I just realised that this statement can be slightly misleading:
I never really fit in, though as they were really into Mariah Carey and music like that while I was starting to get into the music of Nirvana, Pearl Jam and other bands akin that.
Since I’ve starting being kind of elitist about the music I listen to (I can admit it- I’m a music snob), I’ve always allowed myself a secret indulgence. I actually loved Mariah Carey circa 1996. I just meant that everyone was into Top 40 Hits and I liked the more grungy, alternative- type of music.
Anyways.
On to ages 12 to 15!
As I stated in my last post, my 7th grade year started in the fall of 1996. In the county I was living in, that meant the start of middle school/ junior high. This meant a locker, switching classrooms for classes, new friends and an end to the “popular kids” from elementary school. I was really stoked but unfortunately I ended up in that “private school” with the batshit crazy “pastor.” I remember him not having heat and instead having a wooden stove. If we finished our booklets of work for the day early, we got to go collect wood, clean the bathroom or sweep the hearth. That was my favourite thing to do because it was really warm. He would also insist on keeping the heat low and the windows open. No coats allowed at our desk. No talking out loud- we had little flags we’d raise if we had to talk to one of the grown ups there. If we were really special, we got to go with the pastor to collect molded bread he gave to the homeless. I got to attend one of these pick ups a grand total of 3 times.
I don’t remember anything good about going to this “school” aside from the fact that my 2 cousins RooneyRoo and Genius Cousin went there. Another friend of ours attended as well. We’d do horrible things like paint our nails green, wear purple eye shadow and write answers to tests on our hands (I almost got “expelled” for the last thing).
During the summer of 1997, my remember my mom getting a phone call and crying. Later she came to talk to me. Apparently my dad had died. I wouldn’t believe it. I thought it was a cruel joke. Turned out she wasn’t lying. A week or so later, we flew out to where he had lived in Austin, Texas and had a funeral and started going through all the crap in his apartment. At any age I can only assume it’s disturbing and traumatic to walk into a room of crying people and see a parent lying there. He looked like he was asleep. I cried for 3 hours. No one knew, though because of my huge and dark sunglasses.
That day I decided that if God existed, He didn’t care about what went on in lives of humans. I couldn’t fathom why He would take a father from a child. I couldn’t understand why he was gone and would never, ever come back. That week I decided not to place too much importance on God because, obviously, if He exists he doesn’t really care.
The next school year, I was able to convince my parents to let me attend public school. I was ecstatic. I ended up being invited quite often into the inner circle of the “popular crowd” much to my amazement (a girl I had befriended around the age of 8 was popular and invited me to hang out with them- pays to be nice to people!).
During this time, I was still going the same church I had been my entire life. A little about my church- though it was Episcopalian (they have since left the denomination because of their acceptance of homosexuals in high places) it was very charismatic. We said a lot of the prayers they said in Catholic churches though we didn’t have a Book of Common Prayer, didn’t pray to Mary or the saints. People would dance in the isles, shout out in the middle of the service, there was a “contemporary” band and there was a dance group (of which I participated in for about 3 years). I believe because I grew up in a church like this, I can’t take them seriously. But, that’s another topic for another day.
In the summer of 1998, Mm and I went on our first youth group retreat as “senior highers”. During the drive there, Mm and I were discussing how annoying it was that whenever we needed a tampon we didn’t have one and we always had a bunch if we didn’t need any. Some girl whom I’d vaguely known since I was a little kid came up to me randomly at this point and said, “OH MY GOD, I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN! Meet me in the bathroom in a few minutes, okay?” I just looked at her like she was insane and continued in my conversation. A bit later, I went into the bathroom and the accosted me saying, “OH MY GOD, I’VE BEEN WAITING FOREVER. Here, don’t tell anyone you got this from me.” and promptly dropped a cigarette in my hand and ran out of the bathroom. I went back to Mm who was really, really stoked about the cigarette. I had grown up hating them because my mom smoked and it would always smell really bad and irritate my throat and nose. I told Mm I would give it to her and then we went to ask for a light for it. The girl wasn’t allowed to even purchase matches because she wasn’t yet 18 (18 is the age most states observe- some are 19- as the age you can buy cigarettes). She threw a fit, cursing like a sailor at the attendant.
Once we got to the campground for the retreat, we found some girl to not only give us a light, but another cigarette as well. It took me 4 days to figure out how to smoke cigarettes but once the week was over, I felt like a pro.
I smoked all summer and somehow my parents found out. My mom said it was God who had told her (which made me think- “Ok, either my mom is lying or I need to hate God because that’s just uncool.”) My parents had another one of their “religious epiphanies.” They took everything of mine that wasn’t related to God or Christianity. They forced me to look up every single verse in the Bible related to something “bad” I did. For example, if I was disrespectful to my parents, they would break out the concordance (if you click that link, you’ll see a book that if I ever see again, I will burn it with glee) and make me look up and write down every single verse that pertained to disrespect (parentally- related or not) in the Bible. Eventually I got them to let me use the typewriter and the computer because I started getting exceedingly painful cramps in my hand.
When it was time to start high school they decided that cigarette smoking would lead to pot which would lead to heroin which led to death. I’m not sure why they thought this as I was very anti- drug up until I was nearly 20 years old. I didn’t want to end up wasting my life away with drugs. This was severely traumatic for me. I desperately wanted to attend high school. I was excited about my classes (which I had already enrolled for), new friends, old friends and just the fact that I was finally in high school.
I fell into a deep depression and quite a few self- destructive habits at this time. I felt myself hating God more and more for what was happening to me. I didn’t deserve this- so what if I had smoked a few cigarettes? Wasn’t my step dad already partying when he was my age? Hadn’t my mom been partying since she was 12? Compared to them, I was a perfect little angel. I didn’t understand why all this was happening to me. To make matters worse, I got very sick with Lyme Disease. But, more about all that next post.
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Filed under: Friendships, Relationships, Spiritual | Tags: Christanity, codename Gael, Religion
So last night was this “course” that I’ve been attending with Gael called Alpha. Apparently it’s supposed to be really informative but, frankly, I haven’t learned anything new. Maybe that’s because I haven’t been paying a whole lot of attention lately, though. My seasonal affective disorder is hitting me insanely hard right now and I find it hard to do much besides cry, sleep, and make out (with Gael, of course). It’s really hard to do simple, daily tasks like shower, eat, get out of bed, come to work, et cetera. But, I do. I manage somehow (no idea how, though).
So, on to today’s topic: ages zero through 12.
I don’t really remember much about my life, much less my thoughts on religion and Christianity before the age of around 10 so you’re getting jipped out of quite a few years. It’s okay, because I’m fairly certain not much happened. I know that as a toddler I would crawl out the windows when no one was looking in Sunday school. I would spend the service going through my mother and godmother’s purses, trying on makeup, looking through wallets, counting money, et cetera.
When I was 8, I got baptized. I remember being too scared to get dunked, so I had them sprinkle water on my head. I didn’t really know what it all meant except that we had a party later and I got presents and a cool candle. My mom says when I was a kid she would ask me who my best friend was and I would always shout “JESUS!” I am 100% certain though that I had no idea what I was talking about. I didn’t understand anything about Jesus or God or Christianity until I started hitting puberty.
When I was about to start 4th grade in the fall of 1993, my parents had the first many (what I call) “religious epiphanies.” They decided to take me out of public school (where, after years and years of trying I was finally starting to fit in with a group of friends) and home school me. I was devastated. Especially seeing as how I had already gotten my class assignment and found out I was supposed to be in the same class as the most popular girl in the whole school. I was totally psyched about that and being told that I wasn’t allowed to go back was very painful. They said God had told them I shouldn’t go back to school and should be taught at home. This was the first time in my life I experienced a kind of anger and hatred towards God.
At the time I was very involved in dancing. I did tap, jazz, ballet, lyrical- you name it I probably did it. I was in a traveling dance troupe and we went around to competitions and won awards. The popular girl from school was in most of my classes and I remember her asking me a few weeks into the school year why I wasn’t in class. I choked up and held back tears as I managed to gasp “I’m going… to a private school.” I was so embarrassed that I had almost cried so I ran into the bathroom and sobbed quietly for a few minutes before returning to class, acting like everything was okay.
That year I can’t say I learned much but somehow I managed to pass the standardized tests and was allowed to move on to 5th grade. That year I went to an actual school (my parents realised that maybe home schooling wasn’t the best option after all)- though it was a private school. I was okay with this because at least I had regular interaction with other kids my age. I remember the kids always talking about Jesus and they were very rich and very snotty. There was this really poor girl in my class that only got into our school because they worked out some kind of tuition deal with her mom and a few people in the church that supported the school helped pay as well. I remember her being teased and excluded by the other kids a lot. I made friends with her and we secretly hated everyone.
I hated that school. I remember having between 3 and 6 hours solid of homework. I remember hating going to chapel every morning. I remember hating having to memorise Bible verses or else I’d fail a class. I remember the pressure to be perfect and look like everyone else. I remember feeling less accepted there than I ever did in public school.
In September of 1995 I started 6th grade. The Christmas before we had moved into a new house and a brand new elementary school had just been built. My parents decided to let me enroll there. I ended up being in the same class as the popular girl from 4th grade. I was on the fringe of the popular group that year in school and it was very important to me. I never really fit in, though as they were really into Mariah Carey and music like that while I was starting to get into the music of Nirvana, Pearl Jam and other bands akin that. (Don’t ask me which ones because I really can’t remember.)
September of 1996 saw me starting middle school/ junior high and again being moved to another school. This time it was a “private” school- basically a home school in someone’s basement. It was run by a crazy old man who professed to be a pastor (I’m not even entirely certain he was ordained). He would show us videos of Satanists killing people and cats. He would show us rituals that were apparently held by witches on Halloween (which I have since learned is complete bullshit). He would yell at us and tell us if our parents smoked they didn’t love us. This hurt me a lot because at the time my mom was a fairly regular smoker.
As for my church life, I was surrounded by kids in my church who were extremely clique-y. None of them liked me so I didn’t have many friends. The ones I did were also the “rejects.” I hated being associated with people like that. I felt like I didn’t fit in with any crowd. I remember going outside during communion once and seeing this couple who were deemed to be very “Godly” outside by a dumpster smoking cigarettes and making out. I remember something clicking in me and realising that appearances are never what they seem. Just because someone says something doesn’t make it true. I remember struggling with this and wondering if everything I had been told in my life was a lie. I remember pushing those thoughts from my mind and feeling myself harden towards Christianity. I remember wanting nothing to do with anyone that affiliated themselves with it.
I also remember when I first met MM in Sunday school in 1995. I remember her always answering the questions and, on the outside, seeming like a good little Christian girl. I remember the summer of 1996 how everyone left her by herself. I was the only one that stayed behind and risked getting in trouble to help her. I remember from then on we were fairly inseparable. I remember us getting into so much trouble at church. I remember starting to lose a faith I’m not even entirely sure I had in the first place.
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Let’s deviate somewhat from the usual, shall we? Religion is something I don’t really talk about since it’s such a controversial subject. Not that I am one to shy away from debates (except of the political nature), arguments, or things that are generally controversial it’s just that when religion is involved, people tend to see only their side and be completely immovable from that. Their emotions get entangled and they take every question, assumption, et cetera as a direct attack on them. These people, I can only assume, aren’t very strong in whatever faith they have and thus feel threatened when you question it. It is for mainly this reason I have stayed away from talking about matters of religion.
I’m reassessing this idea of mine considering my blog and religion. As you should all be very well aware of, my boyfriend is a Christian. This statement in and of itself is rather vague and entails quite a bit so here’s something to simplify it a bit: the church he attends founds their theology on the teachings of John Calvin. That’s right- they’re Calvinists. I find this rather sorry because my personal belief that the truth lies somewhere in the middle; the far left being the Arminians and the far right the Calvinists. The “way” isn’t in extremes but in moderations. Gael seems to agree but not completely follow the ideals of his church. It’s somewhat frustrating but makes for decent debates.
My thoughts on how to write these few posts about religion are this: I’m going to center them on my life growing up in a Christian household and how this has affected me and my thoughts concerning Christianity. I’ll do it in chunks as quite as bit has changed and gone back and forth throughout the years. Expect the next few posts to look something akin to this:
- September 1984 to September 1996 (ages 0- 12)
- September 1996 to September 1999 (ages 12- 15)
- September 1999 to September 2004 (ages 15- 20)
- September 2004 to present (ages 20 to 23)
Religion is something that affects everyone whether or not you believe in any kind. Do you happen to live in the US? Are you gay? Because this country was founded on Christian principles, you’re not allowed to get married. (Which, by the way I believe is utterly and completely wrong. Some Christian denominations are working to change this and have made radical changes in their structures themselves- namely the Episcopalian church.) Not gay? Not convinced? If you read the Bible (namely, the Old Testament) and compare it with a lot of the laws in the US (I can’t vouch for any other country because I have no idea of their laws) you will see a lot of similarities. I’m fairly certain (though can’t back it up with anything solid, really) that any country with an established religion or one that was established on a certain religion has used the laws of that religion to form its own laws of state. Check it out. Tell me if I’m wrong because I’d find that extremely interesting.
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