Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down.

comments 7
leaving Christianity / the godless side

Every bone in my face throbs.  My sinuses ache from the pressure of the tears.  My eyes, swollen and sticky.  

This has been the worst night of my entire life.

Can you really believe that?  Can I? Is this real?  Such a declarative, superlative statement.  “Worst night” and “entire life.”  Exaggerating? I’ve got to be kidding.  Please, let me be kidding.

Honestly, I can think that only the death of my husband or baby girl could top this, but even that — death is natural.  This?  This is as unnatural to what a human *should* experience as abuse.  Is this abuse?  All emotional and spiritual lines are blurred.

A terrible, terrible irony.  They cry because I’ll be tormented in hell for eternity.  I cry because they are tormented in a hell on earth.  Their hell is because of my hell, but I don’t even believe my hell exists.

I’d do anything to bear their pain, to free them of it.  I cry out, begging a god I don’t believe in to let me.  And what’s so crazy is that I could and so desperately want to; I need only sacrifice my authenticity.  Yet, it’s the one thing I’m so franticly trying not to do, lest I repeat a tragic past mistake in which I literally allowed myself to be abused in a hazardous attempt to save my abuser.

What dreadful symmetry.

I’m treading water.  My Self nearly drowning in the ocean of my dysfunction.  A war wages in me.  I stare at the knife in my hands, see the loved ones I’ve killed with it, and hear they’re dying words blaming me.  “Undo this,” the ocean screams.  I need only to turn the knife on myself, and they’ll be revived.

But instead, I watch them lay dying.

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The Author

I'm a closet atheist christian missionary. Paradigm shifts happen frequently for those who allow themselves to think critically about currently held beliefs and openly about new ones. I’ve developed the skill, or perhaps addiction, for change but the community around me is slow to catch up -- and would damn me if they knew where I stood.

7 Comments

      • I’ve been reading along with you. Sadly, both of my parents are gone. It is a relief and a weight all at once.

        I do know the war that wages within. Be authentic and cause pain? Or fake it and be in pain? I’m not entirely certain which is better.

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  1. “A terrible, terrible irony. They cry because I’ll be tormented in hell for eternity. I cry because they are tormented in a hell on earth. Their hell is because of my hell, but I don’t even believe my hell exists.

    So true. The irony of it all.

    You aren’t alone Teal in your pain, though some of us may be farther along in the journey, circumstances varying perhaps a bit but we know the agony. I’ve been in that ocean of dysfunction. Your comment about your former past abuser brought tears to my eyes for you and for all those who gave away their authentic self believing they could save an abuser.

    Yes, I can believe it Teal. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • “Your comment about your former past abuser brought tears to my eyes for you and for all those who gave away their authentic self believing they could save an abuser.”

      Me too, Zoe. Me too. Lump in my throat even now.

      Like

  2. Oh how awful. My heart aches for you right now.

    Remember, you’re not doing this to them, they are doing this to themselves. This is one of the worst parts of religion, that it makes people value a belief more than they value their relationship with their own children. The fact that religion can do this to your parents is a clear example of why it is so important to be rid of it.

    Liked by 2 people

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