From the End of the Earth Will I Cry

Sometimes there are things I think I’ll never write about, and other times it feels right to write about them, so I think one of those times to write about one of those things is right now.

(Ha ha, hope that wasn’t confusing to read)

I know part of the reason why I don’t write or talk about these things is because it will make me entirely vulnerable.

And also entirely open to criticism because people could think a number of things, like:

“Why is she publicly writing about something so private?”

Some of it should stay private, and some of it should be shared, and it should be shared because it might help others, it might help you, and it will most likely help me.

I am all about making connections, and if any of these posts help make a connection, I’m all about that.

So here we go.

I recently came back from my honeymoon, and while it was great and beautiful, I battled with something inside me for what felt like the entire time of the trip.

Actually, I feel like I’ve been battling it for awhile. Something like 9 years, awhile.

Now, I get that this time in my life calls for such “normal” feelings. Feelings like nostalgia, sadness, homesickness, growing pains, etc, which basically means I’m having a little difficulty transitioning into an entirely different life. I mean, a couple months ago I was still living at home with my dad and brother, curled up next to my cat every night, and now I’m sharing an entire living space with one other person in an entirely new area (  and sans cat 😥   )

But these feelings go beyond that.

Way beyond that.

I can’t remember exactly when, but I recall maybe about a year ago or so I was feeling depressed a lot. I don’t mean just sadness, I mean I would be sitting at dinner with my husband, my then-boyfriend, totally spacing out, not eating, start crying for who knows what reason, and blurt out that if I had an off switch for life, I’d switch it off.

Yeah, it was that kind of sadness.

It felt like a dark pit. And the worst part was that NOTHING was going wrong in my life.

And after all the nights I’d cry myself to sleep, I finally stopped trying to fix myself and started praying, hard. Thank God I was relieved for awhile, a long while.

But those feelings came back a few weeks ago. I would feel this overwhelming sadness, and the tiniest thing would start this avalanche of emotions. In the happiest and most romantic moments, I’d end up crying.

And then I would get even more sad because I felt like I was ruining the trip for my husband. But I thank my God that He blessed me with an amazing, caring, selfless, patient, and generous being who doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body and tried to help me as best he could.

On one of the worst nights, we were sitting in a nice restaurant when I felt myself start going down…I started to space out and the people around me, the smiling, the laughter, all became a bunch of noise, noise I couldn’t handle, so I ended up walking out, leaving my husband and more than half my dinner at the table, tears spilling out uncontrollably.

It was awful.

As I sat in the car by myself, head against the steering wheel, I prayed for God to take the pain away, to take away all the heaviness  I had in my head and my heart.

After all, He said His grace is sufficient for me, for His strength is made perfect in weakness…

In MY weaknesses. All of them. And little by little, every moment I remembered to lay it all at His feet, I instantly felt better.

And the same can be said now. It’s remembering not to take on the burden myself that is the hardest thing to do, because the last thing I feel like doing in times of hurt is praying.

But when I feel myself having a bad day, or a bad week, I sing:

“From the end of the earth will I cry unto Thee. When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.”

Blessed assurance.

I ran into a woman today who shared with me her experience with sleeplessness and depression, and it reassured me that this post was appropriate to write after all.

And on top of that, I have a heavy burden tonight for a particular family of young men who have been going through rough times at home. I hope this post finds you, and reassures you that you are loved and you are not alone.

Until next time,


It’s Too Late to Apologize

Well, as I’m thinking about writing this post I’m almost sure a ton of emotions will instantly flood my mind and body. Even though I’m afraid of revisiting those times and emotions, I think it’s good to release some of those feelings and figure out ways to gain control of them, and better yet, to fix the problem.

So what sparked this blog post was something I read the other night:

“Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” And that passage lead me to read this:

“Healing includes the healing of relationships , which is why we are exhorted: ‘confess your sins to one another,’ meaning those we have wronged. That is, if you have wronged or offended others, confess to them.”

Hmmm…the healing of relationships…

Hmmm…confess your sins to one another…

After reading that, I naturally thought and asked the question to my husband, “ Is there anyone you have wronged?”

While he thought about it, I thought about the people I have wronged and the relationships I hurt. I hurt them so much, that I begged and begged for their forgiveness, and even after they forgave me, it took me years to forgive myself.

It’s not a pleasant feeling, thinking about the pain I caused. The heart-wrenching betrayal and hurt I caused by selfish decisions made. I’d like to blame it entirely on maturity, but I think my actions in the past resulted in the absence of God.

There is a parable in the Bible where Peter asks Jesus how many times he should forgive his brother who had sinned against him, and Jesus responds with what basically means, there is no set amount of times, you keep forgiving.

Whaaattt?? You’re saying I have to KEEP FORGIVING?? UGHHHH.

What gets me the most about this parable is that we must forgive a person who has wronged us in order to be truly changed at heart: it is commanded.

Love one another.

A few months ago, I think I was reading the same passage about forgiveness (James 5) and I instantly thought about a person I never, ever thought I could forgive. And even though years had passed since the wrong-doing (yes, I wronged her, too), I would continue to say such vile things about this person.

And then I thought, hmm, should I really go and find this person and make things right? I had already tried it once before, and the relationship ended up turning sour again, but is that enough reason not to try again, this time more sincere?

And THEN, a good friend whom I would always talk trash to about this girl said she had been seeing the girl around town a lot lately.

Coincidence?? I think not…

And THEN my husband saw her at a local grocery store within the same week my friend saw her…

Coincidence?? I think not…

So I asked my bff, hey, should we like, make things straight with this girl?

And to my surprise, she actually considered it, too.

But then I forgot about it, and forgot about fixing things with the girl.

Until now.

Can I forgive her? Should I forgive her? Should I ask her to forgive me? The answers to those questions should be a resounding ‘yes,’ but holy guacamole, how do I even BEGIN to do that, especially since I don’t trust her anymore?

“Fervent prayer avails much…”

So pray I shall.

And if you’re reading this right now, can you think of someone you have wronged?

Be honest, of course you can 😉

So why not think about mending bridges, or at least saying your sorry? It doesn’t mean you have to rebuild that relationship, but at least you know you made your peace.

Until next time,


p.s ( can you even p.s. yourself? and in a blog post to boot? lol)

In previous blogs I managed to be a little ambiguous about the mentioning of God, purely because I only have a few blogs up and I didn’t want readers to instantly turn their eyes away  at the mere mentioning of a deity.

But, it is what it is, and I’ll gladly go with it.

And, dear reader, I hope that you keep reading. Atheist, agnostic, or whatever you may be, I think we can all learn from each other.

Words Will Always Hurt Me

Do you ever have those moments when you say or do something, and you’re like…

Where the HECK did that come from? And WHY the HECK did I just do/say that?

Of course you do.

And bloody freakin’ yeah, I have those moments too.

All. Of. The. Time.

Alright, I’m just going to come out and say it:

I have a problem.

Or I think it’s a problem, at least.

When I was in middle school (shoot, maybe even younger) I would say I had developed a bit of a cursing problem. Darn, there’s that word again:


So much so that my friend and I made a bet to see if we could last a certain amount of time without cussing. I’m pretty sure that bet was made in middle school. And I’m pretty sure it didn’t last.

And once high school came along, FORGET IT. I was Bad-Word Betty.

And for the most part,

I didn’t care.

I would even cuss in front and even to my parents (Lord have mercy).

And when I became angry… it was like silver bullets from a machine gun into the heart of an unguarded werewolf (yay me for that cheesy analogy).

Around the time I turned 21 or so, I started to make some pretty big changes in my young adult life. All of it stemmed from new discoveries I made of something greater than anything on this earth, and a new relationship I formed with something greater than myself.

And I thought all my problems with cursing would go away.

But it didn’t. And it still hasn’t. STILL. Even with all the change in my heart, even with all the commitments I’ve made and the advice I’ve given and the character development and the righteous life I try to live…

I fall short.

And it makes me want to give up every single time. What the heck have I been accomplishing so far? People aren’t going to listen to what I have to say, they’re all going to think I’m such a joke.

It is as if there has been no change in me at all, and that is an awful, sinking feeling.

I recently read that the tongue is an untamable force, and words can make or break a person, potentially ruining them for life.

You would think after reading something like that that it would make me extra careful with my words, especially towards the people I love.

And yet there I find myself time and time again blurting some nasty thing out in a fit of anger…

And I hate myself for it.

But that is just it. Even despite all that, I am reminded that I, in and of myself, cannot control a single thing in my life. I can only trust that my efforts in becoming a better person and the aid I’m receiving in doing so will reap rich rewards.

I just have to keep pushing through and working to change all my annoying character flaws and have faith that my efforts are not in vain.

Heck, shouldn’t we all be doing that?

“And therefore, brethren, let us be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath…”

Bonus points if you can finish that sentence.

Until next time,


Great Expectations (Expecting the, well, Expected)

You all know the phrase: Expect the unexpected. And I’m all for that for the most part; In fact, I’ve been trying to go about my daily biz with that phrase in the back of my mind, because we all simply cannot expect everything to go our way (cue Mick Jagger).

So correct me if I sound a bit of of place here.

Last night I had a conversation with one of my best friends, and of course we gushed over the details of my magical wedding night that took place nearly 2 weeks ago. It was PERFECT in all ways, every bit of how I wanted it to be.

However, there were of course minor details that I didn’t notice during the wedding that my friend had brought up ( well, duh, of course I didn’t notice, I was totally focused on that gorgeous guy I can now call my husband).

Let me preface before I continue:

My husband and I did our wedding a little unconventionally. We only had vegan and vegetarian food, we didn’t have the typical ceremony nor the typical first dances, nor the typical music, nor did we have alcohol. Yes that is right, no alcohol *gasp*.

But more than that, we specifically noted on our wedding website that we did not want anyone sneaking alcohol in the parking lot or anywhere else on site ( not only for us, but the venue requested it too).

If anyone were caught, they would charge us a pretty penny. And even more than that,

We simply did not want alcohol at our wedding.

Alright, now here is the juice: My friend told me she had seen people sneakily dumping out small bottles and/or flasks in the grass of the reception area toward the end of the night.

I’m pretty sure they weren’t dumping grape juice out of those things (I know, I know, not everyone is a cool juice-drinking girl like me).

So I was like, ummm…WHAT??

Okay, so maybe I am being a little too sensitive. BUT I really think it’s a little disrespectful to show up at someone’s wedding doing or bringing along the very thing the couple asked you not to.

I mean after all, we only specified not having alcohol. And we only specified not to bring it on the property.

But who cares, right? I’m just being too sensitive and self-righteous, right?

Now I know there were some people who drank prior to arrival, and quite frankly that is none of my business,

but to show up somewhere and completely disregard a request is, well, kind of rude.

So is it a little too unrealistic of me to expect people to respect my wishes? Is it? I mean, if someone made a request to me, I would do my best to honor it.

And maybe these people really didn’t think about it or really didn’t think it was a big deal (clearly), though the sneaky booze disposal kind of implied they knew they had to hide what they were doing.

This whole idea of me being someone different from who I was and not doing what I used to do has really put a barrier between me and other people, between my friends and even my family.

A wise woman once wrote:

While we pray, “Lead us not into temptation,” we are to shun temptation, as far as possible.

And that’s all I’m really trying to do.

I mean, maybe I hold people at too high of a standard. Maybe I’m being too unrealistic and am being too much of a princess…





A Fire Inside

“So the other day was weird. Just before I finished the first blog post of ‘Through Being Cool,’ I had gone out to Disneyland with my fiancé…”

That’s how I started the draft of this blog post back in August. After reading it, I couldn’t exactly remember what I was going to write about. But I wish I could! The only thing that came to mind was the sometimes occurring, and often overwhelming, feeling I get when old me wants to come out to play hard, hence the “fire inside.”

Yes, it feels like a fire: a fire that naturally wants to destroy anything and everything in its path (but mainly it wants to destroy me).

That Disney day’s particular fire, I’m guessing, revolved around booze, as it often(but not only) does.

I suddenly got the OVERWHELMING urge to drink, and if some clever,sneaky fellow offered me one at that time I would have taken it in a heart beat.

All of my hard work of temperance would end, right then, right there. No self-control…

“WAIT, BUT WHY?! I’m confused. Why do you still get the urge to drink even now? Shouldn’t that repulse you?”

I don’t know. Maybe because there are two sides of me, two beasts that are constantly battling each other…

Good vs. bad.

The carnal dog and the spiritual dog.

Okay I feel I must interject, here:

I was not an alcoholic. I just liked to party.

And with the partying came bad, bad choices. And bad choices lead to ruined relationships and even more bad choices.

It was like I couldn’t control myself.

Whatever princess-like idea anyone had of me could just fly out the window as fast as projectile vomit.

I was definitely not a princess.

“But Marissa, why do you even fight it? Just embrace who you really are, man.”

No. That is not who I am.

I thank the Lord Almighty that I am a new creation. The old me has passed away, and all things have become new…

It’s hard not to feel so disgusted with myself when I think about the mistakes I made, especially when I get these weird urges ( I think I’ll call myself Flame Princess whenever these urges come;) )

I hate it when I feel this way. I hate that I feel like I don’t have a grasp of my temptations…

But that’s just it. When I feel this way I’m reminded that it ISN’T my own will power. It’s something much, much greater than that.

And I also want to say this:

It is MUCH, MUCH easier being “bad” and doing the “cool” thing . If you really want to challenge yourself, try being different from everyone else your age.

Until next time,



Is It Really So Strange?

So as a recently engaged and recently turned 25 year old, I find it only natural to get all giddy when I see young engaged/married couples walking around, at Disneyland, at the dress shop, etc.

But then my mind starts to wander… and wonder…

How many of these engaged couples are waiting until marriage to…you know? Do they live together? If they are already intimate or already live together, is getting married as exciting for them as it is for me?

I’m sure it is.

But of course the cynical and jaded me already thinks she knows the answer to the intimacy question:


Why wouldn’t they be?! And who isn’t these days?!

And WHY do I care?

What makes me so cynical? It’s funny…years ago I totally would not have had these thoughts or concerns about other people. I didn’t care. Why do I care now?

Maybe it’s because I see relationships differently now. Maybe it’s because for so long I accepted and thrived off of polyamory and now I feel the complete opposite.

I feel the opposite because, well…

1. I found the person whom I love and will love to the ends of the earth…who I would never in my wildest dreams want to hurt or live without.

I never felt this way about anyone.

2. I actually learned a thing or two about the principles of marriage, from a source that isn’t Hollywood or whatever is on t.v. or bookshelves these days…

Okay, well it IS a book, but it’s been around for centuries 😉

It’s funny… my senior year of high school my English teacher had us pull pieces of paper out of a bucket that read different questions we had to answer.

Mine was: “What’s your biggest fear?”

I didn’t have to think twice about it: Infidelity.

WHOA,WHOA. HOLD THE PHONE. How can you care about infidelity at 17?

Well, because I wasn’t faithful. I never was. Yeah, even at that age and every year after, I strayed time and time again. Not proud of it.

I guess the chorus to “Back In Your Head” would most def not apply to me >.<

And I wish I could take back all the mistakes I made with people in the past.

But I can’t. All I can do now is move forward and make darn sure I do everything I can to be the best wife I can be to my husband. I want to give him all of me. No, I can’t take back or change anything I did, but I can be sure to do my best to be the best.

I once heard a speaker say: ” If you want to find the best person, you have to be the best person.”

That’s a goal worth striving for. And yeah, to me that means waiting until marriage to be intimate *GASP*, amongst other things of course.

And yes, even with my soon-to-be husband. I could only see good things coming out of this decision.


After all, is it really so, really so strange?

Again I Go Unnoticed

Hey everybody. So you know how I said I was going to do a “Through Being Cool” Pt Deux?

Well, this isn’t it yet. But you can consider this a prelude of sorts because something did happen that lead me to hatch this egg of a post.

And that thing was…

Sitting alone on a blue bench by a tree while everyone else around me talked about their fun, drunken night together.


Yeah, it felt like day camp all over again.Sitting alone… on a blue bench… by a tree.

While all the kids around me played tag and swung on the swing set.

And then I said to myself:

Thanks to whoever made this.
(Thanks to whoever made this)

Just kidding. I did what anyone in my shoes would do after getting shunned. I bought new shoes.

But I did sort of recite those lyrics to myself on the inside, because more importantly, I felt uber, super, ultra lame and left out. And what did I say in my  previous T.B.C. post?

I hate being left out.

Yes, even at nearly 25 years old, I hate it.

Why do I hate it? Because I am a young, social being. I love camaraderie.

But I thought to myself,

Why can’t I just take part in their little stories and join in the conversation anyway?

Yeah, I just couldn’t. I felt as if my trying to squeeze myself into their fun times would only make things more awkward than how I already felt.

And besides, I didn’t want to fuel their fire and comment on stuff I didn’t do anymore. Taking part in the conversation would just lead me to talk about my own past drunken stories and remind me of that part of me that I put aside forever.

So I just sat there and stared off in an other direction while they laughed and reminisced, totally wanting to remove myself from this situation as soon as possible.

“Someday you’ll find those people you can relate to,” someone told me later after I threw myself a little pity party.

Yes, I had to remember what a wise man once wrote about what being friends with the world means…

So I got over it for the moment. But sooner or later the monster will come out again. Unless I find its lair and slay it while it’s sleeping…

Until next time,

Marissa (emdigistar)

(Pssst…If you have any advice on how to curb this awful feeling, please share your golden nuggets of wisdom with me 😉 )

Through Being Cool

I feel as though this entry may be written too prematurely since I really wanted to make another post before this one, but circumstances have led me to post this first.

So that being said, here it goes. So this blog title is from an album title of a band I used to listen to quite often in my  middle school days and is just SO appropriate: The album cover is of the band members sitting squished together on a couch with bored-looking faces as the others are enjoying a house party behind them.

That is exactly how I feel at this time in my life.

Not “bored” necessarily, but just through with it all, trying to live for something bigger and better than myself.

I made the decision to be “socially abstinent” ( a phrase I’ll use for abstaining from the usual young-adult social activities like drinking and partying) around the time when I just turned 21, which of course was odd timing.

You decided to stop drinking at 21?! MADNESS!!

Yeah I did make that decision, except there was one problem: it didn’t last.

I mean really, no wonder it didn’t last. I was caught in between telling(or rather, sort of telling) my social group that I was “trying to stay away from alcohol” while still going out with them to bars every week. No wonder I struggled.

Needless to say, I downward spiraled. My glass of water turned into mixed drinks and beer before I knew it.

And I just accepted that. I didn’t want to be that loser who wasn’t socializing with the masses. Heck, who wants to be left out? I know I certainly did not and still don’t.

I HATE the feeling of being left out. I always have. I always longed for that group of friends that I can turn to no matter what, but that group died out the summer before I entered high school (go figure) and the group I formed in high school died out just before college (go figure).

So naturally in my young adult life I want that again. But here is the twist…

I don’t drink anymore. At all. Ever.

I also don’t:


-Go to clubs

-Do drugs

-Have sex (wait, WHAT. But you’re 24!! Yeah, yeah, I’ll address this one later).

-Go to bars (generally) UNLESS there is some type of event like a birthday or a concert, and even then I have to really question if going there will benefit me.

“But you can have fun and still go to those places, just don’t drink!”

Look, that may be all fine and dandy to some people, but the reality is that I know I struggled being in certain environments. The fact is:

If you’re trying to change your life, you need to say goodbye to that old man.

So goodbye I said, and I haven’t looked back ever since. I have been nearly two years sober ( it will officially be two years on my 25th birthday) and  nearly 10 months sexually abstinent.

That does not mean I don’t struggle.

I do. But I have had so much change happen in my heart that I just can’t accept going back to that lifestyle.

I will elaborate on those struggles and the reasons why I made changes in a later post.

Until then,


Cage-free, the way to be?

The tiny thing lies on the ground, eyes barely opening, its chest heaving with struggled breaths. Around it, others of its kind trample over it trying to find an escape from the light of day that never seems to turn into dark night.

I don’t know about you, but ever since my switch to vegetarianism (8 years ago), I have wondered how it is that people seem not to think about the state of living of the animals they eat.

I mean, just thinking about an animal being injured, let alone slaughtered, is enough to make me sob with little ceasing. It is as if my heart breaks day by day. The only thing that enables me to get through the knowledge of animal suffering, to get through a day of reading an article about a baby giraffe being slaughtered at a zoo, is that someday, I hope, all of that suffering will cease.

It helps, though, to learn a little bit more about how exactly these animals raised for food are treated. When I stopped eating eggs for a time, I was set on never eating another one ever again. I just could not be content in my heart knowing the suffering those animals went through just so I could scarf down an omelette. At that time, I had just finished a marvelously written book called Eating Animals by J.S. Foer. The chickens Foer witnessed were in conditions just like the one I wrote in the first paragraph, in fact that reference is from his book.

At that moment, I was set on what to do: no more eggs, ever.

But then two little words started making their way into my view: cage-free. Well, if the chickens are cage-free, it’s all good, right? That was the reason I decided not to eat eggs anymore, because they were all trapped in tiny little cages. So I started eating eggs again, sort of. I still wasn’t completely comfortable, but my conscience was not as heavily burdened.


Actually, cage-free is the way to deceive.

Cage-free, free-range, free-roaming only means they have some access to outdoors, with living conditions being just as bad as if they did not have the outdoor access.

They are still suffering.

There is no regulation on how many birds are squished in one space, male chicks are thrown away, and hens have their beaks removed without any pain-killing remedy.

Cage-free, the way to be?

I would rather live my life eating things that do not require another living, breathing being to suffer purely for my benefit.

Check out Eating Animals