Join us on a look-back at the blessings of 2023! Retreats, new chapters, the generosity of so many to help Life-Giving Wounds grow….plus a gallery of images from the year!

Upon entering religious life, I tried to hide in the coping mechanisms that had worked for me growing up, such as people-pleasing and anticipating others’ needs. I desired to please the Lord, could follow community customs and was good at serving others. Not only was I good, but was praised for my attentiveness to the needs of others and my generosity in service. As I continued further in formation, those coping mechanisms started to unravel and the truth of the pain I was in surfaced.

Prior to the divorce, mine was a picture-perfect nuclear family: a dad, a mom, a little boy, and his dog. The dog, a Cockapoo, was named after my kindergarten best friend, Shawn. I don’t remember anything about the young human Shawn, but I do remember the canine one. He was the love of my young life, especially after we moved when I was six. I did not like being “the new kid.”

I have heard divorce described as an “ontological wound,” a wound at the very core of our identity. Our parents who created us divide, and so we in turn feel divided. This is certainly strong language, but I think it puts a finger on the intimate and vulnerable wound experienced by adult children of divorce. The pain of the wound can lead us to cry out to God for healing.

The only thing I can really control is my own internal, spiritual life (although I admit even that seems out of control at times!).  Right now, I want to do that by spending more time with the most perfect of families! The best part is that I know I am called to be a part of this perfect, intact family! I think that spending time with the Holy Family will keep me focused and restful.

What if my mom brings her new boyfriend to Thanksgiving when dad is there? What if I start feeling sad and my much younger sister who did not experience the family divorce the way I did, tells me again to knock it off and just enjoy myself? What if my brother, who is not speaking to dad since he left the family, stomps off to his room? Why can’t we just have Christmas together like we used to?

It was a few months into my freshman year of college; I was at daily Mass with my friends. At this time, I was really beginning to become aware of how much pain my parents’ divorce had caused and continued to cause me. I remember sitting in Mass, attempting to calm myself, but feeling rising panic each time the priest said the word...

From day one it seemed like my parents were divided over my name. Well at least my first name because both of them shared the same last name before marriage. Each parent wanted me to be named after their dad. As a result, one side of the family calls me David and the other Andrew. By the time I was four, this division was complete and definitive by way of their divorce. As most children of divorce, I certainly felt divided and split in two; exemplified by my two different beds, two different sets of clothes, two different sets of toys and two different first names. 

During Covid some people learned to bake bread, some planted gardens, others drank too much wine. My Covid experience was time with Father God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, fully aware that they were changing me. I became like the unrelenting child who asks too many questions. But my unrelenting was a prayer, “Heal my heart, Lord. Please heal my heart.” He did it when he knew I was ready.

As an interdisciplinary field, Interpersonal Neurobiology draws together insights from Biology and Psychology in the context of human relationships....I thought it could be helpful to choose a few key terms and concepts and explore how they relate to our reflection on attachment.

I remember making an entire ritual and event when Taylor Swift released “Mine” in 2010, the single from Speak Now. I curled up on the couch and put in my earbuds, pressing play with all the pomp and circumstance a fifteen year old could muster. It was the first time Taylor was releasing a single since I fell in love with her music—but that wasn’t why I remember that moment so vividly....

I define the ‘sexual orphan’ as ‘anyone who has been deprived the protection or advantage of their parents’ formative witness in regards to the physical, moral, psychological, or emotional dimensions of human sexuality because of parental divorce, separation, or neglect.

We are privileged every day to walk alongside men and women seeking healing from the myriad ways their parents’ split has affected them and, keeping all ACODs close to our hearts, we wanted to share a “wish-list” for what we would love to see included both at the Synod and in the Vatican document.

But my mom was human. Both my parents were human. And the very fact that in spite of the deep pain and abuse that my mom went through for most of her life, she still tried…SHE TRIED. That is the difference.

As I travel into the deeper places in my heart, in prayer and in therapy, I have found a deep craving for silence, right alongside a deep fear of silence. At the core of my fear, is the fear that God will not ‘show up’ in the silence. Growing up, and to this day, my relationship with my dad has been marked by an empty silence.

Trevor Jimenez’s animated short "Weekends" is a striking narrative that conveys the trauma of parental divorce in such imagery. The autobiographical film tells the story of a young boy spending weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father. Although the boy seems fine on the outside, his inner turmoil is exposed through a series of dreams and struggles.

As we continue this series on Attachment Theory, building upon the key concepts we explored in Part One, we now turn our attention to how attachment facilitates human development and the ways secure and insecure attachment impact mental health.

A couple of months ago, I was attending a women’s retreat... where glossy tiles of neutrals and shades of blue formed a gorgeous mosaic of the Blessed Mother. I kept returning my gaze to it, and I heard in prayer: “I see you looking at my mother—her maternal love is so different from what you have seen… My mother is tender, approachable, truly sacrificial, and only able to love fully and purely…”

I have to be honest, I never thought that my world as a Catholic and my world as a professor at a public institution of higher education could ever meet together, yet coincide beautifully into one. But with God, anything is possible, so I continue to remain in thankful awe as to how He brings about good works.

Last Friday, June 16th, I was blessed to attend the wedding of a dear friend of my husband's. Like me, my husband's friend is an ACoD. When I realized earlier this week that his wedding date coincided with the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart, I decided that I wanted to make a special wedding card for the couple.