Christianity Unraveled

February 16th, 2021

As I sit in this coffee shop near downtown Minneapolis this chilly morning, masked and distanced due to the ongoing pandemic, I begin to wonder about my personal masking and distancing that I have fallen into with my new identity of 'athiest.' As a former fundamental, the need for community is ingrained within my being. Intentional disclosure and intimacy among many has been my default for countless years, and to be suddenly cut off – of my own choosing, it seems – has created within me a wall of frailty and floundering. What is life but a mere chance to pass through with a sense of created meaning among many? And to no longer have this?

One thing that I wonder if I need is the mindset of communal growth and support. It is only a matter of time before my need for community will kick in again, I fear. Disclosing to Andrew solely, and to perhaps my counselor when I muster up the energy to set up appointments, can only last so long, unless the basic need for community was another lie I continue to believe from the Christian life. It can feel alienating and lonely traveling on this path of non-belief. Perhaps the better word is anti-religion. I cannot honestly say that I participate in only non-belief. My feelings of contempt for religion – the way it exploits people, suppresses human scientific advancement, and creates unnecessary human suffering – far outweigh my desire to respect others beliefs and traditions. Even so, I feel unable to express my disdain for religion. Even in writing these words, I fear that they will be taken adversely. It is likely that I am still in the grieving process of losing my life-long identity as a Christian, dropping into the anger and denial stages intermittently. I find it difficult to remember my life as a die-hard God fanatic, almost as if I wish to suppress her altogether. When the majority of your life is discovered to be a lie, the results feel cataclysmic and unbearable. And so the distancing and masking ensues. Out of respect for my family, I must mask my true self and thoughts from them, which unfortunately results in unintentional distancing. Masking can feel daunting, and at times impossible. What is living when most of yourself is only known to the minority of others?

Bitterness is a rather unfortunate enemy and side effect of living such a dual life. I am sure it comes out in many different ways, but the ways it comes out never fail to surprise me. It comes out in sporadic ugly rants and presumptuous remarks, all of which Andrew graciously listens to without disquiet. It comes out in uncomfortable silence when speaking with my family and hyper-religious friends. How is one to respond when there is a battle within? To conjure up my past self to appease the masses, or to berate those with what I truly desire to say? Incongruence between the self and the displayance of the self is never easy to handle. And yet, I fear the congruence after those who are close to me learn who I truly am.

There are many moments when I miss the version of myself of a few years back. Perhaps not the religious fanatic aspect, but unquestionably the calm, patient, and unselfish parts. In my journey of unraveling and dismantling my entire understanding of life, it seems to me that I subconsciously threw away – or at least suppressed – the parts of me that I wish to retain simply due to their association with my Christian self. I was not allowed to be logical, nor speak my mind, nor be emotional, nor be brash, loud, or too demanding. Yet as much as I learn to become all that I was unable to be, I feel as though I lose the kindness and quietness that I deeply cultivated within my former self. Perhaps one day I will find her again.