Tag: spiritual trauma

Sometimes I Forget

MirandaLeave a comment

I didn’t expect it to be painful. Rather silly. You’ve been doing this for how long now? And you didn’t think it’d be painful?

“Listen. I was unprepared for my words to summon a tsunami of anguish and confusion.”

Who are you talking to?

“Myself, obviously.” I gesture wildly at the crowd of no one.

Back to the story.

She asked me when I first attended. “So I attempted to describe the timeline – you know, scrunching up my face and calling up the details of the first day.”

Seems a fairly benign question.

“But somewhere between my mouth forming words and recalling the emotions of that time I was catapulted into the past and lost my mind.”

We’ve done that in therapy before.

I sighed, “I know but I just thought I was done with all the surprises. Now I have to deal with this thing.”

Yes you do. Still waiting for why you’re surprised?

“Eff off.”

When My Religion was Wrapped in a Perfect Box

MirandaLeave a comment

With a little shiny bow on top. I was the dutiful follower, going to church, singing my little heart out to my Jesus and doing my best to love as Christ loves. I had a tidy little checklist I could cross off everyday to prove I was a good Christian and look upon the mirror of self loathing for the areas I fell short.

The problem was the areas I fell short were determined by humans. And in my absolute quest to be “good” I lost my intuitive self. I began to question my own reality. The Bible says God is not the author of confusion. So how come going to church became so confusing? Why all of a sudden did love and evil look the same? Why was the only place I was growing was in self destruction?

I had to go. I could no longer hold the conflicting realities, trudge through the muck to see where – and even IF – the truth existed. The God I once understood did not create me to live in chaos, of that I clung to. And I walked away from organized religion.

It took me 5 years to recognize my pain. 2 more to speak about it. And a decade in therapy before I could sing my favorite songs without dissociating. I’m not in a hurry to find out if there’s a building for me to worship at. I’m content singing alone, just me and Jesus.