Writing feels like I'm being crucified somehow. It's incredibly lonely and painful to bare your soul on paper, and I have constant thoughts which go something like "Oh god, why have you forsaken me? Why can't I just be like everyone else, and watch TV and have no inclination to express my creativing in such a revealing way. God, why did you abandon me? You know I'm a sissy, a wuss, and I hate pain and I hate being criticized. You know my ego is more fragile than glass sliver." Then I start wondering if an experience I had in my childhood is to blame for these feelings. Let me explain.

When I was 12 and going through that hormonal raging period, my aunt and uncle and their family had moved into our house. My uncle had just finished his residency to be a doctor, and they needed a place to live until he could pass the state medical bar exam and get a job. My uncle is a deeply religious catholic, and he went to mass constantly. I started going with him and my cousins, and became for a brief time like a born again catholic.

We went to Novena mass on Wednesday, some other service on Friday and of course church on Sunday. I even sang in my catholic church choir that year. When Easter came around that year, we went to Stations of the Cross mass and I became really caught up in the whole thing, so caught up that I used sob uncontrollably during the whole mass. I remember getting this idea in my silly 12 year old head that to really one with Jesus Christ, I needed a sign. So catholic huh, to want a sign. I remember going to the library, and looking up catholic signs and miracles. In this one book, I read about people who received stigmata in their hands and/or feet. Since it was easter, I decided that I wanted a stigmata to appear in my hands or feet so I could experience crucifixion with Jesus. Then I could go into the nunnery and be a bride of christ forever. Don't all young catholic girls fantasize about being chosen to be a nun, a bride of christ, a servant of the lord, pure, chaste and celibate for the rest of your life?

I remember praying every night and at each mass I went to, for god to give me stigmata. I remember wantng to really know what it was like to be crucified like Jesus. Of course, I never got my stigmata and well, then I discovered boys. It then occurred to me that maybe being a nun wasn't such a good idea. I was supremely disappointed I wasn't chosen to be a bride of christ and have stigmata, but then maybe feeling the pain of crucifixion wouldn't have been such a good idea either.

Is God now granting my wish and making me feel the pain of crucifixion in my writing? Had I known at age 12 it was going to be this painful, I wouldn't have prayed for it Does this mean be careful of what you might wish for, because you might get it some time before you die? What a scary thought!