Today I sat through a dear family member’s wedding. It was tough. I knew it would be. Something about the stale air from old religious ideas and the crowded elephant in the room always leaves me exhausted when it comes to interacting with my fundamentalist family members – even when we don’t discuss “what happened”. Honestly, I feel like most of them don’t think anything “happened”. I was just never a true Christian and now I am lost and God will deal with me. What’s there to discuss until they see me “coming to Christ”?
There is something that genuinely and deeply bothers me about the way in which Christian’s have rejected the legitimacy of my de-conversion and I think it just occurred to me what it is: I am pronounced guilty without a trial.
I am just wrong, and that is that.
Honestly, it is depressing. I don’t mind if they genuinely believe something, but the mutual exclusivity of the Christian faith my family adheres to is just sickening. I’m tired of it.
I need to get some humor into my life. Bleh. You would not believe the overt proselytizing in the wedding message. Then afterwards I spoke with a family friend (who is not a Christian) and was told my cousin described me as “lost”. I’m just “lost”. That’s all. And what do we do with lost people? I can only imagine we don’t listen to them, we just pray for them. They are God’s business. So the one thing they could do to help me, they refuse to do, because it “endangers” them. Oh, we listen to lost people, but it’s only to hear how messed up they are so we can share with them the good news. I feel beaten without a trial. Maybe stonings would have been nice. Get it all over with rather than feeling like you are in a prison toward your family for the rest of your life.
Clunk, clunk, clunk. Several minutes of excruciating pain and it is all over with.
I want my family. I miss my family even though they are here with me this weekend. I wanted for years and years just for my parents to listen, as I sat in terror and excruciating mental and emotional pain, racked with guilt, doubts, fears and anxiety over the ideas they allowed into my life regarding hell, death, pain, God, and condemnation that nearly pushed me to the brink of suicide. And now I realize my parents will probably never understand. I finally found the truth and they do not want to hear it. I don’t need to go to hell, Christians have been putting me through it for years.
I am guilty without a trial.
Now I’m rambling. When I was a kid my dad had a guy named Jeff who worked for him who used to be a Jehovah’s Witness. His family were still friends with him, but I remember the coldness between them, like something drastic had been lost. Like somehow the parents were almost dead to Jeff. I remember discussing these things with my dad and feeling so sorry for Jeff for being that outcast, for being so alone even though the he had not technically lost anybody. His family’s was a silent turning, like stoning someone in your heart: like resigning yourself to someone’s demise before it has even happened. Jeff looked like a walking corpse sometimes: I feel like a walking corpse sometimes.
The irony of the family conversations is amusing, though. My family believes in no death before the fall. Today we were talking about a snake who befriended a hamster at the dinner table after the wedding, and everyone agreed that it was odd. Odd? The only thing I could think about was that if snakes were designed to kill rodents, then how could there be no death before the fall? I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. I don’t like causing scenes, but it is pretty hard to keep my mouth shut when a conversational donut-hole of an argument is right there in front of my face.
And I think that is what makes it so hard. There are so many things I want to say to all my family members, but I have to bottle them up inside in order to keep some resemblance of peace. And as the bottle in my heart gets bigger, the elephant in the room grows as well and I… I just don’t know how to deal with it. A part of my nature almost feels more comfortable with open conflict than hidden turmoil. Hidden turmoil feels so cheap, like pushing your crap under your bed instead of just taking the extra time and effort to deal with it.
I want to talk to my dad. I miss him. We had a good conversation today, and it occurred to me just how sad and broken I sometimes feel. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if my family had died in a car wreck. At least then I have a solid reason for why communication has broken down. I can deal with the grief then and move on. But when dealing with your alienated family who is still alive, all non-superficial conversations devolve into “you are wrong and you are a liar” accusations on their part, rather than open discussion; and inevitably all conversation feels canned and cheap like a wine bottle you opened several months ago and never finished. Flatter than flat, it is.
Yet there is that spark, I can feel it. My dad is a genuinely intelligent guy: he has quite a head on his shoulders. Today as we were talking he told me that I think so fast on my feet that most other people probably get left behind. That sort of surprised me, coming from my dad. I never would have expected him to say that, so I know that there is some legitimate respect on his part toward me – however small. I am just losing my ability to think like a fundamentalist as time goes on, so it is a little hard for me to imagine how he can have one part of his mind saying “Josh is lost and going to hell” and another part compliment me on how smart I am, understanding that my smarts were part of the reason I left a belief in hell. I assume he just has to deny the latter.
Patience, I tell myself: patience. Grr! But it would make such a big difference if I had one family member- just one – who understood. I want to confide my heart with the people who know me most, but they have shut themselves off from my heart. And then I agonize because I do not want any of them to have to go through what I went through to reach the other side.
I want to love and feel loved again by those I love the most and must love the most.
Today during the wedding service, that old feeling of sadness – of despair – that I would often have at church crept into my soul again like a muscle tear that refuses to heal. At least now I know what that feeling is: it is the sadness that God is not answering my cries. I had it for years… all through high school. I never could figure out what it was, but now I know. I know. That means more to me now than anything: just knowing. At least I can identify the source of the pain. It surprises me now that I was grieving the loss of God years before I left the faith.
But now I have rambled far beyond what I intended. I just need somewhere to talk: to vent. To express myself honestly and openly without ridicule or judgment. Is that not what we all need? The cruel and sadistic irony of the church is their prediction that if you leave you will be lonely, isolated, frustrated, depressed, and people “in the world” will turn their back on you, etc. Then the church fulfills its own prophecies.
I think I might have a heart to heart with my dad tonight. I need an “in”: a way I can help him and connect with him on an emotional level, just so we can be on the same plain again. I honestly don’t mind if he is right about Christianity, I just want him to accept me for what I am now without insinuating that I am – or was – a liar. It’s hard starting a friendship with someone you are already friends with. It is harder when someone thought they were being a friend but were completely alienating you because they were being a “friend” “on orders” from a Supreme Being who supposedly has an ounce of wisdom in these matters. I’m starting to think the reason God’s advice to Christians on how to be a friend is so bad is because, well, being all by Himself and his three-person personality disorder – He probably is a little lonely and confused.
I hope all this talking is helping me somehow, to get things out. It is like this blog is my personal, free psychiatrist. Even if no one is listening, I get my ideas out where I can read them back to myself and be assured that something “listened”, and I can practice writing at the same time. I do feel the visual imagery of my printed words is improving – I hope. It has occurred to me that ideas are far more poignant if they invoke an image. I like that word poignant: it has an almost subtle double entendre scent to it – like the perfume that is supposed to be business casual but ends up coming across professional stripper. But I suppose if your job is taking off your clothes for money, is there a difference?
That last paragraph lumbered to a crawl in a bad neighborhood and somehow ended up in a dead-end alley. I should probably park my car here and carefully slip my keys into my front pocket where they will not be nabbed while I wind myself back to my room.
- Josh
The online world like this seems to be a good place to find like-minded people to connect with. Hope we all continue to be of help, even if just as a sympathetic crowd to vent to at time.
For my part, I’ve been enough of a “lone wolf” all my life that I don’t miss the connectivity much. Don’t know if you’re likely to get good at the lone wolf bit though.
Do be prepared of course for the family never to make the connections between the absurdity of their worldview and reality. It’s just too much for most. ….. Yep, I think we are a bunch of freaks.
Josh, I hope you did get a chance to have that heart-to-heart with your dad. Sounds like there is a potential for some good conversation there. That would be great if you guys could talk.
I really liked the imagery you created in those last two paragraphs, by the way. Good writing is marked by its capacity to impress the writer’s emotions upon the people who read it, and that’s exactly what you are doing.
Josh, hang in there- I know it’s so dificult and I completely relate to you about your grieving the loss of “god” before you left the faith. Don’t allow anyone to make you feel bad- I really think people like us feel this way because we really wanted to serve “god” we were very real about our spirituality and in the end it let us down. Sometimes other people wont listen or chose to judge rather than listen because I think they have the same doubts we do but just chose to overlook them for the fear of hell. I’ve doubted “god” since I was 12 years old but I kept my “faith” strong until I couldn’t keep making up any more excuses.
” if you leave you will be lonely, isolated, frustrated, depressed, and people “in the world” will turn their back on you, etc. Then the church fulfills its own prophecies.”
It’s ironic but I had all of these experiences while being in the church. The “world” has been much better- catholics too have been much kinder and less judgemental than protestants.
Hope things work out for you Josh- imagine you might be the only one there for some else in your family who might deal with lossing their faith.
I feel for you Josh.
I started blogging because my son suggested it, but it came to mean a lot to me in the long run. I have made some great blog friends as I opened up more and more.
It is a good release to have, right at our fingertips.
I can sense your despair at the way you are treated now, it’s sad really. But I and a few others will continue to read your blog and be here for you, to listen. (your blog is on my homepage on my computer via RSS.)
I finally was told by a reader at my blog, that I needed to stop trying to be what I think my mom and family think I should be. (did that make sense?)
I gave up trying to please them basically and I am happier for it. :)
Hi Josh – are you surprised to see me here? I think I may be the first one from the fam to comment! That would be because I at least didn’t realize this blog existed.
Josh, I totally understand what you are saying about “the elephant in the room.” In fact, that very descriptive phrase occured to me several times last weekend. I think that happens a lot with our family. For some reason, we think that if we avoid a painful subject, it doesn’t exist (or something like that). I’ve never heard Grandma mention you, even though I’m sure your deconversion has broken her heart (I’m not trying to put guilt on you here).
But I just want to say that I really enjoyed spending time with you on Sunday. For awhile I almost felt like you had died, and I love you so much! You’re my family, and nothing can change that!
Josh,
The people in my family, including me, all have very strongly held worldviews. These worldviews include many areas where there is no overlapping. There have always been things I have had to keep from my parents, because these things did not fit in there idea of reality. There have always been lies I have had to tell, because the truth was unbelievable to them, and if I told it, I would be punished for lying.
On the whole, I believe this has made me more empathetic, and open to understanding other world views than my own. It was a survival technique when I was growing up.
But we still love each other. I went to my parents’ house on Sunday, for a barbecue. I sat there smiling while they thoughtlessly insulted me and fumbled their attempts to manipulate me. I tried to argue with them as a teenager. They can not hear what I’m saying, unless it fits with what they already believe.
So, I’ve found friends I can talk to, online places I can vent, and visit my parents because they sacrificed a lot to raise me. There are better family dynamics, and there are worse.
I hope you find some way to get the acceptance you crave.
Hi Josh, it was heartbreaking reading your post. I feel many of the same things in regard to my old “church family.” I hope you will be able to re-open the lines of communication with your family, especially your dad. Be patient though.
“…so it is a little hard for me to imagine how he can have one part of his mind saying “Josh is lost and going to hell” and another part compliment me on how smart I am, understanding that my smarts were part of the reason I left a belief in hell. I assume he just has to deny the latter.”
Or maybe he is trying to believe both, trying not to deny either? I remember the cognitive dissonance which having a loving but “unsaved” family caused me when I was a Christian — I ended up attributing it to the “mystery of God” so I could reconcile loving them and keeping my theology.
I would certainly hold out hope that they will find a place for you in their theology over time. The patience thing is hard to do though, but to the extent you can stay close to them and let them know you care about them, I think things work out eventually.