I actually have personal beef with this question; I hate it, and it will never not make me cringe. Because (story time!) way back in tenth grade, my World History teacher made us answer this question for some accursed “getting to know each other” game on the first day of class (an introvert’s nightmare). And, trying to make sure everyone knew that I was edgy and dangerous and troubled and mysterious, do you know what my dumb ass wrote down for an answer?
“Problematic.” đ€Šââïž
Not entirely untrue, lol, but, come on. As you can imagine, people just kind of frowned and scratched their heads and gave me a wide berth. Best believe that incident set the tone for my sophomore year of high school. Ugh, the cringe is painful.
But whatever. Honestly, that whole class was lame anyway. I’m pretty sure that the teacher, a very charming and youthful twentysomething ESE (my conflictor type, me being an ILI) was just there because he wanted to party with the cool and popular high schoolers; so, he wasn’t a big fan of mine. My only fond memory of that class was when my BFF and I collaborated on a presentation about the emporer Nero, recording a sock-puppet show full of our goofy ironic humor and random gags that left the whole class (and teacher) once again frowning and scratching their heads like wtf is wrong with those two, while we sat there crying with laughter. See, this time it was funny, because someone else was being weird with me.
But, I digress.
One word that describes me, now that I’m 36… it depends who’s asking. If you’re someone that I don’t know too well and want to stay on safe/neutral grounds with, I’d probably just smile and mumble some sheepish, guarded response like: “introspective,” “overthinking,” “boring,” or something like that — all of which are true of me but don’t really get to the heart of the truth.
But since it’s WordPress’s Daily Prompt that’s asking, and since this blog is my little space to be really honest with you, since I don’t know who you are — you could be anyone — and since probably no one will read this anyway, so what does it matter; I’ll try to give an answer that gets to the heart of the truth.
My best answer today: conflicted.
I feel like “conflicted” sums it up, what I essentially am and what it’s like to be me. And basically sums up what this blog is about. It’s the but in between two clauses, creating the tension that I live in. Like: I’m a homeschooling Traditional Catholic SAHM who wants to fit in with the other TradCath mommies, who are all so feminine and classy and well-mannered, but I’m also a tomboy with AVPD and a weird sense of humor and a fine arts degree. I’m married and love being a wife but, also, ain’t no freakin’ wifey. I want to be a writer, but my ideas are shit and I’m pretty sure no one will like them and am too afraid to try and find out. I am proud of my body for having four perfect children, but I also hate it because it’s a hideous meat-tank and I wish I could trade it in for a different model. I’m all for body positivity and fat women being free to be themselves, but I also believe the body positivity movement is sick and wrong and needs to be undone. I’m a closeted alt kid who loves blue hair and weird fashion but I also believe that modesty and conformity to societal norms are important, and I ain’t no woke liberal. I want to love and serve God but I’m still so entrenched in sin. I’m vegetarian/vegan but I also understand carnivores and why they do what they do. I love hip-hop & rap but I also believe that popular hip-hop culture is unhealthy and steeped in sin and we shouldn’t listen to it. I’m a conservative, but I kinda relate more to liberals most of the time. I’m this but I’m also that, and it creates conflict.
I can see things from both sides. Which way to be? Which side to lean towards, or, how to find a happy medium? About most things (not all things; the few things that I’m sure of, like Catholicism, provide an anchor, without which I’d surely just float off into the ether and never return), I’m conflicted.
And that’s why this blog exists, really. If any of this resonates with you, we should be friends. Like I was saying, it’s so much more fun being weird with someone else.
đ Contains SPOILERS for the show Succession! đ
These days, in between weekly episodes of Paradise and Ultimate Baking Championship, there’s really not much on TV.
It makes me long for something, anything, that’s even half as good as my favorite show of all time, a show that I wish I could remove the memory of having watched from my brain in order to experience it again for the first time.
Succession is, imo, the single greatest TV show ever. (Greatest scripted series, that is; obviously — baking competition shows are my special favorite; but among serial dramas, nothing beats Succession.)
I’m a really stupid person, as you know, and this show is actually way over my head — my appreciation of it is like that of a dirty little illiterate street urchin pressing his chapped little ear against the door of a grand lecture hall, gaping and wondering at the eloquence and brilliance of what he hears from within — so I honestly feel ambivalent even trying to say anything about it; I worry that some ~Smart~ fan out there who really ~Understands~ the show, will read this and laugh at me. But I love it so much that I will attempt to say something nonetheless:
Because really: how often do you find a show that doesn’t jump the shark after one or two seasons? Not a second of filler, in all four seasons; not a single moment where the writing feels lazy or the energy dips.
âWhat’s so great about it,â some ask, in response to all the critical acclaim. If I, being the dimwit that I am, had to take a guess, I’d say that it comes down to two things: the characters, and the subtlety of the delivery.
The characters are, for the most part, despicable. Just awful individuals. They are ânot serious people.â But, they aren’t just boring two-dimensional villains. They are a believable kind of despicable. There are depths, layers, complexities. They are as rich figuratively as they are literally. They are vivid and pathetic and human and fascinating; you kind of start to adore them.
Some have said that they couldn’t get into the show because they don’t find the characters likeable enough. I agree that I would hardly want to hang out with these characters irl â but as characters, viewed through a TV screen, I love them; for me, there’s a huge difference there.
For me it’s the subtlety. The writers used such a light hand, such a masterfully soft touch, in telling us about these characters; it’s really elegant. One of the best examples I can think of off the top of my head is the way Kendall’s infertility is implied, but never explicitly addressed, all the way up until the end of the last season. Even though it’s a huge, defining element of his character and the whole plot of the show.
It’s been a few years since I watched it, but there are still quite a few moments that live rent-free in my head. Here are the top ten:
13. Siobhan being disparagingly referred to by some business bigshot at a conference as âKinder, KĂŒche, Kircheâ because she was pregnant. (S4 E9) Dismissing her. Like, she can’t possibly be taken seriously in this world because she’s just a little olâ mom now. Similarly, the way Shiv told her own mom âit’s not like I’m gonna see it,â (referring to her child); âwe’re gonna do it the family way.â The attitudes about parenting in this world are so twisted.
12. The three sibs at their mom’s house late at night eating the forbidden cheese and goofing off in her kitchen. (S4 E10) They weren’t supposed to be eating the cheese because it was the mom’s new boyfriend’s special cheese. (Not from this scene, but âNew Dad just droppedâ is one of my favorite Roman quotes of the whole show.) It was at once hilarious and sweet/poignant, to see these three ridiculous unserious and arguably evil people just having a silly funny time like normal siblings. A little reminder of their humanity.
11. Kendall: ah, Kendall, poor, disgusting, pitiable, wretched Kendall. So many moments of Kendall being Kendall:
11a. Absolutely flabbergasted and pearl-clutching because he asked poor little Cousin Greg to bring him some cocaine, and Greg brought âpark coke,â i.e. procured it from some rando in the park at night, as if Kendall Roy were some kind of peasant drug addict, lmao, y’all know this is like my favorite moment of the whole show, I quote it all the time.
11b. The infamous Logan Rap. âL to the O-Gâ, ugghh!, I’m dying just thinking about it.
11c. Indirectly killing the bunny rabbit by ordering the housekeeper to âjust give it some bagel.â
11d. Casually shitting the bed while passed out and wasted at that one party, and waking up and just hiding it inside the sheets and going on with his day.
11e. Once again flabbergasted, unable to comprehend that money can’t get him somewhere in the helicopter in season one, because the skies were closed i.e. air traffic was literally prohibited and the pilot wasn’t about to break the law for him.
10. Shiv’s little speech at her own wedding reception. (S1 E9) The jokey way she calls her new husband by his last name — people say she’s “emotionally avoidant,” but I think it’s pretty clear that she just isn’t that into him, and just thinks of him as a tolerable accessory that she can use to her advantage, who won’t compete with her nor interfere with her business ambitions. It’s pretty sad. This moment really encapsulated their whole dynamic, for me.
9. Speaking of Tom, the way that one lady, Cyd, in S2 E4, called him out for his âhundred dollar haircutâ as if that were such an insult, lol (and speaking of insulting Tom, there was also the scene where the three sibs are not-so-playfully picking on him, and Shiv, his own wife, points out that he has an âagricultural walkâ, lol what was even that?!)
8. And speaking of Tom + Shiv, their final scene (S4 E10) in the back of the car as they’re riding off after it’s been announced that Tom, humble Tom with his $100 haircut and agricultural walk, is going to inherit the company⊠and now Shiv is just his pregnant wife who works for him⊠the silence between them as they’re both looking in opposite directions was đ€.
7. Connorâs Wedding (S4 E3). Just the way the episode is named âConnor’s Wedding,â but it ends up being about Logan’s death. The way Connor’s whole life and identity and psyche are so overshadowed, and so completely messed up, by his father. He can’t even have his wedding day. For me that was even sadder than Logan’s death, since we’ve known that was coming since Season One (the show is literally called âsuccessionâ). Connor is undoubtedly most tragic character in the whole show and I think about him frequently.
6. President picking party (S3 E6). This one lives rent-free in my head because I’d known, in theory, that it’s the ultra-wealthy who wield the power in this country, but somehow, seeing it played out in this episode (which, who knows how realistic that was, anyway), ngl, it kinda affected my feelings about how the US government actually works; I’ve been just a bit more cynical, since this episode.
5. Lukas Mattson’s revelation that he hasn’t bought a mattress for his big fancy house yet, because he has all the money in the world so could afford the very best on the planet, but keeps researching what the best one is and can’t make up his mind; he’s overly analytical and slightly insane and has contracted choice paralysis. (S4 E2) I also am prone to choice paralysis sometimes, but dang. What a nutjob. I think about this one all the time, I’ll just be shopping for groceries and I randomly think about Mattson’s mattress.
4. The opening credits. I always looked forward to it, and never wanted to skip it. Best intro in the history of TV. It’s not just the song, which fits the vibe of the show to a T; it’s the imagery as well. It actually adds something to the show that we don’t get anywhere else: a bit of backstory. Elsewhere in the story it’s alluded to, but in this intro, we get to actually see it. But again, as always, impeccably subtle. How often do a show’s opening credits actually add something of substance to the story?
3. The house where Logan grew up. (S2 E8) There was so much build-up to their visiting this place; for the three siblings, it’s legendary, a part of their family lore, and they talk about it as if it were a slum, a barely-habitable shack with an outhouse in the backyard, just unfathomably uncivilized, like it was so unbelievable that their noble, respectable father had come from such a place⊠and when you get there, it’s just⊠an ordinary suburban house. đ
2. Logan eating fast food cheeseburgers alone (S1 E6, and I think a couple other times throughout the show as well). His love of fast-food cheeseburgers is one of the most telling things about his character imo. He’s really just a regular guy who busted his butt and worked hard and did some unethical stuff to build this empire â so unlike his children, who never knew anything other than extreme wealth and would find the concept of eating poor people food unthinkable. Logan says that everything he did in life, he did for his kids, and I believe he really meant that â but I think we see him also experiencing some kind of regret (to the extent that he is capable of experiencing that emotion) for the way that they’ve turned out. As a young man, he wanted a better life for his kids, and would go to any lengths to achieve that â but now, at the end of his life, look at where that’s gotten them. The way I see it, that’s kind of a hub for the whole plot.
And finally, the one moment that I think about the most:
1. The server in the kitchen at Nan Pierce’s house when the Roys are over there for dinner (S2 E5). There’s a brief moment when everyone at the table is gushing praises for the entree, and Nan is standing there thanking them with fake humility as if she’d prepared it herself. And just for a second, you see a hired woman, the one who actually did prepare the food, peeking in through the doorway with a peculiar expression. That one little fraction of a second told a whole story. It’s things like that that make this show so remarkable.
CAUTION: CONTAINS SPOILERS for Ultimate Baking Championship!!
âYou canât even stop Duff. Nine cake and heâs still at it.â â Amaury, watching Duff merrily chowing down during the judging of Oraliaâs entremets
âHeâs absolutely right, but, thatâs the blue I gave him.â â Adalberto, with resignation, after hearing that the dark blue exterior of his dessert was unappetizing and off-putting
âI would like to not be the next one.â â Chris, immediately before getting called to go next after Florenciaâs flawless reception in the second challenge
Week two. As tonightâs episode was starting, my husband observed: theyâre eliminating contestants so fast, âtonight might be the finale!â Lol. Thankfully, it wasnât.
Here we go! Caviar and calamansi, deconstructed this and modernized that. đ„± Iâll take Mollyâs simple, classic little red velvet cake, which received such negative criticism, over most of these bougie little frou-frou dishes, any day of the week! No offense to any of the chefs, of course â these people are all incredible to watch, truly next-level geniuses â but, Iâm a simple person with simple tastes, and Iâm still miffed that they took away my good old Spring Baking Championship this year. (Speaking of, thatâs where I recognize Robert from!)
So, they have a clean slate each week? The leaderboard gets erased and starts over from scratch. What do we think about this, friends? I have mixed feelings. I kind of like it, but also, I think itâd be neat to do just one season where the scores were cumulative, building on progress from all of the prior challenges. In a way, thatâd seem more fair, wouldnât it? Everyone has bad luck at some point, and it seems like that shouldnât be someoneâs downfall if itâs a random one-off, and if theyâve been consistently really good.
However, I am happy that this format is giving Adalberto a fresh start⊠again. Yup, I hate to say it, because it probably means next week will be his last, but: heâs kinda become my favorite. I just really felt for him, when he was despondent after his disastrous second challenge, and was saying that, as an older contestant, he doesnât have the time, like some of these younger contestants, to get better; this is it, for him. The end of the line. Adalberto! Come on! This is supposed to be my escapism! Baking Championship starting to get a little eschatological up in here. A little too real. I adore Adalberto, and Iâm glad he pulled through by the skin of his teeth once again. After this week and the last, I seriously want to see him power through and rise to the top and win the whole thing! Wouldnât that be so satisfying to watch?!
I am bummed for Oralia, though. At least she went out on a positive note: Amaury and Duff both genuinely enjoyed her dessert — it was just the presentation that was off. I hope she keeps in mind that, even though she technically went home in week two, she actually outlasted six other contestants, so she made it quite far; we mustnât forget the absolute carnage that was week one.
Highlights this week included: watching Clement convert fellow Frenchman Amaury Guichon to a veggies-in-dessert appreciater; watching Rochelle “die and go to heaven” after receiving such glowing praises for her stunning raspberry entremets; Robert voluntarily choosing to work with matcha, when he could have chosen literally any other, less disgusting nutty flavor, and somehow nailing it (?!?!); Casey’s impressive comeback with a stunning geometric mousse cake in the second challenge after her first challenge was pretty weak (chocolate too dense); and, listening to Amaury pronounce “BAH-na-na” and “prah-LEE-na.” Delightful. Here’s the recap:
Skills Challenge: modernize a classic dessert; randomly assigned
A dessert is called âsexyâ: 1 time (running total: 3)
Superlatives from the judges: 0 (running total 1)
Dead family members mentioned: 0 (running total 1)
Duffâs gaping maw spotted: 2 times (running total 4)
The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: Florenciaâs âdark and indulgentâ chocolate brownie entremets with gianduja mousse, caramel truffle, & milk chocolate. The chocolatiest!
Wins so far: Juan (1), Molly (1)
What did we think? Are you watching this too? What are your thoughts? Leave me your comments! I don’t care if you’re reading this three-plus years from now and the show is old news and you think I no longer care. I still do, I assure you. See you back here next week!
First of all, if you’re in a rough spot and thinking about trying AA: do it. You should go. 110%. Go now! Close this tab immediately and go find your nearest meeting. Don’t let my whiny, nitpicky little complaints in this post deter you. Go find out what it’s like for yourself. I firmly believe that everyone, especially folks who struggle with drinking, can benefit greatly from AA, and it really does save lives.
But if you give it your best shot and it still doesn’t help, don’t give up. There are other ways out.
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Here it is: the famous White Chip. I picked up quite a few White Chips during my four years in AA. Even though I didn’t actually get sober in AA, this is one of the last ones I picked up there, and it’s the only one I somehow never managed to lose, so it stays with me to this day, even though I don’t count myself a member of the program anymore. It’s nice, isn’t it? You should go get one of your own!
March is Sobriety Month here at MiTHology (4.0), and so, going along with that theme, I wanna talk for a minute about the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.
You’ve probably heard me mention in previous posts that my sobriety saga began in AA. For some time, I was quite entrenched in it. But, I no longer go to meetings. In the following post I will elaborate on why that is.
Here’s the abridged version of my early sobriety lore. January 2015, at age 25: started going to AA meetings, and fell in love with it: the watertight logical soundness of the philosophy, the black-and-white clarity, the infinitely quotable literature. I went to at least one meeting a day, religiously. Spent four years in the rooms, going through the 12 Steps with two different sponsors, doing it all very “by the book,” achieving a year and change here, almost a year there, and many stretches of a few days or weeks. It didnât stick though. On paper, I loved AA, but in practice, in my own life, it didn’t seem to work. Early 2019, at age 29: still not sober, fed up with it all, quit meetings and finally just struck out on my own and decided to try it in isolation. Seven years later, here I am, still sober.
So, AA didn’t work for me long-term. But I still love it, and would encourage anyone to try it.
Some people accuse AA of being a cult. That is a ridiculous accusation (and I’m willing to bet that those people probably got their feelings hurt by some sponsor’s brutal honesty). It’s not a cult. Yes, it is religious â which, imo, proves that at least some semblance of religion is necessary for basic human functioning, if the human in question is sane â but it’s about as secular as a religious program can be, so that anyone, even an atheist, can get on board. (If you can’t deal with AA because of the God stuff, then that’s a you problem; it’s not only possible, but encouraged, to make your Higher Power anything at all, as long as it’s not yourself.)
Some people complain that the program is too trite, its literature and signage too loaded with sappy little truisms that might be enlightening if you’re a total brainless doofus who’s never had a single coherent introspective thought in your life, but aren’t substantial or deep enough for an intelligent mind to really grasp onto or be moved by.
But here’s the thing: all those sappy little truisms, are truisms precisely because they are true. So many of the important truths of being a human are really very simple. We love to overcomplicate matters, we love to think that we are special and advanced â but the truth is, no one is too smart for the things they teach you in AA. If you think you are, then again, that’s a you problem.
So yes, I support AA and have great respect for those who thrive in it. Why, then, do I not participate myself?
I guess I’m a hypocrite. I’m guilty of the very thing that I just accused other people of doing: thinking my situation is too complicated, too unique. A big part of AA is Fellowship. I have AVPD, which makes âFellowshipâ rather… tricky. It’s hard for me to reap much benefit from all that fellowship. It’s like I have an allergy to it. Some people are allergic to certain medicines; those people have to find alternative treatments.
Maybe if I didn’t have this disorder, I’d have been able to thrive in AA. I really wanted to. Desperately, in fact. If you know me, you know I’ve always had complicated (there it is) feelings about being a misfit; Iâm kinda proud of it, but also I’ve always longed to belong somewhere, to find My People. I thought maybe the AAs were My People at last, but alas, the search continues. AVPD makes it really hard to be a participating member of a group like that.
But even if not for the AVPD mucking things up, I’m not sure if I’m as completely enamored of the AA way of thinking as I used to be. There are a few points about it that I take issue with.
(1)Some Of Us Actually Have Self-Awareness
The big one is this. AA’s Twelve Steps presume that you lack self-awareness; that you are lying to yourself about things, that you are avoiding taking responsibility for your own BS.
Some of us have the opposite problem. We know all the things that are wrong with us; trust me, we know them very well. We do take responsibility for our own failings, and already feel bad about them. Constantly. To a fault. AA was not designed with people like us in mind.
And I know that a seasoned AA, reading this, would tell me: âyou’re just not being honest with yourself đâ, which is like their trump card. You can always accuse someone of not being honest with themselves, because they have no way to prove you wrong.
Doing the Fourth and Fifth Steps never revealed anything to me about myself. There was never a breakthrough moment. I didn’t feel that seen or understood. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t feel like I’d bared my soul. It was just kinda tedious and awkward.
I actually regret both my Fifth Steps because, in trying to do everything by the book â âdon’t trust your instincts, look where they got you! Trust your sponsor, who’s clearly doing what you’ve proven yourself unable to do!â â in taking this advice and ignoring my intuition, I was led to do some really awkward and unnecessary and even inappropriate Sixth Steps, which to this day I cringe painfully about. I was so desperate to do everything right, and really didn’t know whether to trust myself at all, which is understandable; but I wish I’d trusted my gut just a little.
Believe me! I wish I’d experienced a breakthrough with the Fifth Step. I’d kill to learn the secret, to be able to name the cause of my issues, to identify where the issue has actually been hiding so that I could begin to tackle it. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to figure out what my dark secret was, what I was hiding from myself, what was I being dishonest with myself about, like some repressed trauma or something. Nope. It wasn’t until I got my AVPD diagnosis that I realized that what I’d known intuitively all along was right: the problem was just me, my whole personality. It wasn’t something specific that I could identify and heal from.
âAA works for everyone,â the seasoned AA would reply, âand if you think you’re the exception, then you’re just not being honest with yourself đ.â Ha!, I wish I weren’t being honest with myself!
I agree that everyone can learn something from AA â I don’t think anyone out there is âtoo smartâ for it. But I do think some people have certain dispositions or conditions that make them less-promising candidates for the AA treatment. And having a high degree of self-awareness, or an untreatable disorder that affects one’s ability to be social, are both examples of such dispositions.
Which is not to say that you shouldn’t try AA, if you’re considering it. You absolutely should. Go and try it for yourself, but if it doesn’t work, don’t give up.
(2) Sponsors Aren’t Priests
My second beef with AA is this: sponsors are not priests. âJust do whatever your sponsor saysâ is not always good advice! These people don’t have psych degrees, they didn’t go to seminary â they are not necessarily equipped to be spiritual advisors or to give good advice.
I know, I know â the sponsor isn’t meant to be infallible, and if you treat them that way, that’s a you problem (all problems are you problems, in AA; that’s not hyperbole, that’s doctrine). The sponsor is just supposed to be a mentor, and their advice is supposed to be a simple âhere’s what I would do in your shoes to help you stay sober.â I get that. But I guess as a Catholic, it strikes me as problematic to see folks in need relying on some other random alcoholic to hear their Fifth Step rather than a Priest in the Sacrament of Penance. This is where the program’s lack of actual religion causes it to fall short.
And yeah, I know, the very fact that the sponsor isn’t a professional nor a cleric is part of the magic. They’re just another recovering alcoholic with no particular obligation to you, not getting a paycheck, just doing this for the sheer love of the game. I understand that, in theory. But I still think you’re better off with the Sacraments, which are much safer, and have much more real effects on your soul.
(To be fair, I don’t really have any IRL friends, either, and still kinda struggle to understand the hows and whys of IRL human friendship; so this might just be a me problem.)
(3) Some Of Us Need To Touch Grass
My third and final beef with AA, and the main reason I don’t go back anymore, is really a personal one â not a philosophical issue, just a subjective experience.
For me personally, remaining steeped in the atmosphere of early sobriety, spending all those hours talking about booze and hearing about booze, making it such a huge part of my consciousness, is actually unhelpful. I had to move on. I had to touch grass.
Some people really need to stay in the program. For those people, their addiction was all they had, and so their life is just a vacuum without it, they have zero other passions or hobbies or interests. That’s not meant to be disparaging. It’s just a different type of addicted person. A person like that needs to stay entrenched in AA, needs to make sobriety their whole life and pastime, because the only alternative is going back to drinking. I get that. I feel for those people. I support them. I hope they never miss a single meeting.
However, I am fortunate to be someone who â even though booze was my #1 and held a special place in my heart that nothing else ever will occupy â cares about and enjoys other things as well, such as: my family, my imaginary inner world, reading, writing, art, my actual religion, watching TV, & etc. So I was able to kind of build a life and identity using those, when I got sober. Some people don’t have those to work with. It doesn’t make them more valid or their addiction more deserving of treatment. It’s just a different manifestation of the same disease.
Which is why I only started to get better once I stepped out of those rooms. But, still, some of the stuff I leaned in there was really invaluable; I got some great advice, met some great people, and can honestly say that no one there was ever cruel or shady or judgmental towards me â people were completely genuine and sincere. The magic is real. It just doesn’t work on me.
I kinda wish it did. I’d love to go back, because I miss it, the routine, the warmth, the familiar smells of coffee and basement. But there’d be no point. I’m not going to do the Steps again nor get a sponsor again — why would I?
And even though they’d welcome me back, and embrace me as one of their own, I know I’m unfortunately really not.
âIf you think you’re not one of us, you’re just not being honest with yourself đ,â they’d surely reply.
To which I’d respond: being sober in AA doesn’t make you omniscient. AA is not the Church. It’s just a bunch of people, and not all people have the same brain. But you know what?, if it helps you stay sober to believe that, that I, and literally anyone who’s ever been addicted to alcohol, âneedâ to be in AA, that I’d be better off there and that I’m doomed to relapse if I don’t go back to a meeting â then go ahead. You do you. I don’t want to prove you wrong if it means puttimg a crack in your support structure. I don’t need to win this argument at the possible price of your life.
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So yeah. If you’re newly sober or thinking about getting sober and reading this, and starting to doubt whether AA will work for you, I beg you, I am literally begging you, to go try it. This is just my stupid little blog where I come to process my stupid little feewings; and, after all, there’s a chance I’m not being honest with myself, and lack the self-awareness to see that! (đ”âđ«) In any case, you really need to go check it out for yourself. My email address’s in the “about” page if you wanna talk about it (or anything else).
in a certain mood or at a certain hour & if a certain type of song is playing, this little wisp of an idea alights upon my skin like a feather, tickling, and it occurs to me, I start to think: maybe i should try & write That One Book again⊠the one that i’ve written start-to-finish approx 4x in the last fifteen years, started rewriting at least 25-30x, re-drafted endlessly in my head, endlessly, and furiously, depressedly thrown in the trash approx 500 times⊠the one that i once printed off a physical copy of and literally buried in the backyard and planted a melon-sized rock on top of its grave, to try & put it to rest once & for all⊠the one that i keep swearing off, that keeps haunting me (it’s never gonna leave me, is it?) (wtf is it about that one?!), but man, i tell you what, literary agents everywhere can count themselves lucky, LUCKY!!, that i quite literally ain’t got time nor the thickness of skin to deal with all of that right now, who can relate?
No, I’m not talking about my marriage. I’ve been married for more than seven, in fact almost nine years now, and tbh married life really just keeps getting better; we love each other more now than we did on our wedding day, and he is the whole reason I’m here to even write this silly post.
Because what I’m referring to is: my soberversary! đ„ł Yep, it’s that time of year again, time for my annual blog post about being sober. Later this month, in just a matter of days here, I will (hopefully, that is — must never take a single day for granted!) have seven years alcohol-free.
Wow! Seven years. They say every cell in your body dies and is renewed over a period of seven years, so if that’s true, I’m basically a whole new Mith now, a Mith that has never been addicted to booze.
Except, we all know that’s not really true. I addressed this a little bit in my recent post on St. Mark Ji, patron saint of addicts and those in recovery â but, I am finding that, now, almost seven years in, I actually feel the proximity of my addicted self in a more real way than I did at four, five, or six years.
What I mean is, the possibility of going back feels more real now than it did then. I’ll be in the grocery store and walk by the wine endcap and, while formerly I’d avert my eyes or just glance at it smugly because I knew I didn’t need it, now my gaze lingers a bit and I observe the varieties and their prices, and I think: “I could just do it! It would be so easy. No one’s stopping me. I’d feel so much better.”
Luckily, it’s never been a serious thought; just a whisper that I acknowledge and ignore. The seven-year itch, maybe. But the existence of this itch, this whisper, does make me realize how thin the line is, between here and there. It’s virtually nonexistent. Technically, nothing is stopping me. It would really be so easy.
So how has it not happened yet? Maybe it’s because I’ve simply gotten in the habit now of not drinking. I no longer have to work hard to not drink, therefore I don’t think about staying sober all the time like I used to. It’s not usually on my mind. So when the thought of drinking arises, it’s a surprise, like “oh, right! I could do that!”. So in a way, being in this routine, this habit, is a liability, of which I must remain mindful.
But being in the habit of not drinking is a good thing, too, though — obviously! The thought of drinking is no longer an automatic response. This past December, my best friend unexpectedly died, and needless to say, that hit hard. But I realized, about two or three weeks after, that, while coping with that loss, it had never even occurred to me to think of drinking. It just didn’t even cross my mind that drinking might help.
Which is wild! The last time I endured a great tragedy in sobriety was a pregnancy loss in 2020, when I was not yet two years sober, and at that time I was absolutely tantruming like a toddler because my husband refused to grant me permission to get drunk. I simply couldn’t fathom feeling that much sadness without some kind of medication. I got through it, but best believe I was thinking about booze constantly and complaining every second of the way. But, look at me now. Out here doing life, hard parts and all, with zero medication and no psychoactive drugs of any kind. Just totally exposed to all the elements. Look Ma, no substances. Experiencing all of it unfiltered.
Which is hard to do! It may not be my first instinct anymore, to reach for a drink, but sometimes it is my second or third. There are times when it would really help. At those times, what’s standing between me and a drink? It would be so easy. What is stopping me?
In meetings they say: God’s grace.
If you hang out with me here regularly, you know I don’t go to meetings anymore. But looking back, I’m really glad that I had the desire to dry up, and that I found the meetings, back then, in my mid-twenties, back when I was more teachable, more easily-impressed. More willing to change. Now, at 36, I’m no longer blown off my feet when someone utters anything mildly profound or relatable. When I first started in AA, I was floored! All these personal stories of recovery, all this wisdom! đ€Ż But, my shell has grown thicker over the years, and I’ve retreated deeper into it. I’m not as awestruck anymore. Not as trusting. I know more stuff about more stuff. I’m pretty sure that if I discovered AA for the first time now, it’d just strike me as cringey and drippy and tired. So, it’s a good thing all that content penetrated into my brain when it did. At my current age, I’d surely be pretty resistant to it. And at my current age, I’m too old to go through early sobriety again.
It would seem that something is working for me. What is it?
I was at the right place, right time. Dumb luck. God’s grace? Idk. But also: building a routine, and living in fear of negative consequences. Getting used to being uncomfortable, all kinds of uncomfortable, in all kinds of different situations. To just having less “fun.” Those are the secrets. It’s about as glamorous as it sounds.
But without that drudgery and discomfort, there can be no real joy or peace in life, at least for me. If I had to drop some secondhand wisdom here for some newly-sober person, on this momentous occasion, it would be: the secret is getting used to being uncomfortable. It’s okay to be uncomfortable. The truth is in the discomfort. Without getting too religious here, because I know not all of you are Catholic like me: life is supposed to be uncomfortable, isn’t it? The discomfort is there for a reason; even the mild, fleeting discomfort of the seven-year itch.
So cheers, with a bottle of plain water, or perhaps a nice mug of herbal tea, to seven years. Maybe I’m not really literally a whole new person, but in some ways I am; and I sure do like the idea.
CAUTION: CONTAINS SPOILERS for Ultimate Baking Championship!!
Where to even begin, with this show?! This was a whirwind. I dunno about you guys, but I felt kind of overloaded. Here are my thoughts, and a quick recap:
Iâll start with this: I miss Spring Baking Championship. I wish theyâd just done another season of that instead. This show⊠the set is so sleek. The pastel colors, the contestantsâ humble oohing and ahhing, their friendly banter, and Jesseâs corny jokes, are all missing. This is just all business, no frills. Itâs not really the kind of baking show I like. But, neither was Next Gen, and that one managed to pleasantly surprise me, so weâll see where this goes.
Also, starting with sixteen?! And sending home six in a single episode?! Whew! I get being cutthroat, but this was wild, wasnât it?
The prize money is 50k, not just 25. So this is all professional, high-end stuff. No self-taught home bakers on this show. Food was described as âsexyâ not once, but twice. All the desserts are these fancy, elaborate, highly technical little plated numbers with about twenty-seven elements in each â things youâd only find at places I could never afford to go, and honestly wouldnât care to even if I could. (Iâve been watching these shows since like 2017, and even I have no clue what âpain de gĂȘnesâ is.) Give me a good hearty slice of cake over any of these, any day. For me, itâs just kinda… blah.
One thing I do like about it though: best believe, no one on this show mispronounces âmascarpone.â Not a single time! (Although, I did catch Chris calling a cylinder a âsphereâ one time. I can forgive that, because I too am a scatterbrain, and his blueberry lemon chiffon cake sounded delicoius.)
The other thing I like about this show: the leaderboard. Iâve been saying for some time that these shows really oughtta have a numerical ranking system, to make it a little more technical and less vague. I appreciated this move.
The Curse of Mithâs Favorite strikes again⊠three times. From the get-go, I was rooting for Steven and Cesar. And Julian, I liked him a lot because his flavor choices in both challenges sounded the most delicious (that campfire swiss roll tho!)! What is it about me?! Why is my support the kiss of death, for these contestants? Iâm like the grim reaper disguised as a cheerleader! (Last season of Holiday was an anomaly.) If I had to guess in socionics terms, itâs because of my Ni base function. I have a strong intuition, purportedly, so I think I can kind of subconsciously sense which people are the underdogs, and my heart goes out to them.
And even weirder â both Steven and Cesar went home on eclairs! WHAT! NO ONE else on this show better be making any eclairs for the REST OF THE SEASON! Especially my favorites (Iâm not gonna say who they are now, lest I curse them too!).
Without naming any favorites: Iâm thrilled that Adalberto pulled through after his napoleon fell apart. My little heart was breaking for him. He seems so genuine, and also, his pastry shop back home is the coolest! Iâm also glad to see Clement back â he was one of my favs on his season of Spring Baking, and I remember the last time he made that fraisier. (âI didnât sleep for three yearsâ after not winning that show, he said, lol â but now heâs back, and out for blood!) And Robert â where do I recognize him from?! I know Iâve seen him on one of these shows before.
I did think it was a bit of a cruel dig when Duff referred to Mollyâs gateau as âthe work of a cold, calculating assassinâ â right after sending Cesar, the eponymous Pastry Assassin, home! Come on now! And sending the “Flavor Queen” Lasheeda home on flavor?! And he told Julian that his Swiss roll needed âlubeâ?! OUCH! Merciless! The judging was harsh! I got a bit of whiplash going straight into this after the soft and gentle Next Gen, didnât you?! Whew!
Anyway, hereâs the recap:
Skills Challenge â four basic tastes, four basic textures; randomly assigned
Sour & Smooth
Robert: deconstructed key lime pie (âyou ainât sending me home on a key lime pie!â)
Adalberto: date pudding cake w/ passionfruit curd
Bitter & Toasty
Clement: chocolate hazelnut tart with coffee mascarpone cream
Robert: milk chocolate hazelnut bar w/ cherry chantilly
Molly: white chocolate pistachio gateau w/ raspberry
Arlety: tropical tart
Adalberto: guava & coconut napoleon w/ figs
Chris: blueberry lemon chiffon cake
Challenge Winner: Molly (27/30)
Sent Home: Arlety & Julian
.
Episode One Winner: Molly
Superlatives from the judges: 1 (âbest group of bakers I have ever seenâ â Duff)
Dead family members mentioned: 1 (Florenciaâs mom đđ) â very sad, but itâs also kind of a trope that these contestants have a dead family member inspiring them, so I thought Iâd keep a tally this season
Duffâs gaping maw spotted: 2 times (have yâall noticed how the camera loves to zoom in on his face when heâs taking a big bite and his eyes are wide open? As someone who hates to be seen eating, Iâm always so painfully embarrassed for him, lol â they do this to him all the time, so I thought Iâd keep a tally of this this season as well)
The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: there were SO many to choose from, but probably Robert’s from the second challenge: milk chocolate hazelnut “bar” with that “sexy,” “ethereal” cherry chantilly
Mithâs official prediction for the finalists and winner: Clement, Juan, and Robert, with Juan being the champion
What were your thoughts?! Who are your favs? Which desserts did you want to eat?! Leave me your comments! I’m sending this to the internet in hopes of reaching fellow fans. I want to hear from you!
At first I felt a lot of guilt. What if it was something I did?, what was wrong with my body?, etc. I got over that in time; I no longer feel like it was my fault. It just happens. 1 in 4 pregnancies, in fact.
But now, five years and eight months on, I still have guilt, just of a different kind. Two different kinds, really:
I’m no longer sad about it on the day-to-day. So I feel guilty for not feeling sadder. And also, I feel guilty for feeling sad at all: for grieving the baby that I lost â because if that baby had survived, I wouldn’t have my living daughter.
Three long, agonizing months after the miscarriage, three months of grieving inconsolably and waiting impatiently, I finally became pregnant again, this time with a baby that stuck. That ârainbow babyâ went on to be born in June: three months after what would have been the lost baby’s due date.
March 14, 2021 was their due date, in fact (pi day baby). So if they’d lived, they’d be turning five right about now. â But as it is, I have my bean, my beautiful, funny, mischievous 4.5 year old bean who will turn five in June, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything.
There’s no possible universe in which they both exist.
So like how do I do this? I can’t be sad that pi died, because that implies wishing that pi had lived, which implies wishing that bean had never existed. Which I do not and could never.
But â do those implications really necessarily follow? It seems so to me, logically⊠but maybe not all things are subject to this kind of logic. Things can be both bad and good. It can be hard to see things that way, especially tragedies; but this whole miscarriage conundrum really shows me how true it is: our little labels of âgoodâ and âbad,â which we are so quick to slap onto our perceptions of events and occurrences â the stories we make up to make sense of things â are really so inadequate, so futile. Maybe in the grand scheme they’re actually even kinda meaningless.
The tragedy of a thing doesn’t make the joy that it made space for any less joyful. Nor does the joy really alleviate the sadness. They don’t cancel each other out. They coexist. Both are true at once. It’s weird. Human brains aren’t really capable of seeing things from God’s perspective, but situations like this kind of give us a hint, I think. In the mind of God, there are none of our human limitations. Both can exist there, both siblings side by side, equally, eternally alive.
How’re ya feeling, fellow moms? This rant is for you. I’ve noticed a trend in the online pregnancy world recently of moms complaining about being asked, while visibly pregnant: âhow are you feeling?â
And I’m here to tell those moms: really?! Come on now. I know we’re hormonal and tired, and sometimes we genuinely cannot control our emotional outbursts, — I get it. But that’s no excuse to throw basic courtesy and rationality to the winds. Let’s get over ourselves, shall we, and try to be decent humans.
Women are complaining that they’re tired of being asked this question, over and over and over, by complete strangers even, because isn’t it obvious that they’re not feeling great?!, and it isn’t anyone’s business anyway! Such a lame, tired question! And why are total strangers asking me how I’m feeling?! Just leave me alone!
Now, if you read this blog, you know I’m all for being left alone. I’m hardly a fan of random unsolicited comments from strangers, and I also can’t stand it when people treat pregnant moms like they’re some exhibit in a zoo. As an ILI with AVPD and an ED that makes me hypersensitive about my body image, I’m not big on small talk, being greeted by strangers in public, or being perceived in general. So please keep in mind that this rant is not coming from some shameless, tactless, chatty social butterfly who loves discussing personal details with strangers. I’m actually intensely private and very reserved about conversation.
Nor am I ignorant of the struggles of being pregnant. I’ve been pregnant five times and given birth four, one of which was a complicated pregnancy that resulted in an emergent c-section and a NICU stay. So I get it. Pregnancy is not all sunshiney small-talk material.
But pregnancy is also really, really cool. It’s possibly one of the coolest things, if not the coolest thing, about the human species. When people see a pregnant lady, it elicits a reaction. That’s just natural.
When people ask you “how are you feeling?”, it’s not really about how you’re feeling. They’re not your doctor. Knowing how you’re feeling physically in that moment is not that important to them. What they really mean with this question is: “wow! I see that you are pregnant. That is cool! I am acknowledging how cool this is. Would you like to discuss it?” — I’m hardly socially savvy, but I feel like it’s pretty obvious that this is the motive behind the question.
It’s just common sense. It’s common courtesy.
It’s not an invasion of privacy. Since when does “how are you” actually mean “tell me how you are doing”? Everyone knows that it’s just a simple greeting. As the saying goes: Don’t talk about your indigestion, “how are you”‘s a greeting, not a question!
A person who’s asking you how you’re feeling is not asking you to reveal that you are constipated, nauseated, leaking, hormonal, gassy, or any of that gross stuff. Guess what! Being asked does not obligate you to divulge that information! You can simply say “alright,” or “not great,” or “tired,” or whatever simple reply you want! You don’t have to be gross, but you also don’t have to lie. A simple “not great” is all you need. It’s polite and honest without being gross. You don’t need to be rude.
Because sometimes this question is meant very sincerely. Sometimes the asker of this question (especially if it is a woman, or a friend/family member) is trying to offer you a space to vent and complain a bit, if you want to. Yes, it’s obvious that you’re not feeling great; your belly is the size of a house; they can see that, they’re not dumb. What they are really saying is, “I see that you’re not feeling great! I’m sure it’s exhausting being out and about trying to accomplish your tasks while feeling this way. I’m happy to offer a listening ear if you’d like to be real about it for a moment.” It’s a simple kindness. You don’t have to engage at length if you’re not in the mood, but don’t be pissy and get mad at them.
Sometimes they are trying to start a conversation (again, usually this is if it’s a woman). Women who’ve been pregnant before typically tend to be interested in talking about pregnancy. So maybe they’re hoping that you’ll respond with “actually, I feel like shit, I puked three time this morning,” so that they can then respond with “oh I get it, I had HG during both of my pregnancies, it was rough!” or something like that. It’s just human nature to want to find common experiences in conversation. Again, not saying that you have to have a conversation if you don’t feel like it. But you should recognize the question for what it is, and return kindness with kindness.
I totally get not wanting invasive questions. When I was forty weeks with my first, a customer at work asked me if I was dilated yet. Um, excuse me? Who are you and why are you asking about my cervix? At that point I agree with you, that’s a weird and uncomfortable thing to be asked. But “how are you feeling” is as neutral, lightweight, generic, and open-ended as can be. If that question offends you, then your social sensibilities need some adjustment.
I truly just don’t understand why any mom would be offended that someone cares enough to ask how she’s feeling. To offer a simple expression of benevolent interest. The person who asks “how are you feeling” is not demanding intimate details. They’re simply acknowledging, politely, harmlessly, that you are in an extraordinary state. Why is that so bad?
Maybe this is a Gen-Z thing. I know gen-Zs, who probably constitute the majority of the worldwide pregnant population currently, are notorious for hating common courtesy and returning every simple nicety with a dead-eyed glare. So maybe that’s what this is about. As a millennial woman who was brought up to always be polite and kind to a fault, I can’t relate.
Regardless of generation though, this just seems to me like a no-brainer. If “how’re you feeling” offends you, you may as well be offended by “hi” and “nice weather we’re having,” too. What a waste of energy. I think I’m pretty thin-skinned, but dang! Getting offended by “how are you feeling” is next-level ridiculous.
And here’s the really annoying thing! by complaining about it online for anyone to read, you’re making people afraid to say anything to a pregnant lady at all! You’re making us all look insufferably oversensitive. People love to accuse women of doing nothing but bitch and moan about everything, and when you go online and whine about simply being asked “how are you feeling,” you’re not helping us beat those allegations.
I for one like to be asked how I’m feeling while pregnant. Why? Because, as I explained, it’s a simple acknowledgement that I am pregnant and that is cool. That’s all it is. By responding succinctly and politely, what you’re really saying is: “yes, I am indeed pregnant, thank you for acknowledging how cool that is.” That’s all.
As someone who spent many years longing to be pregnant, but had to wait until I was 29, I am grateful when someone acknowledges the reality of a pregnancy. Yes, it is cool, isn’t it? I don’t love being looked at, though, and don’t love small-talky conversations, so I’ll offer some canned response like “fine, thanks” even if it’s not true. I’ll also smile, to show that I am grateful (not saying that you should necessarily do that, though, unless you are actually happy; in 2026, we don’t tell women to smile!). Even I, a painfully awkward person with diagnosed AVPD, am capable of this. I’m trying to show you how easy it is to practice basic courtesy.
We all have different baggage. Maybe you didn’t want to be pregnant. Maybe you wanted to hide your pregnancy for whatever reason. Fair enough. But if you are a sane person, you have to admit that you, not the asker of this completely benign question, are the one acting weird, because of your baggage. It’s okay to be weird, I’m not saying it’s not — if you’re seriously triggered by an innocuous question, I am sorry, you must have a lot going on. But it’s still not okay to be rude. And it’s not okay to blame others when the issue is your own.
In conclusion: coming from an admittedly oversensitive person, “how are you feeling” is not, in any way, a rude or stupid question. From one mom to another: let’s chill out. Let’s get over ourselves. Let’s put on our big girl pants and practice common courtesy, even when we’re not in the mood. We’re not exempt.
was my four-year-old’s straight-faced, matter-of-fact reply this afternoon when I begged her to explain to me why, why, why she was still whining and angry and tantruming even after all of her requests had been fulfilled (a bandaid for a tiny boo-boo that wasn’t even bleeding, quesadillas made with cheddar only (because last time i had the audacity to make them with a mixture of cheddar and mozzarella, in an attempt to use up the giant bag of mozzarella shreds in our cheese drawer) (she ate 1/4 of these btw), and her cup of water brought to her on the couch. Why was she still mad? Sometimes, when they’re in this mood and I’m overstimulated, I’ll start loudly singing “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” to lighten the mood a bit (it really helps, you should try it!), but today, I just pleaded with her to explain to me why. As an ILI in socionics I have creative Te which means I want actions to serve some purpose — why?, what for?, what is this accomplishing??! I can’t deal with pointlessness — and also vulnerable Fe, which means I struggle with loud and histrionic displays of emotion. “Why are you mad?!” is probably a dumb question to ask a whining four-year-old. I’m aware of this. But sometimes it slips out. Being an ILI mom of littles has its unique challenges.
But now that I’ve been informed that, apparently, my four-year-old simply has this intentional, regularly-scheduled Scream Time written into her little daily agenda, I guess I can understand it a little better. “There always has to be a part of the day where I’m screaming.” I guess it serves a purpose for her. She’s a clever bean; maybe she’s on to something. Maybe we should all schedule some daily scream time. Maybe that’d be good for us. As someone with vulnerable Fe, though, I think I’ll stick to just rambling on this stupid little blog. This right here is my scream time.
I really felt like Leia and Kiera deserved the win, for being so incredibly technically skilled this whole season long. As Leia pointed out, they werenât in the bottom two once. So many of the things they created this season were adult-tier baking championship stuff. And their final cake was so extra, with the interactive element of the Dubai-chocolate-covered strawberries hiding under the âsunâ-shaped chocolate shell! That cake just looked like it deserved to win! The only downside to it, I guess, was that the pistachio layer was too thick, and I guess that made for a less-pleasant eating experience, which is fair.
A part of me just also wonders if the creators didnât want to award the big prize to Leia and Kiera because it would have been too predictable. Way too easy. Iâve seen them do this on baking shows before. Sometimes, thereâs a competitor whoâs so insanely good, who so obviously deserves to win, that the show gives it to someone else just to keep it interesting. (See: Juergen in Series 12 of GBBO.)
I havenât really had a favorite, per se, not since my favs went home in episode one; but in this episode, I really found myself starting to root for Genesis and Akbar. Because of the discussions of what they were going to do with the prize money. Genesis and Akbar wanted to share it with all their siblings, and also start a business. Both of the other teams were planning to save and/or invest it, which, wow, that is incredibly wise and mature of them, way to go kids!, I wish Iâd been so smart when I was your age! But I also would have loved to see the money go to a family who seems to needit a little more, in the here and now. Abigail and Kenneth live on three thousand acres (!), and Leia already has a baking business, so I donât get the impression that theyâre exactly hurting for money, lol!
And Duff actually said of Genesis and Akbar at one point: âI donât think anybody in here can make a cake as well as those twoâ â which is so true, because their flavors have been consistently the best! Also, I think it was pretty clear from their interactions throughout the season that Kardea also favored Genesis and Akbar. Maybe sheâll be able to pull some strings behind the scenes and help get Genesisâs business going, haha. I hope so.
But honestly, I woulda been a bit sad no matter who had won and who had lost. Abigail and Kenneth have been awesome this whole season, so much fun to watch, and Iâm thrilled that a couple of farm kids from the midwest won the big prize. This episode, Duff commented on how Kenneth has really shone and how itâs really because of him that the teamâs done so well⊠but letâs not neglect to give Abigail the praise that she deserves! She is an incredible person! She is tough as nails! Iâm so impressed by her character. A hard worker, confident, strong, bold, just completely herself. What an absolute boss. And yeah, watching Kenneth make snow angels in the confetti was delightful.
Kid who most deserved a hug: Genesis. I hope she still gets to start her business.
Kid who most deserved a high five: Abigail, for her mathematical precision lining up those fondant hearts!
The dessert that I would most have liked to eat: Abigail and Kennethâs chocolate cake with blackberry filling and hazelnuts; easily the most delicious flavor combo out of all of these.
Stats for the whole season:
Total Wins: Maci & Emmett (2), Leia & Kiera (2), Abgail & Kenneth (2, counting the big win), Jovie & Lenore (1), Genesis & Akbar (1)
Superlatives This Season: Leia and Kiera 2; Harper & Holland 1; Maci & Emmett 2; whole group 1
Total high fives: Holland (1), Cameron (1), Genesis (2), Kenneth (1), Maci (1), Emmett (1), Kiera (1), Abigail (1)
(…it starts to become clear that maybe Genesis was my fav all along, haha
Who made the desserts that Mith most wanted to eat: Harper & Holland (2), Abigail & Kenneth (2), Genesis & Akbar (2), Jovie & Lenore (1), Leia & Kiera (1), Maci & Emmett (1).
See you next week for Ultimate Baking Championship!
Well, this is it: this is THE Question That Keeps Me Up At Night. After this one, I may as well just shut this whole column down. It’s the question to literally end all questions. How many of us will actually make it to Heaven?
In case you’re new here, I’m a Catholic — certainly not an exemplary one though. I’ve been Catholic going on twelve years, and about a year and a half ago I became Traditionalist.
The fewness of the saved is something I never heard about before becoming Trad. It’s not really talked about in the modern Church. You can see why they don’t want to talk about it. It’s a scary thought, the scariest thought that there is. Human language cannot accurately describe how scary of a thought it is. I don’t even like to talk about it — in fact, as I write this, I have to keep pausing to write other things to keep my focus divided, because I simply can’t get too immersed in this topic. So it’s probably gonna take a while to finish. Which is why I’m only just now getting around to writing this post, even though it’s my #1 Question That Keeps Me Up At Night, and I’ve been writing these stupid little QTKMUANs for over a year now.
So why now, you ask? Why am I writing about this now? For the simple reason that YouTube randomly brought it up with me again. I.e., the channel Sensus Fidelium, which I subscribe to and you should too, just posted a sermon on this topic within the last day or so. So it popped up on my feed, and all it took was me seeing the title on my screen for that horrible sinking feeling to come over me once again. Threatening to pull me under.
Luckily, I think I’ve figured out how to cope.
The first time though, it really dealt me a blow. The first time I learned about the fewness of the saved was around the time that I became Trad. I’d heard that this was something Trads believed in, so I looked it up. And I found, lo and behold, a sermon on YouTube.
I can’t find the exact video again, but there are a ton of similar ones on YouTube (topic: fewness of the saved, sermon by St. Leonard of Port Maurice; listen at your own risk). The one that I watched, it literally opened with “beware, do not listen to the following if you’re already really worried about hell” — so, I shoulda just turned it off then and there, but I was curious. And then, after listening, for like two and a half days, I lost the ability to really function. I just kinda sat there staring into space. No point weeping. No point doing anything.
Because here’s the tl;dr: we all already know that few are saved — the narrow gate, and all — but apparently, it’s way fewer than you even thought! According to some saints, less than one percent of practicing Catholics will make it to Heaven. Way less. (Not to mention 100% of all non-Catholics, which in this scenario just goes without saying.) This sermon cited saints’ visions of like a hundred thousand souls all going before the Judgment Seat, and out of all these, only five even make it into purgatory. All the rest are damned. This information may not be an approved dogma of the Church, but it was taught by canonized saints and Doctors of the Church, and it’s certainly not disapproved.
Hearing this, I was like: well, F. Because let’s face it. I’m far from one of the best Catholics I know. I ran the math: my hometown has a population of 79,000. If only five in 100,000 even have a shot at salvation, then that means maybe only three people in my whole city will be saved. But wait, I thought, my heartbeat starting to race. I have a husband and four kids. And I can easily name many people in my city who are holier than me and my family. I know way more than three people in my area who are sincere and devout and say their rosary every day.
It felt hopeless. It felt very convincing and very hopeless. If my chances are that slim, I thought, then why even bother? At this point I may as well give up. Just quit trying to be better, just eat drink and be merry while I still can, because after this nothing but suffering for all eternity awaits me. I.e.: it led me to despair.
But wait. Isn’t despairing of God’s mercy a sin against the First Commandment? I wrote about this a bit in a recent post. Hope is a virtue. We need to have hope. So maybe watching this video even though I knew it might lead me to despair was actually me failing to avoid a near occasion of sin. Maybe I should stop dwelling on it and go to confession. Maybe I should abandon this post.
But… is it true though? Most members of my religious community seem to think so. Extra ecclesiam nulla salus — yes, I do believe that: outside of the Church, there is no salvation. I accepted that a long time ago.
However I also believe (and keep in mind here, I am not an expert nor a theologian, and these opinions are my own) that this doesn’t necessarily mean that no non-Catholics ever go to Heaven. All salvation comes through the Catholic Church; maybe that means that, sometimes, through the prayers and sacrifices of faithful Catholics, even some non-Catholics have a chance. And obviously if they are in Heaven they are Catholic now. I don’t know; this is just what I like to think.
Because I obviously believe that God continues to purify our souls after death. Our journey does not just abruptly end when we die. Knowing that to be true, then wouldn’t it make sense for Purgatory to be a very crowded place? I can’t help but feel like that must be where most of us end up after we die. I’d personally feel much more satisfied, and find it much more believable, if it were phrased to me this way: that, out of 100,000 practicing Catholics, only five walk straight into Heaven, and the other 999,995 have at least a decent shot at getting into Purgatory. That seems fair to me.
But maybe that’s just wishful thinking. It’s not about what Mith thinks is fair, after all. I’m not the judge.
And of course, we don’t want to presume God’s mercy. That’s a sin as well. “Oh, it’s okay, I don’t have to work on myself now, I’ll just do some extra time in Purgatory for it lol” — no, we mustn’t think like this. If we don’t do our best, then sure, we do deserve hell. Are most of us doing our best? — who’s to really say? We might have convinced ourselves that we are doing our best — but we’re not the judge. God knows us and our motivations and intentions better than we do.
So I really can’t “disprove” the extreme fewness of the saved, and I’m not here to do that, however badly I wish I could. I can’t argue against it, and I won’t do that, because whenever I see folks online doing that, it just strikes me as desperate, pitiful attempts to cope. Stamping their little feet going “no! it’s not fair!”, like toddlers. Oh believe me, I get it. I understand needing to cope, because this knowledge is literally impossible to live with. But burying our heads in the sand is probably not the best way to do that.
“But I just don’t believe it, Mith. I just don’t feel that it’s true, that most people burn in hell. That just doesn’t line up with my perception of a loving God.” Are you really gonna gamble your eternal soul on what you “feel like”? Do you really trust your own little perceptions that much? We’re so small. We’re all products of our time and environment, and this concept of a warm-and-fuzzy, lovey-dovey God who just wants you to be a good person, is a pretty recent trend. I’m not willing to risk it all for a trend. God’s perspective is very different from ours. We tend to think He sees things our way. Reading the Old Testament is a real eye opener in that regard.
I can’t argue with Saint Leonard of Port Maurice or any of the great saints who professed the fewness of the saved (there were many, even St. Thomas Aquinas himself). So, what can I do?
How do we cope??
I could complain about it — although that’s probably sinful, to resent God’s justice.
I guess the only thing I can do, is the very thing I was just talking about last week: hope.
I can hope that more than 5/100,000 go to heaven. I can hope that it’s much more than that. And that the non-Catholics that I love have a chance. To get a bit more crazy and extreme with it, I can even go so far as to hope that my sorry little pathetic self has a chance! Hope, radical hope, is a virtue, after all.
But hoping doesn’t mean ignoring the strong likelihood that only extremely few really are saved.
What I’ve figured out for myself is, you have to master the art of living with this information in your peripheral, but not looking squarely at it, at least not for too long. You have to do your absolute best to live as if it is true, but hope against hope that it’s not.
And, you have to be devoted to the Blessed Mother. I’ve heard of personal accounts from people who had near-death experiences, telling how they came before the Judgment Seat and just knew that they deserved hell — that, in light of God’s unfathomable goodness, it was only fair, really; they didn’t even argue. But who should come and intercede on their behalf but our beautiful, gentle Mother. She always has mercy, and Jesus loves her so much that He will do what she asks of Him. She can save even the most hardened sinners. And never was it known that anyone who fled to her protection was left unaided!
I was reading a book recently in which the author reminded us that, each time we pray the rosary, we ask Mary to pray for us at the hour of our death 53 times. If we pray it daily, that’s 19,345 times a year. I’m 36; let’s say I live another 30 years. If I don’t miss a day, that’s 580,350 times — not counting all the rosaries I’ve already prayed up to this day! Surely my loving Mother cannot ignore that, right? Isn’t that some slightly reassuring math?
But… don’t so many Catholics say their rosary every day? Pretty much all of us? How do we reconcile that with how few of us allegedly go to heaven?
Maybe we think we’re praying with sincerity, but like I said we don’t really know ourselves as well as God does, do we?
I guess the last coping mechanism I’ve landed on and that I’ll share with you here is, we must keep in mind that God is good. His will is perfectly good. If He lets us go to hell, then that is for the best. If I end up in hell, I guess I’ll at least know, while I’m burning, that it’s because God is good and all is as it should be. That all is right with the world. I don’t guess that would console me at all, since there is no consolation in hell. But, it’s something. It allows me to persist.
And of course, the goodness of God also inspires hope.
So in conclusion, hope not only serves as an antidote to despair, but also allows us to cheerfully go about our business here on earth, doing our little jobs and raising our little families and posting on our stupid little blogs, even while knowing that all but like 1/20,000 of us are most likely going to burn in hell for all eternity.
So, let’s hope, readers! If you’re reading this, I’ve said a Hail Mary for you; maybe you can say one for me as well.
