For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Walking away from God

April 9, 2026 / / 5 Comments

When I was a little girl, all of eight years old, I remember the excitement of wearing my perfect white dress and veil. The year was 1979 and I was about to make my First Communion at St. Ann’s Church in West Springfield, Massachusetts. First Communions were a big thing back then: a longer than usual Catholic Mass where everyone showed up to see their daughter, son, godchild, niece, nephew, grandchild present themselves at the front of the altar to take the body and blood of Christ for the first time. Then everyone gathered at my home where my mom put on a big spread of food and of course, there was also cake and presents. First Communion was right up there with my birthday and Christmas that year.

As that innocent eight year old child, I believed in God because I was supposed to. It’s what my mom believed. It was what my Memere and Grammie believed. It was what my whole family believed. I believed, more like I knew, that God made all of us, He was in charge, and I better not fight with my brother because that was a sin and then I would have to tell Father Bevilaqua all about it in confession. My little eight year old brain had God simplified to those three things.

I stayed in the Catholic Church until I was eighteen and that included being confirmed at Sacred Heart Church. My understanding of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit matured but that connection fell away once I went to college. Or maybe a better way to say it is that I still believed in God, but I didn’t have the time or interest for church or prayer.

I’m sitting here trying to remember the next time, as an adult, I was regularly attending church or consciously having a relationship with God. The easiest way for me to do that is by going through a timeline of places I lived after college and as I go through that in my brain, the next time I come up with is when I got engaged to my ex-husband. We wanted to get married in the church so we had to do premarital counseling and the priest was very firm about his expectation that we would be at Mass every week and, we did.

After we were married, we stopped going to church. A few years later, I read a book by Joel Osteen (I have different opinions about Osteen now but that is a whole other story) that made God so relatable to me. That God was more than ritual and sacraments. He made it seem like I could have a relationship with God. That part blew my mind…you mean a one on one relationship with Him? That was the part that was missing for me. I eagerly started visiting different churches because I felt that church, for me, was a part of that relationship with God.

I started branching out to different denominations and found a home at a Congregational church in town. I had no other experience with church outside of the Catholic faith but church, and more importantly, God, finally made sense in a relatable way. A lot of this had to do with the pastor that was there for most of the time I attended this church. It also had to do with the community that existed and the work that we did for others. It was God in action.

After being a long time member of this church, I had a yearning to be in an environment that I felt (whether right or wrong) was more Bible oriented. I couldn’t let it go; not for lack of trying though. Then there were several pastoral changes at my church and it all went downhill for me from there. I think the last straw for me was a pastor giving her sermon and claiming that Mother Earth was God. Around that same time, I went through an acute health incident that I saw as a catalyst to find a new church home. My faith felt like it had never been stronger.

I did find a new church home, at what was called a non-denominational church. I had gone to several services there and on the surface, it seemed like a good fit for me. The Bible was the focus of services. I found what the pastor said relatable. I loved the music and while my connection to God was strong before I walked in there, it became even more so during this time. All were welcome, or so I was told. People were friendly and as I got to know many of them, similar to my previous church, they were some of the kindest people I had ever met. Good people doing very good things in the world.

Time revealed things to me that made it impossible for me to stay there. While I was assured that all were welcome, it depended on your definition of welcomed. I was already feeling uncomfortable about certain practices when I discovered that while the LGBTQIA+ community was welcome to attend church, they were not allowed to become members of the church and that therefore prohibited them from service positions.

Around the same time, a sermon was given that made it very clear that as Christians, no matter what else this person says, does, or believes, it is our Christian duty to vote in a Presidential candidate that supports Israel and is pro-life. Obviously…Trump.

I never went back.

I did go back to my previous church a handful of times but it wasn’t the same.  Church in general wasn’t the same for me either, so I stepped away completely.  

I’ve been away from church a few years now. During that time I have found myself giving serious thought to whether God even exists at all. I’ve come up with the usual questions people ask such as “Why would God allow bad things to happen” and “Why doesn’t God hear my prayers?” These are valid questions that I have asked myself time and time again.

It scares me  that most of the time I think I’m an atheist. How did I go from being a card carrying Christian to thinking God may not exist at all? Is it because I have spent so many years battling chronic illnesses and have never gotten a reprieve? Maybe it’s related to seeing how bad things are in the world right now? If God does exist, how much suffering is he going to allow in this world? Sure, we have free will but is “God’s plan”  designed to bring so much suffering, especially to those who claim him as their god?

It’s funny because I sponsor many children through a Christian organization and most of them mention God  and the Bible in their letters. They mention that they pray for me and my family. They ask God to protect and heal me. These little children, and some bigger children,  have their childlike faith, just like little 8 year old me did when she made her First Communion. I can say, with the utmost confidence, that if I find my way back to my faith, it will be because of one, or all, of them.

I don’t know what the future holds in regards to my faith and beliefs about God or any other deities. But I do know that regardless of how that turns out, I will continue to live my life as I’ve always tried to….with love, compassion, and gratitude. No God required.

 

 

My Sweet Girl

March 22, 2026 / / 0 Comments

For a little while, you were mine…ours.

Not by your choice, but definitely by ours.  A choice that was easy to make while at the same time, a scary one.

Life can do that; place choices in front of you that suddenly can flip your life upside down.

But you were the most amazing curve ball that has ever been thrown our way. I was so scared to do this thing I have never done before…to raise a little human.

To put all of your needs ahead of ours.

To help you thrive.

And I did, we did.

Pre-school registration. A few months later, first grade registration. Packed lunches. Doctor appointments. Endless people in and out of our home. Helping manage big emotions. Holding you when you cried because you didn’t understand.

Soccer games. Gymnastics practice. One school project after another. Play dates. Phone calls from the nurse. Lice. Strep. Parent phone calls and visits. More things you didn’t understand.

The way you let out laughs so big, my heart would burst with happiness. Your resilience. Family dinners. The way your eyebrows furrow and your face scrunches when you are mad. Evening cuddles and giggles in bed. Holidays with family. Adventures. Your generous heart. Your brilliant mind. Weekend afternoon movies. The sound of your voice first thing in the morning.

Joy.

Love.

My job in this season of your life as a parent is over and I am back to my original job, the job of being your Gigi. Because of our time together, our bond is better, stronger. 

Because of our time together, I am better, stronger.

Thank you my sweet girl.

 

 

Nobody Told Me

March 15, 2026 / / 3 Comments

Nobody told me that one night I would go to sleep and never live another day as a healthy human. Or, that it would happen in the prime of my life.

I used to be the nurse. Now I am the patient.

Nobody told me that most of the time, as a patient, I have to advocate for myself because I can’t always count on anyone else doing it for me. It is up to me to keep track of every single medication, test, appointment, and most of all, what everyone else is doing. It is up to me to communicate between providers. It is up to me to make sure things are followed up on.

And hardest of all, it is up to me to make sure nobody makes a deadly mistake.

Nobody told me how much of a struggle it would be to maintain any semblance of a social life or maintain friendships. Not having wheelchair access. Stairs becoming a barrier. An hour lunch out can take two days to recover from. A whole day activity? Up to a week. And this is if I even make it out at all.

But, I appreciate those that make the effort and stay.

Nobody told me that living with multiple chronic illnesses is a full-time job. Days where I tell myself that I will take time out of my day to do what I love most. Calling a friend. Writing. Checking in on a family member. Getting out of the house. But, my “job” gets in the way. The next thing I know, it’s 2pm and I can no longer function. Appointments, managing medications, phone calls, daily treatments, physical therapy, the list goes on and on.

I want to go back to my real job, my profession. Or, any job for that matter. Just not this one.

Nobody told me the trauma I would endure by the hands and mouths of people who are supposed to be healers. The eyes that look doubtful. The mouths that interrupt, dismiss, and belittle me. This does not apply to all, but it does apply to so many of them.

The gaslighting I endure is something I never expected. 

Please listen to me, doctor. 
Hear what I am saying.

Medical procedures where not enough sedation is given or is not given at all. Male doctors telling me that a gynecological procedure will only be a pinch and then I am pulling over to the side of the road trying not to pass out or vomit from the pain. An aggressive physical exam. 

Having to constantly fight for what will keep me from experiencing yet more trauma.

Nobody told me.

 

 

Starting Over

March 5, 2026 / / 8 Comments

It’s challenging coming back to something after being gone for so long. It has been approximately four years since I blogged an entry on this blog; a blog that I have owned since 2010. That’s sixteen years! In that time, a lot has changed. I have changed hosting platforms, migrated the blog, and changed the title. I spent my first hour online just reorienting myself to both my BlueHost platform and WordPress.

So why am I back? How long will I be back? Well, the second question has a shorter answer than the first and the answer is, I don’t know. Maybe for years and maybe I won’t be back after this post. The reason for why I am back is due to an epiphany of sorts during a recent, extended hospitalization. An idea hit me so suddenly, and with such force, that I knew I had to do it. I had an idea for a children’s book.

Previous to this epiphany, I had no intention of writing a children’s book, or writing at all. It had been forever since I’ve written anything more than a letter or a social media post. Family and friends had been lovingly pestering me about why I stopped writing. I honestly can’t explain why I stopped, but the desire was completely gone until this book idea struck me.

I realized that I knew nothing about writing a children’s book and it is more complex than you might think. So, I signed up for an online class that will start in April. In addition, on the website (Gotham Writers Workshop), for the class, I saw a call for submissions for a 50 word story contest. I entered. I thought that doing something like this contest would help me get the juices flowing so to speak.

And that it did. During the creative process, I completely lost myself and it was the best feeling I’ve had in a while. I did submit my work to the contest. Did I think it was good enough to win? No. I saw previous winners and I knew that I probably couldn’t compete, but I realized that I didn’t care. Coming back to writing is what truly mattered to me.

During all of this I realized I missed writing for this blog. It has always been such a creative outlet for me. In addition, a therapist I am seeing for trauma work recommended that I seriously consider journaling. I have journaled on and off over the years but it never stuck long term. However I realized that for me, blogging is very similar to journaling. Sure there are differences and maybe I’ll end up doing both, but for now, this is where I want to be.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. One of the aspects of blogging I’ve enjoyed the most is the opportunity to connect with readers. I don’t know if I’ll have many readers, especially since blogging seems to not be as popular as it once was due to the popularity of other forms of self expression and information such as podcasts and social media. But, the written word is timeless.

When Grief Surprises You

August 10, 2022 / / 4 Comments
Maisy waiting in the car with Mom while Dad was getting his Covid shot.
She absolutely loved car rides!

I woke up today with the intent of not letting another day go by without getting our tax information ready for our accountant. I know, you’re probably saying, “But it’s August”!

We file extensions every year because my husband’s business tax information doesn’t come to us until right around this time. Meanwhile, I gather all our forms and work on my medical deductions.

Calculating the medical deductions is getting easier for me every year, but it takes time. It’s best for me to do it all in one sitting as I have to go through multiple sources to document mileage, tolls, parking, deductibles, etc. I wanted to get it out of the way today because I have some extra free time and because September will be very busy for me. I didn’t want the stress of getting it done hanging over my head.

I sat myself down in my office this morning and got to work. I have a system put in place that works for me. One aspect of that system is going through my credit card statement, line by line, for the past year. I do this to look for medical expenses that I paid for out of pocket.

As I was scrolling through my credit card report, I began to get anxious. I wasn’t anxious at all this morning so I noticed it and just kept going. As I continued scrolling, the anxiety got worse and I realized I was on the verge of panic. I have a history of anxiety that recently has been under control, so this feeling was surprising to me.

Since I am armed with an arsenal of coping skills, I knew I needed to stop what I was doing and deal with the anxiety because it was just going to get worse. I put my pen down and did some diaphragmatic breathing.

It didn’t work.

That was surprising. So I moved on to other breathing techniques, including box breathing and 4-7-8 breathing. I did a grounding technique. I got a little relief, but my heart was still racing like crazy and I thought I was going to throw up. For a split second, I wondered if it was something medical, since these symptoms are also indicative of heart attacks in women. But, I know my body. I know my anxiety.

I stopped everything and went through my mind as to everything I had done since I got up this morning to try and figure out what was causing the anxiety. I wasn’t anxious about doing the taxes, but I realized that the page I was on in my credit report was line after line of veterinary charges…

Countryside Animal Hospital
Tufts Veterinary Hospital
Sturbridge Specialty Animal Hospital

And, a host of other expenses for medical and behavioral treatment.

I started to cry; not the tears rolling down your cheeks type of crying, but the chest heaving, sobbing kind.

It was Maisy.

I was still grieving Maisy.

I’ll be honest, this surprised me. Our dog, Maisy, passed away about fourteen months ago and I thought I was on the other side of that grief, as much as one can be anyways. But I knew, with absolute certainty, this was the cause of my anxiety.

Maisy was the third dog we had lost in the span of five years, one right after the other. Dogs are not just pets to my husband and I, they are family and each loss compounded the previous one. I always said I would write their stories for this blog, but I never found myself able to do so.

Even now, I don’t want to get into the specific details of all we went through with Maisy because it was difficult, heart wrenching, and the stress of her illnesses was one of the many causes of me going through a tough mental health crisis. I have worked through losing Maisy, and the loss of Molly and Foxy, in therapy, but while helpful, therapy is not a cure for grief.

There is no cure.

And, there is no way around the grief. You have to walk through it and hope that as you do, the good memories will slowly take over those difficult memories of their illness and subsequent death.

The grief of a beloved pet is a unique one. For me, it has been just as hard as the losses I have experienced with my loved ones. It’s the loss of a companion, a friend, and your source of comfort.

It’s the loss of unconditional love.

Whether it’s the loss of a pet, beloved family member, friend, job, health, etc., grief has no rules that it plays by. It is an experience that we must journey through and weave into the fabric of our daily lives.

One of the hardest parts of grief for me is how it can catch me off guard at the most unexpected times. The other day, I was scrolling through my Facebook memories and there were photos of Molly in her healthier years and it truly brought me joy. Another day, I came upon a video on social media of a purebred husky that was playing just like Foxy used it and the resemblance was uncanny. It made me sad as I yearned for all the experiences we wouldn’t have with her. Last night, my husband and I were watching the end of the Westminster Dog Show and enjoyed watching the final selection, as well as cheering for the winner.

But this morning I was doing taxes, and BAM, there was all my grief over losing Maisy, pouring out like it had happened that day in June 2020. So, I let it pour out. My first instinct was to try and ignore it while pushing on with doing my taxes, but I have come to learn that I need to allow what I’m feeling to be what it is, in that particular moment.

I put my head down on my desk and cried for as long as I needed to. I immediately felt better afterwards. My heart rate returned to normal. My stomach settled down. I had very little left to do to finish the taxes, so I finished them. But then, I felt like I needed to do more with my grief experience. I needed to write. I often ignore this need in favor of getting some other task done. Also, when I do write lately, I have been focusing on journaling just for myself.

This one though, I’m putting out into the world. Because I know you, the people who adore their beloved pets, and the grief we experience when their too short lives end, sometimes after years and years of love and devotion and sometimes just when we start to fall deeply in love with them.

Our pets are such an important part of our story.
Love them.
Grieve them.
Honor them.

« Older posts

© 2026 For Everything There is a Season

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑