A lot of gay Christians talk about their years-long struggles with themselves, and how they beg God to change them, but it does nothing. I had a similar experience, long before I knew I was bisexual, except that my experience involved the struggle to get close to God, and not feeling close at all.
Have you ever had the experience of trying to tackle a very difficult project, and finally, you feel so frustrated, that you just give up for good? Now imagine if you are afraid to give up, or even to ease up on your efforts, because you're afraid that you will burn in hell for eternity if you do!
I continued at that same level of frustration (and constant stress!) for years, and the struggle to get close to God and to please him continued literally every second that I wasn't distracted or sleeping. And I thought it was all my fault, that I didn't consistently feel close to God, because God could never be wrong, and it was blasphemy to criticize him or be even a little upset with him.
Later I realized that some Christians thought you could get mad at God, and not be sinning, but it always seemed that it had to end on a positive note; you always had to "come back" to God, or else it was being bitter and sinning. So it was less than useless, pretending to be "over" something when you weren't.
I was either constantly failing to think Christian thoughts, in my own mind, or else trying to make up for them with Christian thoughts. I read my bible and prayed even when I was tired, and tired of it, but the most difficult, and stressful, part was trying to be in constant communication with God, and being painfully aware that God was watching when any sexual, angry, or blasphemous thoughts popped into my head, seemingly of their own volition. I couldn't relax, and had so much trouble getting to sleep, because I had to be constantly vigilant.
I finally got so emotionally numb that I just couldn't do any of it anymore. My faith was "broken," like the bruised reed that was not supposed to be broken. My misery and stress in this life finally overcame my terror of the next one, the stress was so great.
And the worst part was that I still had the great fear of hell, of not being a real Christian, and I still had the feeling that it was all my fault that I couldn't get close to God. And, even worse, it was all my fault that I couldn't be a Christian, and it was all my fault that I would go to hell.
But I see people in my family, and sometimes my life, who never, to my knowledge, went through all that. It doesn't seem easy for them, but they seem to be cramming their feelings down, putting on a happy smile, going to church, and judging all of the people that they're told to judge. And I think they have an easier time doing this than I did, because they didn't go through other things that I went through. My family raised the neighbor's baby, and when I was fifteen, we went through the father's custody battle along with him. I was so terrified that the baby would go to his neglectful, meth-addicted mother. And there were stories in the newspaper, at that time, of mother's boyfriends molesting, abusing, and even killing babies and small children. She had a lot of boyfriends, unsavory characters all.
I'm not exactly sure what combination of things led to my faith being broken, though. And I wonder, if I hadn't gone through all that, how I would be now? Would I still be homophobic? Would I know that I was bisexual? Would I know, and not like myself? Would I still be trying, so, so hard, and ruining my health and my mental health, and my life, because of it?
I would be so unhappy and depressed, if I was still my thirteen-year-old self. And I wouldn't even be allowed to acknowledge that I was unhappy, miserable, and depressed. I grieve for what I went through, and I am still recovering from it all, emotionally and physically, but I wonder if I would be worse off today, if I hadn't gone through that.
I remember an acquaintance, Ruth, who is twenty years old and almost exactly like I was, at thirteen. I sense her ambivalence, that she's torn between two worlds, but I distance myself from her, because it's too painful to see it, what I used to be. And for all I know, she could come through this time in her life even more homophobic and anti-equality, and I don't want to be around or be friends with someone like that, no matter how "nice" the oppressors are. It would only make me miserable, and life's much too short.
If there was one thing that would have made my life easier, back then, it would have been not trying at all to be "good." I spent so much energy trying to be "good": a "good" Christian, "good" daughter, "good" kid. I was scared to death of being "bad," and since one little thought could be a sin, I was "bad" constantly. That really does a number on your self-esteem, and your life in general. I was depressed, and couldn't see my life ever getting any better. I didn't like myself, either. Not one little bit; I couldn't stand myself.
When I learned to love myself, it wasn't because I was a child of God or something, it was in spite of the damage of the church's teachings. And they certainly didn't intend to inflict that kind of damage; they were "kind," "gentle," "loving" and all of the other self-congratulatory cliches. There were a few years where I had to just purge all mention of religion or Christianity from my life, and ignore it as much as I could. I'm glad I did, too. I desperately needed a long break from it.
I've learned so much over the years, and I wouldn't trade what I know now for anything. I learned to trust myself, where before I had been so focused on my relationship with God, that I had no relationship with myself. At first, I had been totally lost for how to fill my hours, my thoughts, and my life, if God was gone from it. I didn't know how to function, with all of that stress suddenly gone. But I knew I couldn't bear to do anything "Christian" ever again, even if I had such fear of hell. My misery in this life was greater, though the fear and self-hatred were still very much there.
I learned what kind of music I really liked, not having to worry about always listening to Christian music. I learned how to fill my spare hours in ways that I liked. I learned to cuss, which was fucking awesome! The biggest shock was my mind being seemingly empty, though, after constant prayer and vigilance every second. I literally didn't know how to think for myself! :)
But I learned, and I like my life now. I like myself, now.
I don't know if I would be so well-off today, if all of that hadn't happened to me. I'm still recovering from everything I've been through, but I'm so grateful that I'm here. I can't imagine how miserable my life would still be, in so many ways, if I hadn't lost my faith.
Maybe losing my faith was a gift from God. It certainly is a blessing, of some sort, even if I become a devout Christian again. (Which I don't think is likely, because I'm not putting any effort into being "devout" ever again! I already paid my dues, and I'm not fucking up my one guaranteed life for a theoretical afterlife!)
Maybe my life would be better, in some ways, if I had not been through such painful experiences. But, though I would not go through it all again, I shudder to think what would have happened if I had had the energy to keep trying to be a Christian.
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