Author Archives: Topaz

About Topaz

I'm a college teacher, writer, and faithful Catholic. I do my best to juggle all of these while dealing with my mental illness -- a constant thorn in my flesh.

My Friend of Misery

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I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting, and dirty.

— Pope Francis

I made a new friend at work. I’ll say her name is Sheila. It’s a wonder that we found each other. You see, Sheila suffers from depression and suicidal ideation just like I do. We didn’t know this when we started chatting daily and visiting each other’s classrooms.

Sheila seemed meek and shy. I could tell right away that she was introverted almost to the point of misanthropy.

After talking casually for several weeks, she started confiding in me. “I have a drinking problem.” “I suffer from depression.”

I also started opening up with her. It turns out that we both have spent time in psych wards for suicide attempts and depression.

Sheila and I are at the point to where we share everything with each other — because we have each other’s trust.

Today we were on the topic of suicide. We were discussing how different methods wouldn’t totally work. A bullet to the head might turn one into a vegetable instead of being fatal. How swallowing Drano could only burn your insides and not kill you. How pills don’t work (because we have both tried them).

Then our conversation took an eerie turn. Could we go to the Netherlands and take the euthanasia drug? Surely not. They wouldn’t give it out for healthy people’s suicides. What about Oregon? Nope. same thing.

Then Sheila said something that — well, I should have been shocked or red flags should have gone up, but they didn’t.

Sheila said, “As soon as my two cats die, I’m checking out.” Then she made a cutting motion across her throat with her index finger.

All I said was, “How?”

“I’ve been researching about hiring someone to kill me. Either that or jumping off a bridge into traffic.”

The thing is, I did nothing to persuade her from those plans. I didn’t step in like a friend should. I didn’t report her to 911.

Instead I empathized with her and told her I felt the same way. I even asked her if she would someday fly to Amsterdam with me so we could take the euthanasia pill together.

I know that I failed as a Christian. I know that I still have a shot at persuading her to live though.

But what about my agreeing with her? That certainly isn’t the Christian thing to do.

Oh, and Sheila is an alcoholic. She drinks wine at work out of her coffee tumbler. On Fridays we go out for lunch and we both slam beers.

I have the time of my life with Sheila — in a totally platonic way. But at the same time I am starting to believe that God put me in Sheila’s life to help her. And helping her I’m not.

Could you pray for me? Could you also pray for Sheila? Her parents have passed away, she doesn’t communicate with her siblings, and she has no real friends except for me. She has no one to live for.

Right now we are partners in misery yet we both are the only ones who can make each other laugh. It’s a tough situation because I love our friendship.

But at this point I guess I don’t love her enough to reach out to her as a Christian.  The scary thing is, I don’t want it to ruin the fun we have.

The suicidal downward spiral feels like a water park slide: looping down and around until we go crashing into the water, all the while laughing and giggling like two kids under the summer sun.

Except we’re under storm clouds and I’m doing nothing about it. I want to feel ashamed of myself but for some reason I don’t. You have every right to judge me, but at this time I just ask for your prayers. That I can be a man of God and help this poor woman.

~t

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Living Our Lives For Christ

What makes a person happy? What makes life worth living?

Is it money? Fame? Popularity? Career success?

We all know the answer: not at all. There is only one thing – or one person, to be more exact – that can make us happy, and that’s Our Lord Jesus Christ.

This is the only way to understand what the women described below decided to do. Even with worldly success, they gave it all up to follow Christ in a more focused way in the religious life.

Of course, you can follow Jesus without joining a religious order. Some of us are called to go into business, to work in the entertainment industry, to have families, etc. But some are called to the radical religious life – and they remind us of what’s really the most important.

 

olalla

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Olalla as a nun

Olalla Oliveros was a successful Spanish model, starring in movies and advertisements throughout the country and the world.

Then she visited Fatima, Portugal, the site of the famous Marian apparition to three children there in 1917, and had what she later described as an “earthquake experience.” She says she received in her mind the image of herself dressed as a nun, something she said she initially found absurd.

But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. She eventually concluded that Jesus was calling her to give up her glamorous life and become a nun.

“The Lord is never wrong,” she said. “He asked if I will follow him, and I could not refuse.”

She is now a member of the semi-cloistered Order of Saint Michael.

 

 

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Amada Rosa Pérez was one of Colombia’s most successful models before she disappeared from the public eye. Then years later, she re-emerged to explain her absence: she had had a religious conversion and was working with a Marian religious community (though she had not become a nun).

At the height of her career, she was diagnosed with a disease that made her lose part of her hearing. The diagnosis led her to question her lifestyle:

“I felt disappointed, unsatisfied, directionless, submerged in fleeting pleasures… I always sought answers and the world never gave them to me.”

Now, she regularly goes to Mass, goes to confession, prays the rosary, and prays the Divine Mercy Chaplet.

“Before I was always in a hurry, stressed out, and got upset easily. Now I live in peace, the world doesn’t appeal to me, I enjoy every moment the Lord gives me.”

She also has re-evaluated what it really means to be a “model”:

“Being a model means being a benchmark, someone whose beliefs are worthy of being imitated, and I grew tired of being a model of superficiality. I grew tired of a world of lies, appearances, falsity, hypocrisy and deception, a society full of anti-values that exalts violence, adultery, drugs, alcohol, fighting, and a world that exalts riches, pleasure, sexual immorality and fraud.

“I want to be a model that promotes the true dignity of women and not their being used for commercial purposes.”

These wonderful ladies ought to be an inspiration for the rest of us. No, you don’t have to become a nun or a priest to follow Christ to the best of your ability. All you need is a heart for God and He will do the rest, blessing you along the way and growing you into the man or woman that He envisions you to be.

We all have the same potential, so let’s strive to live a life of faith through action. If you indeed take that step, God will bless you beyond comprehension.

~t

(via ChurchPOP)

 


And There Was War in Heaven

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Do not let your hearts be troubled Trust god and also trust in me for my yoke is So I say to you BLEEDING ask and it shall be THE given to you Seek and you will DEAD find Knock and the RAPE door will be opened for you GIRL This is my body Do this in MARDUK remembrance of me This is my INQUISITION blood Do this in remembrance HE’S NOT HERE of me. Therefore I tell you INVERTED whatever you ask for in prayer Believe that CROSS you have received it IT’S PETER and it will be yours NO IT’S BEELZEBUB Seek first his kingdom and his RAPE righteousness and all THE these things will be BLEEDING given to you as well DEAD Whoever drinks the GIRL water that I give F**KED them will never WITH thirst I am the way A the truth and the KNIFE life No one comes to MARDUK the father INQUISITION except through me YOU WORTHLESS Love the lord your god PATHETIC LITTLE with all your heart F*CK and with all your soul and with all your mind YOU’RE MINE Hail mary – – – –  – –  —

 

~t


Rainbows & Unicorns: The Formula for Perfect Blog Posts

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No, I haven’t lost my mind.

I came across this Bible passage on someone else’s blog recently:

Let us not become weary in doing good,

for at the proper time we will reap a harvest

if we do not give up.  (Galatians 6:9)

It is an incredibly inspiring verse, enough so that it made me meditate on each word and phrase — something I rarely do these days.

Then I started thinking: What a fine blog post this would make. Throw in a nice, warm piece of Scripture, add some inspiring words (maybe from my therapist), and, presto, a blog post is born.

Not to make light of Sacred Scripture or anything, but, to me, there’s definitely more to it than that. People can express themselves in any way that they see fit. I’ve noticed that my posts tend to hover around the darkish portions of life, completely negating the original intent of my blog which is to inspire and prayerfully help others grow closer to God.

Why do you hover and brood over dark things, Topaz? Well, because that’s life. That’s all. A lot of things complicate my life and I suppose they make me who I am and make me write about what I do.

Heck, I started this blog post to discuss how banal so many blogs out there are. A lot of them are like Facebook updates or sprinkled with memes that wreak of generic spirituality and inspiration.

I guess another reason I’ve decided to write this is because today is my oldest son’s birthday (and I’m relieved to say that he’s still in elementary school — they grow up so fast). I wanted to be a tad bit encouraging in honor of him.

I’m not particularly depressed right now. However, my buspirone and trifluoperazine are making me pretty dang sleepy. I was about to collapse on my bed after getting home from work until my wife told me to do something fun. I guess writing blog posts is considered fun. (Like most things, I find writing hard to do, like a chore that I need to get done but I keep putting it off.)

So, hopefully, the Scripture will inspire you and that you’ll have a good day.

I can honestly say that at this moment I’m glad to be alive.

~t

 


Trapped Under Ice

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I read this last night during my private devotional. It’s Psalm 8: 5.

What are humans that you are mindful of them,

mere mortals that you care for them?

Somehow, though, I wasn’t able to fathom how much God loves me and how he cares about me as I’m just a speck in the universe. I try to grasp these concepts with my finite mind, but I just can’t seem to.

I have been suicidal for the past two days. I don’t know if it’s from my new meds or if it’s from job stress. I mean, I look around at all that I have — a loving family, a good job, a nice place to live — and it does nothing to me. I don’t feel any differently.

I know that I’m supposed to take heart and believe in the Gospel, but it’s just too darn hard when I don’t see it. Where is God in all this? Why doesn’t He help me?

All I’m left with are my thoughts. Thoughts that wander throughout my empty head and through the empty life that I’m feeling.

I guess what I mean is that God exists; I just don’t see or feel His presence anywhere.

It sucks, really.

~t


The Mother of All Suicide Attempts

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On January 3rd of this year, I received Last Rites from a Catholic priest while I was on a ventilator in the hospital.

I’m still alive though.

My sister told me that I was unconscious for almost a full day, but while the priest was performing the rite, I woke up. She said the thought of that whole scenario really freaked her out. She is an unbeliever, but who knows for how long. Personally I don’t think it was mere coincidence either that I awoke as the priest was performing Last Rites on me. I remember opening my eyes, but I couldn’t talk due to the giant tube down my throat. I thought maybe he, the doctor, and the nurse knew something that I didn’t. Was I about to die?

Waking up, I remember being disappointed to know that my suicide attempt was unsuccessful. Perhaps the end that I so desperately wanted was still to come.

Last Rites (not what it’s called anymore) consists of prayers, consecration of oil, and the other two steps that I obviously couldn’t take part in: confession and receiving communion.

Why and how did I end up here? Well, I remember being depressed about a lot of things; I was home alone. I thought it would be a good idea to end it all by swallowing three bottles of prescription pills and then sitting in my idling car with the garage door down, sucking in the carbon monoxide.

The next thing I remember was waking up with the priest praying over me and putting oil on my forehead.

After I got out of the main hospital and then the mental health facility, my therapist asked me if I saw a bright light (i.e. near death experience). I told her that I had not. At least I didn’t recall anything like that.

Anyway, I just wanted to let everyone know what I’ve been going through. I can’t preach at you since I’m guilty of attempting recently. Obviously God doesn’t want me to die yet. I think I’ve finally learned my lesson and won’t attempt anymore.

I think.

If you’re thinking about killing yourself, just remember that success is never guaranteed. You might wake up in pain with doctor and hospital bills coming out the nose. It’s not worth it.

Reach out to a friend, a family member, or even a suicide hotline.

~t

 


Back to the Psych Ward

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I checked myself into a hospital last week. My suicidal ideation was just getting too bad. I found myself touching the blade on a pocket knife to see if it was sharp enough.

That scared me enough to go back into a psych ward. Although they are virtually prisons, I knew it was the right decision.

I forgot just how bad and claustrophobic the units are. When they took me inside my unit, all I saw was a tiny day room with locked hallways where people slept.

The only good thing is that it didn’t reek of urine. I had a panic attack and began crying for them to release me right then and there. The head nurse had to take me into a private room and calm me down.

After about ten minutes, I accepted the fact that I was not leaving any time soon. A single TV showed an ancient cowboy movie with the sound turned down. People were either sitting in vegetative states or they were stumbling around muttering to themselves.

This isn’t what the pamphlet showed. It never is.

A schizophrenic black guy in a Batman t-shirt came over to shake my hand and tell me not to touch his stuff. I saw nothing nearby, so I guess he meant the stuff in his room.

I eventually decided to play dominos with a guy who tried to hang himself. He said his neck still hurt. A great guy; I’m glad he didn’t succeed.

As usual, time in a psych ward is quite interesting. I couldn’t fully enjoy my stay since my anxiety was in full swing, and I was feeling claustrophobic as hell.

I was released the next day. There was no treatment or adjusting of my meds. Just turned loose.

Another thing I noticed were all the Bibles on the tables in the day room. They were turned to either Psalms or Proverbs. It reminded me of the saying:

There are no atheists in fox holes.

I am so grateful for my freedom. I cannot stress that enough.

~t