Trigger Warning *SA, Homophobia*
Honestly, I don’t know where to begin with my story and religion. I had been going to church since I was a baby. Even with moving around a lot as a kid, my parents always found a new church to attend. As I got older, I would go to vacation Bible school, Wednesday night services, church small groups and youth groups. I also found myself volunteering within the church, whether that be in nursery, or for kid’s programs and other events. The first time I really felt betrayed by the church was when I was in seventh grade, only 12 years old. Why I continued to endure the pressures and “love” brought upon by the church is beyond me, but growing up has led me farther and farther away from any sort of religious organizations. Here’s why:
I began my struggle with severe anxiety, major depressive disorder and an eating disorder at the ripe age of 12. I blame genetics. I frequently struggled with suicidal thoughts and self harm during this time while still attending church. I never opened up about my mental health problems to anyone at church because nobody except my best friend, Noel, understood. The summer after my seventh grade year I attended a Christian summer camp called “The Wilds” where many young teens would go. This camp is everything that one would expect from a church camp: a strict dress code, small groups, big worship services and outdoor activities. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? I didn’t think so either because I was excited for a distraction from myself and home life. The biggest quote from this camp that stuck with me throughout my whole life was that “suicide is selfish.” I remember sitting in the front of a massive room and hearing a pastor preach about how depression and suicide was a selfish choice. I ran out of the room and cried outside until the service was over because as someone who was dealing with these problems at such a young age, I felt betrayed by the church and by a God who claimed to love me.
In the eighth grade, I went to a church weekend retreat after my parents found out I was self-harming again. I convinced them to let me go because, again, I wanted an escape and thought that God would love me again if I started rebuilding a relationship with him. Instead, I found myself questioning if it was my fault I felt this way about myself, if I deserved what that boy did to me without my consent, if God even loved me because I was struggling to love him. Looking back, I can recognize the cult-like environment that everyone was oblivious to and I sincerely wish I never trusted anyone but Noel.
Although I didn’t officially realize myself as a part of the LGBTQ+ community until I was in high school, I still experienced these feelings that could come across as strange or wrong when you are being told it is a sin to love someone of the same gender. There were many church services and sermons where pastors would tell us that it was unholy and sinful to be gay. A transgender man who was a part of my church got kicked out because of it. I would tell myself it’s not gay if I just thought about it, its not gay if if was just a hug, its not gay if its just a sleepover, its not gay if its just a kiss, and so on. I spiraled for years feeling shame that God would not love me if I felt like this and nobody would see me the same way. The church only made this feeling worse and worse.
When I was a freshman in high school, I posted a picture on instagram of me smiling in a bikini top; nothing was visible from the chest down. If you know me, you know I don’t have much going on up there if you know what I mean. My mom even followed me and liked the picture, thinking it was cute. A few days after this picture was posted, my mom started receiving call after call, even from the pastor’s wife, about the promiscuity of my Instagram post and how I was giving off a bad impression of myself. Even though my mom defended me, it didn’t stop the shaming I received in person. I was sitting in the youth group one Sunday when the pastor’s wife pulled me out of the service. She didn’t apologize for making me feel upset, but instead talked about how it was important to take it down because there were men and her son following me on Instagram. She didn’t want them to be “strayed” away from God due to my appearance and looking at my post. Imagine how that made a 13 year old girl feel.
Every time I went to church, I felt judged by the other girls my age and adults because of the way I dressed, and the fact that I went to public school when most of the people went to private Christian school or were homeschooled. My friend Noel, who I am still so close to, would tell me how girls who I thought were my friends would talk about me behind my back. They would call me a slut for what I chose to wear and wouldn’t invite me to hang out with them. I felt like an outsider and finally stopped going to my youth group. As I continued to get older, I found more and more discrepancies with the doctrine that was being preached. Sitting in church caused me to dissociate and the fake-nice conversations became too much. For me, going to college meant an escape from Sunday mornings and a family who continued to push religion after everything that happened. While there are so many more things I could talk about in regards to the church, I want to conclude by saying that all of these experiences combined have caused me to lose all faith. I never understood why a loving God would let terrible things happen to me at such a young age and in the rest of the world. Now, I find myself to be spiritual without believing in God or in a church that refused to save me when I could not save myself.
Anonymous