherwise.

I can’t believe it. God must have been behind this, because when I finally could move out, I tried not to. I wanted to do what He wanted me to do, or what I thought He wanted me to do…and I still ended up moved out.

Thank God. I’m never coming back. I’m free.

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Filed under Catholic, Mawidge, Mr. Serrano, Mr. Serrano and other fun stuff

My Golden Wedding Band…

Well, actually that has yet to come! However, Mr. Serrano finally formally proposed to me, ring and all, after months of pestering. I will remember his proposal forever…especially as it had 3 stages:

  1. Propose over Skype while I’m in Japan. I think he’s joking (we’d only been going out a few months). He pretty much blocked it from his memory, but when I realized that it was not a joke, and stopped laughing, all I could think was  “Yes”.
  2. While relaxing at one of the Mexican festivals in our area, in the ambiance of music, food, laughter, and the beer tent, he casually looked at me and asked if I would like a party like that for my wedding. My jaw dropped, time stood still, I grinned, and the answer was “Yes” again.
  3. Finally, after months going on years of pestering about a formal proposal, because I’m itching to show that its official, and after planning our announcement to my parents, we go and buy the ring. I pick out 3 rings I like, and he secretly picks the one he likes among them all. Then, at the classiest establishment known to Earth, Texas Roadhouse, he proposed. Formally. The song “On the Road Again” was playing, and peanuts littered the floor.I could not ask for a better formal proposal. I laughed and joked, saying…”Nahhhhh”, and eventually “caved”. The entire 3 steps of Proposal were awesome.

I have to say, Mr. Serrano picked out the ring I liked best (he has good taste, and what’s more he saw my eyes go round when I saw it). It also didn’t cost too much. Its simple, elegant, and made of silver and diamonds (I’m a silver kind of gal). What I like most about it is the symbolism I can read into it.

The ring twists in a figure eight, the number of infinity, eternity, and the Virgin Mary. Its also my personal good luck number. 3 diamonds symbolize the Holy Trinity- Father, Son, Holy Spirit- all encircled in one loop. 3 more tiny diamonds on one side and 3 tiny diamonds on the other join the Trinity stones to make the number 7- completeness and holiness. And then you have all the other awesome symbols of the ring that are more traditional!

We’ve been planning on how to tell my parents for months, and we’ve finally decided on next weekend. I honestly don’t know how it is going to go. My family seem to like him, and don’t seem too racist, but one of my worries is that they’ll accept him- because now he’s getting rid of the useless daughter for them. I’d hate for that to be the reason, but I guess its better than trying to actively destroy our relationship.

Time will tell. Hopefully all goes well. And, true to my Catholic revert self, I’ve got to go see about getting this doohicky blessed! Not only that, but now I get to search for a wedding band for Mr. Serrano…that is going to be fun. He, apparently, is a gold man, so we aren’t going to match. OH NO! So far our marriage is breaking every one of society’s stupid rules, which puts me in a great mood. ^_^

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Ranting, Rejoicing, Observing

I’ve had a recent spike to like, oh I don’t know, maybe 15 people. 15 whole people!! WOW! And I wondered, why are these people visiting here so much when before I’d get like…2…in a week?

All I can say is…for shame you little perverts. For shame. You looked up this post thinking I was going to write about losing my virginity with all the titillating details. Heheheee…guess that backfired, didn’t it?

So maybe I’m just going to start putting in tags and categories about hardcore porn. Oh, and other people were searching for Black Jesus.

*sigh* NOT that it ACTUALLY  matters, but Jesus probably wasn’t Black. Or Swedish. No, being Jewish by blood, he probably looked….Jewish, Semitic even… And no, Mary wasn’t black either…the Black Madonna is black for an entirely different reason, and she has appeared to people as whatever race or nationality she’s trying to get a message across to, further underscoring that:

WHEN IT COMES TO FAITH RACE DOESN’T MATTER!!!! derp.

That is my rant for today. Just sick of the people who are “insulted” when God doesn’t fit into whatever ethnic box they’d like to package him in – be it Jewish, Black, or White as white can be.

All that aside, I have something awesome to say.

It turns out on Wednesday that there were 2 turn arounds!!!! 2!!! 2 women changed their minds at the abortion clinic, and chose to not kill the life within them, to not send themselves down a very hard, tragic, and devastating path.

2 women!!!! I was there to see the last one, although I wasn’t sure if it was her or not, so I didn’t want to assume. Yesterday, I got confirmation that there had, indeed, been a second woman who decided not to.

Perhaps I had better start from the beginning. So, I joined other people on Wednesday on the sidewalk outside 320 Fulton. The weather was HORRIBLE yet beautiful. It was raining those big heavy drops that weigh what seems like 12 pounds, and even though it was close to noon the place looked like night.

There was a protester this time, a young man about my age, carrying a sign saying we’re harassing people, and abortion should be safe and legal. The usual. Luckily he wasn’t up to shouting at us, but just tried to look stern as he blasted Michael Jackson out of his ancient pocket radio. (There’s going to be an observation later about this man, and society in general…)

So we took our places and began to pray the rosary underneath our umbrellas, and we get the news that earlier, a woman had come over to the wall and had talked with our counselors.

I should explain about this wall- the “clinic” is set into one of the hills of Grand Rapids, and has a street entrance and a back entrance where people park. While the building has one floor clearly above ground, the parking lot is recessed into the hill. Its technically above ground, but you can’t see the parking lot easily from street level.

Right next to the clinic is a post-abortion retreat house run by a pro-life group, which is aimed at helping women to heal after an abortion- it has counselors, beds, kitchens, you name it, it has it, and its very tastefully done. I took a tour there and I have to say it is one of those places you feel that you could go to heal- and that even in a group you’re afforded privacy. (Man have I some observations about that one, too…)

I think that if the “clinic” hadn’t designed their building to have the recessed parking lot with a giant wall in between them and the rest of the world, they certainly chose it with this in mind.

Anyway, the woman who was coming to abort walked up to the wall between the two properties, desiring to talk with the counselors. The young man protesting did his damndest as we often say, to make sure that she couldn’t talk to the counselor- physically coming between the two.

I guess I heard he did the same with the second woman as well. But in the end, both of these women heard what the counselors had to say (there’s financial help, women’s shelters, you name it we have a little of everything) and both of these women decided not to abort their children.

Even though so many other women have, and continue to do it, REJOICE!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU GOD! That is at least 4 lives not devastated, maybe possibly even 6!

And you know what I saw as the last woman was leaving the clinic? She was smiling. SMILING. You never see a genuine smile on the faces of women who go through with the abortion after they get out. Afteward, they’re full of pain and anguish and its obvious.

What an amazing thing, that inspite of all that evil going on that day, some good came out of it.

And now for Observations.

  1. On that last Wednesday, as I gathered with all the other people with their Rosaries out, I felt almost like I was in church. You had music, prayer, and people gathered together. But it struck me how odd that it seemed a parody of church. The music, although catchy, was cacophonous because it competed with the sound of women (and a couple of men) praying. It was also incongruous. Every woman coming into that clinic looked dejected, resigned, hopeless, and sad. A few looked angry. And here was this young man protester, blasting out the happiest music! There was even some Soul, which normally makes me happy. You can feel the sadness radiating from this place, and you can feel the hatred directed at you as you pray.There was no love, except what the group of people shared. There was hate, cacophony, and a sickening feeling even as I rejoiced that one woman had turned away. It occurred to me then that abortion clinics are Satan’s cathedrals.

    No, I’m not attempting melodrama, or going off on a “I am a praya warriah!” spiral into insanity, I really mean this. Look- there’s all the images of a church- music, prayer, emotion. But the music doesn’t soothe, the prayer is drowned out (although, seriously dude, do you think our God will not hear us?) and the emotions are all negative except for those of us dissenters. Even then, its hard to keep a happy heart. There’s no love, just hate radiating from that non-descript building.

  2. Observing the young man, I find that he represents something very screwed up in our society. For one thing, he is a man advocating for abortion, when more and more women are coming out against it. This is not the stereotype I grew up with. For another, and on a grander scale, he represents something deeply wrong about all society that accepts abortion. He claims he wants abortion to be “safe”. SAFE? Even if you take away the fact that another human being is being killed, Abortion is not safe at all. The instruments are not often clean and sterile! Pieces of the fetus often end up floating around in the womb, causing septic infections! And then cancer rates go up! Not only that, but no matter what type of abortion you have, the chances of a future miscarriage skyrocket! And don’t get me started on the psychological issues that CAN and WILL happen.
  3. Something else the behavior of the young man pointed out to me is that for a society that pays so much lip service to “choosing” (and nobody likes to elaborate what choosing means) they do their damndest to make sure that there is no choice. How many times have you heard that mantra? You know what, for many women, there really is no other choice that they can perceive, because for one thing, we’ve been brainwashed into believing that there is no choice! And when we try to choose, when we try to become informed, we have organizations like Planned Parenthood lying about the basic development stages of a baby! Because, after all, a person couldn’t possibly be tiny. No, must be a friggin alien hiding in your womb. Worse even than this dishonesty, access is blocked to pro-life organizations. Access is blocked to other information, or any true information for that matter. Ever wonder why there are so few pregnancy shelters for women who are struggling? Funds are blocked! And for what? So that women can have a choice. Really? Really? You take away our women’s shelters, you don’t provide help to struggling families, you make it clear that you will fire us if we become pregnant, and mothers everywhere are treated to derision and disrespect. How the hell is that a real choice??? That young man DID HIS DAMNDEST to block access of 2 women to counselors, simply because they were pro-life. He shouted. He intimidated. He harassed. We prayed. WE counseled.
  4. Another observation, especially after speaking with post-abortive women, is that that “clinic” that cathedral of Satan, is there to kill a child, and nothing more. The doctor is cold, methodical, and does not care about the women after its done. They have had numerous botched abortions, just like any other clinic, they do not sterilize well, and they certainly do not provide sufficient medical help after the abortion. According to one post-abortive woman who I read about, she was not even offered a ride home, EVEN AFTER SHE BEGGED. There is no mention of psychological help after abortion, there is no real counseling. The “counseling” consists of getting this or that woman to believe its her only ‘choice”. After they have your money, and have done the procedure, its done. They know that they aren’t really a hospital, so why bother with healing?
  5. Finally, I notice that the women who do change their minds have a smile on their face. Its a nervous one, a shell-shocked one, but its a genuine one as well. It isn’t merely a stretching of the muscles and skin- there is light again behind the eyes. The women who go in, who don’t change their minds, walk in with no hope, just despair, anger, and sometimes hatred. And they come out even more defeated, exhausted, despairing, ach ing. And there is not a single “pro-choice” organization that helps them after.

Its ridiculous, sad, and horrifying. The majority of these women do not want abortions, but instead are coerced by family, friends, schools, and societies, not to mention doctors! The vast majority of these women think that this is their only choice! And its no wonder! Its what we’ve been told.

But here’s the thing, and I hear it all the time- ” But there aren’t enough women’s shelters. You guys only care about the baby not being aborted. Why don’t you do more?”

Let me tell you-

We are doing all that our little minority can! Yes, there are hundreds of millions of problems we need to deal with so get off your ass and actually help, damnit! Seriously! You want to cite the wreck that is the adoption system as why we “need” abortion? And then you want to tell me that you wish abortions would go down? Start writing letters, protesting, doing everything you can to reform that system!! You want to cite that pregnant women can’t get ahead in the work force, that we’ll all just be fired? Get up off your arse and change the law! If it used to be that women couldn’t hold jobs, and now we can what the hell is stopping us for lobbying for the rights of woman at all her stages of life??? You want to cite any number of other issues that you think make us need abortion?

Here’s a novel idea! Quit whining. Get informed. Get off your arse. AND HELP US OUT FOR GOD’S SAKE!
We’re doing all that we can, but until everyone gets up and does something there is only so much we can humanly do!!!

MEN- step up and be a man! You played an adult game, now you have adult consequences. Be a father!

Women- start listening to your heart, and to hell with everyone else!

Parents: Don’t you dare disown your daughter because of this. Make it clear that she is your daughter, whatever she does, and that every family member is loved! That includes the fetus, which is LATIN FOR BABY!!

Churches: Catholic or Protestant, I’m seeing some disturbing trends. Stop pussyfooting over “controversial”, stop being such cowards, get out there, proclaim the truth, AND SUPPORT SINGLE PARENTS OR HELL, EVEN REGULAR FAMILIES!!

most of all: churches, priests, pastors- don’t waffle on the truth, but don’t waffle on the merciful part of truth either.

And for everyone- quitcherbitchin and actually do something. That includes you, Mr. I-think-a-radio-has-the-power-to-drown-out-prayers.

Again… you think our God can’t hear us because of a radio?

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