Lock up.

I am going to dig into spirituality for this installment. If you don’t care or don’t like that, this is where I will leave you off at. Hopefully see you next time.

I have told you about the monsters in my past, the ones that left scars that will never fully heal. I told you about my mental instabilities and the different routes I tried to somehow live a somewhat normal life with them. What I haven’t talked about is the most important. My path to God. I grew up in the Catholic church, received all the sacraments that are supposed to save you. I did the church and bible study, the whole shebang. That was supposed to keep God in my life. It didn’t, it pushed me further away from him (Insert drugs and alcohol). When I was in my late 20s, I started searching for some sort of spiritual path. One that didn’t involve a spoon and needle in my arm. I read up and studied the most popular ones at the time. Buddhism, Taoism, paganism, all the “isms”. For me it was a fruitless search, I remained an empty, truly disturbed shell of a being. I wasn’t an atheist, I always knew there’s a creator out there somewhere behind the scenes just wasn’t sure who or what. See, it was extremely important for me to find my way because for a person like me without a purpose, without a God, I had zero morals. I truly did not care about myself, certainly didn’t care about anyone else. I loved my family of course, just apparently not enough to change who I was.

I was at my lowest in a prison cell, spewing all the poisons out of me into the metal toilet, curled up in the fetal position BEGGING and SCREAMING to be saved. It was not a pretty picture, uncomfortable to say the least (I can only imagine being a prison guard watching it on the cameras) almost like a purge of inner demons. I passed out on the cold concrete shoved into the corner; I woke up when the guard pounded on the door for breakfast call. I wish I could tell you I remembered my dream that night, but I didn’t. Nonetheless, God came in the form of 2 fellow prisoners. If you have been reading my blog, you know how bad my social anxiety is. Never learned how to make friends. Small talk isn’t my thing. However, when locked up you are forced to be around people. My cellmate wasn’t just anybody. She was from my hometown in New Jersey. We knew some of the same places, same people. Never met before jail. But the fact that we already had some things in common made it easier to talk. Her personality is opposite of mine, she was bubbly and personable. She knew how to make friends. One morning she sat down beside this sweet little 60-year-old lady. She’s tough as nails but she’s kind(Not going to name her, but in case she stumbles on this blog, “You not only saved my life, but you SAVED MY SOUL”). She was from Puerto Rico, VERY Christian. Since my cellmate had created a connection prior to me, she called me over to introduce us. I sat down beside her, I noticed she had the bible in her hand. Which opened up another doorway to a conversation. We sat together for the entire 20 minutes free time that we were allotted whenever the prison guards felt like it. It took 1 conversation to form a friendship. That night as I sat in my cell, I kept thinking about everything she had said about God. Her words plagued my mind, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had so many questions. I couldn’t wait to see her again. The next morning, we had breakfast together. This time we started to get personal, telling each other our story and how we ended up there. I told her about how lost my soul is. She started to talk about Jesus and her faith again. I tried to brush it off, told her I was raised in the church, blah, blah, blah. I told her “God doesn’t want me, I’m a heathen”.  She didn’t bark at me, she just asked if I would attend the mass service with her on Sunday. Of course I was going to, she was so sweet, kind and funny, I considered her a friend.

Sunday came and we were escorted up to the room where they held the service. As soon as I stepped in, the minute I saw the cross and the priest, I collapsed to my knees. The tears just POURED from my eyes; I couldn’t control it. Now, mind you I was in prison, not a county jail. The people that were there weren’t minimal offenders, not exactly a good place to have that sort of breakdown but nonetheless I couldn’t help it. Every ounce of pain, every dark memory, seeped out of me. She wrapped her arms around me and said, “everything is going to be ok”. That is what changed my entire life. No monster, no person, no moment had been that influential in forming who I am now as that blip in my history. After that, every morning for the next month we read the bible together in the morning. I had studied the bible before but for some reason the words sounded different than when I was a child. The words flew off the page and traveled right to my heart.

I realize this is a controversial topic, but this blog is about me. It’s my personal journey here on this planet. Jesus is who saved me and sent me on this path, he brought the people into my life that I NEEDED. Every step I have taken has been set for me. Not many people are grateful for being arrested and spending time in lock up, but I am.

 For anyone who has stuck around and read this, thank you for freely giving me your time, attention, and energy. I hope it wasn’t a terrible read.