The Morning After

I came across this story from someone who took years to realize that the morning-after pill was something to take to the confessional.

I have my own story about the morning-after pill.  It's the reason I say that I broke all 10 commandments before age 25.

I was 19, a college sophomore, and had begun a non-romantic, yet still sexual, relationship with an older guy.  He didn't know I was a virgin, or that it was my first time.  I didn't know what I was getting into, but I was actually proud of myself for losing the V-card before I turned 20.  10 days before, to be exact.

I guess it was part of the college rebellion, shedding the strict upbringing of my parents.  Sex was never really explained or described to me, just mentioned in the same breath as "neverdoituntilyouremarried" every single time it was mentioned.  I knew that it needed to be "safe" for more than one reason, pregnancy prevention being one of them.  The female body was somewhat abhorred in our house growing up.  Not to be too TMI, but just to explain how extensive this attitude was... I never even told my mom the first time I got my period.  It was something to be ashamed of, something to never speak of, even to your mom.  I was 12.  I had to walk to the drug store, buy things with my own money, and deal with it.  Oddly enough, my first thought was that if I were to get raped, I could become pregnant.  It felt like the end of my childhood.    

When I went to college, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too.  I attended church and enjoyed hearing about how God was good and that God was love.  It was a breath of fresh air from my Calvinistic childhood, and the pendulum swung to the charismatics for a while.  At the same time, I was also discovering the beauty and reverence of the liturgy in a high church Protestant setting.  All of this was in the context of a secular, private college.  I didn't want to be one of those people, so I also partied each weekend while attending church most Sundays.  In some senses, we were safer than most college-aged partiers.  We could drink on campus, and my friends and I looked out for each other.  In other senses, I was playing with fire and playing Russian roulette with my fertility, my sexuality, my life, my so-called freedom.

Everything's fun and games until the condom breaks.

I assured my not-boyfriend that I would "take care of it."  I went to Planned Barrenhood Parenthood the next day and got emergency contraception.  It consisted of two pills, taken a specific number of hours apart and within a certain window of time from the sexual act.  I remember my hands shaking as I washed down the pill with a water bottle at a gas station.  Then, I promptly put it all out of my mind and went on with life.  I felt a deep sense of shame walking into Planned Parenthood.  I was a scholarship recipient.  I knew better.  I got good grades and worked my way through college.  But, nonetheless, I felt I had no other choice.  I never told anyone, just the not-boyfriend that it had been "taken care of."

A few years later, when a similar situation happened with a different guy, it was that much easier to get emergency contraception again.  This time, the shaking and shame weren't really there.  I also began to go to Planned Parenthood to get discounted birth control.  I remember wearing the scuzziest clothes I had, including a hoodie.  I didn't want to be spotted walking in and out of there. Yet, I still felt I had no other choice.

At the time, I had bought all the propaganda, hook-line-and-sinker.  I told several friends that no one was really pro-abortion, just pro-choice - where else would desperate women go?  I also extolled Planned Parenthood for offering pre-natal care and birth control.  I convinced one friend to be "pro-choice" based on these arguments.  I convinced another to stop using condoms and take the pill.  I didn't discuss with either of them that I had used emergency contraception, just that women needed to have these options.

I have taken the birth control pill a few times off and on.  Once for a year after college.  At other times, it was prescribed by my doctor to prevent acne.  By the end of my twenties, I had learned that it was a carcinogenic.  It was that fact, not the abortifacient properties, that really made me want to stop taking it.

Finally, by the grace of God, I not only became Catholic, but I stopped the sexual sins a few years later and had sort of a re-conversion.  Unlike the lady in the article linked above, I immediately thought of the times I took emergency contraception and confessed them, along with the birth control usage, along with the sexual activity driving the use of those drugs.  I knew it was wrong when I did it. With confession, I was finally free.

I'm not sure if those pills ever prevented a fertilized egg from implanting.  I guess I will find out in heaven.  I do know that I deeply regret it.  The intention to take a life (if it existed or not) was why I took those pills.  That, my friend, is a mortal sin.  I deeply regret the rebellion of my youth.  For as difficult and uncomfortable as my parents were with "the talk," they were right about trying to tell me not to have sex until marriage.

I've tried the world's ways.  I lived the Sex and the City lifestyle for the majority of my twenties.  I also tried the Protestant ways.  While the conclusions of Protestants are often similar to Catholics on moral teaching, the view of the human person is vastly different.  I found more in common with secular humanists and with reformed Calvinists than one would think at first glance.  You see, in both cases, the body is unimportant.  To the secular humanist, the body is meaningless, you assign the meaning.  And usually, pleasure wins out.  To the Calvinist, the body is the source of sin and shame, the home of your totally depraved self.  They forget that if we are truly people of the resurrection, we must not forget the body.  It was not until I discovered the Catholic teaching, especially Theology of the Body, and initially as explained by Christopher West, that I realized my body was good.  So good, in fact, that it deserved even more dignity, respect, and honor.  Our sexuality was a gift, not a taboo, or a no-no.  Not something to be taken for granted or toyed with.  Something to honor.  I was not a soul living in a body, I was an embodied soul.

Even now, 9 years after becoming Catholic, and a few years into my deeper re-conversion, I am still learning so much more about this topic.  I am married and practice NFP now.  I also still ponder the mystery of the body and of our sexuality.  With the attacks in our culture on the body, on marriage, on sexuality through every imaginable vice, I really think these teachings are key to understanding the human person and therefore, to understanding God.

I still don't know the role I'm supposed to play in this, but I know that I am called to pray.  There is a better way.  You don't have to repress your sexuality.  It is a gift.  However, you don't have to indulge in it to the point of addiction and hedonism.  It has to be understood in context.  There's a better way.

7QT: Seven Quick Takes (Volume X)

I'm linking up with This Ain't the Lyceum to bring you seven quick takes from my world this week.

~1~

Why are all my favorite bloggers moving to podcasts now?!!  So annoying!  I love podcasts, and I listen to them daily on my commute and when I'm doing tasks or errands, but I prefer blogs.  I can read them at work and refer back to them much more easily.  I always seem to be one step behind.  Once I resign myself to losing my favorite bloggers to podcasts, everyone will start doing something else.

~2~

God gives us grace for today, not for hypothetical, worrisome situations in the future.  I have to remember this.  Especially as I consider how my current life circumstances are not conducive to what I think I want in the future - children.  One step at a time.  We must deal with what is.    

~3~

After a lifetime of almost no dental problems and nary a cavity, I now have multiple cavities and have to either get a bridge or an implant for one tooth.  I don't know what happened in the last 6 months (aside from getting married), but I'm falling apart now.  It's expensive and frustrating.  Getting old ain't for sissies.    

~4~

I recently discovered the work of Deacon James Keating.  This discovery, combined with the work of Father Timothy Gallagher on discernment has really, really helped me with a lifelong problem that I didn't even know I had.  Did you know that the mean voice in your head that condemns you, blames you, hates you, attacks you, and generally makes you feel like crap is not from God?  Maybe everyone knew this but me, or maybe not everyone has that "voice" as a constant companion.  I just have gotten so used to that voice over the years that I basically heard it as my own.  You know, the "taped messages" you replay to yourself?  Part of the negativity and hatred came from my parents and the way they talked to us, taught us to treat ourselves, their view of God as judgmental, and their view of humanity as totally depraved.  Gradually, I have been able to weed out their voice in some respects, but my own voice to myself was not much better.  I didn't realize that God is not the one who condemns you or hates you.  I confused my desire for more holiness, my desire to be better and to do better with a mean voice in my head that reminded me of how far I had to go.  But, you must question your thoughts - even the thoughts which come in the first person.  If they discourage you, condemn you, remind you of your mistakes in a way that is not helpful, they are not of God.  It's that simple.  Again, maybe everyone knew this but me.  I could have told you that the Holy Spirit doesn't condemn, that "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus," (Romans 8:1) or that the devil is referred to as the accuser of the brethren, but at the same time, I put up with this voice as a constant companion, thinking it was God.  In moments of despair or panic, this voice screams the loudest.  It's part of my hardware.  But now, I can't explain the relief I have found from recognizing that it is not of God and dismissing it summarily.  There is freedom, clarity, and peace in my mind that is totally brand new.  

Fr. Gallagher explains that when one is moving from sin to holiness, God will "prick" you by convicting you of your sins (not condemning you).  Once you are on a path of holiness, but trying to do better, it's not God, but the devil who "pricks" you, reminding you of your mistakes, telling you that you'll never succeed, and generally discouraging you.  One has to discern which stage on the journey they are in, and know whether or not you're listening to the voice of your best friend or your worst enemy.  Deacon Keating explains that the accuser often comes in the form of a "You are..." statement, such as "You are such a loser, you can't do anything right," or "You are such a hypocrite, who do you think you are?"  Whereas God often comes in the form of an "I am" statement, such as "I am the God who heals you," or "I am love, I will never stop loving you."  You can find the work of both Deacon Keating and Father Gallagher at Discerning Hearts, or from other sources by doing a simple internet search.  That is my brief summary of what has been a major breakthrough for me.      

~5~

Speaking of such things, I have really gotten into the writings and story of Joseph Sciambra.  I am fascinated by conversion (or reversion) stories.  Joseph was raised nominally Catholic and gradually slipped into a deviant lifestyle in the gay community, getting deeper and deeper.  He writes from a perspective now of a man redeemed and living out the call to chastity.  Pray for him, for others like him, and for those who could be reached by his story for their own conversion.  Our world needs more people who are this brave. 

I think part of the reason I am drawn to Joseph is that Theology of the Body was a life-changer for me.  I have yet to explore the depths of TOB, but I feel like it is an encompassing truth which explains our fundamental nature and destiny in light of natural law and gospel truth.  (I write a little bit about my encounter with Theology of the Body and Natural Family Planning here.  I also touch on it in my conversion story, which is in four parts here: I, II, III, IV.)  

Joseph also reminds us that the demonic is at work in the sexual perversions of our world.  We are so accustomed to it that I think many of us open ourselves to spiritual oppression by accepting or acting upon these base desires.  You turn on the TV, and jokes about porn and masturbation abound.  They are treated as normal behaviors.  Gay couples are depicted on TV as if they are about half of the population (not the 3-5% estimated by sociologists).  Not to mention that promiscuity, fornication, and the like, are just seen as normal.  I am guilty of all of this.  I swallowed this mindset hook, line, and sinker when I left home for college.  I was indoctrinated by the Sex and the City lifestyle throughout college, and fell into deep sin for the majority of my twenties, despite being raised in a Christian home.  

All that to say, considering the high percentage of persons involved in pornography (by consumption alone), both gay and straight, and those involved in sexual sin, both gay and straight, our world is in the devil's hand, doing whatever he wants.  This isn't something insignificant or to be taken lightly.  This isn't just another sin, this is a sin of the body, which is crucial to our being - eternal and temporal.  Our bodies proclaim the gospel.  Our bodies are not just something we are "stuck" in, housing our "real" selves.  Our bodies are the embodiment of our souls.  (I have to respectfully disagree with C.S. Lewis on the point, "You do not have a soul.  You are a soul, you have a body."  No - we are an embodied-soul or an en-soul-ed-body, you cannot separate the two.  A soul without a body is a ghost.  A body without a soul is a zombie.  We will have bodies in eternity.  We believe in a resurrection of the body.  I want to write more on the connection between near-gnosticism by some Protestants and liberal humanism, both believing the body is unimportant.)  I digress.  All this to say that Joseph's story has reminded me that "we wrestle not with flesh and blood." (Ephesians 6:12)  Also, we can pretty much draw a line in the sand - that which is not life, and life more abundantly is not of God.  Satan comes to steal, kill, and destroy.  (John 10:10)  It's very black and white.  I am trying to be more vigilant in this and realize that you can't dabble in or mess around with this stuff.  We have to stay pure, go to confession, receive the sacraments, and fight this war.  

~6~

Tomorrow (God willing), marks the last day of a lay catechist training program I've been taking through our diocese.  It consists of three semesters of work, over 90 hours of instruction and 3 days of reflection.  I felt like, as a convert, I had a somewhat limited understanding of the faith.  I had done lots of reading when I converted 9 years ago.  I continued to read theology, but RCIA was a long time ago.  I felt extremely knowledgeable in some areas of Catholicism (specifically about areas of apologetics that differed from Protestantism), and I felt extremely ignorant about other areas of Catholicism.  I wanted to fill in the gaps.  While it was difficult to give up so many Saturdays over the last year and a half, I'm happy to be almost done.  I have learned a lot, and I'm considering getting a Master's in Theology.  It's one of the only things that interests me anymore - our Catholic faith, that is.  

~7~

Like I say every time I do this post, seven sure seems like a lot of "quick" takes.  I have over 10 drafts of blog posts, 451 notes to myself on my iphone, and 16 email drafts to myself of blog ideas.  I want to explore all of these thoughts further (and I did blog a little more than usual this week), however, when it comes to writing seven things down, I seem to be at a loss every time.  

May the peace of Christ live always in your hearts.  

My Conversion Story: Part III

About 6 years into my Catholicism, not much had changed.  Yes, I had deeper and deeper knowledge and inner conviction of the faith, based mostly on theological, biblical, and doctrinal issues.  But my heart was as hard as ever.  I continued to commit mortal sins without confession.  Outwardly, I was a "good Christian girl," and yet inwardly, I was in rebellion, I was stagnating, I was making no progress.  I remember being so irritated at the change of the Latin translation that took effect in 2011 that I thought about becoming Episcopalian.  I had so many gay friends that I didn't know how I could be in a Church that didn't "support" them.  I felt like conservative Catholics were taking away my Church and splitting hairs.  Basically, I was using a small issue [the new Latin translation] to be an "excuse" for my greater discomfort.  The discomfort came from my sin, not from anything else.  I didn't understand the Church's true teachings on sexuality.  I figured, I wasn't able to live up to them, why would I tell my gay friends that they had to live up to them?

In the meantime, my life was falling apart a little bit.  I had a series of losses in my life.  Within the span of 15 months, 5 people in my life had died.  2 were elderly, after long illnesses, but 1 was not.  It was a horrible, surprising death.  Way too young.  And the remaining 2 deaths were murders of a couple - and to make things worse, I knew the murderer.  It rocked me to my core.  I wasn't that close to the murdered couple, but I knew them well enough to have been a small part of their lives.  We saw each other weekly at church, occasionally shared a meal afterwards, attended a Bible study together at one point, and were friends to the extent that we exchanged cards and gifts at special holidays and prayed for one another's families.  While I was mad at the Church for being so conservative, their deaths really forced me into a little better place, morally speaking.  I call it "white knuckled sobriety."  I refrained from several of my serious sins after their death, not because I had gone to confession or had a true change of heart, but because I was scared of hell.  I knew I shouldn't be doing those things in the first place, and I was reminded that death could happen at anytime, to any of us.  In the midst of all this death, my brother was going through a divorce, the only divorce on one side of our family for generations.  It was hard on all of us.  My sister was getting married amidst major drama and disapproval from my parents.  And, at work, I was being sexually harassed.  Needless to say, it was a stressful time.  As a result, I developed insomnia for the first time in my life.  I know it's silly, but I would have nightmares about the murder of my friends.  Their home was constructed in a way that was very similar to my home.  I would see their dead bodies in my home in my mind's eye, as if it had happened there.  I would sleep for a few hours at a time, then wake up with a racing heart beat and a racing mind.  I would be sick to my stomach.  I would have major anxiety about what the next day held at work with my harasser.  It was awful.

During the insomniac phase, I had a habit of listening to Catholic radio or Catholic podcasts to pass the time.  I would leave the lights off, close my eyes, and rest, but not sleep.  I figured, at least these radio shows or podcasts wouldn't disturb me further.  And, falling asleep to them, if I did sleep, would put something good in my mind for a change.

One night, I was doing just that.  I was listening to Catholic Answers, and the guest was Rosalind Moss (before she became Mother Miriam of the Lamb of God).  The caller was asking something about whether or not she should be single or married, and how to know God's will.  Sister Rosalind's answer was basically that, no matter what vocation we are called to, we are called to give our lives away completely.  To live as selflessly as possible.  That might mean being a wife and a mother.  That might mean joining a religious order or consecrating one's singleness to God.  It didn't really matter which vocation it was, it was how we lived it.  There was something about the way she said it, and what she said, that caused me to sit up in bed.  In the middle of the night, with the lights off, in the middle of my insomnia and insanity, I started to cry.  I cried tears of mourning.  It's as if I realized in that one instance that I had been totally selfish with my life.  I had used my intellect and drive to collect everything I could for myself, to make my life as comfortable as possible, and to "achieve" in the worldly sense.  I had pursued worldly pleasures with an outward guise of religiosity, but no real devotion to God.  I took for granted that these were my choices to make, my life to live.  That caller and Rosalind's answer brought me back to the Catholic Church.  I hadn't really left, at least physically, but my heart was far from God.

Still, it took a few months to get me into the confessional.  I had such a nagging sense that I needed to go to confession.  I went once, when converting to Catholicism, at age 25.  From then on, I would go to the community penance services at Advent and/or Lent, but I never went to individual confession.  I really wanted to go behind a screen, and I really wanted to go to a priest who didn't know me.  I was scared of those things.  But, I also really didn't want to change my life, and I used all of these as an excuse not to go.

One day at work, not long after hearing this radio show with Rosalind Moss, I went to a lecture about academic honesty.  Keep in mind, this was in the midst of my "white knuckled sobriety" phase (refraining from serious sin, simply out of sheer will power, not due to grace).  The lecture stated that by simply posting things like the 10 commandments in public places, people behave better.  They are reminded of greater principles and what is right and wrong.  Even if they don't know the 10 commandments, by displaying them (or something similar, such as a list of rules), students cheat less.  Part of the lecture involved an exercise in which we were asked to list as many of the 10 commandments as we could.  I remember entering into a discussion with my Protestant co-worker about how Catholics and Protestants divide the 10 commandments differently (and NO, it's not because Catholics want to have permission to worship idols).  Somehow, I kept that piece of paper with the 10 commandments on it.  Over the next several weeks, I kept looking at it, thinking with regret that I had broken all 10.  That piece of paper gradually became my first, true examination of conscience.  And yes, I had broken all 10.  I had taken birth control pills for a few years, not knowing their abortifacient properties.  Not only that, but I had taken the "morning after pill" several times, knowing that it would "prevent" a possible pregnancy.  I could have been responsible for the deaths of several conceived babies, who never had the chance to be implanted or born.  God only knows.

Thanks be to God, I finally sought out a priest who would hear my confession behind a screen - a priest I didn't know.  I took a modified version of that list of the 10 commandments and explained to him how I had broken each and every one.  I explained that it was my first confession in 6 years.  Speaking the things aloud that I had done brought me to tears.  The jig was up.  Despite outward appearances, I was ultimately a proud, selfish, sinful person.  His gentle voice told me that I could always begin again, that God was delighted in this, and that it was the perfect time (Advent) to prepare anew for the Savior.  And, with his words of absolution, I was finally set free.

See parts I, II, and IV of My Conversion Story.

My Conversion Story: Part II

Perhaps it's odd to those who were raised in more moderate households, but I didn't tell my family of my conversion to Catholicism.  I remember feeling a false guilt as I entered a Catholic church each week for RCIA - "if they could only see me now," I would think.   God bless my parents, but I knew they would stop at nothing to keep me from converting.  Nothing.  This includes kidnapping, taking away my car (which was a gift from them), barring me in my apartment in order to prevent me from attending my own confirmation, and possibly causing a huge scene if they were to attend the confirmation.  I'm not exaggerating.  I know this because I saw what they did to another beloved family member who wanted to become Catholic.  They sat her down for hours and had a one-sided lecture.  They traveled across the country to intercept her unexpectedly and confront her again.  They harassed her with letters upon letters.  They berated her, called her character into question, involved the Protestant leadership at her church.  They firmly believed she had "never really been a Christian" and that she was deceived.  She was dragging her family to hell and must be stopped.  So, based on their past reaction to a family member more distant to them than me, their own daughter, I opted not to tell them.

The experience of my first confession was something I will never forget.  I was scared to death.  I had a concert to play really quickly after the penance service.  My RCIA director was there, noting who did and who did not participate in their first penance.  Intellectually, I was convinced of the necessity of this sacrament by this time.  (Thanks in large part to Leonard Foley's book Believing in Jesus).  I understood it as making amends for our sins, which affected the whole church.  Therefore, we must "apologize" to the whole church.  This is close to actual Catholic teaching on Reconciliation, but it doesn't fully grasp all that it is meant to be.  Frankly, I loved the concept, but I didn't want to tell a stranger all that I had done, especially not to his face.  I really wouldn't have done it if it weren't required as part of being confirmed.  The devil really tried to keep this from happening in so many ways.  One was that the line was moving quite slowly, and I had to play at a concert in a short time after.  I was going to be late if I didn't ask to cut in front of some people.  Graciously, they let me go ahead.  The priest was really surprised when I said, "This is my first confession."  At one point, when he said a prayer (of absolution, I'm guessing), he held his hands out to pray.  Quickly, I grabbed them, and held his hands as he prayed.  I know now that holding hands with the priest during confession isn't exactly correct form, but he was so kind.  I was so shocked that "that was it."  I had just dumped 25 years of sins on this man, and all I had to do was say a few prayers.  The mercy was overwhelming.  I left for the concert.  I remember wondering if I looked different.  I certainly felt different.  That night, I slept better than I have slept in my whole life - before or since.  I had a feeling of lightness, a feeling of true freedom and God's love.  It was so foreign.  I did quickly lose that feeling again, after getting back into sin, but the experience was so real that I will never forget it.  

After I was confirmed, I still retained many of my other more liberal beliefs.  And by retaining them, I was, in essence, a "cafeteria Catholic."  I justified this to myself by thinking things like, "God knows my heart," "I'll never be perfect," "I believe the essentials."  And also, I didn't really know ONE Catholic my age who practiced the faith in areas of sexual abstinence, refraining from being drunk, etc.  Despite my intellectual conversion and belief in the Real Presence, I still had this one prejudice and bias against Catholics.  It was, "No one really follows Catholic beliefs anyway.  Why should I?"  Oddly enough, it took me years to recognize the flaw in this reasoning, or to even realize it was there.  I did get to know many, faithful, wonderful Catholics who strove to follow Church teaching.  Many of them were much older than myself, but gradually, I saw that many do follow Church teaching.  It was I who didn't.  And, besides, that which makes a teaching true is not "how many people follow this teaching," but, "is this true or not."  I had professed and agreed to following Christ and His Church, yet I still rebelled.  

See parts I, III, and IV of My Conversion Story.