Darkness for the Day

Last night, my dreams were filled with unwelcome characters from my past bombarding me with invitations to find Jesus. They caught me at the gas station, at a restaurant, coming out of my home. I couldn’t get away from them.

It was horrifying.

I’m not actually afraid of being given the “invite.” A long time ago, I realized there was always a possibility that someone would invite me to church. Maybe even The Church. But I’m okay with that. No longer angry at the mere thought of anything Christian, I’m confident in my ability to politely decline and walk away. If the inviter decides to push and not respect my polite declinations, well, then, game on, fool.  

I’m really afraid of the memories and emotions dreams like this spark. They catapult me back into a time and place that I work hard to stay out away from. I tried to forget these things, but that only leads to disaster, much like overstuffing a closet with junk. It’s best to acknowledge the things and move on. There’s just such a fine line between acknowledging and becoming consumed.

Today, I fight the urge to be consumed.

I wish I could paint an accurate picture of what it’s like to be raised in a cult. What it’s like to be a child, watching their parents slowly morph into soldiers for Jesus, doing what they are told without question, losing their individuality, killing themselves slowly to save everybody else, and expecting their children to save themselves, because they don’t have the time to spare.  

As a child, it’s easy to pretend what you see happening isn’t really happening. Just ignore it and play the part of perfect daughter.  As a teenager, it’s easy to be angry. It’s what’s expected of you anyway. So what if I took it a little too far? If I had to do it over again, I’d still skip classes to smoke massive amounts of pot. School is a farce anyway. Like religion it spoon feeds you bull shit to keep you complacent. It’s just a different brand of bull shit.  

But then you become an adult. No longer able to hide under the shadow of being a hapless child. No longer written off as a hormonal teenager. Now it’s time to step up. Show people you’re capable of being exactly what they expect you to be. And what did they expect me to be? A prisoner to the religion. A slave to the dogma of the Word.

Stuffing the Word into my mouth like a gag ball while they violated me with their condemnations wasn’t the worst of it, though. No. The worst part is that I let them do it. Ignored that tickle in the back of my mind. The scraping of common sense against my skull.  I shook it off. Deny yourself, they told me. Sacrifice yourself to be closer to Jesus. Closer to Salvation. Closer to that big utopia in the sky.

So I sacrificed my common sense. It was easier to assign my doubt to Satan’s influence than admit my world, my entire belief system, was one, big, fucking lie.

Excuse me while I try not to vomit…

And suddenly it’s become clear why I can’t stop listening to Lamb of God as of late.