Heartache Wears Many Hats
The first association one makes to the word, “heartache” is that of a breakup or betrayal. Yes, this type of heartache is one that deteriorates you from within. Whether the ties were severed unexpectedly or seen from a mile away, the pain remains real, raw, and unrelenting in the wake of it all.
The loss of someone you have loved and lost to death is a shock to the system unlike anything else in this world and it's heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching, and lingers indefinitely. Regardless of how much time has passed, if the right memory, song, smell, photo, or dream pulls on the right cord, it can bring a wave of unexpected emotion.
The heartache of shunning can be equally painful. The people doing it are still alive, yet out of reach. They withdraw their love, refuse to speak to you, provide no emotional support, and blame you - gaslighting.
As I saw the problems of the bible begin to reveal themselves, I began to see scripture as a code of sorts. For weeks as a child I struggled to understand the concepts of long division until one day, my dad explained it. Several others had tried and failed and something he said – wording, examples, cadence – whatever it was, it finally clicked, and I then understood how to properly solve long division equations. Likewise, when the issues within scripture began to surface, they exposed the cracks and holes in the rest of the text as though neon lava had been lit just beneath the surface.
My heart sank. I knew what the unavoidable outcome of the relationships would be with others in the faith. In a desperate attempt to salvage those relationships, I shared the problems I was seeing. A couple of others knew how thorough I was and found their way out as well, but the vast majority of others would remain held prisoner by the mind control tactics and firewalls that are encoded in the passages to keep people locked in.
Initially, I processed on social media using a fake account. I was able to share my thoughts, join groups, research, and debate without the fear of castigation. I wanted to be able to share my findings without giving anyone a reason to doubt my journey. Of all the past heartaches, the one I despised the most was being invalidated and/or falsely accused. I had been raised by my mom – the most devout woman I knew who I never knew to tell a lie. She had instilled a high level of integrity and it was insulting to know that others would think I had never been a “real” Christian at all. I understand that now to be a “No True Scotsman” fallacy, but I think back on those people who had once lauded my adherence to, and knowledge of the scriptures and feel a bittersweet sadness. Additionally, those who claim my adherence to the scriptures wasn't genuine, I now see it as a violation of their Ten Commandments and a false accusation - lies. They cannot divine my heart, thoughts, or assume to know my past.
My initial changes from Christianity to Hebrew Roots were clumsy and awkward. Covering my hair/head was the most challenging of any of the traditions and it was the only one I fought against internally. The weight of the thin scarf made me feel small and I immediately felt insecure. I had been in the midst of trying to rebuild my self-esteem and the material that required pins to secure it in place, raged against every attempt within that was trying to heal those self-confidence scars. Thankfully, it became something I would only wear on the Sabbath, but it never felt comfortable to do so. At the time, I couldn’t understand why it felt so wrong, but looking back, I know.
In the months that followed my deconversion, there would be a few noticeable changes to my persona. I would bring my boundaries in, creating a tighter, smaller circle in self-preservation. Finding out the core belief system was nothing more than a fairytale is a massive shock to anyone’s system and the subsequent overcorrection into levels of mistrust and cynicism should be expected in anyone to some degree. What the biggest misconception is, is that a de-converted person is now wrought with desires to sin (to include stealing, lying, cheating, etc.), that which could not be further from the truth. I don’t have a religion to hide behind or a god to swear to – it’s just me and my word, which means absolutely nothing if I don’t back it up. I don’t know anyone who has left religion and has turned to a life of crime or evil misdeeds. Personally, I’m still working on being an even better person and shedding the residual snarky retorts that surface from time to time.
As much as I miss some of those people, I have a greater mission that calls to me. I want others to know how badly they have been hoodwinked. I want these people to know they do not need to give their money to the church (even per the bible). I want women to be free from the pervasive misogyny that slowly kills the divine feminine with verses, no more than sugar-coated venom. I want the boys to choose to keep their own foreskins – as adults and not have that choice made for them in an infant, trauma-inducing mutilation that does not provide general anesthesia. I want the girls to be free to decide their own futures, free from persecution, shame, and disapproval.
It should not matter that I no longer believe as they do: that does not make me a bad person.
It should matter that I fight against oppression.
It should matter that I fight for those who are too young to form the words to fight for themselves.
It should matter that I seek to expose the mind control tactics that the bible utilizes in its attempt to live, if only in the minds of people who believe it to be literal.
The heartache has eased. It should not matter what I believed, but it did. All that said I do now embrace the title that I once viewed as pejorative: I am an apostate, and that matters - to me. I take up the mission to help the world out of its bonds of superstition and mental chains of oppression. I want more people to wake up so that fewer people have to go through experiences like mine.
The loss of someone you have loved and lost to death is a shock to the system unlike anything else in this world and it's heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching, and lingers indefinitely. Regardless of how much time has passed, if the right memory, song, smell, photo, or dream pulls on the right cord, it can bring a wave of unexpected emotion.
The heartache of shunning can be equally painful. The people doing it are still alive, yet out of reach. They withdraw their love, refuse to speak to you, provide no emotional support, and blame you - gaslighting.
As I saw the problems of the bible begin to reveal themselves, I began to see scripture as a code of sorts. For weeks as a child I struggled to understand the concepts of long division until one day, my dad explained it. Several others had tried and failed and something he said – wording, examples, cadence – whatever it was, it finally clicked, and I then understood how to properly solve long division equations. Likewise, when the issues within scripture began to surface, they exposed the cracks and holes in the rest of the text as though neon lava had been lit just beneath the surface.
My heart sank. I knew what the unavoidable outcome of the relationships would be with others in the faith. In a desperate attempt to salvage those relationships, I shared the problems I was seeing. A couple of others knew how thorough I was and found their way out as well, but the vast majority of others would remain held prisoner by the mind control tactics and firewalls that are encoded in the passages to keep people locked in.
Initially, I processed on social media using a fake account. I was able to share my thoughts, join groups, research, and debate without the fear of castigation. I wanted to be able to share my findings without giving anyone a reason to doubt my journey. Of all the past heartaches, the one I despised the most was being invalidated and/or falsely accused. I had been raised by my mom – the most devout woman I knew who I never knew to tell a lie. She had instilled a high level of integrity and it was insulting to know that others would think I had never been a “real” Christian at all. I understand that now to be a “No True Scotsman” fallacy, but I think back on those people who had once lauded my adherence to, and knowledge of the scriptures and feel a bittersweet sadness. Additionally, those who claim my adherence to the scriptures wasn't genuine, I now see it as a violation of their Ten Commandments and a false accusation - lies. They cannot divine my heart, thoughts, or assume to know my past.
My initial changes from Christianity to Hebrew Roots were clumsy and awkward. Covering my hair/head was the most challenging of any of the traditions and it was the only one I fought against internally. The weight of the thin scarf made me feel small and I immediately felt insecure. I had been in the midst of trying to rebuild my self-esteem and the material that required pins to secure it in place, raged against every attempt within that was trying to heal those self-confidence scars. Thankfully, it became something I would only wear on the Sabbath, but it never felt comfortable to do so. At the time, I couldn’t understand why it felt so wrong, but looking back, I know.
In the months that followed my deconversion, there would be a few noticeable changes to my persona. I would bring my boundaries in, creating a tighter, smaller circle in self-preservation. Finding out the core belief system was nothing more than a fairytale is a massive shock to anyone’s system and the subsequent overcorrection into levels of mistrust and cynicism should be expected in anyone to some degree. What the biggest misconception is, is that a de-converted person is now wrought with desires to sin (to include stealing, lying, cheating, etc.), that which could not be further from the truth. I don’t have a religion to hide behind or a god to swear to – it’s just me and my word, which means absolutely nothing if I don’t back it up. I don’t know anyone who has left religion and has turned to a life of crime or evil misdeeds. Personally, I’m still working on being an even better person and shedding the residual snarky retorts that surface from time to time.
As much as I miss some of those people, I have a greater mission that calls to me. I want others to know how badly they have been hoodwinked. I want these people to know they do not need to give their money to the church (even per the bible). I want women to be free from the pervasive misogyny that slowly kills the divine feminine with verses, no more than sugar-coated venom. I want the boys to choose to keep their own foreskins – as adults and not have that choice made for them in an infant, trauma-inducing mutilation that does not provide general anesthesia. I want the girls to be free to decide their own futures, free from persecution, shame, and disapproval.
It should not matter that I no longer believe as they do: that does not make me a bad person.
It should matter that I fight against oppression.
It should matter that I fight for those who are too young to form the words to fight for themselves.
It should matter that I seek to expose the mind control tactics that the bible utilizes in its attempt to live, if only in the minds of people who believe it to be literal.
The heartache has eased. It should not matter what I believed, but it did. All that said I do now embrace the title that I once viewed as pejorative: I am an apostate, and that matters - to me. I take up the mission to help the world out of its bonds of superstition and mental chains of oppression. I want more people to wake up so that fewer people have to go through experiences like mine.
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