Tag: Spirituality

Posted on in Healing, Identity, Spirituality

Religious Deconstruction to Spiritual Synthesis

I was raised Christian. A statement that I used to believe meant I was part of an exclusive, unified group. I know better now. I’ve come to understand that my upbringing was far from normal and even quite different from the average Christian upbringing. I attended a private, Christian academy for elementary school. In Kindergarten, I learned my ABC’s by reciting Bible verses. My childhood was so old fashioned that I was spanked by the Principal on my first day of school for talking too much. Being silenced is a message I am still trying to heal from.

My entire adolescence and teenage years were guided by “Biblical, Christian” ideals. Christian music, Christian literature, Christian figures, pastors, and teachers all overshadowed the very limited “worldly” content I was exposed to. 

I wasn’t spared from living in the real world where growing up sucks and bad stuff happens. My parents did the best they could and their intentions were to protect me. Truthfully, my parents gave me religion but that religion gave me fear, doubt, shame, and anxiety from a variety of sources I was encouraged to trust. 

Conflict

I didn’t know how much conflict existed inside of me until I was a grown adult experiencing a lot of suffering. I can look back and see it but in the moment I just felt lost. It’s ironic, since my religion was supposed to make me “saved” and “lost” was what all the others were labeled. That was one of many contradictions I had to unravel.

Rarely, I can pinpoint who or what planted a certain belief in me. Mostly, it was the compound messages I received over and over again from many sources that stuck the deepest. There were handfuls of voices that echoed things like, “girls can’t wear pants or cut their hair,” “children and women shouldn’t speak,” “be seen but not heard,” “fulfill your duties as a woman,” “don’t question authority,” the layers of how to properly be submissive, the very distinct roles of men and women, what constitutes value in human life, and so much more. 

My greatest conflict came through marriage. I married young, quick, and naive to a narcissistic man who wanted control. I only wanted to be a good wife and mother. My greatest fear was failing at those things. When things got really bad in the marriage, he suddenly “found God” and quickly became very religious. Not the kind of religion that a person takes personally for growth and reflection; rather the kind that gives a man power over a woman and total control of his own universe “because God said so.” I wish I could say I saw the light and knew he was in the wrong, but all that training about authority, submission, and the sanctity of marriage left me drowning in pain and heartbreak while I constantly tried to be good enough. The fear of going to hell for not obeying, for ending up in a divorce, or for thinking bad thoughts, kept me paralyzed for many years. 

The Breakdown

One day I stopped believing in hell, and my whole life changed. This wasn’t a sudden change or flippant decision. It took years to digest and finally embrace. A couple years after getting married and shortly after having my first baby, I decided to go to college. I spent the next decade in college earning degrees and consuming everything I could learn. I changed majors a couple of times, finished an associates degree while single-handedly raising babies, and then decided to go deep. I chose a Christian University because at that time I still saw my own identity as primarily Christian. Also, I had decided to study Psychology which was taboo and discouraged in the Christian community and so getting a Bible degree seemed to even that out. The more I learned about the Bible the shakier my faith became. My foundation had some solid bricks held together by crumbling modern ideas and interpretations that just didn’t match up. I asked professors hard questions and learned so much that contradicted what I had thought I knew. It wasn’t until grad school that I started to actively change my beliefs. I remember hitting this moment where I realized that I had openly accepted all the beliefs I had been handed and let other people shape my faith and my reality. I had to figure out “What do I believe?” That’s one hell of an existential crisis to have in your late 20s while your world unravels around you. By then, the marriage was really bad and the abuse was evident. People were starting to notice things but I was still fighting for my soul and living controlled by fear.

One day I got involved with a Bible study full of people like me; people with high education, deep insight into scripture, and a lot of honest questions on a search for truth. That group dissected the Biblical narrative of hell and we all came to see that the common belief isn’t Biblical at all and hell as Hollywood portrays it just simply isn’t real. I remember the moment this clicked for me and what was actually in front of me broke through the veil of deception I had been under my whole life. It would be many months before I felt confident in my study and understanding and even years for me to outwardly embrace this. That fear instilled in childhood runs deep. 

Once the concept of hell settled for me and I formed my own belief, I realized I could do this for everything I thought I knew. I could study things out for myself and decide what to accept or reject and adopt as my own faith.

Rebuilding a New Foundation

My deconstruction started by taking tricky ideas and hard topics and fleshing them out until I had peace about the answers I reached. At a certain point, I decided I needed more balanced ideas. I realized that the multitude of topics I had avoided my entire life because they were deemed bad or unsafe by Christian “experts” were actually open and available to me to form my own opinions on. I started small, researching, reading, and studying things that had interested me but were off limits. I still had a largely Christian lens that made me overanalyze a lot. I was in a weird place where my faith looked nothing like it once did but I didn’t fully discard my backstory beliefs either. There were some things I completely rejected but some things I still fully embraced. I was in the space in between words or ideas where it’s hard to communicate exactly what is going on inside of you. So I kept some foundational bricks but started collecting stones that made sense. I was able to embrace some things I had never experienced before and I started to see the amazing parallels that run between all things. I remember feeling sad that I had missed so much of the world yet excited that I could now choose for myself. I rebuilt a foundation I could trust to hold me. I say rebuilt because it wasn’t new construction. I didn’t discard everything but I was able to improve upon what I had to work with. 

Steady Growth

As is nature, slow, steady growth is the healthiest kind. I wanted a reality that has strong roots- given time and care to grow stable. Over the course of a decade, I curated what I believe in an evolution of thought that shifted me well outside of the pretty box of norms. Once upon a time, as a Christian, I believed that all things are black and white, and that I had to know the truth without a doubt. Now, I believe in openness and space for growth and change. I believe truth takes various forms and it’s not all the same but it is attainable. I believe that I can be wrong and it’s not a flaw or imperfection that will reduce my value or rob me of good things. 

Somewhere along the journey, synthesis began, and for me it’s not an end I seek but a continual merging of all things. I started with a box I had to force myself to fit into. I pulled that box apart and discarded the damaged pieces while holding onto the good structure that remained. I collected new ideas and reassembled a very different structure that looks nothing like a box, but more like a wild garden that is well rooted and still growing. I realized that being open to developing as a person is so much more important than having the right answer. I also realized that sharing in the community of humanity, adding love to the world, taking care of yourself and others, being accountable for doing more good and less harm, and creating peace are essential elements of all faiths that underline what real truth should look like. I don’t make decisions anymore based on “will this make a God mad?” but rather, will this add value to my life, others, or the world? The world is full of bad stuff but it’s also full of beauty.

Posted on in Identity, Spirituality

The Woman with a Message

It was Mother’s Day, and I decided what I needed was a little spiritual healing. I chose to visit one of my favorite shops for something to light up my soul. There I met a woman with a message for me. From the very first exchange, she spoke words that were familiar to me; things I’ve been hearing a lot lately. She confirmed deep feelings I’ve been carrying. Some of it shined a bright spotlight on what I’ve been struggling with, revealing a need to let go, forgive, and move forward into blessings. Some of it spoke to my life purpose, which I am intimately aware of, and my deep need to embrace my confidence and do what I am meant to do. The thing is, I have been holding onto some old ideas, some expired dreams, and some parts of my past that simply aren’t meant to move with me into the next chapter of this life.

She saw my blocked voice and my hesitation to speak. Ironically, she is not the first person to point this out to me. It’s a message I’ve been dancing with for some time. She connected it to my purpose as a spiritual teacher. No less ironic, she is not the first person to boldly proclaim this calling in my life without knowing a thing about me other than my present energy. I’ve had a handful of guides over the years tell me directly that I am a spiritual teacher and healer. I know this with a certainty in my bones that it’s as much of who I am as the color of my eyes. Even my eyes reveal my destiny.

The most profound part of her message was how she honed in on my gift of writing, the fact that I’ve been stuck and not writing, and the intense need I have to write and share my story as part of my purpose and path as a healer. I’ve danced with this gift for years, writing for fun and education. I’ve worked on books that have never made it much farther than my fingertips. I experience great confidence and also great insecurity about the vulnerability of publishing my own mind. Yet, on a sunny May afternoon, I was brought to a woman with a message for me, which was that I am a woman with a message that needs to be shared. So here I am, taking the first step in a new direction, and telling the story of my own life.

Posted on in Healing, Identity, Personal Thoughts, Spirituality

Remembering a True Identity

My mother told me, “You never lost your identity. You just forgot who you are for a little while.” A shift happened in my mind. The sense of being lost, like a dense fog, slightly lifted and suddenly there was a little bit of the road visible underneath. It felt easier to take a step, although I still didn’t know exactly where I was heading.

Identity can come from many things. We assume roles and if we are not steady in our awareness, those roles become what we believe we are. How often, when asked who we are, do we claim the identity of our roles; I am a mother, a writer, a wife, or a counselor. Which roles we highlight might depend on who the audience is which we are entertaining. In a business meeting, I am not likely to first say I am a mother. Likewise, in a social event full of women who are mothers, I am not likely to first label my career. The trouble herein comes from how fluid roles can be and therefore our identities become unstable. Deep insecurity might lead to an identity that labels us as hobbies, or religion, or sexual preferences.

When life shifts and we are shaken, an identity built on roles can come crashing down. I assumed a primary identity of ‘Wife’ for two decades, more than half of my life. That role was so important to me. It was essential to my self esteem that my functioning in that role defined my success and my value. I absorbed the multitude of messages from the culture and society around me about the role as wife and what it meant. So, when that role came to an end and I was facing the reality of divorce, I felt lost, confused, and lacking something that had become a large part of me. The loss of the relationship did not affect me at this point nearly as much as the loss of that role and title. For many years, the relationship had been gone. There was no substance left, only roles to fill. I had toiled through the slow death of the relationship and moved through deep grief many years prior. At a certain point, I resigned to going through the motions and fulfilling my duties as a wife. mother, and homemaker. I did a damn good job at my “jobs” and so even despite receiving no love or support, I was able to immerse myself in the work of being what I believed I needed to be. This was a self-laid snare that kept me trapped in a toxic situation far beyond when I should have let it end.

Then one day, while nurturing my spirituality, I was given a glimpse of a truth that gave me a sense of home. Talking about spiritual gifts, I heard someone say, “As you encounter something new that feels familiar and resonates deeply within you, you are simply remembering. Remembering who you are, and remembering the wisdom that’s been buried deep within you all along.” This took me back to the discovery that “Everything you need is already inside you.” Then my mother gave me the same message. I was never really lost, I just needed to remember. I am not a wife, but everything that made me a good wife is who I am. As in every possible role, we are not the title we carry, but the substance of what we pour into the job at hand. Roles change and end, but the person within the role is a steady and constant embodiment of attributes whose value is unchanging regardless of where she is positioned at any given moment.

So, if you are feeling lost, disconnected, or lacking, it’s time to remember who you are.

Posted on in Identity, Personal Thoughts

Purpose is in Your DNA

Before we lay 2023 to rest, I want to tell a little story. Have you ever wondered what hopes and dreams your ancestors had for you? Have you ever thought about what hopes and dreams you have for your lineage that comes after you?

This story could go back for centuries, into the beginning of time. To keep it relevant and relatable, we will only go back to the early 1900’s. It’s important to start with a simple fact; both of my parents were adopted. The story of my paternal grandfather and paternal grandmother could be a book or even a soap opera. Both of these individuals were married and had families. Yet, they shared a love story that is something truly wild and mostly left to the imagination. I do wish they were alive to tell the story in their own words. I did meet my biological paternal grandmother, but I never met my biological paternal grandfather. Sadly, I have no depth of knowing either of them or any personal conversation to contribute. What I do know is that despite having spouses and families, these two produced four biological children of their own. To my knowledge, they were never together in relationship and their long-term affair was somehow overlooked while they remained in their marriages. What a scandalous heritage! The point is, there is a story of forbidden love, a repeated return to something passionate, and in a time when divorce was not so common – a moral taboo too great to even speak of, all on this one branch of my family tree.

Fast forward a few decades and you’ll find me in my awkward adolescent years. I was the new kid at another new school, but I was quick to make new friends. One friend in particular just happens to be in the right place at the right time and discovers an amazing connection; we are actually cousins! When I think about the odds that we would both end up at that school at the same time, become friends, and make this discovery, it blows my mind! I think we would have been friends no matter what, but learning we were cousins added a very special seasoning to the recipe. We weren’t just any number down the line kind of cousins, but first cousins. My dad and his dad had the same dad- whoa! They didn’t grow up as brothers or even know the other existed. Similarly, we didn’t grow up as cousins or have any of that family roots kind of connection. In fact, we have no common family practically speaking. Although we are technically, biologically related to many of the same people, there is no relationship shared among us all. That’s another very unique aspect of our connection.

The most incredible thing to me is the spiritual connection we share. Throughout the many years of our adult lives, we have often met at the same crossroads and navigated a path together. A couple of times he has been my beacon in a storm, and I hope that I’ve at least been a true friend when he needed one. We’ve shared our gifts through dreams and discernment with many hours of discussion. I believe that so much of my personal, emotional, and spiritual growth has bloomed because I have this reflective soul in friendship who sees me and understands me in such a deep way. As if that’s not already the most amazing gift, he married a fantastic woman who has become one of my best friends and mirrors these qualities too. Their union is such a blessing and I have two best friends who’s intellectual, emotional, and spiritual depth reveal to me a glimpse of what human connection is meant to be. For that I am so grateful.

This is where the story comes full circle. My grandparents might well have had little foresight about the consequences of their actions. Maybe they didn’t care, or felt they had no options, or maybe they hoped for the best despite their failings as most parents do. I wonder if they ever could have imagined where we’d be today. Somehow, I believe, there is so much passion and purpose packed into our DNA that it brought together two souls meant to journey together. Maybe all of our connections are potentially just as powerful. Maybe we really do create reality and attract what is meant for us. Or maybe all good stories just have twists and coincidences. What do you think?