I know it is crazy, but this phrase has been echoing in my head for over a month now. I know it was well intended but I have been secretly glowering since then. Since this statement lacks context allow me to explain, again. I am a Roman Catholic. I find it hard to separate my religion from any other part of my life. Everything I do I try to do with God in my heart and I hope that everything I do is a humble witness to what I believe. Sometimes it is easy but most of the time it is hard. It is hard to be faithful. It is hard to be hopeful. It is hard to be loving to everyone as Jesus would. It is hard to be Catholic, but the hardest part for me comes from something I have no control over.
I do not recall much about the time I was hospitalized for an allergic reaction, but what I do remember I doubt I will ever forget. The smoke in the air, the illness that followed, my hazy vision as all my other senses went wild, the panic as I realized something was very wrong, and the smell of incense. More than anything I remember fear. Fear as I told my friend. Fear as we searched for my RD. Fear as they called 911. Fear as they called my brother. Fear as they loaded me into the ambulance. Fear as my parish priest came to give me a blessing. Fear as I came to the hospital. After that, I do not remember anything from that day, or the next week. I lost a week of my memory from the drugs I was on to stabilize what was happening to my body and it still scares me. Every time I smell incense I struck by that fear like a slap across the face.
The only thing stronger than my fear of incense became my love for Mass.
I suppose I should consider myself lucky, because my allergy took so long to develop, but also because it could have been so much worse. I also consider myself cursed because so many people are unwilling to sacrifice so that I may attend Mass. I lived in a small Catholic College community for four years- and because they prized their traditional Latin Mass with all the smells and bells, most Sundays I was unable to attend Mass at all. I would suffer through my embarrassment and pride and I asked the priests not to use the incense and I got a myriad of answers ranging from, "Try and if you get sick leave", "Suffer through it," and "If you are sick then your obligation to go to Mass is over so don't worry about it." What all of these priests failed to realize that my desire to be in Church did not waiver because of incense- it fueled it.
I would make myself sick, trying to be close to God while avoiding incense. I would hide in the hallway or just outside the back door. One time I sat outside my Church in a storm that eventually became a small hurricane but if I was anywhere near the doors of the Church I became sick. If I was in a Church that had used incense any time in the previous 48 hours I would be sick. If I ran out while it was coming in, I would usually be sick but if I got medication quickly and got away from the incense I could stop the symptoms from progressing. I suppose everyone gets labeled during college but while some people could boast being known for being really great at something or by who they were related to, I became known as "that girl who doesn't like incense" or "that crazy chick who is allergic to being Catholic." Some of my non-Catholic friends outside of my community laughed and told me I had chosen the wrong religion and I tried to laugh with them after all, I did not choose to be this way. The worst part of being there during college is that some people had the audacity to tell me that it was all in my head and that I was making it up. I would like to say I was a silent martyr, but I have never managed silence or martyrdom and instead I became very angry. Angry with my fellow parishioners. Angry with the priests. Finally I became angry with God.
I wasted time being angry with Him, blaming God for making it so hard to be Catholic, and so hard to practice my religion in Christian unity of the Mass. It took years and lots of spiritual direction to move past that anger and move on to acceptance. Years of avoiding the chance of having an allergic reaction again, trying to find an answer. I prayed for a miraculous recovery but it never came. I was very fortunate to have great support from my mother, godmother, and some of my close friends in college. (What I didn't know then was that I was the first of my female relatives to have this allergy, albeit mine is still the worst of us.) Together with them I tried allergy medications that I could take in advance but they gave me worse reactions than the incense. We did research into hypo-allergenic incense and discovered that what might work for one person rarely works for another. I had painful skin tests done to see what I was allergic to and discovered that pretty much everything in incense will give me a reaction. I found support groups online from other Catholics with my problem but none of them seemed to have an answer. I traveled to other Catholic Churches but they frequently used incense to. It was heartbreaking news but I finally accepted the fact that I would not be able to practice my faith as I wished. After a while I gave up on trying to find a cure, which left me the one sole Catholic in a small town in Florida who was unable to celebrate with the rest of the community. On Holy Days and Feast Days I would hide in my room, embarrassed to go out in public because of the judging looks I would receive from people who did not know. Sometimes I would try to go to Mass and then run out of Church when I saw the thurible*. Afterwards I would laugh that I had decided to become pagan at the beginning of Mass- most people would laugh with me, but I became very tired of the endless sympathetically condescending comments, recommending different ideas that I had already tried. Finally I grew tired of explaining.
I would like to say that when I went about choosing my parish I took such things as location, or family, or music, or ministry into consideration. No, the one thing in my mind was incense. It was really nice that after four years as being known as "the girl who runs out of church" or "that chick who went to the ER in an ambulance freshman year" to not be known by something I had no control over. By the time I graduated almost everyone in our small community knew about my allergy. I basked in my ability to go to Mass without fear here. I loved my pastor because he never used incense and rarely used scented oils. It felt good to be Catholic again and it was nice to not live in the fear of the past.
Now I find myself having the same problems that I had in college again because some people just do not care. When my parish changed pastors I took him aside and told him about my allergy and questioned him about Christmas Mass. He told me which mass would not have incense and then changed his mind, leaving me to run out of Church. I thought I had overcome my anger but this year I was provided with fresh bitterness and I was reminded how weak, and how dangerously close to sin, I am.
I have found exactly two priests who have willingly altered their masses so that I could attend. I have found endless support from my family and friends over this issue, but I feel guilty burdening them every time I run out of Mass. I feel like just one person again- one lonely, broken, little person lost at sea. I know Jesus did not promise to make my life easy, only that he would never leave me. I know I am just one person, but I am just one person that God loves and believes that I am more than this allergy. I am just one person who loves God. I am just one person who absolutely adores being Catholic. I am just one person who understands that in most cases, the use of incense is not required. I am just one person without another option. I am just one person who is being denied the ability to practice my faith because of my allergy. I am just one person who might have been lost because of my anger. And I am just one person who is speaking up because I finally can. 
I don't know what to say, except that I will pray for you.
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