Cheer up, my friend!

I went to Mass at least once or twice a week (not including Sunday) between May 18, 2010, and April 23, 2011. Everything was so glorious and beautiful and perfect up in that sanctuary. I always stayed at the very back of the cathedral, being able to see the body of the saints from the shadows. It was a huge pain being unable to receive God, but the pain was all the more stunningly turned to pure happiness on the night I was baptised and finally did consume Him. My heart pounded madly, seeing that its blood was about to be augmented by The Divine Sanguine; my stomach fluttered, knowing that it was about to take into itself the very body which fell lifeless upon the Cross, bringing true life.
When the Consecration occurred and everyone began to process up to Communion, I tried to say, in my heart, something like: “Lord Jesus Christ, may these holy saints receive your most precious Body and your whole being with reverence and joy. Please send forth your grace into the world through them. I beg you, God, to penetrate the entire Cosmos with the power of this Eucharist, so the Universe may rejoice and resound with your praises. Send out a ray of light and power from this cathedral, and may my brothers and sisters assembled here be granted salvation by their participation in You. Have mercy on we sinners, for we have hoped in you…”, or lines from the Te Deum.
I especially found that reciting the lines “Te gloriosus Apostolorum Chorus; Te prophetarum laudabilis numerus; Te martyrum candidatus laudat exercitus; Te, per orbem terrarum sancta confitetur Ecclesia…” from the Te Deum gave me an intimate ability to sense the presence of the saints. Whether sitting next to me in a pew, or standing in the sanctuary, or resting under the altar with our Lord Jesus Christ, I felt them intimately. I still know that they’re there during Mass, and I still pray the whole Te Deum as I rejoice with the Body of Christ. All the people who have entered Heaven, and all the angels who have been there since time immemorial, are leaping for joy and kneeling and weeping at the Consecration, the momentous triumph of the blessed Trinity.
One thing that really helped me was leaving after the Creed (Ordinary Form), and sitting outside in the Narthex, staring up at the huge oaken doors from the 1880’s (my back facing the doors to the nave). It helped me allegorically realise that my sins and unbaptised life had turned me from God, and that I did not deserve to face the Consecration, but only to slink away with my back turned. I stared up at those huge doors many times during February, March, and April. As I sat there in the ethereal morning light, I put my whole imagination to work convincing myself that, just behind my back, the entirety of Almighty GOD was hovering high above the pews - I felt the weight of His holy presence, though it could never be seen. Somehow, the light from the square windows (which sit above the massive portal) got brighter and brighter every Sunday…