So it's been a while since I've written in my blog...possibly because my journey has become increasingly more difficult and slightly less optimistic. Let me explain...
When I first realised that I didn't 'believe' anymore, there was a sense of relief, of liberation even. No longer did I have to struggle with the doctrines of my faith that were at odds with the world around me. No longer did I have to believe in a loving God who simply did not appear to be loving at all. But as I have written about before, with the loss of my faith came a deep sadness. However, this sadness has continued to deepen until it has, at times, become a swirling sea of despair and grief flooding my heart and suffocating me from deep within.
I recently read an article by Dr. Marlene Winell (here is the link if you are interested. http://journeyfree.org/rts/the-trauma-of-leaving-religion-pt-3/) which explains the trauma associated with the loss of one's religion. It is what psychologists describe as an 'assumptive world view', which when shattered causes a sense of devastating loss and confusion similar to that of losing a loved one. Your 'assumed' understanding of the world has been destroyed, the rug swept out from underneath your feet so to speak.
My life has been far from sorrow free. It has been a bumpy road and incredibly difficult at times. However, there was one certainty that held me together no matter what I was going through and that was my understanding of God. I believed that there was a purpose to my life, to the world, to the universe. This 'cosmic purpose' was what gave meaning to every little thing that I did. Every tear that I cried had an eternal value and purpose and I believed that God collected every one and that they were precious to him. That is gone now. Gone. When describing my grief to my husband, he asked why I didn't just go back. It really isn't that simple. When faith is destroyed there is no going back. I can never pretend to believe something that simply isn't true. It would be like standing at the edge of a precipice and saying, 'I know there is no bridge but if I simply imagine one there, then it will be OK to step over the edge...' We all know how that would work out!
So there is no going back...but where do I go from here? I have no other way in which to see the world in which I live. No answers for the pain and injustice that I see surrounding me. No purpose in anything at all. No divine power to which I can cry out for help...nothing to even give me the illusion of hope.
There are days when I feel that the heaviness is going to crush me. Days when I feel can hardly breathe. Days when the tears are always so close to the surface, threatening to run over at any moment. It breaks my heart when my daughters tell me to 'be happy' and to 'smile Mummy...here like this, I'll show you.' Is my sorrow so easy for them to read? At least I know that they will never have to experience this. I hope with all that is in me that they will find a foundation of love, peace and happiness from deep within themselves that will see them through life constantly.
There are nights when the dreams of nothingness haunt me. Dreams where the world is shrinking around me, as if I was in a room where the walls were slowly moving in. Dreams where I am sobbing for my lost love. Dreams where I believe that I believe again and all is well. But then I wake up.
I know that this all sounds terribly depressing but I feel that it is necessary for me to share. The nature of religion is so pervasive and yet not many people talk about its consequences. But I am slowly moving through it. I tell myself that 'this too shall pass.' I will rebuild. I will find meaning in my life in new and amazing ways. I will find the happiness within myself that I so desire. I try to remember to be kind to myself. To acknowledge that this is a process of grief, that I don't need to have all of the answers today and to allow myself to go through this journey, to accept which is the final stage of grief.
As you can imagine, considering the intense emotional aspects of this experience, I can not just talk about it with anybody and I still haven't told my parents that I am no longer Christian. I think perhaps they suspect but they are too afraid of my answer to actually ask me. I am not really sure of the reasons that influence my decision to stay silent. Is it because it will hurt too much when they act as if it is only an intellectual decision that I have made with no regard for the pain that I am in? Or is it because I can't bear to hear the 'guilting' that I know will follow my revelation. I can't bear to hear that I have 'fallen from grace', that I am on a slippery slope to destruction. Yet somehow, I feel that deep down I am ashamed. I feel that I have let everyone down. I fear their disappointment. At a time in my life when I so desperately need their support and their love, I know that all I will receive is this disappointment and this judgement. They won't even know that they are doing it which makes it all the harder. They will think that in trying to point me back to what they see as the 'truth' they are actually loving me. How do you fight with that??
I've been telling myself that I'm being sensitive to my parents and to my Christian friends by not telling them because I don't want to hurt them. But that's not true...I think it's shame and I don't need them to add fuel to the fire that is already burning within me. But why are we always afraid to disagree with the religious? Why should their beliefs take precedence over mine? Why should I be afraid to tell my own parents that my beliefs are different to theirs? And why should they be allowed to be exclusive in their beliefs to the extent that they automatically assume that mine are wrong?
I really have no idea where to proceed from here. I am in agony. So would telling my parents really be helpful at this time? Sometimes, I have almost burst out 'I've lost my faith' to my Mum so that I can have the freedom of sharing my pain with her yet I know she wouldn't understand. I don't think I have ever felt so alone in my entire life. If any of you beautiful people out there reading this have any suggestions I would welcome them. I admit that no man is an island...yet why does it constantly feel that this woman is?
Thankyou for listening and sharing this journey with me...
Peace and Love
Amber May
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