Warrior102
Gold Member
- May 22, 2011
- 16,554
- 4,124
- 183
I promise to be nice to the Commies - at least thru post-Easter.
Thanks.
Enjoy your Easter - !!!!!
Thanks.
Enjoy your Easter - !!!!!
Follow along with the video below to see how to install our site as a web app on your home screen.
Note: This feature currently requires accessing the site using the built-in Safari browser.
I went to confession once... The priest fainted.
I went to confession... asked the priest 'is calling stupid people stupid a sin'. He said 'no'. Can't tell y'all how relieved I was.
As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.
But, alas, no escape.
We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.
I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.
Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.
Breathe in for five, out for five.
I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.
I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.
I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.
Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.
Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.
My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.
My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................
It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.
Thankfully, I pass out.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.
Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.
You too, huh?As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.
But, alas, no escape.
We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.
I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.
Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.
Breathe in for five, out for five.
I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.
I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.
I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.
Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.
Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.
My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.
My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................
It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.
Thankfully, I pass out.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.
Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.
You burst into flame too huh?
You too, huh?As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.
But, alas, no escape.
We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.
I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.
Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.
Breathe in for five, out for five.
I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.
I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.
I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.
Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.
Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.
My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.
My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................
It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.
Thankfully, I pass out.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.
Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.
You burst into flame too huh?
The problem with me going to church is that God will actually know where I am and I make an easy target.
(Been hiding out for a while and so far so good.)
As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.
But, alas, no escape.
We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.
I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.
Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.
Breathe in for five, out for five.
I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.
I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.
I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.
Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.
Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.
My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.
My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................
It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.
Thankfully, I pass out.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.
Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.
What? You don't believe me?????As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.
But, alas, no escape.
We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.
I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.
Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.
Breathe in for five, out for five.
I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.
I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.
I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.
Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.
Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.
My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.
My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................
It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.
Thankfully, I pass out.
The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.
Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.
You are such a drama queen, modo.
You too nitwit.I promise to be nice to the Commies - at least thru post-Easter.
Thanks.
Enjoy your Easter - !!!!!