Spencer Moseley

I am writing now to feel a little better. I was jogging with a relative and talking about all things life.  He's 11. He misses his friends and his nice teachers at school, and Covid has hit his lifestyle pretty hard. I felt sad. I realized I'm not so young, but I don't give my friends primary attention like he does. I haven't found that Asian-American, hybrid personality that focuses on both self-development and community. I'm concerned for me and my latent sadness. It's always there lurking beneath the surface with my anxiety. Some moments I'm free of this and jumping for joy, but most of the time I'm in touch with this tension in my neck and shoulders. This fear that I'm not living right, doing right. That I could be doing better if I was making more money or in a relationship or in better shape.  There's lots of models for better places to be than the place I am now, or at least that's how things appear. Usually I find when I dig a little ...

When I tell people I spent 6 years of my life as a seminarian, starting in high school, they often look at me in disbelief— their faces betraying a  "why tf would you do that" . Now might be a time to share some experiences. The Legionaries (LC's) were a militant, Catholic religious order known for loving the Pope and making loads of money from benefactors. All of us seminarians spent an hour a week writing to people we knew or barely knew asking for financial assistance. I can't speak to who the LC's are now, and I've heard they are a chill group of people now. We survived off of food donations when I was an LC. One time, the groceries we received from donors included chocolate ice cream bars that wouldn't melt in direct sunlight. Center Harbor, New Hampshire, where I spent my time as a high school seminarian, can get surprisingly hot and humid in Summer; but even NH's summer could do nothing against this strong, chocolaty boi. As I ate my bar, I ...

"Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it." -Words of Jesus from Mark 4:11 I hated most of my time in novitiate. I chose to be there, but high school seminary did not prepare me for this. In high school, I was told how awesome novitiate would be: developing a close relationship with Jesus, wearing a cassock, drinking. I didn't realize how infrequently I would be able to talk to my family or that I would spend the majority of those two years in absolute silence. Breakfast was a drag. We would sit there eating oatmeal after praying for an hour and a half (we'd woken up at 5:30 am to do this). All I could hear during breakfast was the clanking of silverware on bowls and plates; and spoons sliding on platters passed from novice to novice. Waiters would patrol the cafeteria and novices would get their attention by raising a hand when they wanted a refill.  Our days were structured in high school, but there were many departures from the daily routi...

"Our hearts are restless until they rest in you." -St. Augustine "Happiness does not exist outside the Catholic faith." -Anonymous I almost said, "quarantine has made me restless," but had to phrase it more honestly: "I have been restless during quarantine." There are moments when I am happy. Usually I'm lost in the moment and appreciate whatever is going on around me. But other times, I can't get there. I try to find a path to happiness, and maybe my chemistry is imbalanced, or my anxiety is too high; but I lose my creative approach to inner freedom. My synapses stay separated like the index fingers between God and Adam. I have heard from close friends that the only path to consistent happiness is Catholicism, which used to be my focal point of return in tough times. I would be miserable and remember that Jesus loved me no matter what, that he died for me. I would sit in front of the Eucharist and encounter that love. No other ...

A therapist has diagnosed me with anxiety and depression as “mood disorders”, so my experience of these disorders is not serious enough to warrant medication or mild enough to do nothing. Cognitive behavioral therapy has been the most effective treatment to date, but perhaps talk therapy to unpack my past will be beneficial in the future. When I feel anxious, my neck tenses, and I can feel my heart beat like a drum in my chest. When depressed, there is a perpetual weight behind my eyes, not heavy enough to let me sleep and not light enough to let me find interest in things. When I experience both simultaneously, the opposing forces paralyze me. Some factors are built in my very nature. I see some genetic predispositions for anxiety and depression in myself and my family, and thyroid issues sometimes require medical care. Other factors are environmental. Growing up, there was one way to live out my spirituality, one way to live out my sexuality, and one way to be: Roman Catholic....