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My name is Clodagh O’Connor and I am twenty-one years old. I am a student of St. Patrick’s Pontifical University, Maynooth heading into my final year of a degree in theology and sociology. Four years ago my life underwent the most amazing change. It was so profound that almost every aspect of who I was and what I thought I wanted from life changed. This is my story and I would like to share it with you.
I come from a small village in Clare. My family were fairly well off and, as a child, I would have appeared to be as happy and well-adjusted as the next. At fourteen my parents’ marriage ended. I was heart-broken. As I said, I came from a traditional, rural background and separation was not a frequent occurrence. People sometimes don’t know how to react to others who suffer loss of some kind. I guess I felt alone and isolated, which contributed greatly to my insecurity.
Right at the core of my brokenness was a total lack of any kind of self worth, rooted in the fact that I saw myself as completely unlovable. I always had a wonderful relationship with my family, despite many hard years, but for some reason outside the family I felt that love and acceptance had to be earned. I had to be a certain way and then others would want me. Every relationship saw a different Clodagh. I was whatever people wanted me to be, so I could feel some kind of happiness, even if it was as fake as I was. What followed was a string of eating disorders and, consequently, when I got my freedom, drinking and eventually drug taking. The sad thing is, many of these people, teachers and friends actually really did sincerely care for me, but it made no difference. I could not love myself.
Things reached their pinnacle one night at home. A person can live a life of pretence for just so long. I cannot describe the feeling of absolute darkness that filled my insides. A feeling of hopelessness so great that I decided I couldn’t bear it any longer. I tried to cut my wrists, but I wasn’t able to take the physical pain. Dropping the knife and holding a towel so tightly, I muffled a scream of pure agony. Here, in this moment, I recall one of the first prayers I ever said. I begged God that, if He was there, to please, please stop my heart. They say the cry of the heart pierces the clouds. Thankfully, He didn’t, but, looking back, I know that it didn’t really matter that I couldn’t even do this right, because inside I was already a corpse.
There was a Mercy Sister that worked in my school. She was the only person to whom I told some of the things that were going on. Some days when I would go in I would say a word or two, but more often I would just cry. She never rushed me to say anything, but would always listen. One day she asked me if I would take a drive. Honestly, I really didn’t want to be seen in the same car as a nun. After all, I had a reputation to keep up. Hesitantly, I eventually agreed. One Thursday night in November we ended up in a place called Clonfert in Co. Galway. As soon as we pulled into the yard I realised that it was a church or holy place of some kind; the huge cross was a dead give away. I was so disappointed. This was not for me. I didn’t go to Mass. To me, God and religion were for good people. When we walked in, the place was packed and they were all praying the rosary. I thought that would never end. When it finally did, a tall kind of interesting looking guy called Eddie sat down in front of the crowd. I remember thinking to myself that here was another Jesus freak, like everyone else there. But there was a look about him, and a sound in his voice, that interested me. A great sense of absolute sincerity and conviction, conveyed in the most gentle and loving way, made me think that this guy really believed what he was saying.
He began to speak about an image that came to him of a little girl. He described her every physical appearance, right down to a curl that she had on the left of her hair at the bottom. He told her life story, from the agony of her lack of self worth, to the anger that crushed her heart and different particular events that had taken place in her life. For some reason I started to cry. I knew in the depths of my heart this total stranger was talking about me. Then he began to speak about Jesus. He said that Christ knew everything, that in every moment of life, good or bad, He was there. My heart filled with guilt. I thought to myself, ‘If this is the truth, then God must hate me.’
There in that place I witnessed a man who hadn’t walked in months, get up and walk. There were people praising God aloud; others crying tears of awe and happiness, while others just sat with their eyes closed, praying. You can imagine how hard all this was for a little teenager from the sticks to take in. I felt even more guilt.
Eventually people went to the altar for prayer. The sister who was with me took me by the hand and led me there also. I wanted to run. When Eddie stood just two people away from me, I thought I would die of fear. When he got to me he laid his hands on my head, as he had with everyone. All the fear left my body. I returned to my seat unable to do anything but cry. I didn’t know what was real. Could everything that was happening around me actually be the work of God, or just a lot of foolish, creepy, religious garbage. So, inside I prayed. I asked God to help me because I couldn’t believe what was happening, despite the wonderful things I had seen with my own eyes. The Eucharist had already begun. All through it, doubt took over my heart. Walking to the altar to receive Holy Communion, I said in my mind, ‘Look, Lord, I want to believe this is all true, but I just can’t. Please help me.’ As I received Communion, the most indescribable thing took place. I can’t adequately explain it, or put it in words. No lights – no stars – no images, just the most incredible awareness of love like I have never experienced. In that moment I realised that God loved me as I was. Up until that moment I had done nothing for Him. I realised that what really mattered was not how much I could love God, but it was the fact that He was mad about me.
My story is no different from another thousand stories that many people could tell. Everyone goes through their own hell at one time or another. Please don’t read this and focus on the sad parts, feeling sadness or pity. I am the luckiest person. What I possess today far outweighs all the difficult times of my life put together.
Just because I have a living faith in Jesus and love my church doesn’t mean that life is rosy all the time. The miracle in my life is the gift of knowing that in all things and circumstances I have a hope and a security, that no matter what I do, how I fail and screw up, no matter how many people reject and hurt me, I can never be separated from the love of Jesus. Only love without condition could have changed, healed and led my life to this path of true happiness. All I had to do was let God love me. I want to spend my life in His service, because in Him I have found everything. I owe my life to God’s love.
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