I am in a dream that I am on a pilgrimage. I don't know where I am or why I am here but I know the priest who is leading it. I cannot say how I know this information but I look around to see if he is nearby. Fr G and I have been friends for some time so I am eager to see him and I become anxious when I don't see any sign of him. There are no indicators or hints of where this pilgrimage is located.
There are quite a few people in the room but they seem oblivious to my presence. They are standing in a large group and the conversation is buzzing all around me. I feel as if I have been beamed in from somewhere else.
I wonder if I have been transported here to learn something but I really have no idea where I am or why I am here. Am I at a holy site? If so, I hope that I can work through the doubt and pain that chokes the sunlight from my soul. Is this a place that can help dispel the deep self-hatred I carry? Maybe I'm here to experience some miraculous spiritual event.
Going on a pilgrimage with a friend might be life changing. I am nervous but I want to see where I am. My curiosity is overriding my fear. I hear people talk about the difference that a pilgrimage is making in their walk of faith and how it gives meaning and purpose to their lives. I am anxious because I don't see anyone that I know. The entire room where I am standing is dark. There are candles in large sconces mounted on dark paneled walls. The flames are flickering and are making the shadows dance along the walls but nothing gives me any clue as to where I am. It looks like I am in a giant cave. I look around and notice that I am standing in a large, circular room with hallways like wings branching off in several directions like spokes on a wheel.
I want to ask someone where I am but no one is able to see me. I try to talk but no one hears me and I realize quickly that I am not visible to any of the people in the room. Maybe I am just here to observe. That's fine with me. I have had very bad experiences with pilgrimages that left my low self esteem plummeting even lower. In fact one past experience had driven me to the point where I had contemplated not even wanting to live any longer. I had concluded that maybe I shouldn't bother with pilgrimages at all. I had been verbally and emotionally torn to shreds and tossed aside to suffer alone in the darkness of the discarded. That horrible pilgrimage left me anxious and scarred in ways that hurt whenever I would try to attend any other pilgrimage. Even simple experiences were painful and it was sad to see that others seem to experience these things with little or no effort while I am always left a nervous wreck. I had met Fr G not long after that and he has been helping me find my way back from the horrible experience I had. I have grown to trust him so if I can be here to do something with him then I may be OK with this experience, whatever it is.
There are quite a few people in the room but they seem oblivious to my presence. They are standing in a large group and the conversation is buzzing all around me. I feel as if I have been beamed in from somewhere else.
I wonder if I have been transported here to learn something but I really have no idea where I am or why I am here. Am I at a holy site? If so, I hope that I can work through the doubt and pain that chokes the sunlight from my soul. Is this a place that can help dispel the deep self-hatred I carry? Maybe I'm here to experience some miraculous spiritual event.
Going on a pilgrimage with a friend might be life changing. I am nervous but I want to see where I am. My curiosity is overriding my fear. I hear people talk about the difference that a pilgrimage is making in their walk of faith and how it gives meaning and purpose to their lives. I am anxious because I don't see anyone that I know. The entire room where I am standing is dark. There are candles in large sconces mounted on dark paneled walls. The flames are flickering and are making the shadows dance along the walls but nothing gives me any clue as to where I am. It looks like I am in a giant cave. I look around and notice that I am standing in a large, circular room with hallways like wings branching off in several directions like spokes on a wheel.
I want to ask someone where I am but no one is able to see me. I try to talk but no one hears me and I realize quickly that I am not visible to any of the people in the room. Maybe I am just here to observe. That's fine with me. I have had very bad experiences with pilgrimages that left my low self esteem plummeting even lower. In fact one past experience had driven me to the point where I had contemplated not even wanting to live any longer. I had concluded that maybe I shouldn't bother with pilgrimages at all. I had been verbally and emotionally torn to shreds and tossed aside to suffer alone in the darkness of the discarded. That horrible pilgrimage left me anxious and scarred in ways that hurt whenever I would try to attend any other pilgrimage. Even simple experiences were painful and it was sad to see that others seem to experience these things with little or no effort while I am always left a nervous wreck. I had met Fr G not long after that and he has been helping me find my way back from the horrible experience I had. I have grown to trust him so if I can be here to do something with him then I may be OK with this experience, whatever it is.
To the outsider I must look rather odd as I have no visible luggage, paperwork, or anything that a person would normally take on a trip. The people around me didn't know that I was carrying a very large amount of luggage. It is all packed inside of me. The luggage I carry is very heavy, tiring, and a huge burden. I try to keep it secret.
The luggage that is packed in my mind is hard to explain to people. I have scary changes that happen in my head that make it hard for me to participate in pilgrimages, work, leisure, or relationships with others. Dragging all this bizarre luggage around inside of me just wears me down and I can't participate in things the way others can. The changes are frightening, can happen without notice, and are hard to put into words. It happens right behind my eyes and it is very confusing. I will have brief moments where things seem wonderful and I enjoy life, appreciate art and beauty, can work, and am able to help others. Then, with no warning, the beauty is ripped away like a needle being scratched across a vinyl record and it happens. Dark hands pull a heavy, inky-black curtain across my mind. Then, just behind my eyes, all becomes dark and suffocating and my senses are blanketed by its dusty, dark, oppressive weight. Life seems hopeless and all effort is difficult because the curtain weighs so much.
Thoughts need light to grow and happiness comes from sunlight. Yellow is the color of joy and happiness and there is no yellow while the curtain is pulled. There are no smiles and nothing grows. I detest the very heavy black velvet drape that falls in front of my mind and I beat up on myself because I cannot open it, move around it, or stop it. It is tiring to have it's weight pressing down on me and I walk around exhausted. I get madder and madder at myself. I feel that if I was just a little stronger, I could push it off of me and see yellow again. There is no schedule for the dark curtain. It stays closed as long as it wishes and I am helpless in its grasp. I often see a little girl named Annie trying to get out from under the curtain. She is only 6. She has short brown hair. She wears a yellow dress and white socks with black patent leather shoes. She carries a rag doll. She is a sad, abused, and unwanted little girl running around under the curtain, trying to push it upward, crying, and fighting to get out from under it. The curtain just ignores her and it stays as long as it wishes and resists all attempts to move it away from the back of my eyes. There is nothing that can change it or make it go away until the Clown comes.
Then suddenly a terrifying Clown jumps out and startles me. He laughs maniacally behind my eyes with his horrifying red mouth and white face and, without warning, rips the curtain away all at once. Then I am blinded by scorching light. It's not a pretty yellow sunshine but a glaring, burning light that blinds me to the effects I have on others. It is very much like a light that someone shines on a person they are interrogating. I hear circus music speeding up faster and faster as the clown revs up his old record player until it sounds like it's playing three times faster than normal and it repeats the same tune over and over again. It gets louder and louder and he continues his insane laughter. I become furious and will do anything to drown out the sound of the laughing clown and his insane circus music. Colors flash in time to the music and are loud and glaring. The colors themselves also seem to laugh at me. It is as if everything is coming at me at once. I want to lower the intensity but it keeps growing. My senses have went from no stimulation to total stimulation and soon I am frustrated because it won't stop. I can't sleep and I can't concentrate. If I put my hands over my ears I still hear it because it is in my head right behind my eyes. In desperation, I do things to distract myself like yelling out in anger and spending money.
Sometimes Angelina comes. She is the woman in my mind who likes to dress in provocative clothing and take over my body. She has long black hair, wears very heavy eye makeup and wears nothing but black. I won't let her to talk to my church friends. She likes to find men to keep her company and that always ends badly. No matter what I try to do Angelina will ignore me and will leave me to suffer the consequences of her evil choices when the curtain returns. I hate what she does and try to tell her to stop but she just laughs and ignores me. She thinks that entertaining men will help burn off the energy that the Clown hurls at me. She doesn't care who she hurts and refuses to clean up the mess she leaves me with when the curtain comes back. So I am left to try to figure out who I hurt or insulted, what I did, and if I can salvage relationships or if they have run away from me. Angelina does nothing but evil things and leaves me with all the guilt. When she comes she invades my body and takes over and the Clown is happy. They work together to drive me more and more insane. I am a helpless marionette and she is the puppet master. I can see her doing things but I feel powerless to control her horrible actions.
So I am on this pilgrimage and this is my luggage. I try to tell the Curtain, Annie, Angelina, and the Clown to be quiet but they are in my head and eventually they will make their presence known. As you can imagine, this doesn't work well on pilgrimages, and it's tiring trying to keep them quiet for even an hour. It doesn't take long before people notice something's wrong and they whisper and avoid me like they owe me money. Angelina hates pilgrimages unless she can come out and flirt but I don't let her. I can hold her back if the curtain is there but the Clown loves to try to make the circus music louder so I can't enjoy anything. I have to walk around during the entire pilgrimage so that I can even hear anything. People are often very afraid of me and I can almost hear, "Duck and hide! There she is and she is crazy." I begin to worry. Did they see the Curtain, Annie, the Clown, or Angelina. Who knows? I can't seem to keep them contained when I want to enjoy myself.
Why can't I see things the way others do? Why do I have to have these things behind my eyes? I am very intelligent. I am also in pain from this up and down craziness in my head. I take medicines to make the clown and curtain bother me less and it helps some but it still happens sometimes. This is a painful secret that I drag around like a large cross. Pain is tiring and chronic pain makes people angry. I am very angry. I am the unwanted and abused child who cannot find a reason to believe, locate a port in her storm, or discover a place to anchor her ragged boat. I want a reason to believe that would give me the hope I need to keep living, even if I have these crazy things that happen behind my eyes. Doesn't anyone see that I want love, peace, and acceptance? OK so maybe they don't have to deal with a dark Curtain, Annie suffocating under it, the Clown, the horrible circus music, or Angelina but I still want to be a part of a pilgrimage. Is there a place for me? The Curtain, Annie, the Clown and Angelina become angry when I do these things because they say that they are a part of me and I shouldn't be ashamed of them. They claim they want acceptance too but I am fragments that were broken on my own back with the instruments that beat me and the pain of my childhood created this jigsaw puzzle that I have become.
So I have entered this pilgrimage thinking that my friend's leadership on this journey will make me more comfortable about bringing this overwhelming luggage I have to carry on this trip. Maybe my friend can help me find my way to the places others talk about and enjoy.
The luggage that is packed in my mind is hard to explain to people. I have scary changes that happen in my head that make it hard for me to participate in pilgrimages, work, leisure, or relationships with others. Dragging all this bizarre luggage around inside of me just wears me down and I can't participate in things the way others can. The changes are frightening, can happen without notice, and are hard to put into words. It happens right behind my eyes and it is very confusing. I will have brief moments where things seem wonderful and I enjoy life, appreciate art and beauty, can work, and am able to help others. Then, with no warning, the beauty is ripped away like a needle being scratched across a vinyl record and it happens. Dark hands pull a heavy, inky-black curtain across my mind. Then, just behind my eyes, all becomes dark and suffocating and my senses are blanketed by its dusty, dark, oppressive weight. Life seems hopeless and all effort is difficult because the curtain weighs so much.
Thoughts need light to grow and happiness comes from sunlight. Yellow is the color of joy and happiness and there is no yellow while the curtain is pulled. There are no smiles and nothing grows. I detest the very heavy black velvet drape that falls in front of my mind and I beat up on myself because I cannot open it, move around it, or stop it. It is tiring to have it's weight pressing down on me and I walk around exhausted. I get madder and madder at myself. I feel that if I was just a little stronger, I could push it off of me and see yellow again. There is no schedule for the dark curtain. It stays closed as long as it wishes and I am helpless in its grasp. I often see a little girl named Annie trying to get out from under the curtain. She is only 6. She has short brown hair. She wears a yellow dress and white socks with black patent leather shoes. She carries a rag doll. She is a sad, abused, and unwanted little girl running around under the curtain, trying to push it upward, crying, and fighting to get out from under it. The curtain just ignores her and it stays as long as it wishes and resists all attempts to move it away from the back of my eyes. There is nothing that can change it or make it go away until the Clown comes.
Then suddenly a terrifying Clown jumps out and startles me. He laughs maniacally behind my eyes with his horrifying red mouth and white face and, without warning, rips the curtain away all at once. Then I am blinded by scorching light. It's not a pretty yellow sunshine but a glaring, burning light that blinds me to the effects I have on others. It is very much like a light that someone shines on a person they are interrogating. I hear circus music speeding up faster and faster as the clown revs up his old record player until it sounds like it's playing three times faster than normal and it repeats the same tune over and over again. It gets louder and louder and he continues his insane laughter. I become furious and will do anything to drown out the sound of the laughing clown and his insane circus music. Colors flash in time to the music and are loud and glaring. The colors themselves also seem to laugh at me. It is as if everything is coming at me at once. I want to lower the intensity but it keeps growing. My senses have went from no stimulation to total stimulation and soon I am frustrated because it won't stop. I can't sleep and I can't concentrate. If I put my hands over my ears I still hear it because it is in my head right behind my eyes. In desperation, I do things to distract myself like yelling out in anger and spending money.
Sometimes Angelina comes. She is the woman in my mind who likes to dress in provocative clothing and take over my body. She has long black hair, wears very heavy eye makeup and wears nothing but black. I won't let her to talk to my church friends. She likes to find men to keep her company and that always ends badly. No matter what I try to do Angelina will ignore me and will leave me to suffer the consequences of her evil choices when the curtain returns. I hate what she does and try to tell her to stop but she just laughs and ignores me. She thinks that entertaining men will help burn off the energy that the Clown hurls at me. She doesn't care who she hurts and refuses to clean up the mess she leaves me with when the curtain comes back. So I am left to try to figure out who I hurt or insulted, what I did, and if I can salvage relationships or if they have run away from me. Angelina does nothing but evil things and leaves me with all the guilt. When she comes she invades my body and takes over and the Clown is happy. They work together to drive me more and more insane. I am a helpless marionette and she is the puppet master. I can see her doing things but I feel powerless to control her horrible actions.
So I am on this pilgrimage and this is my luggage. I try to tell the Curtain, Annie, Angelina, and the Clown to be quiet but they are in my head and eventually they will make their presence known. As you can imagine, this doesn't work well on pilgrimages, and it's tiring trying to keep them quiet for even an hour. It doesn't take long before people notice something's wrong and they whisper and avoid me like they owe me money. Angelina hates pilgrimages unless she can come out and flirt but I don't let her. I can hold her back if the curtain is there but the Clown loves to try to make the circus music louder so I can't enjoy anything. I have to walk around during the entire pilgrimage so that I can even hear anything. People are often very afraid of me and I can almost hear, "Duck and hide! There she is and she is crazy." I begin to worry. Did they see the Curtain, Annie, the Clown, or Angelina. Who knows? I can't seem to keep them contained when I want to enjoy myself.
Why can't I see things the way others do? Why do I have to have these things behind my eyes? I am very intelligent. I am also in pain from this up and down craziness in my head. I take medicines to make the clown and curtain bother me less and it helps some but it still happens sometimes. This is a painful secret that I drag around like a large cross. Pain is tiring and chronic pain makes people angry. I am very angry. I am the unwanted and abused child who cannot find a reason to believe, locate a port in her storm, or discover a place to anchor her ragged boat. I want a reason to believe that would give me the hope I need to keep living, even if I have these crazy things that happen behind my eyes. Doesn't anyone see that I want love, peace, and acceptance? OK so maybe they don't have to deal with a dark Curtain, Annie suffocating under it, the Clown, the horrible circus music, or Angelina but I still want to be a part of a pilgrimage. Is there a place for me? The Curtain, Annie, the Clown and Angelina become angry when I do these things because they say that they are a part of me and I shouldn't be ashamed of them. They claim they want acceptance too but I am fragments that were broken on my own back with the instruments that beat me and the pain of my childhood created this jigsaw puzzle that I have become.
So I have entered this pilgrimage thinking that my friend's leadership on this journey will make me more comfortable about bringing this overwhelming luggage I have to carry on this trip. Maybe my friend can help me find my way to the places others talk about and enjoy.
I have arrived in a state of confusion, unable to figure out just what I need to do and when I need to do it. I have no instructions and can't find Fr G who is leading the trip. Everyone else reported seeing him and having long informative conversations to receive instructions but I can't catch up with him. I am so focused on my anxiety that I can't seem to ask for what I need, not that it would matter as I'm invisible anyway.
There is no printed itinerary lying around but everyone in the group looks like they are having an amazing time. Everyone but me. I can never understand how people can have such total trust that they can let go of all control and believe the leader knows the way. I need my own copy of the directions, custom designed for me, because I have had horrible things done to me and others would run from me if they knew about the residents in my head. I am too sick to be in the group. I don't relate to them talking about having a happy family life and I don't understand anything they talk about so it's better to just do this on my own. I should avoid them because I don't want to make them upset.
The crowd is talking to each other about how they get their information from Fr G. They are happy he has the itinerary. I am perfectly OK traveling to sites alone, but I need the directions that will tell me how to get there. It's easier to not interact with others and risk them seeing my luggage, even though I want the company of others more than I want to breathe. Angelina, Annie, the Curtain, or the Clown will just be a pain and then probably will pop out and it will shock everyone. They don't like it when I make friends. They accuse me of doing it just to ignore them. The people I try to be with see my struggle and then they will look at each other with "that look" and then never talk to me again. I have had too many experiences with that.
The crowd is talking to each other about how they get their information from Fr G. They are happy he has the itinerary. I am perfectly OK traveling to sites alone, but I need the directions that will tell me how to get there. It's easier to not interact with others and risk them seeing my luggage, even though I want the company of others more than I want to breathe. Angelina, Annie, the Curtain, or the Clown will just be a pain and then probably will pop out and it will shock everyone. They don't like it when I make friends. They accuse me of doing it just to ignore them. The people I try to be with see my struggle and then they will look at each other with "that look" and then never talk to me again. I have had too many experiences with that.
I want to do this pilgrimage. I just need my own set of instructions and no one can give them to me since no one can see me so I am lost and scared. People are saying that everyone has to walk with others. I do not like that idea. They might not get me where I want to go and the way I want to get there. I need directions in writing for myself because I am starting to feel like I have no sense of control and being out of control is terrifying. No one else seems to need to carry around any detailed directions. They have just jumped into the experience with happy abandon and are having a deliriously joyful time. I seem suck in the one room I am in and I am walking in circles upset and emotionally out of control.
They trusted that Fr G had the instructions and would tell them where to go at the right time during the pilgrimage. They had no doubt that Fr G had received the instructions from a reputable source and they trusted the process would get them to their destination. Because of this deep trust they were free to relax and focus on their experiences and help each other. I didn't want to be a downer but I don't know what to do to be part of this pilgrimage. There are no clear cut do-it-yourself books, no instructions for the solo traveler, no map that I can use in my journey alone, and no time to express doubts, complain about the trip, or vent my anger about why I am in here in the first place.
I get the feeling that everyone else seems to "get it" but me. Everyone seems to believe that they are all there with the same level of trust and commitment and everyone feels the way they do.
I don't always feel the way they do. What would they do if I told them that? I certainly don't want to find out. I can't relax and enjoy the pilgrimage because I'm confused and scared and dragging a whole neighborhood in my head and it's wearing me down. Why can't I seem to accomplish anything on my own? I walk around the room with an inner ball of panic inside of me that continues to claw and rip into me. As I become more and more confused it grows into a huge ball of terror.
I understand why I get nothing out of this. My mental guests make me scared to try. I know I am missing out on a lot. I try to do the homework of someone who believes. I study all the books. I read them in Latin and study writings on the Vatican website. I am working really hard to do this myself. No one can say I don't put work into this journey. I am trying to get myself to the place where I need to be if I could just get a map I might make some progress. I am sick of this cryptic trip that is getting me nowhere. I need to devise a solo plan because they will reject me if they see how sick I can get.
When I have tried to talk to people in the past they usually end up looking at me with such sad expressions? When they do that I freak out. Do they see the Curtain, or Annie, the Clown, or Angelina? I can't help it and I wish they would quit judging me and tell me how to do this on my own. I don't need anyone. I have been battered and abused. It's too hard to risk being hurt again because I don't have much left of my heart to risk another rejection. Do they really want to help me? Then they can help me pull myself up by the bootstraps and I'll meet them at the destination. That way I can stop, entertain the residents in my head with all sorts of sideline diversions others wouldn't understand, and eventually get there on my own power. What difference does it make how I get there just as long as I make it. Right?
When I have tried to talk to people in the past they usually end up looking at me with such sad expressions? When they do that I freak out. Do they see the Curtain, or Annie, the Clown, or Angelina? I can't help it and I wish they would quit judging me and tell me how to do this on my own. I don't need anyone. I have been battered and abused. It's too hard to risk being hurt again because I don't have much left of my heart to risk another rejection. Do they really want to help me? Then they can help me pull myself up by the bootstraps and I'll meet them at the destination. That way I can stop, entertain the residents in my head with all sorts of sideline diversions others wouldn't understand, and eventually get there on my own power. What difference does it make how I get there just as long as I make it. Right?
To make matters worse, the people on this pilgrimage all have red room keys and I don't have one. Where is my key? Everyone obviously checked in at some point because they have no luggage but I didn't check in and I don't know how to check in. No one said, "Welcome. Please go check in." No one can see that I haven't checked in. I have no idea what the keys are for and I don't see what the keys unlock.
I am angry. Why does everyone have a key but me? I want to check in because I'm really tired. I hate getting tired because then the Clown wants to come out and he gets really nasty if I don't get enough sleep. I don't really know what to do and wish I could figure out how to get a red key and go get some rest. When you go on these trips aren't they all-inclusive? Aren't you supposed to get everything you need automatically? I am invisible so I guess I will never get a red key. This is so frustrating. Why am I here if I can't get a key and do any of this?
I never seem to be able to ask for help. The people on this trip seem to think that everyone believes everything the way they do but I don't. I am trying to hold myself together but I am becoming impatient. I doubt they have 4 or 5 people in their brain to keep track of and I am worried I won't be able to stay here and see Fr G.
I never seem to be able to ask for help. The people on this trip seem to think that everyone believes everything the way they do but I don't. I am trying to hold myself together but I am becoming impatient. I doubt they have 4 or 5 people in their brain to keep track of and I am worried I won't be able to stay here and see Fr G.
I notice things but because I am invisible I can't talk to anyone. I am not sure people who have problems like mine should be part of a pilgrimage in the first place. I want to see the holy sites. I want to get help and find a way to live with my heavy burden. I want to stop hating myself. It's hard to not hate yourself when people are afraid of you and won't talk to you. Whenever I start talking about my problems and burdens I sometimes say too much and then people avoid me. I also am painfully aware that sometimes I hurt people without meaning to do so, especially when the clown is around. To stop this I have expanded the inner compartment that holds the dark pain I push down inside of me. That compartment grows larger because I would rather see people smiling than admit I have an illness that makes me appear insane and scares people. My fear and doubt are things that will scare and anger others so I need to keep it all hidden. People will occasionally see there is something "off" about me but I try to be the consummate actress and play the roll of the "angry heretic rebel" with the utmost perfection. If I pretend enough maybe I can convince myself I am an angry anti-church type who doesn't need a red key. I can pretend I don't care and that this whole trip doesn't matter. I can imagine and portray that I hate the pilgrimage and really don't want to be a part of it. Red keys are over-rated anyway.
But the truth is that I feel horrible because I am different. I can't connect to people because of deep wounds from the past and an illness that drives away all the loving people from my life. I want more than anything to have a red key but I have no experiences in common with most of the people who have them. Maybe that's why I don't have a red key. It may be because of my illness and all those who star in the show behind my eyes. Everyone is having an amazing time on this pilgrimage and, since I'm the only one who is lost, maybe it's all my fault. They all get it and I don't because I am a horrible person. Maybe the abuses I suffered I deserved. I have always believed I was at fault for being abused as a kid. Maybe that is the reason why I don't get a red key. My wall of fear is making it harder and harder to understand why I am in this room and who brought me here.
But the truth is that I feel horrible because I am different. I can't connect to people because of deep wounds from the past and an illness that drives away all the loving people from my life. I want more than anything to have a red key but I have no experiences in common with most of the people who have them. Maybe that's why I don't have a red key. It may be because of my illness and all those who star in the show behind my eyes. Everyone is having an amazing time on this pilgrimage and, since I'm the only one who is lost, maybe it's all my fault. They all get it and I don't because I am a horrible person. Maybe the abuses I suffered I deserved. I have always believed I was at fault for being abused as a kid. Maybe that is the reason why I don't get a red key. My wall of fear is making it harder and harder to understand why I am in this room and who brought me here.
I don't know why am I missing the meetings that Fr G has and why I am invisible. My anxiety makes me feel like I am just free falling backward into blackness and I can't seem to grasp anything to stop my dark descent into despair. My arms are flailing and my panic is genuine but no one can see it. It was as if they are all speaking a different language and I am the only one who can't speak it.
I am the outsider, the woman found guilty by my own self-loathing, and cast adrift. I believe that I am always one step behind everyone. People talk about how grateful they are to have become pilgrims on this journey and I don't get that.
I want a refund.
I wish I never signed up for this pilgrimage and I don't appreciate being beamed into a place where I can't get information I need to participate in what they are doing. Even if they could see me I would be too afraid to try to inquire about experiences and whether or not I can join them and see what they are going to see. They would probably avoid me. I can't understand how they can be so happy about being on this journey when you have to rely on other people and let people see what's inside of you. That terrifies me more than anything. Are there others who also regret coming along? I never see them. Maybe they gave up and left. Why don't I leave? Why do I stay and wrestle like this? I am not sure. It would be a whole lot easier to leave.
I'm tired of being lonely. I guess I just haven't gotten my head fixed enough to deserve the red key. I don't understand how people, some who barely try on these journeys, have the nerve to accept a red key. They need to try harder. I would be ashamed to receive a key if I had put in such little effort. I know I don't deserve a red key. Maybe I should just try to take one of theirs when they aren't looking and see what it opens.
From the moment I arrived nothing has made any sense. I am frustrated and study my surroundings in more detail. I take a deep breath and look around at this large, circular room. It looks like a huge dining room. It may even be situated below ground level because there are no windows. This lack of windows explains why it is so dark. It has several long corridors that shoot out from this central room but I am stuck in this room and can't seem to get anywhere. I wander in circles while the movements of the others are going on around me. Others, with their red keys, come prepared to receive the instructions that they say are always laid out on the table. Where they go when they are not here is a mystery to me. They must have a room because I see no luggage. I wish I had a room where I could leave the Curtain, Annie, the Clown, and Angelina so I could be free to explore. It would be less fearful if I could leave them but I doubt they would agree to stay in a room without me.
A table is in the center of the room and it is a deep black wooden table with legs that are very ornate. It's huge. It has a frilly white lace tablecloth on it and everyone gathers around it to gain directions for the journey. On it are various instructions from Fr G. The directions are always left there and everyone is excited to journey to the places where they will meet others and experience amazing things. Everyone is talking about the sites with a great deal of excitement and I keep thinking that I need to go and experience some of these sites for myself or this trip will be wasted. I have not seen anything and spent all my time in this central gathering area. I have also not seen Fr G. Everyone else is talking about meetings they had with him, maps he has drawn, and how to get to the sites, but I never receive those instructions. I guess I am on a solo pilgrimage after all. Maybe that's why I never see him. Maybe that's just as well as I am all consumed with my fear, self-hatred, and anxiety anyway. If I was less anxious, maybe things could be different.
My anxiety is rising like a vibrating wave and it is making it hard to think clearly. I walk around wishing I could ask someone about the keys but they are very excited and chattering with friends and I am invisible. I want to find the locations of these places, even if I have to do it on my own, but I am tired and I need help. I feel guilty asking for help when I should be able to do it all myself. I was told as a kid that only losers ask for help. I am also being a tour guide for all the characters that are in my head and I'm getting tired of juggling all of them.
I an invisible and I will never find Fr G. I am stuck.
People talk about pilgrimages as if it is a chance to leave their home and push themselves out of their comfort zone. They go to experience things that they can bring home that help them see their lives in a new way. They can gather all they did during various events, scenes, and experiences that will forever change their lives. I wonder if I even qualify for the pilgrimage since I have no home base, no frame of reference with which to measure my experiences, and, therefore no way to see if the pilgrimage changes me or my perspectives. I always feel I am too far behind and unable to catch up to everyone else. I need to run to catch up. I need the map. I want a key. I need a guidebook and I want to find someone to help me but I am invisible so I can't reach out.
I heard someone ask, "Where is the priest?" I listen carefully hoping I can find him. He can direct me. Maybe I can walk with him so I can find the places I need to go. Someone said he was asleep as it was late at night. Someone said that he left directions and a map on the table. I look at the map and the streets are all laid out with various vegetables; cucumbers, zucchini, and other vegetables and they pointed to it and said that they can start this pilgrimage by using this map. People are discussing a map but all I see are vegetables. I don't see what they do and I don't know why. Everyone seems to think the map is wonderful and easy to follow and the priest said that everyone should travel together. He said that the place on the map was where the group would meet and then they would see the sites chosen for that day. I wanted nothing more than to find the places on the map but it was set up in such a way that I couldn't understand it. I have never had any experience working with vegetable maps.
Suddenly I am walking in what looks like a large mall with street signs at each juncture. I am looking for a street called Cross Street. I cannot find it. I try to ask someone not on the trip and I am surprised to find I am not invisible to them. I am glad I can't ask those on the trip as I don't want to look foolish about not being able to read vegetable maps. They point to a road that doesn't look like a road. It's paved with wood and its the only wooden floor in the place. It's named "Red Road" and the person says that you can find Cross Street by going down that road. I walk for a long time but I never find the meeting place. Because I can't find the meeting spot I realize that I will never find any of the sites on the pilgrimage.
I have been on this trip for what seems like a very long time and I have not found any of the sites and I have no red key. I am very sad because I have not see Fr G and I feel despondent and abandoned. I have failed.
I have failed to see anything and I don't know why I stay. It is so horrible to fail so badly. It is not fair to deny me what others have and let me fail. It's like I've been set up to lose. I will never get a red key or have any friends. If people knew about all that goes on in my head maybe they would understand why it is so hard for me to believe they way they do, but I just can't take that chance.
I am hurting and I just want some help. I want to be hugged and walk on this journey with anyone who will put up with me.
I see a fountain and there are seating areas around its edge. I sit down and I look into the moving water. I see my reflection and I look so tired. I can't put my hands in it because it has germs. I am afraid of germs. I am afraid of everything. Most of all I am afraid of being loved, because I don't know if those who love me will be hurt again when my illness rears its ugly head. I desperately need to find a way to convince myself that I am worth loving. As I think about that and my failure to find the sites on the map my tears plop into the fountain and then I see the reflection of a woman behind me. She has her hand held out to me and I suddenly feel a warm, loving presence, such as I have never felt before. She begins to stroke my hair and it feels so loving and so comforting I don't even think to be afraid. I slowly turn and look at her. For some reason I have no fear, just a deep need to talk to her.
She steps back and I smell roses and jasmine. She smiles and I hear her say, "Annie, come here." Suddenly the little girl that lives inside of me jumps out of my head. She runs across the floor, her black patent leather shoes clicking as she goes to this lady as fast as she can. She then jumps into the arms of the woman in front of me. I stare at this beautiful woman. She is wearing a long indigo blue robe, trimmed in silver. She has a blue veil draped over her dark hair and amazing sparkling brown eyes. She radiates a soft warm glow that is all around her and roses are at her feet. She is smiling softly and holding Annie.
Annie is talking and very excited, "You came back. I knew you would come back." The woman looks at me and I see compassion in her eyes. She then gestures for me to sit, all the while holding Annie in her arms. She begins to rock her back and forth humming the most beautiful sounding lullaby I have ever heard. Then she turns Annie around on her lap and speaks to me.
"My daughter don't you remember me?" Confusion begins to wash away as she continues. "Annie remembers me. When you were abused, belittled, and mistreated I came to you in your dreams. I am the Blue Lady."
I look into Annie's eyes and I remember. I remember crying into my rag doll all alone and falling asleep afraid and heartbroken. I remember dreaming of a Lady in Blue hugging me and telling me I would be all right. I remember after seeing her I would pray every night that God would make me a Catholic so I could go to heaven and be with the Blue Lady.
I think I know who is sitting next to me and I bow my head. What can I say to this mysterious woman? Why would she care about me and Annie? She tilts her head and looks into my eyes. "It is going to be all right. You have been through a lot of pain. You carry a heavy burden and I promised I would help you as a little girl and I have prayed for you without ceasing. I am here to help you find the path to my Son. It is not your fault you carry all you do inside of your mind and I am going to lead you to healing through my Son. All of the roads you see are places you will travel and I will help you through each of them. They are not easy paths to walk but you will never be alone. I am with you and my Son is always with you. I am going to send you a guide, who will accompany you to each of the doors and help you find the places you are to go."
I am stunned but my heart feels as if it is being bathed with a warm love that I have never experienced before. My eyes are filling with tears as I try to respond to this beautiful woman. Annie is sitting on her lap playing in the fountain with one hand and holding her doll in her other hand. "Who are you?" I whisper the question like a prayer from my heart with a deep yearning for the love of a mother I never experienced. She smiles and replies in a simple, gentle, loving voice, "I am the Immaculate Conception. I say this to you because the mystery of my Immaculate Conception will be the key that leads you to healing and will draw you closer to my Son. It all be shown to you in time and through me you will find love. My sole purpose as your Mother is to lead you to my Son." My mouth gapes open and my heart confirms what I already know. The Mother of God sits next to me. She smiles slightly and hugs Annie and says, "I am here to send you on your journey. The reason no one spoke to you in the room was because they could not see you. People will only see you when you are ready to be seen. You were brought here to begin your pilgrimage of healing and you will walk it with me, my Son, many saints, a very special guide, and other helpers that care about you. This is the start of the journey that will lead you to love." I was stunned. She knows who is in my head and she still wants to help me.
She smiles and continues, "Notice where you are sitting. This is the font where you were baptized as a baby." I look at the fountain and realize that it is a font, and I study it walking around it thinking about how little my baptism has meant to me.
I remember clearly being told how I was baptized at a Lutheran church when I was one-month-old. I stand and look at the font. I shake my head and say, "It doesn't matter. My mother didn't want me. Whenever she talked about my baptism all she ever said was that I spit up all over my baptismal gown and never told me any special memories of that day. I have the lace cap and the certificate that I saved but it just makes me feel unwanted and sad. No one even celebrated it or anything."
The Blue Lady stands and Annie walks to the font and looks into it. The Blue Lady says, "Let me show you what happened when you were baptized. Look up, this is the day of your baptism." She points above the font and suddenly I see a golden cloud unrolling in front of me over the font and I am mesmerized. I see myself, a little baby, being baptized by the Lutheran pastor. I am in my baptismal gown with my little lace cap. I am shocked at how tiny I am. I am fussy and after my baptism I see the Blue Lady step up and pick me up into her arms. She snuggles me to her heart and kisses my face. She smiles down at me with love so strong that the little baby looks into her eyes and quiets down. She holds me up to heaven and I see countless seas of angels and people in white in a long endless crowd and they are all cheering. I can hear heavenly music with trumpets. There is no end to the long gathering in heaven and they are all cheering in celebration of my baptism. The cloud then slowly closes and I turn to her with tears pouring down my face. I cannot put into words what I have just seen. I just can't respond and the Blue Lady walks over and hugs me.
As she hugs me she says, "See my daughter. This is what happens every time someone is baptized. All of heaven rejoices and I celebrate having another child to love and embrace. You were always wanted and always will be. I want you. All of heaven wants you. Never doubt that. I have always wanted you. So please, dear daughter, hold that in your heart because your journey will be a difficult one but once this journey is done you will know who you are and what my Son has called you to do."
I am listening intently but I am unable to respond immediately so I nod. She is giving me the directions I need and I will find the way to healing through her Son. She will help me. She then points to a corridor near me on the right and says, "This is the way to the Hall of Silence. It is the first path you will need to walk."
I feel fear immediately. I begin blurting out my response. "I can't go into silence. The Clown will start making noise and silence scared me as a kid". Annie clings to my legs looking up with big eyes filled with fear. I continue "When I was a kid and our house was filled with silence it meant that my father was about to explode and we were in big trouble."
The Blue Lady replies with a look of compassion, "I know it frightens you but try to trust my Son's path for you and I will help you. As soon as you enter the Hall of Silence my Son has someone who will guide you and there are many blessings He has for you along the way. There are three doors and each of these have a special lesson for you to learn. I will see you at the end of the Hall to direct you further. Fear not my daughter for I am praying for you and I love you."
I looked down thinking about all she said to me and when I looked back up the Blue Lady and Annie were gone. I know Annie is back in my head, hiding in fear, as I look at the entrance to the Hall of Silence. I walk toward it and I leave the font behind me moving closer to the entrance. My heart is still feeling the warm love that the Blue Lady's presence gave me. The smell of roses and lilies are surrounding me as I walk up to the door. I see a large wooden door and I also notice a large brass keyhole. I try to push the door open but it's no use. It's locked and I can't get in. How am I supposed to get into the hall? I look down feeling dejected and as I do I see a huge bouquet of white lilies on the floor. The stems are wrapped in a light blue ribbon. As I reach down and turn them over to pick them up I hear a clinking sound on the floor.
I pick up the beautiful, sweet smelling lilies, thinking of the Blue Lady, and breathe deeply inhaling their fresh, intoxicating, and sweet scent. The fragrance fills the entrance to the hall. Suddenly something catches my eye and I see what it was that made the clinking sound. It is tied around the base of the huge bouquet of flowers.
It is a red key.
I see a fountain and there are seating areas around its edge. I sit down and I look into the moving water. I see my reflection and I look so tired. I can't put my hands in it because it has germs. I am afraid of germs. I am afraid of everything. Most of all I am afraid of being loved, because I don't know if those who love me will be hurt again when my illness rears its ugly head. I desperately need to find a way to convince myself that I am worth loving. As I think about that and my failure to find the sites on the map my tears plop into the fountain and then I see the reflection of a woman behind me. She has her hand held out to me and I suddenly feel a warm, loving presence, such as I have never felt before. She begins to stroke my hair and it feels so loving and so comforting I don't even think to be afraid. I slowly turn and look at her. For some reason I have no fear, just a deep need to talk to her.
She steps back and I smell roses and jasmine. She smiles and I hear her say, "Annie, come here." Suddenly the little girl that lives inside of me jumps out of my head. She runs across the floor, her black patent leather shoes clicking as she goes to this lady as fast as she can. She then jumps into the arms of the woman in front of me. I stare at this beautiful woman. She is wearing a long indigo blue robe, trimmed in silver. She has a blue veil draped over her dark hair and amazing sparkling brown eyes. She radiates a soft warm glow that is all around her and roses are at her feet. She is smiling softly and holding Annie.
Annie is talking and very excited, "You came back. I knew you would come back." The woman looks at me and I see compassion in her eyes. She then gestures for me to sit, all the while holding Annie in her arms. She begins to rock her back and forth humming the most beautiful sounding lullaby I have ever heard. Then she turns Annie around on her lap and speaks to me.
"My daughter don't you remember me?" Confusion begins to wash away as she continues. "Annie remembers me. When you were abused, belittled, and mistreated I came to you in your dreams. I am the Blue Lady."
I look into Annie's eyes and I remember. I remember crying into my rag doll all alone and falling asleep afraid and heartbroken. I remember dreaming of a Lady in Blue hugging me and telling me I would be all right. I remember after seeing her I would pray every night that God would make me a Catholic so I could go to heaven and be with the Blue Lady.
I think I know who is sitting next to me and I bow my head. What can I say to this mysterious woman? Why would she care about me and Annie? She tilts her head and looks into my eyes. "It is going to be all right. You have been through a lot of pain. You carry a heavy burden and I promised I would help you as a little girl and I have prayed for you without ceasing. I am here to help you find the path to my Son. It is not your fault you carry all you do inside of your mind and I am going to lead you to healing through my Son. All of the roads you see are places you will travel and I will help you through each of them. They are not easy paths to walk but you will never be alone. I am with you and my Son is always with you. I am going to send you a guide, who will accompany you to each of the doors and help you find the places you are to go."
I am stunned but my heart feels as if it is being bathed with a warm love that I have never experienced before. My eyes are filling with tears as I try to respond to this beautiful woman. Annie is sitting on her lap playing in the fountain with one hand and holding her doll in her other hand. "Who are you?" I whisper the question like a prayer from my heart with a deep yearning for the love of a mother I never experienced. She smiles and replies in a simple, gentle, loving voice, "I am the Immaculate Conception. I say this to you because the mystery of my Immaculate Conception will be the key that leads you to healing and will draw you closer to my Son. It all be shown to you in time and through me you will find love. My sole purpose as your Mother is to lead you to my Son." My mouth gapes open and my heart confirms what I already know. The Mother of God sits next to me. She smiles slightly and hugs Annie and says, "I am here to send you on your journey. The reason no one spoke to you in the room was because they could not see you. People will only see you when you are ready to be seen. You were brought here to begin your pilgrimage of healing and you will walk it with me, my Son, many saints, a very special guide, and other helpers that care about you. This is the start of the journey that will lead you to love." I was stunned. She knows who is in my head and she still wants to help me.
She smiles and continues, "Notice where you are sitting. This is the font where you were baptized as a baby." I look at the fountain and realize that it is a font, and I study it walking around it thinking about how little my baptism has meant to me.
I remember clearly being told how I was baptized at a Lutheran church when I was one-month-old. I stand and look at the font. I shake my head and say, "It doesn't matter. My mother didn't want me. Whenever she talked about my baptism all she ever said was that I spit up all over my baptismal gown and never told me any special memories of that day. I have the lace cap and the certificate that I saved but it just makes me feel unwanted and sad. No one even celebrated it or anything."
The Blue Lady stands and Annie walks to the font and looks into it. The Blue Lady says, "Let me show you what happened when you were baptized. Look up, this is the day of your baptism." She points above the font and suddenly I see a golden cloud unrolling in front of me over the font and I am mesmerized. I see myself, a little baby, being baptized by the Lutheran pastor. I am in my baptismal gown with my little lace cap. I am shocked at how tiny I am. I am fussy and after my baptism I see the Blue Lady step up and pick me up into her arms. She snuggles me to her heart and kisses my face. She smiles down at me with love so strong that the little baby looks into her eyes and quiets down. She holds me up to heaven and I see countless seas of angels and people in white in a long endless crowd and they are all cheering. I can hear heavenly music with trumpets. There is no end to the long gathering in heaven and they are all cheering in celebration of my baptism. The cloud then slowly closes and I turn to her with tears pouring down my face. I cannot put into words what I have just seen. I just can't respond and the Blue Lady walks over and hugs me.
As she hugs me she says, "See my daughter. This is what happens every time someone is baptized. All of heaven rejoices and I celebrate having another child to love and embrace. You were always wanted and always will be. I want you. All of heaven wants you. Never doubt that. I have always wanted you. So please, dear daughter, hold that in your heart because your journey will be a difficult one but once this journey is done you will know who you are and what my Son has called you to do."
I am listening intently but I am unable to respond immediately so I nod. She is giving me the directions I need and I will find the way to healing through her Son. She will help me. She then points to a corridor near me on the right and says, "This is the way to the Hall of Silence. It is the first path you will need to walk."
I feel fear immediately. I begin blurting out my response. "I can't go into silence. The Clown will start making noise and silence scared me as a kid". Annie clings to my legs looking up with big eyes filled with fear. I continue "When I was a kid and our house was filled with silence it meant that my father was about to explode and we were in big trouble."
The Blue Lady replies with a look of compassion, "I know it frightens you but try to trust my Son's path for you and I will help you. As soon as you enter the Hall of Silence my Son has someone who will guide you and there are many blessings He has for you along the way. There are three doors and each of these have a special lesson for you to learn. I will see you at the end of the Hall to direct you further. Fear not my daughter for I am praying for you and I love you."
I looked down thinking about all she said to me and when I looked back up the Blue Lady and Annie were gone. I know Annie is back in my head, hiding in fear, as I look at the entrance to the Hall of Silence. I walk toward it and I leave the font behind me moving closer to the entrance. My heart is still feeling the warm love that the Blue Lady's presence gave me. The smell of roses and lilies are surrounding me as I walk up to the door. I see a large wooden door and I also notice a large brass keyhole. I try to push the door open but it's no use. It's locked and I can't get in. How am I supposed to get into the hall? I look down feeling dejected and as I do I see a huge bouquet of white lilies on the floor. The stems are wrapped in a light blue ribbon. As I reach down and turn them over to pick them up I hear a clinking sound on the floor.
I pick up the beautiful, sweet smelling lilies, thinking of the Blue Lady, and breathe deeply inhaling their fresh, intoxicating, and sweet scent. The fragrance fills the entrance to the hall. Suddenly something catches my eye and I see what it was that made the clinking sound. It is tied around the base of the huge bouquet of flowers.
It is a red key.
*Copyright 2/25/16 Lorrie Soini. No quotes or republishing of this material may be done without the express permission of the author.
