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SonCatcher
Guest
Just because you refuse to accept the many answers given doesn’t mean your question has not been answered. It is plain that the way you think is different from the way a Catholic thinks. It’s a cultural thing.
Saint Maria Goretti being attacked for protecting her Virginity
- Status
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TrueLight
Guest
Hi Fone. I love what you wrote above.
Is that the official definition of Martyr of Chastity?
Regarding some of the responses, I really think we can answer some of AnemoneNarcisus’s questions with more charity. He or she is asking good questions and is trying to understand. There is no need for insults.
S
severus68
Guest
You are absolutely correct. I posted on another thread about what the pope said.
M
MissRose73
Guest
Maria chose to die instead of committing the sin of fornication. She knew it was wrong and told Alessandro so. I am sure her parents raised her to wait for marriage to engage in sexual activity. Unfortunately either Alessandro’s parents did not do the same or he ignored those lessons all together if he was taught them.
S
severus68
Guest
She died from stab wounds suffered when resisting rape. She would not have committed any sin even if he succeeded in raping her by threat of bodily harm/death.
L
LightBound
Guest
St Maria wouldn’t have “committed the sin” of fornication if she had been raped. I’m sure you didn’t realize how what you posted sounds, but sexual assault victims do not commit fornication when they’ve been attacked. Maria told Alessandro what he was attempting to do was a sin and she resisted him- whether that was simply by telling him “no” and trying to get away or if she physically “fought back”-those things we’ll never know in this lifetime - but we do know that in his rage, he began to stab her. Even if she did stop resisting at this point, does anyone think he wouldn’t have continued to stab or beat her? He was in a near-possessed rage!!
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TimothyH
Guest
St. Augustine stated in City of God that if a holy virgin is raped, that if she did not desire the act, she retains her purity. Such is the case even if she does not have the courage, strength of will or ability to fight back and even if she experiences bodily pleasure.
The 144,000 in Revelation 14, the ones who sing the song before the throne of the Lamb and before the four creatures and the twenty four elders, the ones who follow the Lamb wherever he goes and who are redeemed as firstfruits for God and the Lamb, these are all virgins.
-Tim-
The 144,000 in Revelation 14, the ones who sing the song before the throne of the Lamb and before the four creatures and the twenty four elders, the ones who follow the Lamb wherever he goes and who are redeemed as firstfruits for God and the Lamb, these are all virgins.
-Tim-
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TimothyH
Guest
It just occured to me.
I wonder how many of those who feel that life is so precious that a rape victim should allow herself to be raped rather than risk death by fighting back, I wonder how many of these are in favor of killing the baby which is the result of rape.
How many of these same people who hold life so precious, are either in favor of abortion or would permit abortion in the case of rape?
-Tim-
I wonder how many of those who feel that life is so precious that a rape victim should allow herself to be raped rather than risk death by fighting back, I wonder how many of these are in favor of killing the baby which is the result of rape.
How many of these same people who hold life so precious, are either in favor of abortion or would permit abortion in the case of rape?
-Tim-
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NikitaRhea
Guest
Thank you all for posting your replies to this thread. She is my Patron Saint for a reason.
When I was reading the replies, I felt I wanted to butt in and say a few words, but I fear I would have said them in anger and that would be uncalled for.
I understand the confusion on this little Saint who is considered a martyr. She was to my knowledge a martyr because she died defending the teachings of the Church (regarding chastity and purity). She is a Saint because she forgave her attacker for not only trying to rape her, but for stabbing her. She is a great Saint for women and men, especially those who have went through rape.
For those who were going off about the Church teaches that it is better to die than to be rape, I think if you look at St. Maria Goretti; what it means is it is better to fight off your attacker (by means of saying no and pushing them away or as one person mentioned resisting by trying to take the gun) and sometimes that means you might die, you know the risk.
Yes, there are some who cannot because they were too small to defend themselves because they did not know what rape was until after it was already over.
For me I was in the latter, I was sexually assaulted for many years, and by the time it was over with I can tell you I would have much rather have died than be raped. I felt I was dirty and I lost something that the culture finds now a days as something that isn’t precious that is something not worth holding on to.
Once you lose that, you learn how you wish you had it back. I was bitter and wanted to die all at once, I felt no one would want this dirty body, that was until my conversion and entering the Catholic Church.
When I learned about Maria Goretti and the teaches of the Church, I had learned something, that her death taught me that I needed to learn forgiveness and that my body is a Tabernacle that even though my innocence is lost what I have left which is my dignity can be secured by living a life of chastity until I am married. I can never forget what David had done to me for so many years, but each year I ask God to help me to forgive and I ask Saint Maria Goretti to walk beside me as I close another door of bitterness. You never forget, but what Saint Maria Goretti teaches us is that you can forgive.
(And to just to add St. Charles Lwanga, I probably spelled that wonderful Saint’s name wrong, anyways was not only killed for being a Christian, but because he would hide page-boys from the king for the king would sexually assault them and the king had tried to sexually assault St. Charles as well.)
I want to say sorry if I offend any of you, and I know that I might get attack for speaking my mind, but I am wishing you to please forgive me if I hurt any of you by my words.
God Bless,
Nikita, op
When I was reading the replies, I felt I wanted to butt in and say a few words, but I fear I would have said them in anger and that would be uncalled for.
I understand the confusion on this little Saint who is considered a martyr. She was to my knowledge a martyr because she died defending the teachings of the Church (regarding chastity and purity). She is a Saint because she forgave her attacker for not only trying to rape her, but for stabbing her. She is a great Saint for women and men, especially those who have went through rape.
For those who were going off about the Church teaches that it is better to die than to be rape, I think if you look at St. Maria Goretti; what it means is it is better to fight off your attacker (by means of saying no and pushing them away or as one person mentioned resisting by trying to take the gun) and sometimes that means you might die, you know the risk.
Yes, there are some who cannot because they were too small to defend themselves because they did not know what rape was until after it was already over.
For me I was in the latter, I was sexually assaulted for many years, and by the time it was over with I can tell you I would have much rather have died than be raped. I felt I was dirty and I lost something that the culture finds now a days as something that isn’t precious that is something not worth holding on to.
Once you lose that, you learn how you wish you had it back. I was bitter and wanted to die all at once, I felt no one would want this dirty body, that was until my conversion and entering the Catholic Church.
When I learned about Maria Goretti and the teaches of the Church, I had learned something, that her death taught me that I needed to learn forgiveness and that my body is a Tabernacle that even though my innocence is lost what I have left which is my dignity can be secured by living a life of chastity until I am married. I can never forget what David had done to me for so many years, but each year I ask God to help me to forgive and I ask Saint Maria Goretti to walk beside me as I close another door of bitterness. You never forget, but what Saint Maria Goretti teaches us is that you can forgive.
(And to just to add St. Charles Lwanga, I probably spelled that wonderful Saint’s name wrong, anyways was not only killed for being a Christian, but because he would hide page-boys from the king for the king would sexually assault them and the king had tried to sexually assault St. Charles as well.)
I want to say sorry if I offend any of you, and I know that I might get attack for speaking my mind, but I am wishing you to please forgive me if I hurt any of you by my words.
God Bless,
Nikita, op
R
robwar
Guest
Nitkia,
thanks for sharing such a very painful yet powerful story. I just cried when I read it. Having escaped being nearly kidnapped myself, I have always felt the pain for those who haven’t, men and women. With the rise of pornography, books such as 50 shades of gray, there will end up being for assaults and more victims. Our own personhood and dignity is worth defending and dying for. The myth and idea that victims really want this or that to just put up and submit just makes me angry especially if it comes from a woman claiming to be a feminist. It is cruel and cold. The fact that the Church honors those who have died trying to defend themselves against assault should be lauded instead of questioned and mocked.
God bless you and may God continue to use you and heal you.
thanks for sharing such a very painful yet powerful story. I just cried when I read it. Having escaped being nearly kidnapped myself, I have always felt the pain for those who haven’t, men and women. With the rise of pornography, books such as 50 shades of gray, there will end up being for assaults and more victims. Our own personhood and dignity is worth defending and dying for. The myth and idea that victims really want this or that to just put up and submit just makes me angry especially if it comes from a woman claiming to be a feminist. It is cruel and cold. The fact that the Church honors those who have died trying to defend themselves against assault should be lauded instead of questioned and mocked.
God bless you and may God continue to use you and heal you.
F
Fone_Bone_2001
Guest
It’s true that we must take care not to participate in the horrendous attitude, “Better dead than raped.”
I do maintain that in St. Maria Goretti’s case, her concern for the soul of her attacker is paramount, but you ask a valid question: why are other women who resist rape and die commemorated as Martyrs of Chastity?
I think it may be helpful to remember the principle that no one is canonized for simply doing their duty, for simply doing what is right. We all try to do what’s right, hopefully on a daily basis, and I’m sure many of us succeed on many levels.
Canonization is bestowed upon an individual in recognition for truly heroic Christian virtue: going above and beyond the call of duty.
Consider St. Gianna Molla, for instance. She died because she chose not to have the hysterectomy that would have saved her, and she made this choice to preserve the life of her unborn child.
Catholic moral standards unambiguously permit the operation she needed, even though we know it would result in the death of the unborn child. So St. Gianna Molla would not have been guilty of abortion if she had had the hysterectomy. She was not guilty at all.
Rather, she was canonized because, out of love for her child, she went far *above *and *beyond *the minimal morality required of her: she sacrificed her life where she didn’t have to. That is heroic.
So it is with “martyrs of chastity.” If they do what it takes to survive and thereby suffer rape, they are guilty of absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing. But if they die refusing to be complicit in any sin, they have stood up for their own bodily dignity against atrocious and violent intrusions, even though in no sense were they obligated to.
I agree that there can be a danger in recognizing figures like St. Maria Goretti if such recognition causes any woman to feel as though she is obligated to avoid rape at any cost. But that is not the case: they are not, and recognitions of Martyrs of Chastity do not presuppose that they are.
We must all be vigilant in walking the fine line between glorifying a person’s heroic defense of their inherent dignity, and in somehow presupposing and implying that she is somehow morally tarnished if she doesn’t. The latter is evil, the former commendable.
Honestly, no I don’t think so. But it’s what has always stood out to me as heroic about St. Maria Goretti. No victim of rape is obliged in any way to sacrifice herself - or himself! - to avoid it. So her spiritual heroism and her martyrdom must lie elsewhere: in her concern for the soul of her attacker and her forgiveness of him.
I agree.
A
AnemoneNarcisus
Guest
I just wanted to clear something up: I don’t believe that people - including Maria Goretti - are wrong for fighting rapists! As I’ve said, I don’t think any reaction to that kind of attack would be wrong. I just don’t believe that the ‘Martyrs of Purity’ are actually martyrs, or that they should be held up as heroic for what they did. Whatever their motivation was - religion, or pressure from their families and upbringing, or shame, or a desire to protect themselves or their ‘virginity’, I don’t think they were wrong for fighting, but I don’t think they were heroines for dying either. It’s brave to die, but it’s also brave to live and to move on from an attack.
TimothyH: I don’t think abortion is always wrong, so I don’t think that it is wrong to abort a pregnancy which was the result of a rape. Of course, I don’t believe that the life of the unborn child has the same importance as the life or well-being of the woman, so I think this is a completely different situation to the ‘better to be raped than dead’ one. Also, I’m pretty sure Augustine said that it did become a sin if the woman experienced bodily pleasure, although, it’s been a few years since I’ve read anything involving him so I could be wrong.
Fone Bone 2001: Just wanted to say thank you for being the only person who didn’t ignore my question!. And to TrueLight for encouraging people to be nicer 
TimothyH: I don’t think abortion is always wrong, so I don’t think that it is wrong to abort a pregnancy which was the result of a rape. Of course, I don’t believe that the life of the unborn child has the same importance as the life or well-being of the woman, so I think this is a completely different situation to the ‘better to be raped than dead’ one. Also, I’m pretty sure Augustine said that it did become a sin if the woman experienced bodily pleasure, although, it’s been a few years since I’ve read anything involving him so I could be wrong.
Fone Bone 2001: Just wanted to say thank you for being the only person who didn’t ignore my question!
. And to TrueLight for encouraging people to be nicer
M
MissRose73
Guest
Alessandro would be committing fornication if he had his way with Maria. I know Maria would not have been guilty of the sin at all as she said no many times before to him. Maria was telling him what he was going to do was sinful, but he instead committed the sin of murder. I still find it hard to understand and accept that she forgave him on her deathbed as not all would do so for someone who harassed then caused bodily harm.
A
AnemoneNarcisus
Guest
Technically, he would be committing rape, which would certainly be a worse sin than fornication. Also, she would not have been guilty of any sin even if she hadn’t said “no”, because she was eleven years old.
L
LightBound
Guest
Rose, thanks for clarifying. Perhaps I read your post #64 wrong.
D
dskysmine
Guest
AnemoneNarcisus, it is pretty clear that you don’t see the heroism in her story because you don’t see the “worth” of purity. It is also nonsensical how you purport to be a defender of “life” in the context of a rape, but do not do so in the context of a pregnancy. I can almost guess that your moral values developed through emotional responses to real life situations which is a rather shaky ground to base your moral values in.I just wanted to clear something up: I don’t believe that people - including Maria Goretti - are wrong for fighting rapists! As I’ve said, I don’t think any reaction to that kind of attack would be wrong. I just don’t believe that the ‘Martyrs of Purity’ are actually martyrs, or that they should be held up as heroic for what they did. Whatever their motivation was - religion, or pressure from their families and upbringing, or shame, or a desire to protect themselves or their ‘virginity’, I don’t think they were wrong for fighting, but I don’t think they were heroines for dying either. It’s brave to die, but it’s also brave to live and to move on from an attack.
TimothyH: I don’t think abortion is always wrong, so I don’t think that it is wrong to abort a pregnancy which was the result of a rape. Of course, I don’t believe that the life of the unborn child has the same importance as the life or well-being of the woman, so I think this is a completely different situation to the ‘better to be raped than dead’ one. Also, I’m pretty sure Augustine said that it did become a sin if the woman experienced bodily pleasure, although, it’s been a few years since I’ve read anything involving him so I could be wrong.
Fone Bone 2001: Just wanted to say thank you for being the only person who didn’t ignore my question!
But back to the subject at hand.
A martyr is someone who died witnessing to a belief, or cause, usually religious. Maria Gorretti died witnessing to the purity of both herself and her assassin. How does that not make her a martyr of purity? Your problem with her story is exactly what I said in the beggining, you don’t see the worth in purity. Moreso, you seem to despise people who would die for something you don’t believe in. What you don’t believe actually is in the effects of “sin” in the world. This is one of the most basic beliefs of Catholics. Sin taints the world. That is why we must do penance. Once you testify to sin your soul is tainted, it might not be your fault, but it changes your soul. Why do you think parents don’t want children to be exposed to violence? It isn’t simply to prevent them from becoming violent it is to protect their purity.
If you don’t see or believe that sin exists you can never see the glorious work that God has worked in our History and the one in Saints.
Fone Bone 2001 explained it very clearly…
You can’t see the heroism in what they did because you don’t see the valor in fighting for purity. Moreso, you don’t think there would be any path of heroism in such a situation, fighting (for you) is not heroic, not fighting (for you) is the same. How, pray tell, can we be heroic in such a situation?
S
StAleydisCalls
Guest
This happened this very night, after going through a horrific childhood and spending years dealing with the aftermath that in the end cost me family on my mother’s side in their entirety. It also caused a lifelong battle in me in a struggle against lust, something that to a lesser extinct, I indulged in physically and even more so in concept when I became Pagan, but that sense of shame, that sense of deep pain never left and every time I had sex I felt it all over again even though I chose it of my own free will and the person on the other end was not seeking to cause me any harm.
My parents had been divoreced for several years and I hid everything because I feared for my life. I had been a Christian all my life, and I to this day remember a particular scene, rocking back and forth on my bed asking God why. “Whatever I did wrong I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!! Just not another day! Take me into heaven with you!! Let me be with you!! Whatever I have to do just tell me and I’ll do it just please don’t make me live another day! PLEASE!” convinced that in a just world, I had to do something wrong to cause what was happening to me, I had to be guilty of something.
Later I was deeply angry at God, at myself, and the world around me. Only in music did I find any sort of healing, any way to express the depths of my rage. Bands like Megadeth, Metallica, and in particular Korn. Why Korn? Turns out John Davis and I have a history that is all to similar, as is written clearly about in the albulm Issues. I remember the first time I unwrapped my CD and blasted out Falling Away From Me.
Hey I’m feeling tired
My time gone today
You flirt with suicide
sometimes that’s ok
I can’t always say
it’s going to be better tomorrow
Falling away from me, falling away from me
There is more. The video with the girl added as extra on mine brought it all to close to home. For my dtepdad often beat me with the belt, lined us up and hit us all to we copt to some minor crime of which all of us knew nothing. And I came down with severe PTSD. When my dad, my Knight, may God and the Angels give him rest, and the Mother tell him his daughter loves him, yanked me out, the mental illness gripped me, wrapped with my Autism, so tight, that I emotionally regressed to a 5 year old and had to be re-poty trained. I got involved with things, indulged in fantasies. More than that, the monster of lust grabbed hold of my soul, and has held on ever sense.
By fluke only did I not loose my virginity, which I was well on my way to, a year later (of my own will that is)due to a well timed infection. Due to the continued rapes, I have Chronic yeast infections that come to plague me at least a few times a year, which are incredibly painful and disrupting. Anyway, things happnend and after two years, when I found I could not make myself leave my mother but could not trust myself that she would keep me safe in her home, I moved in with my aunt and uncle and becoming exceptionally close with my very saintly and by far the best CHristian I have ever known, my Grandmother.
I began going to Church with her and reading my Bible the Church gave me, the NIV. It was a Church of the Nazerene. And they talked so much about the love of God. And I so deeply needed that love!! I needed that perfect love, someone that loved me like that. And I had recourse to long prayer sessions that would last into hours, standing, sitting, kneeling, at school, at home, at work. I began incorporating Christ in everything that I did and a few months later, I said the prayer that made me a born-again Christian. I told my story, and I prayed, and professed God with abandon and I was happy.
But it didn’t feel complete. Something felt wrong. Like something was missing. In my Aspie words, it felt to simple. Like things had been stripped down, vital things, important things to my faith had been ripped away. But that immense love of the CHurch that was my home as a teenager gave me such comfort. They stood up for me to my family, they backed me, they prayed with me for my brother’s soul at the altar every Sunday. There was a profound moment I’ll never forget that happened to me after altar call one Sunday.
I was there, in tears, talking about what had happened, asking for God to forgive me for any wrongs I might have done against my attacker, any provoking actions I might, being young, might have done in my anger knowing what was coming anyway. There was my Youth Leader right next to me and another behind me with their hand on my back and she got my attention. She looked me in the eye and said “God wanted me to tell you that it was not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong, and that you are going to do great things for Him someday.”
I felt exhalted, illuminated! I felt so unworthy and unaware of what this would mean. I was still plagued by lust, by images of my past. And that was not the last time I had been told those very words. And even then, I began my defense of Catholicism. I didn’t know much, but I had been to a few masses, had a small knowledge of the teachings and I knew what Prostestants said about the Church was not true. I began most of my arguments with saying I had actually gone there and I had spoke with different priests over the years, theology being one of those subjects I study with deep enthusiasm and have from a very young age, something common with those with an ASD.
continuing…
My parents had been divoreced for several years and I hid everything because I feared for my life. I had been a Christian all my life, and I to this day remember a particular scene, rocking back and forth on my bed asking God why. “Whatever I did wrong I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!! Just not another day! Take me into heaven with you!! Let me be with you!! Whatever I have to do just tell me and I’ll do it just please don’t make me live another day! PLEASE!” convinced that in a just world, I had to do something wrong to cause what was happening to me, I had to be guilty of something.
Later I was deeply angry at God, at myself, and the world around me. Only in music did I find any sort of healing, any way to express the depths of my rage. Bands like Megadeth, Metallica, and in particular Korn. Why Korn? Turns out John Davis and I have a history that is all to similar, as is written clearly about in the albulm Issues. I remember the first time I unwrapped my CD and blasted out Falling Away From Me.
Hey I’m feeling tired
My time gone today
You flirt with suicide
sometimes that’s ok
I can’t always say
it’s going to be better tomorrow
Falling away from me, falling away from me
There is more. The video with the girl added as extra on mine brought it all to close to home. For my dtepdad often beat me with the belt, lined us up and hit us all to we copt to some minor crime of which all of us knew nothing. And I came down with severe PTSD. When my dad, my Knight, may God and the Angels give him rest, and the Mother tell him his daughter loves him, yanked me out, the mental illness gripped me, wrapped with my Autism, so tight, that I emotionally regressed to a 5 year old and had to be re-poty trained. I got involved with things, indulged in fantasies. More than that, the monster of lust grabbed hold of my soul, and has held on ever sense.
By fluke only did I not loose my virginity, which I was well on my way to, a year later (of my own will that is)due to a well timed infection. Due to the continued rapes, I have Chronic yeast infections that come to plague me at least a few times a year, which are incredibly painful and disrupting. Anyway, things happnend and after two years, when I found I could not make myself leave my mother but could not trust myself that she would keep me safe in her home, I moved in with my aunt and uncle and becoming exceptionally close with my very saintly and by far the best CHristian I have ever known, my Grandmother.
I began going to Church with her and reading my Bible the Church gave me, the NIV. It was a Church of the Nazerene. And they talked so much about the love of God. And I so deeply needed that love!! I needed that perfect love, someone that loved me like that. And I had recourse to long prayer sessions that would last into hours, standing, sitting, kneeling, at school, at home, at work. I began incorporating Christ in everything that I did and a few months later, I said the prayer that made me a born-again Christian. I told my story, and I prayed, and professed God with abandon and I was happy.
But it didn’t feel complete. Something felt wrong. Like something was missing. In my Aspie words, it felt to simple. Like things had been stripped down, vital things, important things to my faith had been ripped away. But that immense love of the CHurch that was my home as a teenager gave me such comfort. They stood up for me to my family, they backed me, they prayed with me for my brother’s soul at the altar every Sunday. There was a profound moment I’ll never forget that happened to me after altar call one Sunday.
I was there, in tears, talking about what had happened, asking for God to forgive me for any wrongs I might have done against my attacker, any provoking actions I might, being young, might have done in my anger knowing what was coming anyway. There was my Youth Leader right next to me and another behind me with their hand on my back and she got my attention. She looked me in the eye and said “God wanted me to tell you that it was not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong, and that you are going to do great things for Him someday.”
I felt exhalted, illuminated! I felt so unworthy and unaware of what this would mean. I was still plagued by lust, by images of my past. And that was not the last time I had been told those very words. And even then, I began my defense of Catholicism. I didn’t know much, but I had been to a few masses, had a small knowledge of the teachings and I knew what Prostestants said about the Church was not true. I began most of my arguments with saying I had actually gone there and I had spoke with different priests over the years, theology being one of those subjects I study with deep enthusiasm and have from a very young age, something common with those with an ASD.
continuing…
S
StAleydisCalls
Guest
Autism and Theology. God broke the mold with me! It was mostly students outside my Church. I didn’t understand other churches. I was taught to emphasize God’s love, and that to choose God one should do though because they are called to Love. One should not choose God out of fear. For such is the same as a unhealthy relationship. They never understand the fullness of God’s gift to the world. They hold on in fear of the Devil and obesess on the End Times instead of looking around at the gifts God gave us and acting as His hands, His eyes, His voice to a corrupted world in need of His Love.
Even then I could see our world was bankrupt of Love. To many little girls had lived my life. And I was understanding that God actually saved my life, on many occasions but for the grace of God I could have been dead. The litteral gun was put to my literal tempal, and my tormentor pulled the trigger. What kept me alive was that the Safety at the time had not been turned off, and after that, the bullet jammed. The gift, that’s right I said gift, of Autism help me to turn off my emotions and to think when I was being attacked. Because of that I knew when the pillow was held over my face and I began to pass out and loose air, I used my attentionally kept long nails to dig in to his arms till piercing and he had to let go.
The hair he tried to use to set me on fire, though causing a haircut no girl in her right mind would ever want, kept going out. And everytime he tried to strangle me, my mother’s car would show. God was keeping me alive. He had a purpose, a meaning for me. It took years for me to find that purpose. And I have been his Advocate for those with my form of Autism for years, for that is my purpose in life! To speak for the invisable, those who’s story you’ll never hear, that don’t show up on dateline nor will we ever have a telefon.
I am to be that voice and I am glad and rejoice to be it and never cease my work as an advocate, teacher, creator of lessons, fighter against injustice for those who violate the human rights of people with disabilities with impunidity. I came out of highschool and joined another church, related by a family member being the pastor and becoming a part of their college group. It was the extent of my social life after being forced into Assisted Living. 186 IQ, colleges in New Zealand for schools teaching gaming and animation graphics and still because I had a label I got cast into Assisted Living and did not get to take my SATs. Inspite of finding my calling, I still call foul but pray blessings and enlightenment on my old school so that they have grown past that.
I was baptised in that church, my aunt and uncle and grandma there, my mother was nowhere to be found. Like usual, she had to work. It hurt, but I forgave her for the time, at least I told myself though and beleived it at the time. But still it felt missing. Something felt off. I couldn’t feel the love anymore but in my own prayers. I found more nourishment upon watching church channels on my cable than I did in my own church. I began to look around. Attending the Church walking distance from me. When I went to the Lutheran Church something strong grabbed a hold of me. The robes, the rituals, they all held deep meaning for me. It was like the mass from when I was a child. The singing of the psalms, and struck deep chords inside.
Studying older Christianity just within my general deep love of history and myth and medieval theology, I had written papers, both for myself and while still in school on the power of symbolism, the power of belief, and what it can mean in our modern world. These are and never were just empty objects to me. I always felt them, even over time developed my own in support for Israel, a cross with rising behind it and seen clearly a golden Star of David within a circle that came up and sourrounded the objects, something I still want turned into a necklace someday.
Another thing, also going back to my powerless struggle against someone to whom I could not cause harm led to a life long and powerful fascination with Witchcraft. My brother had a book in his closet that I found, something that scared me but I still looked through it. I remember it being black on the cover and the gates illustrated with the strange crowned stars. Even now I don’t think I can recall them correctly. But I read about the life’s blood curse and I read about the power one could direct. And I knew, unlike those around me, that it was quite real. And I knew it was evil. And inspite of that, it had a strong draw on me, that book.
God broke the mold with me! It was mostly students outside my Church. I didn’t understand other churches. I was taught to emphasize God’s love, and that to choose God one should do though because they are called to Love. One should not choose God out of fear. For such is the same as a unhealthy relationship. They never understand the fullness of God’s gift to the world. They hold on in fear of the Devil and obesess on the End Times instead of looking around at the gifts God gave us and acting as His hands, His eyes, His voice to a corrupted world in need of His Love.Even then I could see our world was bankrupt of Love. To many little girls had lived my life. And I was understanding that God actually saved my life, on many occasions but for the grace of God I could have been dead. The litteral gun was put to my literal tempal, and my tormentor pulled the trigger. What kept me alive was that the Safety at the time had not been turned off, and after that, the bullet jammed. The gift, that’s right I said gift, of Autism help me to turn off my emotions and to think when I was being attacked. Because of that I knew when the pillow was held over my face and I began to pass out and loose air, I used my attentionally kept long nails to dig in to his arms till piercing and he had to let go.
The hair he tried to use to set me on fire, though causing a haircut no girl in her right mind would ever want, kept going out. And everytime he tried to strangle me, my mother’s car would show. God was keeping me alive. He had a purpose, a meaning for me. It took years for me to find that purpose. And I have been his Advocate for those with my form of Autism for years, for that is my purpose in life! To speak for the invisable, those who’s story you’ll never hear, that don’t show up on dateline nor will we ever have a telefon.
I am to be that voice and I am glad and rejoice to be it and never cease my work as an advocate, teacher, creator of lessons, fighter against injustice for those who violate the human rights of people with disabilities with impunidity. I came out of highschool and joined another church, related by a family member being the pastor and becoming a part of their college group. It was the extent of my social life after being forced into Assisted Living. 186 IQ, colleges in New Zealand for schools teaching gaming and animation graphics and still because I had a label I got cast into Assisted Living and did not get to take my SATs. Inspite of finding my calling, I still call foul but pray blessings and enlightenment on my old school so that they have grown past that.
I was baptised in that church, my aunt and uncle and grandma there, my mother was nowhere to be found. Like usual, she had to work. It hurt, but I forgave her for the time, at least I told myself though and beleived it at the time. But still it felt missing. Something felt off. I couldn’t feel the love anymore but in my own prayers. I found more nourishment upon watching church channels on my cable than I did in my own church. I began to look around. Attending the Church walking distance from me. When I went to the Lutheran Church something strong grabbed a hold of me. The robes, the rituals, they all held deep meaning for me. It was like the mass from when I was a child. The singing of the psalms, and struck deep chords inside.
Studying older Christianity just within my general deep love of history and myth and medieval theology, I had written papers, both for myself and while still in school on the power of symbolism, the power of belief, and what it can mean in our modern world. These are and never were just empty objects to me. I always felt them, even over time developed my own in support for Israel, a cross with rising behind it and seen clearly a golden Star of David within a circle that came up and sourrounded the objects, something I still want turned into a necklace someday.
Another thing, also going back to my powerless struggle against someone to whom I could not cause harm led to a life long and powerful fascination with Witchcraft. My brother had a book in his closet that I found, something that scared me but I still looked through it. I remember it being black on the cover and the gates illustrated with the strange crowned stars. Even now I don’t think I can recall them correctly. But I read about the life’s blood curse and I read about the power one could direct. And I knew, unlike those around me, that it was quite real. And I knew it was evil. And inspite of that, it had a strong draw on me, that book.
S
StAleydisCalls
Guest
Another thing, also going back to my powerless struggle against someone to whom I could not cause harm led to a life long and powerful fascination with Witchcraft. My brother had a book in his closet that I found, something that scared me but I still looked through it. I remember it being black on the cover and the gates illustrated with the strange crowned stars. Even now I don’t think I can recall them correctly. But I read about the life’s blood curse and I read about the power one could direct. And I knew, unlike those around me, that it was quite real. And I knew it was evil. And inspite of that, it had a strong draw on me, that book.
I never read it, but what I did read caused me to do something very stupid. I cast a curse in a field, channeling within all my hate, my anger, my hatred, my intense rage in a single moment and I still remember the words to this day. “You are nothing, and you will never be anything!” and what it felt like, alll of that slamming out of me like a great gush, slamming him in the chest. I didn’t need to see it. I could feel it. And I became scared and I ran a long time from the craft but that moment called me back, over and over again. And the more I got out of the church, feeling that bereftment, that sense of incompletion becoming to strong for me to ignore, the more I began to research Neo-Paganism.
I dipped my toe in with Christian Wicca, now called Triniterian Wicca. I felt a strong connection to it, all the more when it spoke of ties to the old Celtic Church. It took a few years to realize the real connection I felt in the beginning had been to the actual Celtic Church founded by the likes of Saint Patrick and not the bastardized (pagans this is a personal opinion) form of Druidry Wicca. Not long after I began leaving all signs of Christianity behind and became bolder though not out of the broom closet, I met my ex and I broke, at the time I thought forever, my connection to my old Faith.
I betrayed not only my Faith, but myself. And when I had, I justified it because I was deeply in love, madly in love. I was on fire for this man, like I had never felt before, or sense. I truly believed he loved me the same way back. I was in my early 20’s and not realizing what it would cost me, I threw caution to the wind, saved up the money, and went to Oxford England and spent two very magical weeks there and a few in Cambridge and Edinburgh Scotland. Never had I felt more at home, and haven’t since! In particular, walking the grounds of Christ’s Church, outside the college of Oxford, closing my eyes and seeing the distinguished men I admired, like John Fischer walking there, speaking with his students. (I’m a writer, always have been since young and have a high imagination.)
He was beautiful, absolutely and positively. The problem was, and is, he knows that. And though he was kind about it, he was a profound atheist. And he convinced me over the time of knowing me to give in. And I gave myself to him. And by the time I wanted it to stop, the pain being more than I could bare, it was to late and he couldn’t hear me. I never told him that. That I tried to get out a no, and a stop. It ws not the magical night I had pictured and I was tormented for the rest of the night with images from my childhood while he was on the otherside. After I left, it was but a bit of months before the distance began.
I gave in a little more, doing things over cam that I was not comfotable with for him. I felt dirty and used. A cheap wh*** is what I felt like. But I couldn’t stop myself because I loved him that much. But at this time something that has been only to my boon also happened. I met my bestfriend in all the world. My lifeline when all the world falls apart around me. Loyal, sweet, willing to put aside his own pain or his own issues to be with me. And when I do get to see him, he shall be mauled properly, as a brother should be mauled. nods
continuing…
I never read it, but what I did read caused me to do something very stupid. I cast a curse in a field, channeling within all my hate, my anger, my hatred, my intense rage in a single moment and I still remember the words to this day. “You are nothing, and you will never be anything!” and what it felt like, alll of that slamming out of me like a great gush, slamming him in the chest. I didn’t need to see it. I could feel it. And I became scared and I ran a long time from the craft but that moment called me back, over and over again. And the more I got out of the church, feeling that bereftment, that sense of incompletion becoming to strong for me to ignore, the more I began to research Neo-Paganism.
I dipped my toe in with Christian Wicca, now called Triniterian Wicca. I felt a strong connection to it, all the more when it spoke of ties to the old Celtic Church. It took a few years to realize the real connection I felt in the beginning had been to the actual Celtic Church founded by the likes of Saint Patrick and not the bastardized (pagans this is a personal opinion) form of Druidry Wicca. Not long after I began leaving all signs of Christianity behind and became bolder though not out of the broom closet, I met my ex and I broke, at the time I thought forever, my connection to my old Faith.
I betrayed not only my Faith, but myself. And when I had, I justified it because I was deeply in love, madly in love. I was on fire for this man, like I had never felt before, or sense. I truly believed he loved me the same way back. I was in my early 20’s and not realizing what it would cost me, I threw caution to the wind, saved up the money, and went to Oxford England and spent two very magical weeks there and a few in Cambridge and Edinburgh Scotland. Never had I felt more at home, and haven’t since! In particular, walking the grounds of Christ’s Church, outside the college of Oxford, closing my eyes and seeing the distinguished men I admired, like John Fischer walking there, speaking with his students. (I’m a writer, always have been since young and have a high imagination.
)He was beautiful, absolutely and positively. The problem was, and is, he knows that. And though he was kind about it, he was a profound atheist. And he convinced me over the time of knowing me to give in. And I gave myself to him. And by the time I wanted it to stop, the pain being more than I could bare, it was to late and he couldn’t hear me. I never told him that. That I tried to get out a no, and a stop. It ws not the magical night I had pictured and I was tormented for the rest of the night with images from my childhood while he was on the otherside. After I left, it was but a bit of months before the distance began.
I gave in a little more, doing things over cam that I was not comfotable with for him. I felt dirty and used. A cheap wh*** is what I felt like. But I couldn’t stop myself because I loved him that much. But at this time something that has been only to my boon also happened. I met my bestfriend in all the world. My lifeline when all the world falls apart around me. Loyal, sweet, willing to put aside his own pain or his own issues to be with me. And when I do get to see him, he shall be mauled properly, as a brother should be mauled. nods
continuing…
S
StAleydisCalls
Guest
It got worse and worse. And then he began to say things to me that broke me down. And finally, the let down. The old “we need a break” which I knew meant “I need to try out this other chick I’ve been checking out but I don’t have the guts to tell you who is emotionally unstable as it is”. I shattered, and my friend held me together and slowly, I began to use the time and consol myself with my studies. I went deeper and deeper into Paganism, I began practicing the rituals for myself. I picked out and let myself be called upon by old deities of a variety of practices. And I stopped all prayer to God, to Jesus in its tracks.
And then the unthinkable. My father had a massive anuerism, across the country from me while mowing the lawn, he died painlessly they told me. My one connection to the outside world shattered and I lost my grip on control. When trying to race to get there for his wake, I texted my now ex for many moons and I lost my father and my ex, for whom I had sacraficed entirely who I was and what I believed, I had lost everything and there was this big gaping hole where my heart should beat. Furious with my family for what they failed to do (my mother, etc), lost, alone, and abandoned in a place I thought I would never get out of, I began upon arriving home to drink. For six months I spent my life down at the bottom of a rum bottle, drinking hardcore Spiced Sailor Jerry’s rum with a large alchohol content, downing half a bottle a night till I couldn’t feel or think or even crawl.
Then, in 2008, while still practicing and also working, being now the Advocate for people with DD offically which was the one reason I even got up, knowing that no matter what my problems were or how I wanted my so called family to watch me go down in flames and do nothing to be able to stop it, these fellows of mine needed me, they needed me to fight for them, to make them not invisable, to fight for them and their rights when no one else would and I couldn’t and wouldn’t let them down no matter what my own state happened to be, and by another miracle God kept me able to get up each day and function at work, and be able to truly help and work out the beginnings of my cirriculum for Post-Secondary pre-employment ideas for services. Ideas now working to help me create a much needed position that will hopefully help turn thngs around for us.
The woman who has adopted me and became the other mother figure in my life next to my step mom and the other woman I look to for advice and is a strong support and never ending guide, Katherine, called my office, and our conversation went into nearly the whole of my shift! Her son was the male version of me, minus the rape and I am rather happy for that. A violent father, so bullied and ostrasized he walked out of school in sophmore year and self-taught (we are still working to get his GED) with an I! of 216, well beyond gifted range he is left alone in a house in the same room for over thirteen years, no college, no job, no one even trying to help. After being diagnosed at age 26 with Aspergers, door after door had been shut in his face because he was brilliant and articulate, his dibilitating meltdowns, his horrific grand maul seizures which occur one day every month and occur one right after another, sometimes as many as 14 in a day that completely make his ability to function or be concious not able to happen.
I went up to bat immediately and eventually after 6 years we finally got him on to a Waiver of which no one would tell us existed that could provide him with Consumer Directed Services. (One of my current missions is to translate all these Waivors that new parents just getting the diagnoses and the DMH door shut in their faces with no experience in any of this is to go through the Waivors that will pay for services desperately needed, to re-write them or as I like to say “re-transalte them into People-Talk”, and provide a list of services so that they can choose which seems to best suit their needs, which seem the most likely to be attainable and what Providers do they have to choose from then, or do they want to go with Slef Directed where they can hire and fire their own staff through funds provided through the Waivor) Before I met them I recieved my 2008 Witches Almanac in the mail.
It told me two weeks before my brithday to begin drinking a tea with rose petals, lemon verbenna, and mint (or made out of it) which began my long love of self created herbal teas. To focus on drawing love to me and to make sure I did not focus on anyone in particular. Anyone pagan will tell you within the Craft it is a huge no-no to do anything that would incourge upon someone else’s free will and right to choose. Such causes major backlash that you want nothing to do with! One most understand that there are ethics within the Craft, these are not a bunch of Satan worshipping individuals without knowledge of what it is they are invoking. They are largely peaceful and they are incredibly intelligent, many have come out of Christianity and they did not find my problem of “emptiness” within the Craft. I make sure to always say when I talk about my exprience with the Craft and my betrayel of Christ I speak of me personally and this is not about anyone else nor condemnation on anyone but me.
continuing
And then the unthinkable. My father had a massive anuerism, across the country from me while mowing the lawn, he died painlessly they told me. My one connection to the outside world shattered and I lost my grip on control. When trying to race to get there for his wake, I texted my now ex for many moons and I lost my father and my ex, for whom I had sacraficed entirely who I was and what I believed, I had lost everything and there was this big gaping hole where my heart should beat. Furious with my family for what they failed to do (my mother, etc), lost, alone, and abandoned in a place I thought I would never get out of, I began upon arriving home to drink. For six months I spent my life down at the bottom of a rum bottle, drinking hardcore Spiced Sailor Jerry’s rum with a large alchohol content, downing half a bottle a night till I couldn’t feel or think or even crawl.
Then, in 2008, while still practicing and also working, being now the Advocate for people with DD offically which was the one reason I even got up, knowing that no matter what my problems were or how I wanted my so called family to watch me go down in flames and do nothing to be able to stop it, these fellows of mine needed me, they needed me to fight for them, to make them not invisable, to fight for them and their rights when no one else would and I couldn’t and wouldn’t let them down no matter what my own state happened to be, and by another miracle God kept me able to get up each day and function at work, and be able to truly help and work out the beginnings of my cirriculum for Post-Secondary pre-employment ideas for services. Ideas now working to help me create a much needed position that will hopefully help turn thngs around for us.
The woman who has adopted me and became the other mother figure in my life next to my step mom and the other woman I look to for advice and is a strong support and never ending guide, Katherine, called my office, and our conversation went into nearly the whole of my shift! Her son was the male version of me, minus the rape and I am rather happy for that. A violent father, so bullied and ostrasized he walked out of school in sophmore year and self-taught (we are still working to get his GED) with an I! of 216, well beyond gifted range he is left alone in a house in the same room for over thirteen years, no college, no job, no one even trying to help. After being diagnosed at age 26 with Aspergers, door after door had been shut in his face because he was brilliant and articulate, his dibilitating meltdowns, his horrific grand maul seizures which occur one day every month and occur one right after another, sometimes as many as 14 in a day that completely make his ability to function or be concious not able to happen.
I went up to bat immediately and eventually after 6 years we finally got him on to a Waiver of which no one would tell us existed that could provide him with Consumer Directed Services. (One of my current missions is to translate all these Waivors that new parents just getting the diagnoses and the DMH door shut in their faces with no experience in any of this is to go through the Waivors that will pay for services desperately needed, to re-write them or as I like to say “re-transalte them into People-Talk”, and provide a list of services so that they can choose which seems to best suit their needs, which seem the most likely to be attainable and what Providers do they have to choose from then, or do they want to go with Slef Directed where they can hire and fire their own staff through funds provided through the Waivor) Before I met them I recieved my 2008 Witches Almanac in the mail.
It told me two weeks before my brithday to begin drinking a tea with rose petals, lemon verbenna, and mint (or made out of it) which began my long love of self created herbal teas. To focus on drawing love to me and to make sure I did not focus on anyone in particular. Anyone pagan will tell you within the Craft it is a huge no-no to do anything that would incourge upon someone else’s free will and right to choose. Such causes major backlash that you want nothing to do with! One most understand that there are ethics within the Craft, these are not a bunch of Satan worshipping individuals without knowledge of what it is they are invoking. They are largely peaceful and they are incredibly intelligent, many have come out of Christianity and they did not find my problem of “emptiness” within the Craft. I make sure to always say when I talk about my exprience with the Craft and my betrayel of Christ I speak of me personally and this is not about anyone else nor condemnation on anyone but me.
continuing
- Status