If I don't Write to Empty my Mind I Go Mad

Sometimes, I forget that writing my thoughts here get read publicly and when I bump into people and they share they like my blog I can help, but feel exposed.  The thing is that I’ve always been a writer- since I learned to write I've kept a journal.  I am the youngest of four and my brother who is closest to me in age is seven years older than I am.  Being the baby in the family by so many years apart I spent a lot of time playing alone.  Though my siblings loved me – they always made it known that I was the youngster and at times they didn’t want anything to do with me because of the difference in maturity.  I think that’s probably what lead me to become quite introspective.  To this day most of my world happens in my mind- if that makes any sense.  While I lead a pretty active social life I love being alone.  As weird as it might sound I enjoy my company a lot.  In fact when I am with my family I think I am more the listener of the group.  My mom and my sister can talk up a storm- there are times when we go for long walks and I think I say no more than ten words.  At times when I am sharing an experience with them I have to tell them to let me finish my story because they are so anxious to talk themselves.  In addition, I shared before that as a child I struggled because of my lack of the English Language- well when I did start to speak English my classmates made fun of me because some sounds came out with an accent.  I remember being laughed at because phonetically I couldn’t pronounce the “ch” sound and children laughed when I said, “chair” or “chocolate” (which are very popular words when you are a child).  I was a shy kid with a whole lot happening at home so I began to avoid speaking.  Yet, when I had the opportunity to write things down and not worry about pronunciation I relished the freedom.

I am yet to find a listener that puts up with me as paper does.  Growing up, I was always the outcast.  I remember we lived on a street of apartments with a bunch of my cousins and you would think that family would have been kinder to my assimilation struggles, but my cousins too wouldn’t want to play with me because I didn’t speak English.  Then I started excelling in school and books became my passion, which in the ghetto being a bookworm is not the most popular status to have.  Thus, my formative experiences led me to writing as an outlet and a way to have conversations on topics and ideas that others found quite boring.  For the greatest part of my life I didn’t think anyone was interested in listening to me since the subjects I preferred seemed as weird as me.  It took a lot of therapy to find my voice and while now I am a pretty good conversationalist I still have a great need to write.  When I speak things come out wrong and usually I say things without thinking, but when I write I see the words in mind so clearly.  Am also unafraid to share things because I feel like I am just talking to me or (since my conversion) to God.

Seychelles Clue Bootie- Goodwill $12.99

When I was in university, I came across my favorite myth in mythology class The Epic of Gilgamesh.  In the tale Gilgamesh wants immortality and goes on a quest to find it, after conquering many battles and learning his weakness (and mortality) he realizes that the only way to become immortal is by becoming a legend, one that future generations will continue to share.  At the time I was agnostic and battling the whole purpose of life notion and since I didn’t believe in life after death (then) this idea of remaining alive through the power of story really attracted me.  I found solace and for a time it guided me into wanting to write books and stories so that one day I too would be remembered and maybe then my life would have meaning.

Dress Barn Dress- Yard Sale $0.25, Michael Kors Belt - TJ Maxx 21.99, Michael Kors Watch & Gold Heart Earrings 

Now as a practicing Catholic I write privately letters to God.  Most of the time I do this during adoration.  It calms me and makes me really concentrate on the conversation I am having with my God.  Also, when I am experiencing really difficult moments I write in my journal and I know that God is listening.  When I decided to start a blog – I felt the need to write not to become a legend, but to help readers with my honest testimony.  Thus, almost a year later I still have my moments when I feel like I shared too much or even worry about what others will think of me, but the need to write is stronger.  I wanted to create this place to help others, but no one has been more improved than me.  Some people run, others create I write - end of story (smile).   

Happy Belated Father's Day

After having my previous weekends full of wedding activities this past weekend it was such a blessing to just relax.  I got so comfortable taking it easy that I forgot to take pictures for my usual Sunday Modesty post, so please forgive me.  It was also Father’s Day and while I did snap a few pics of the BBQ we had for my dad (including his new lawn mower that we all pitched in and got him)  I decided to just enjoy the day with my family and celebrate another year with my dad.  Thus, I didn’t take many photos.  At around 2PM we all gathered in our backyard to enjoy carne asada and bond as a family.  As usual there was a lot of laughter and great conversation- I am truly blessed to belong to such a close-knit family!  Much of the laughter was due to the ill haircut I gave Dollar.  While I usually am really good at trimming his fur, on Sunday am not sure how I managed to leave it looking so choppy – good thing my dog didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed happy to get a load of fur off of his back for this nice, warm weather (smile).

Surprise!

In the morning we surprised dad with a serenade given by my nephew on the piano.  Then we took him out to the back to show him his shiny lawn mower with gigantic red bow.  He was really happy to get a new toy to continue his hobby of keeping the best lawn in the neighborhood.  Then he opened a few more gifts along with many hugs.  This is the typical fashion of our celebrations: serenade, gifts, food and time together.  Yet, the format never gets old. 

With the grandkid.

My dad had a rebellious, selfish, addictive start- but his story is one of redemption and transformation.  For over twenty-years he has been alcohol free and has changed his priorities.  My mother and his family are his life.  While he never attended any school functions for us growing up- now for my nephew he can’t get enough of his school and extra-curricular activities.  He tends to invite himself to all the events.  In addition, he likes to occasionally come with me to Mass and while his faith in God has always been strong now he attends services (wohoo).  He’s an amazing person and a truly terrific father and granddad.  These past years of him being alcohol free have gone by so quickly.  He’s taught me to never be afraid of change or personal growth- and that while we can start out egocentric and self-seeking every day is an opportunity to turn that around.  It’s taken him a lot of humility to recognize his bad habits and to transform into the man that we all love.  Praise God!

Sacrament of Marriage

Wedded bliss...

Over the past three months, I have had three back-to-back weddings of close friends: two non-denominational and a Catholic Wedding.  While all the ceremonies were beautiful- I will be taking a detail look at how Catholics celebrate marriage.  To Catholics marriage is a BIG deal - so big indeed that it’s one of the church’s seven Sacraments!  Usually the wedding planning process is shared with the parish priest and the community.  Before one selects the date, one needs to make sure that the priest and parish are available- thus for the following year the couple works closely with the church leader.  The priest assesses the couple and interviews each individually for compatibility and for the presence of faith in order to marry them.  In addition, the couple must participate in a pre-marriage counseling program which is done during a weekend retreat or through various sessions during several weeks. As the day approaches the Sacrament of Reconciliation is highly recommended and a couple days before the big day a final practice (with the wedding party) takes place at the parish with the priest.  Though the above description sounds difficult, time consuming and even stressful- marriage is for life and thus one needs to spiritually prepare for it as an athlete prepares for a competition.

Here comes the bride...

"I give you these 13 coins as a symbol of my unquestionable trust and confidence, I place in you as my beloved wife. As we unite our lives today I share all material responsibility with you."

The process involves God in every aspect of the wedding preparation.  In fact, after my friend's fiance proposed to her - they stopped by their home parish to pray and give thanks to God before sharing the news with family and friends.  As they planned the religious ceremony, they worked together selecting scripture, music, lectors and a choir to add a personalized touch.  It turned out to be one of the best wedding Eucharistic Celebrations that I have been to. Father felt among friends because more than half of the people in attendance belong to the Santa Barbara Parish community. He really knew the couple because they are all friends.  During the Homily Father joked, laughed and offered great advice.  I was laughing one moment and crying the next.  What really got me is (that after being to ceremonies were God was not allowed) here God was the main guest and I truly felt His joyful presence. It was more than a celebration of the union between man and woman as witnessed by the community- it was a union between man, woman and God!  As a friend read one of the readings and I heard God's words a smile broke across my face because God was given His place (the highest place) in this celebration.  Listening to the reading felt as if I was listening to an old, respected leader of the tribe or perhaps a wise King.  The whole celebration felt like a royal affair where the King of Kings orchestrated the union of two souls in love.

Jesus Body, Soul and Divinity. 

The vows and the prepping the rosary for the couple to wear...

The ceremony also included various cultural rituals, like the groom giving the bride thirteen gold coins pledging his commitment to provide and care for her.  The bride by accepting them communicated her trust and intent to also support her husband.  The coins were blessed by Father and also represent Jesus and the twelve apostles. After the wedding vows, the couple knelt together for a special blessing and a rosary was placed around their shoulders to symbolize their commitment to one another.  It was placed horizontal in a figure eight symbolizing infinity and affirming the life-long union.  Then a bouquet of flowers was offered to Mother Mary asking for her intercession in the marriage.  Everything turned out beautiful and I was just so excited and happy knowing that God and Mary were part of such an important day (SMILE).

Mr. & Mrs.

A Bridesmaid's Tale

Wine Tasting in Temecula

This beginning of the year has been a rather busy time for me.  I had three back-to-back weddings in April, May & June.  So for the past few months my weekends have been occupied doing wedding related activities like bridal showers, bachelorette weekends and the actual wedding celebrations.  As a bridesmaid I have been stressed out with the challenges of my role- I just can’t imagine how the groom and the bride get through the planning.  Feelings are bound to get hurt.  Mine were when at times I felt more like a commodity than an actual person sharing in a milestone moment. Or when I felt micromanaged by the expectations regarding my bridesmaid look. Or when the list of my responsibilities felt so piled that at times I felt more like a person on staff than an actual guest.  Weddings bring the best in us and also the worst!  They are beautiful moments that are high in emotion and challenge family & friend dynamics.  Luckily, I survived and am still friends with all my now married friends (smile).

LA rooftop wedding.

What I learned about myself during these past months is that if my feelings are hurt I cannot hide it and I even rebel becoming quite a difficult person.  I guess I haven’t mastered the turn the other cheek Christian mentality.  Obviously in wedding planning and in the activities approaching the festivity disagreements are inevitable.  Brides can become demanding, maids-of honor can become controlling and bridesmaids can become contrary.  I mean we must all work together for months even though we all have our own set of ideas; thus, disagreements and trials are bound to happen.  Anyone that has been part of a wedding party has a story to share about a problem they encountered or an issue that arose during the planning.  Yet, if we survive the hurts and quarrels our friendships become stronger.  We need trials to grow. 

Catholic Wedding

Kisses.

A bridesmaid firsts celebrates the honor to have been chosen to stand as a tangible expression of her bond to the bride in front of their community.  However, as the planning begins it can turn into a battle of wills and bank accounts depending on the personalities involved and the wishes of the bride - being a bridesmaid is both a time and financial commitment; thus, difficulties will occur.  Having three weddings in three months multiplied my stress even more because I had to contribute to each financially and with my time.  Though I did have my share of squabbles, the three brides were very supportive, understanding and open to discuss any challanges with me.  In the end, I learned that my friendships are stronger than the issues that arose.  We confronted our disagreements as mature adults with uncomfortable conversations (at times), knowing that even though our tactics varied we all wanted the wedding day to be a special occasion.  Most, importantly we survived and now they are married and I am free of bridal duties (wink).   

We Didn't Lose We Just Ran Out of Time

In two weeks, my softball career is coming to a close- at least for this season.  Our team had to endure a zero win streak and while I am competitive by nature I had to learn that winning isn’t everything. My highlight was the night that my fan club came out to watch and I actually scored my first run!  After each game I would tell my nephew our awful score and he would laugh and shake his head.  Soon I discovered that through our low performance my team made many people happy and we turned into a philanthropic team that through losing brought joy to others (smile) including ourselves.  We learned to have a positive attitude and laugh at our silly, inexperience softball moves.  While at times some of us became discouraged there was always our assistant coach to cheer us up and while the hope of winning one game never escaped us we realized that for our first season we had a great time.  While the score didn’t show our improvement- I know that through practice I learned a great deal and grew as a softball player.  Just losing my fear of the ball was a great first season victory!

My idea of success and in this case winning always had to do with the final outcome, but I realized that what’s important is the transformation that happens during the process.  Losing creates a platform for learning and a great opportunity for growth.  It takes great confidence to smile and congratulate the other team on their win and great character to adjust your attitude into a positive one.  It also promotes humility – the person that can laugh at his shortcomings is fun to be around.  In addition, for Christians we know that loss makes us dependent on God and hopeful that He will provide according to His will.  Loss makes us vulnerable and more likely to seek God and be open to Him.  We have Job’s example of loss to the grandest scale, yet the process of Job’s losses makes him utterly dependent on God.  We learn more through loss than we do through winning.  In the end, Job’s faith increases and God rewards him tenfold.  Similarly, God wants us to become better versions of ourselves and sometimes He uses loss as a method of education.  I know that through the death of my brother I transformed into a better person and became a believer.  I know that through my bipolar disorder I became dependent on God for healing and value others that are struggling with disabilities.  I know that through the most painful experiences and losses my faith grew and some of my bad qualities metamorphosed into godly virtues.  Of course, when I am going through the fire it’s hard to smile, but as I continue to grow in godliness I hope one day I will reach the stage in me that will confront loss with happiness and complete trust in God.

Our Awesome Team.

Celebrating our loss and my Run!

Softball & Overcoming Anxiety

The Honeymoon Suite

This past Saturday one of my best friends got married.  As we prepped for the wedding months ago the bride asked my friend and I if we would decorate the honeymoon suite for her & her husband to be.  Through giggles, two inexperienced girls thought about how to best prep the room for the first night of marriage.  My friend, Butterfly, and I spent a few days coming up with ideas and we decided on candles, rose petals, champagne and snacks.  On the day of the wedding Butterfly and I found sometime to sneak into the room and romantically decorate it.  Though we had to rush and only had a period of fifteen minutes to carefully place mementos throughout the room the finished product turned out simple yet extremely personal.  In the Catholic faith, we wait on sex until marriage;thus, we really wanted the room to be festive and a symbol of faithful purity.  I am not going to lie it’s hard to wait sometimes the hormones feel so strong that abstinence feels impossible especially when you are in a loving relationship with someone you are extremely attracted to.  Thus, am extremely proud of my friends who waited even after many years of courtship they are great examples of Catholics at their best.

The truth of the Spirit of Christ according to St. Paul is one of self-restraint- a Christian life is supposed to be fulfilling not necessarily fun.  Which means that there is no supernatural consolation for those of us who don’t get to have sex with whoever we want whenever we want- and there’s no “I am better than thou” because I have the discipline to wait.  It’s a matter of mature love and respect.  Love at its finest wants the best for the beloved and sacrifices it all (even one’s own life - as Jesus did).  Thus, when Christians think about sex they think about it as more than biological desires and as a supreme gift from God.  A gift so awesome that it needs to be protected and saved for the marriage bed.  It’s a matter of quality over quantity.  It’s meant to be great because it’s an act of pure love that brings life.

In my years, walking by faith I have come to value sex more and to really understand what God intended when he gave us such a magnificent gift.  A few years ago as my first friends started getting engaged and they proudly showed off their rings – I started to desire a special ring myself.  When I saw my friends in their beautiful, white wedding dress I too wanted to wear one someday too. Those symbols are unique and people celebrate and make such a big deal about them because they are saved for a really exceptional occasion.  They are material objects – yet society still places quite a strong, traditional value to both engagement rings and puffy dresses because they represent a bigger truth: the union of two people.  To Christians sex is the BIGGEST testimony of the union of two.  Thus, as society waits for the proper time for an engagement ring or wedding dress - Christians too wait for sex not only for the perfect mate, but for God’s blessing too (smile).  

The Honeymoon Suite Decorators

Passing On My Faith

On Sunday morning, my nephew had his second piano recital and beautifully played “Rainy Days are Special” by J. Bastien.  Late last year, his private piano teacher passed away and since then he has been attending a new music school.  This year he got to play from memory without the aid of music sheets!  As he started kindergarten (last year) I asked him what instrument he would like to learn to play and he choose the piano, since then I have been paying for his lessons.  Obviously I am very involved in his life because not only am I his auntie I am also his baptismal godmother.  I try to encourage his academic and extra-curricular activities- but what I am really concerned with is his spiritual development.  Thus, during the holidays together we do a lot of neat projects that promote spiritual growth and I try to teach him through example the beauty and unconditional love of God and the peace and guidance of my faith. 

The grand pianist playing his song!

With his fan club!

My sister is a believer and a cradle-Catholic – unfortunately she’s not super involved in her faith.  For some time now I have been working on trying to get her approval for Matthew to begin catechism.  At my parish we have a great weekly program for children that does a tremendous job presenting God in simple age appropriate ways.  Though I wanted my nephew to join as soon as he was old enough my sister insisted he wait until next year to begin his pre-first-communion catechesis.  Thus, I try to bring the faith to him as much as I can when I can on my own.  It’s been a difficult battle, but I pray for him daily and I know that God has great plans for my little man.  I also pray for my sister so that she will realize the importance of spirituality and becoming more unguarded about allowing my nephew to participate openly in church activities.

The performers getting a well deserved recognition.

INC Dress- thrifted $8.99; GAP Wedges $17.99; BGCB Sweater- Burlington Coat Factory 19.99; Piano Necklace-Yard Sale $1 & My fashionable nephew as the best arm candy! 

For Easter, my sister took my nephew to Mass and he told her he saw “real” angels.  My sister nonchalantly asked him where he had seen these mystical creatures and he said in the altar helping the priest.  She smiled and explained that they were altar boys, at which he replied that he would like to be one someday (smile).  

If I Can Get to a Library I'll be Ok

The death of Maya Angelou got me thinking that growing up I loved African American Literature- being an immigrant I felt like the stories of Frederick Douglass, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou among others were written for the likes of me.  In Bluest Eye I found a friend who like me wanted to look more Anglo thinking blue eyes and blonde hair would fix the pain of entering a foreign country at a fragile age where children are cruel if one is different.  My difference - not knowing the English language.  At the time in a mostly white elementary school, one boy in particular who was placed next to me in class so he could help translate would take advantage of the fact that I couldn’t be understood. Since he spoke Spanish it was his duty to help me, yet he tormented me knowing I wasn’t able to defend myself...  In the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass I learned to fight back by bettering myself- I realized the power of education and loved that Douglass taught himself to read and write (just like my mother had).  His material poverty, abuse and racial challenges where common themes of my childhood.  When I found Maya Angelou while watching Poetic Justice she spoke to my feminine soul.  Phenomenal Woman and Still I Rise are anthems that sang me to sleep and provoked such powerful dreams.  During my first bipolar diagnoses at twenty-one I found solace in Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now.  African literature spoke to the child who on weekends confronted domestic violence yet successfully fooled the world that she came from a stable home.  African literature made feeling abnormal, normal and helped carry my brokenness.  It painted men the way I had always known them alcoholic, powerfully selfish and violent.  Many nights I consumed myself in powerful words, in the resilient stories and the distant hope at the end of each poem.  Poetry and literature communicated the shattered, secret pain and life I lived.  I had African American writers communicating publically the private hell I lived…

It wasn’t until 1995 when I fell upon the most influential book of my young life!  The book that changed the course of my life…  Many novels before had helped carry my alien self in the foreign land I lived, but The House on Mango Street did what no amounts of African American Literature could for this Mexican girl.  Through Sandra Cisneros’s first novel I saw a future full of hope.  I gobbled up the novel in a few hours and was left with my intial celebration of my Latino culture and a pride in my Mexican identity that has followed me since.  I no longer craved for blue eyes and blonde hair -now I wanted to speak Spanish freely and proudly share that I love Vicente Fernandez and Pedro Infante.  In this short novel my painful past was retold in poetic language and all the challenges that little Esperanza endured where all hurts that I too had faced- yet the novel ended with the heroine leaving the ghetto to follow her dream and write her stories.  Esperanza turned dreaming into possibility, into attainable reality.  The knowledge that if I endured and gave it my all I too would one day leave the ghetto - that a small insignificant Mexican girl could travel the less traveled road and enjoy the fruits of her labors in a university arena became my target.  I followed Esperanza right out of the ghetto and into a life worthy of living.

In 2003, in between tears I met Sandra Cisneros at the LA Times Book Festival and I was able to share with her how much The House on Mango Street inspired me (right into university).  Among loud sobs I told her that I owed little Mango Street Esperanza the freedom to see dreams as possibilities and that it was to her colorful character that I dedicated my upcoming Bachelor’s Degree.  I recall it was a terribly hot day and she was wearing a short sleeve top that showed a very (excuse my language) bad ass tattoo of La Virgen de Guadalupe and that for some reason increased my admiration.  Since then I found many Chicano writers, but Cisneros will always have my heart. 

Sandra Cisneros & I (crying)

For many years, my identity revolved around the beauty and color of my culture.  I prided myself in my ethnic background and turned shame into an identity that I was comfortable defending (though at times I was too American for my Mexican ties and too Mexican for my American ones). It wasn't until I got to know God that I finally arrived home simply as the daughter of God.  Though I still love my culture and am very much a blend of Mexican-American - my favorite self is the one who belongs to God...  It is in Him that I found the most healing and the most freedom.  Our true visas are for Heaven and we are all brothers under the blue sky (smile). Yet, I thank African American and Chicano Literature for walking alongside me during my greatest hour of need - for I know that all good writing is a a gift from Him who uses all venues to communicate with us (wink).

"People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don't look down at all except to be content to live on hills..." The House on Mango Street

All Dogs Go to Heaven

My little fur ball turned eleven this past Sunday and off to the park for a long walk we went…  He chased some ducks, geese and stopped to say hello to a few dogs along the way.  Then he came home and had a nice turkey dinner and some cheesy snacks especially made for his birthday.  He snuggled close to me at night and requested a full body massage before finally falling asleep.  I never had a pet that’s lived so long nor one that I loved as much because he’s really all my own.  He understands that I am the leader of the pack and trusts me with his life.  It’s cute every day as I arrive from work he’s sitting outside on the front lawn waiting for me to come home.  As soon as he hears the sound of my car before I am even parked he’s already stretching and waiting for his daily “I am back from work” mushy talk and massage from me. I love my little guy so much that it scares me to know that he is older (since dogs have a short life span), but I try not to think about that and enjoy him to the max every day!

During my mental breakdown he was the one that saved my life… One dark night as I contemplated taking my life I looked into the eyes of my loyal mutt and I knew that he wouldn’t be able to live without me.  As I toyed with the idea of ending my existence the voices in my head ordered me to kill my dog before I killed myself.  I had no problem at the time with stopping the pain through suicide, but the thought of killing my dog was incomprehensible.  Then my hallucinations ordered me to take him faraway and lose him in a park or give him away if I was too weak to do as they asked.  I looked at my little guy and saw the worry in his eyes and the depth of his love and I knew that something in me was really not right.  I put away the pills and waited beside my loyal companion all night for day to come.  In the morning I asked my family for help and was taken to the hospital.  My dog is my hero.  The day I adopted him I had a broken heart, when I lost my brother the warmth of his body comforted my pain & fear, when I lost my mind he helped me find myself again…  He’s been my dearest friend and I love him to infinity and beyond.  He’s a dog of few words, but every wave of his tail, lick of his tongue and look in his eyes communicate his profound love…  A nights while I give him his full body massage before bed I write with my fingers on his furry body words of love – my hope is that he knows how much I love him and need him.

As he’s gotten older, this fantasy has formed in my mind and I know that if he departs before me he will be waiting besides Jesus for me.  In heaven he & I will be able to talk to each other in a common language and am sure we will spend infinity in deep conversation.  Happy birthday Dollar, Momma Penny loves you to infinity and beyond! 

Part Three: Spring Cleanning

GAP dress, GAP Oxfords, Hurley Scarf

In recent times as I have pondered marriage I have prayed for God to send me a man who is good with money, that way my future hubby will control our budget and we won’t be poor due to my mishandling of family funds (smile). Yet, as I took a good look around my overstuffed room I knew that I needed help right now!  It's time to allow God to simplify my home and to change my heart and my mind in regards to shopping and money.  As I write this post I feel anxiety just thinking that I need to change, that I need to be more thoughtful in the way I spend my money because my shopaholic decisions are violating my desire to be a good steward of God’s creation.  In addition, I have a hard time letting go of things thinking that I might need them in the future or those special sentimental pieces (ah)! 

Growing up in California, I didn’t have a lot of clothes or shoes and what I did have was mostly cheap, functional stuff mom got on sale.  I remember watching my classmates return from vacations wearing new clothes.  I specifically recall this one time when I overheard the most popular girl in elementary share that she was wearing her Easter dress and I thought to myself how cool it must be to have special holiday clothes.  My greatest fashion moment came when my mom splurged on a pair of twenty-dollar high kicks at Payless for my birthday.  My clothes were always generic and so not cute. Thus, when I started working and was able to buy myself anything I desired I went nuts.  In addition, throughout my early twenties I went with untreated bipolar disorder and during manic phases nothing gave me more pleasure than shopping.  As a young adult I have continued with the mentality that since I can afford to buy myself pretty things I must. I never really stopped to reflect that just because I can doesn’t mean that I should continue wasting resources for things that end up in storage.  So, here I am with boxes and the desire to begin a thorough closet-clean-out.  I have decided to take Jesus into my home so He can help me do a massive tidy-up and to change my materialistic ways. 

The whole process will include three steps.

Step One will require that I clean out my clothes, shoes, make-up, jewelry, books, etc. leaving only the articles of clothing I plan to wear, read or use making sure to reduce the number of items to a minimum.

Step two will require to sort the things I want to donate, things I want to sell, things I want to refashion and things I want to keep.  When I was a child my mom used to refashion her clothes (she used to make me dresses from old skirts) and that’s something that I want to pick up. Though I have some basic sewing skills I have been thinking of taking a couple courses to help me be more proficient. The goal is to create a classic, quality wardrobe that I constantly wear and one that is tailored for my body.      

Step three will require a vow to be a better quality over quantity shopper and to learn how to be a Christian consumer.  For this step I found some good literature to read and will educate myself on slow, ethical fashion.  I also need to establish a personal financial program one that promotes saving, tithing and a small monthly allowance for spending.  In addition, I will hold monthly evaluations to make sure that I don’t fall into the pattern of stuffing my room once again.... I promise to share my progress here (smile).   

Part II: Part Two: Confessions of a Catholic Material Girl

Part I:Part One: Catholic Fashionista