Another Story
August 11, 2014 at 5:04 am
(This post was last modified: August 11, 2014 at 5:06 am by Raevoryx.)
It all started when I was born. (Jk, this isn't going to be /that/ long.)
The indoctrination did anyway. And since I was the only child at the time, I got full attention and focus. So when I was Three, I asked my parents how I could have Jesus in my heart and they gladly led me through the steps.
A three year-old Christian.
They were pretty damn proud.
Eight years later, I was baptized. I had a cold at the time, but I was insistant on having it done despite that. Full submersion while having a fever is really the best idea on the planet. Duh.
I was the child that was so devout that she would go to the doctor 'praying' that she would have some major disease or illness and that it would be able to glorify my devine creator in the end by my faithfulness and testimony.
I would watch the 'Extreme Home Makeover' shows and envy the children with cancer.
Looking back, it was rather sickening.
As I grew older, I grew even more involved in the church. Went through my ranks of A.W.A.N.A. (A christian club), and became a leader in the program, capable of training new clubs of what they needed to do in order to in turn train their kids.
At one of my last churches, I was not only a MC for Pre-school kindergarden, but also for Middleschool, and an Awana leader (Commander of my own Highschool group), not to mention the tech who would put up the slides for the main services.
(Oh wait, I was also working, doing college, and a martial artist on the side, but that's hardly important in the scheme of things, right?)
I couldn't seem to get enough.
I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain disease halfway through my service at the church.
And I felt jipped. There were no discolorations, no tumors, no degenerating bones, no visual cue that I was in body-wide pain. My tolerance and need to put on a strong face in the ass of adversity kept me from expressing my pain.
(Also around the time of my diagnosis, I had broken up badly with my first boyfriend. So I started experimenting with underage drinking, finding out on the side that it helped deal with the physical pain as well as the mental.)
This spiraled me into depression, which then led to suicidal thoughts (which were very bad from what I had been taught).
I was put on anti-depressants, and then went off to camp where I gained a better view of the world, albeit tempoararily. However the pastor of the camp brought up some points that I had issues with at first, things about 'renewing the mind' and etc, which at the time sounded a hell of a lot like brainwashing. But since I wanted to get something out of the experience so badly, I put it aside and accepted that I needed to quit drinking.
It lasted less than a month and I was back to my depression and thoughts, even if I had managed to get off of my love of alcohol.
I realized what finding effective medications would cost, and decided to give my parents a break. Besides, all works out for the good of those who follow him, right?
Three tries later and I went to a friend one night with my troubles, figuring that there was nothing that could change my mind, let alone him. Hell, my mother had cried at my feet, kinda puts your resolve into perspective when you don't even flinch.
Yet in that conversation, he snapped me out of it.
I didn't expect his wording, and it kinda woke me up. I started considering some of the things that I used to rationalize this path of action. And it all led back to my religion and I started asking questions that I couldn't come up with an excuse for.
I couldn't help but wonder, if all the suffering in the world could have been avoided by the simple moving of a tree, or a serpent, or a more timely visit from Mr. Skydude.
We were set up for failure, right?
So one day on my way back from college (I had all-but quit all my other activities at this point.) I decided that:
"Ya know what. I'm an independant human being with questions that go deeper than face value. No diety, god, or otherwise will see me bow down to it until there is no doubt in my godforsaken mind and I will go by no title until that assuredness is made manifest."
(Yes, I wrote it down. I needed to remember it, bad memory and all.)
I started looking into various religions, finding the ones I wasn't a part of before just as absurd as I had before, and I also looked into the other side of the story, what the people without religion thought.
And I realized that it was a hell of a lot better 'reasoned' than anything I had ever read in the 'holy book' (and I read a LOT).
Sure there were things that I couldn't necessarily explain in the world, but the thought that it was something to be discovered instead of something that was to be assumed seemed far more exciting.
I started looking into Agnostism, and found it a bit wishy-washy (no offense intended), and then I looked to Atheism and agreed with every part of the wikipedia page.
After reading 'An Atheist Manifesto', I felt more liberated than I had... ever. Sure I was still diagnosed with a chronic disease, but now I looked into living with it and got help instead of bringing myself down in order to rationalize ending what little precious life I had in this universe.
And then we moved from the Bay Area to the Bible Belt and I died inside at the thought of a church on every corner and decided to stay closeted as much as possible. (A negative experience with my mother finding out kinda solidified that idea.)
And now here I am almost a full year later. Just me. I haven't gone back to the church my family does simply because I see no use in torturing myself with the doubt that it can bring (I still struggle with a large amount of indoctrination, which can trigger panic attacks and etc, not pleasant.)
My parents agreed that I could stay as long as I don't 'poison' my siblings. Which has left me with a bit of a quandry recently as to what to do since my sister finally asked me why I don't go to church.
"If I walk into the building..... I'LL BURN!!!"
The indoctrination did anyway. And since I was the only child at the time, I got full attention and focus. So when I was Three, I asked my parents how I could have Jesus in my heart and they gladly led me through the steps.
A three year-old Christian.
They were pretty damn proud.
Eight years later, I was baptized. I had a cold at the time, but I was insistant on having it done despite that. Full submersion while having a fever is really the best idea on the planet. Duh.
I was the child that was so devout that she would go to the doctor 'praying' that she would have some major disease or illness and that it would be able to glorify my devine creator in the end by my faithfulness and testimony.
I would watch the 'Extreme Home Makeover' shows and envy the children with cancer.
Looking back, it was rather sickening.
As I grew older, I grew even more involved in the church. Went through my ranks of A.W.A.N.A. (A christian club), and became a leader in the program, capable of training new clubs of what they needed to do in order to in turn train their kids.
At one of my last churches, I was not only a MC for Pre-school kindergarden, but also for Middleschool, and an Awana leader (Commander of my own Highschool group), not to mention the tech who would put up the slides for the main services.
(Oh wait, I was also working, doing college, and a martial artist on the side, but that's hardly important in the scheme of things, right?)
I couldn't seem to get enough.
I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain disease halfway through my service at the church.
And I felt jipped. There were no discolorations, no tumors, no degenerating bones, no visual cue that I was in body-wide pain. My tolerance and need to put on a strong face in the ass of adversity kept me from expressing my pain.
(Also around the time of my diagnosis, I had broken up badly with my first boyfriend. So I started experimenting with underage drinking, finding out on the side that it helped deal with the physical pain as well as the mental.)
This spiraled me into depression, which then led to suicidal thoughts (which were very bad from what I had been taught).
I was put on anti-depressants, and then went off to camp where I gained a better view of the world, albeit tempoararily. However the pastor of the camp brought up some points that I had issues with at first, things about 'renewing the mind' and etc, which at the time sounded a hell of a lot like brainwashing. But since I wanted to get something out of the experience so badly, I put it aside and accepted that I needed to quit drinking.
It lasted less than a month and I was back to my depression and thoughts, even if I had managed to get off of my love of alcohol.
I realized what finding effective medications would cost, and decided to give my parents a break. Besides, all works out for the good of those who follow him, right?
Three tries later and I went to a friend one night with my troubles, figuring that there was nothing that could change my mind, let alone him. Hell, my mother had cried at my feet, kinda puts your resolve into perspective when you don't even flinch.
Yet in that conversation, he snapped me out of it.
Quote:"I don't want you to die because I'm a selfish bastard."
I didn't expect his wording, and it kinda woke me up. I started considering some of the things that I used to rationalize this path of action. And it all led back to my religion and I started asking questions that I couldn't come up with an excuse for.
I couldn't help but wonder, if all the suffering in the world could have been avoided by the simple moving of a tree, or a serpent, or a more timely visit from Mr. Skydude.
We were set up for failure, right?
So one day on my way back from college (I had all-but quit all my other activities at this point.) I decided that:
"Ya know what. I'm an independant human being with questions that go deeper than face value. No diety, god, or otherwise will see me bow down to it until there is no doubt in my godforsaken mind and I will go by no title until that assuredness is made manifest."
(Yes, I wrote it down. I needed to remember it, bad memory and all.)
I started looking into various religions, finding the ones I wasn't a part of before just as absurd as I had before, and I also looked into the other side of the story, what the people without religion thought.
And I realized that it was a hell of a lot better 'reasoned' than anything I had ever read in the 'holy book' (and I read a LOT).
Sure there were things that I couldn't necessarily explain in the world, but the thought that it was something to be discovered instead of something that was to be assumed seemed far more exciting.
I started looking into Agnostism, and found it a bit wishy-washy (no offense intended), and then I looked to Atheism and agreed with every part of the wikipedia page.
After reading 'An Atheist Manifesto', I felt more liberated than I had... ever. Sure I was still diagnosed with a chronic disease, but now I looked into living with it and got help instead of bringing myself down in order to rationalize ending what little precious life I had in this universe.
And then we moved from the Bay Area to the Bible Belt and I died inside at the thought of a church on every corner and decided to stay closeted as much as possible. (A negative experience with my mother finding out kinda solidified that idea.)
And now here I am almost a full year later. Just me. I haven't gone back to the church my family does simply because I see no use in torturing myself with the doubt that it can bring (I still struggle with a large amount of indoctrination, which can trigger panic attacks and etc, not pleasant.)
My parents agreed that I could stay as long as I don't 'poison' my siblings. Which has left me with a bit of a quandry recently as to what to do since my sister finally asked me why I don't go to church.
"If I walk into the building..... I'LL BURN!!!"
