I didn’t think I would ever be a “#metoo”. However, I am a woman and that throws me in the pool of possible victims.

A little over a year ago, two men came into my work to purchase a refrigerator. The man who was purchasing seemed drunk. Still, I sat at the desk processing the invoice with him in the chair across from me answering questions as needed. His friend, also drunk, however started talking and did not stop. The things he said made my eyes bug out.

Initially, I shrugged off his comments–I thought it was just another guy hitting on me. HOWEVER, it didn’t stop. “D*** she’s perty. Ain’t she sexy. Look no ring! D*** she’s fine…” He wasn’t taking a breathe. I was dumbfounded. He literally was saying things like that non-stop. He peaked with, “D***! How have you not been sexually assaulted!” I sat there stupefied and laughed like, “Really? Is this happening?”

He finally left… and I felt like he took my dignity with him. I felt dirty. I felt used. I felt like an object. I felt like I was going to throw up.

News via text spread around town to my friends of this crazy occurrence. I began to get emotional. One of my dear friends’ husband became livid and he called me. His tone was of loving concern. He affirmed me and rebuked the man. I began to cry, as it went from a man with vulgar language to a man with love. My stomach still churned, though, and I let my co-workers know I needed to leave.

I just wanted to cry–cry my eyes out.

Headed to the Big House

During the evening, I took a drive to church to release the tears and hopefully obtain some peace. However, after entering the chapel, I saw four people in there that I knew and didn’t really feel like igniting worried eyes, as I uncorked my tear ducts. I prayed an Our Father and left.

Then it hit me… Forgive, don’t hold grudges…

That is how I’ve always been.

I realized this guy needs help. There is a soul at stake here. Then my heart softened with compassion and the focus went from my hurt into his need for healing. He’s trying to fill a void with vulgarity and impurity.

I started to pray… that Jesus would have mercy on him. That this man would grow close to Christ. That the Holy Spirit heals him from the demons that fill his mind with gravely sinful lust. That he may become sober through the intercession of St. Monica–a sobered drunk herself and a powerful intercessor, steadfast prayers until her son turned from drunkenness and debauchery (St. Augustine, a big theologian–known by some outside Catholic circles). That he be given into his soul purity by intercession of St. Maria Goretti–raped and murdered the whole while verbally praying for forgiveness for his soul (good model for me)–the man, who raped St. Maria Goretti, converted, became a priest and was present at her canonization as a saint.  That he would be guarded to not do this to any other woman by St. Michael the Archangel as well as his guardian angel. That God puts a Godly male example be brought into his life through the intercession of the pure chaste man himself, St. Joseph–he guarded Mary’s virginity. And be overseen by the intercession of Christ’s Mother Mary crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth (Revelation) and model of chastity and purity.

Do I have a solution to this…

this #metoo movement? No; I don’t. I wish I did. However, coming at it with hate is not the answer. Actions do need to take place to prevent this from happening. In my situation, there was a code “RED” put in place at work if something like that happened again–call the guys from the back and call 911. It is a-okay to lose a customer sale for that.

Typically the #metoo women are in this day after day at work. My heart goes out to them, as 10 minutes was fairly unbearable for me.

After I had this typed up, my friend, Maria, posted a quote, “Behind every persons hurtful comment is a hurting heart. Maybe if we could remember that it would change the way we reacts or choose to act.”

I am definitely not writing these guys off as hurting and definitely not choosing not to fight against it. However, I feel prayers for healing is a different way of “attacking” this problem. Not the only way, but an extra tool to get at the root of the issue.

“Do not be overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.” Rom. 12:21

+ PAX ET BONUM +

Kristen

+ JMJ +

Below is a story I just told a counselor, who said it is a perspective she’s never heard on this topic. She said people need to hear this…so here I am.

Recently, I had a dear loved one reach out to me for prayers for her daughter, who was just texted by a friend planning on taking her life the upcoming weekend. The daughter, let’s call Faith, was struggling because she knew her friend, lets call June, and schoolmates would be upset with her for getting June into trouble.

I said to my loved one, “Put her on the phone with me right now.”

I told Faith she was doing what is right…

Then I did something I’d never done before… I walked through my life from the time I sat down to suicide when I was about June’s age, 13, until now.

This is for everyone.

If I had taken my life then, my siblings, ages 1 and 2,  would have only known me from goofy pictures and silly stories. I would have never shown my bro how to do some of the best card tricks. I would have never showed my sister how to play softball. I would have never hit a home run myself. I would have never thrown a runner out at home from center field. I would have never jumped over the fence the outfield fence to catch a ball desperately trying to win a game. I would have never met the majority of the people I know now. I would have never met my nieces. I would have never met my sister-in-law. I would have never been a bridesmaid in 6 weddings nor a maid of honor in one of them. I would have never been a sister/friend to many women in my life. I would have never become a Franciscan. I would have never made Kris’ Chicken Veggie soup. There would have been no Christmas After Parties. My Goddaughters would have never had me as their Godmother. I would have never worked for HGTV/DIY/Food Network/Cooking Channel/GAC/Travel Channel or L’Oreal, Garnier, Essie, Maybelline… Those names don’t matter though. I would have never met the co-workers I have worked with in any of my jobs–that would be the thing I missed. Many people would never have received a “Kristen” hug. Many people would never have received spontaneous gifts in the mail for no reason. Many people would not have received little notes on their windshields saying “Smile. Jesus loves you.” or “I’m praying for you.”

Yes; lots of prayers would have been lost. Lots of prayers that were answered. Many people would have never been seen by me, a girl who always sees the good in people. Many people who were lost would have never experienced the love I have to give. They would have never seen the compassion in my eyes and the heartfelt glance of my empathy for what they have been through. People wouldn’t have someone endlessly knocking at their door to get them out of bed, stop isolating themselves, and getting out of depression. Many would not have random voice mails of me singing, “I just called to say I love you. I just called to say how much I care. I just called to say I love you and I mean it from the bottom of my heart.” Many dogs would not have the privilege of meeting me. 😀 Many wouldn’t have received random bouquets of flowers. Many wouldn’t have received my crazy Snapchats. Many wouldn’t have heard my monkey/ape noises. No one would have known I would have had curly hair (changed from straight to curls at 17). Many would not of seen my contagious smile. Many people would not have seen me at Mass everyday. Many would still feel lost. There are people that might not be here right now. This heart would not have reached over 1,000 people. There are people I know I have made a positive effect in their lives and that effect would have never been made. I would have never been Christ’s light in many many others life. I would have never known Faith. Yes; I told her that–that’s when she gasped.

I wasn’t saying this to pump my ego. It’s just the truth and I wanted her to see it. If she had turned me in, I would be sitting her down right now and telling her how grateful I am for having saved my life. It may be a bit before she hears it from June, but even if she doesn’t I know the people in June’s life will be forever grateful.

Yes. Suicide doesn’t have one victim. It goes through the years–throughout all the lives of people that have missed out on the life of the one who chose to take their own. Like the butterfly effect–driven by God.

If you are here in the moment seeing no purpose in your life, just talk to your family and friends. They have love for you and would miss you in every day that you are gone.

Friends,

Every minute in every hour of every day–every person that you meet–has a purpose. If not for yesterday, there would be no today. If not for today, there would be no…

HEAVEN!

+ Pax

Kristen von Clef

+JMJ+

Oh, how I love the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. Alison Steadman gives an unprecedented performance of Mrs. Bennet-quite the drama queen herself.

This start to “To Suffer For Souls” is just an opening line into the trials I’ve encountered and will continue to encounter as life is just life. It’s no surprise that I’ve been through struggles, because, you know as well as I, we’re human and that’s what happens as long as we’re breathing. (maybe even more so after we stop if we don’t make proper choices!) But that being said, that’s not the end to that statement.

What do I suffer?

My response to that would be another question, “Why do I suffer?” I do, because “I longed to suffer for souls as Christ had done, so that some day they might be with Him forever.” (The Little Flower | THE STORY OF SAINT THERESE OF THE CHILD JESUS – Mary Fabyan Windeatt) That line I found highlighted in my book I read at age 10. I found it when I was 18ish (don’t remember my exact age) as I was preparing for a talk  at a women’s retreat on “Conquering Suffering through Love”.

As I prepared for that retreat, I prayed of course, but also reflected on all my past before the suffering started. It was reflecting back quite a bit, because the struggles began at age 11/12. It was true I did long to suffer. Why? Because I knew that suffering does not have to go without merit. I was a child-a child so madly in love with Jesus. I delved into the lives of the saints and there was something that they all had in common, they suffered. Life’s not easy. And they didn’t try to take an easy way out. They put on their cross and listened to Christ as He said, “Come follow Me.”

Okay. So, WHAT do I suffer?

The year or so after I told the Lord I longed to suffer, I started into an uncomfortable state-the state I found out years later was depression. This was not what I expected. I thought I would get tuberculous or cancer or something-something I was a little bit more familiar with as an illness-(yes, I know that’s crazy to be okay with that) but the depression led me to the darkest of the darkest.  At night, I cried myself to sleep for months on end-hiding it from my family as they were taking care of my ailing grandmother and little toddlers. This wasn’t a simple boo hoo-tears rolling down your cheek. This was a “get on the floor in my tiny closet, shut the door, curl up into the tightest possible position, and shake violently while remaining silent” kind of crying. I spent those nights racking my brain trying to think of what could have possibly gone wrong? What did someone do? Why was I hurting so badly? I just couldn’t understand.

Many other symptoms unraveled my life and then by the age of 16 it happened. I had what’s called a manic episode. I won’t go into the details of that now, but it was awful. I lost touch with reality. And I lost touch with all my friends-well most of them. The mania seems fun at the beginning. You feel euphoric, but if not tended to, it spirals out of control.

Soon after the episode began, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I had it stamped to my forehead for a little while, but once I got stabilized on my medicine, I peeled off the stamp and stuck it in my pocket-only taking it out for select people to see.

I’m writing now because of the reactions of those select people who saw. Those people had hurts, too. They had struggles. And some of them even had Bipolar Disorder. It’s a medical illness many people still misunderstand. From my knowledge of “Silver Linings Playbook”, it’s not the most accurate portrayal of the illness-at least not how I act. Through the love of my caregivers, I’ve learned to take care of myself and jump on top of my health whenever the symptoms start to arise. These tips and tricks are something I’m willing to share. I’m here reaching out with a helping hand, but I can’t help without the Hand that’s held mine. This blog with evolve I’m sure, but to start out it will be on what I suffer, why I suffer, how I deal with it and how I embrace it.

+ Pax + | KK