I'm Tapping Out

To all of my Christian friends who have probably been praying for me for the past few years: you win.

I'm tapping out of new age spirituality. I can't do it anymore. It doesn't work for me. I think it works for some and I am not here to tell anyone else what to do. It's enough work to mind my own life, thank you very much. I'm only speaking for myself here, but I'm done.

The truth is that I have been on one very long spiritual journey for most of my life. It started out in a cult, where I learned from the moment of my first breath how angry God was with me for simply existing. Those formative years shaped my view of the world and God was inextricably intertwined with my own understanding of Self in ways that were traumatizing to a young child and still affect me to this day. After my family left the cult when I was eight, spirituality was never spoken of again, and my "journey" stalled for the next seven years while all the fear and shame simmered to a nice boil inside my little soul.

When I was fifteen, I discovered Evangelical Christianity. The rules and structure of being a, "good Christian girl," felt like a lifeline to me when I was lost, lonely, and so ashamed with myself for existing. I prayed the "sinners prayer" daily, because it never really felt like it took, you know? I still felt wrong for being alive, but I figured that with the sheer masses of other Christians that God was accepting into heaven, maybe I could sneak in alongside them. I tried to remain unnoticed by God by keeping my head down and not drawing any attention to myself. I followed the rules, I read my bible, I went to youth group, and I adopted the Christian voice. My deepest apologies to everybody in my life who ever heard me speak between the ages of fifteen and nineteen.

Once I hit drinking age, I discovered that there were ways to temporarily reprieve myself of the deep-seated feelings of unworthiness. I entered into a toxic relationship with Jesus, whereby I partied away my feelings, repented, tried to be "good" but fell short, and turned back to partying to avoid the shame of failure. Rinse and repeat for the next five years until one day I discovered that drinking was no longer an option, at least for the next nine months or so. See previous blog post.

Having kids literally saved my life. I probably would have partied myself into some dangerous places if I hadn't been forced to put somebody else's needs ahead of mine. The idea that simply existing was enough to change somebody's world had never occurred to me, yet there I was, laying down my toxic traits because a fetus I had never met had inherent value and provided more Love than I had ever known. Parenting is a wild thing. It will destroy you and build you up at the same time, and I guess that's why God calls us his children, because he loves us like that too. When I was pregnant, I would take myself to church and sit alone (but not really alone, because my baby was with me) in the dark and cry silent, hot tears in the sanctuary because I felt so ashamed and terrified. When you come to the end of yourself you have two choices: show up, or give up. I would never have shown up for my own sake, because I did not believe I was worthy, but my baby certainly was. Having kids literally saved my life.

After my oldest was born, I became a stay-at-home parent for eight years, and thus began a true journey with God. I was desperately lonely still, but I finally, FINALLY had something to live for, and I poured my whole heart into it. Parenting was synonymous with spiritual growth and I learned Love in ways I didn't know were possible. I learned that I was capable of prioritizing another's needs above my own, and I learned that Jesus prioritized mine too. I don't necessarily believe the same things now, but at the time this knowledge was profound. Having never understood sacrifice, I learned that it could come from a place of joy rather than resentment, and I channelled the Love that God was filling me with into my kids. I LOVED being home with my kids, and losing that was the worst part of divorce.

I mean, there were lots of worst parts of divorce. IYKYK. I'm not getting into that here, other than to say that I lost God during that time too, and in the five years since, I haven't found Him again. Until now, I guess. I remember the day that "my religion broke". I physically felt the tearing inside of my body. I sat on the kitchen floor and cried the hottest tears I had ever cried for what felt like hours. When I finally got back up, God was gone. He had vanished, just like my husband's love, just like life as I knew it. I was alone. I found people and I tried to Love them well, but I was not yet capable of loving myself apart from God. My favourite saying about my (first) ex-husband was, "people can only meet you as deeply as they've met themselves." I had no idea that it would also represent my own shortcomings in my second marriage.

The past five years have been a blur of growth and loss, and at the end of it all, I am left with nothing but the knowledge that I cannot live apart from God. I believed, during this time, that to return to God was to return to an abusive relationship, and my stubbornness was an act of defiance against the one who had let me down the most. Cast out in the wilderness like Eve, on my own for the first time ever, my spiritual journey veered into unknown territory. I studied religions and philosophies that I had heard were evil and I learned some beautiful things. I looked for similarities to the things I already knew, and I found many. But nothing ever felt quite the same. Nothing came close to knowing that I was Known in the deepest parts of my soul.

So many good things have come out of this journey. I can't go back to knowing what I didn't know before. And as strange as it sounds, I think God sent me there for a reason. I learned about God from different perspectives and now I know that I never want to stop. God is infinite. We can look from every perspective possible and our understanding of Him will grow, but never be complete. What I have now come to the end of is avoiding returning to my homeland, to God Himself, for rest and solace and Love. The journey is fun, and the adventure is a delight, but just as I couldn't live in a Sprinter van, neither can I live untethered to the One who has always Loved me.

I often think that nobody has broken my heart more than Jesus. But the truth is, nobody knew I needed my heart broken more than Jesus. If God sees our hearts, then he knows the places where we are cold, empty, and rigid. The cringy phrase, "stretch marks in my heart," just came to mind and I hate it, but I get it. Pregnancy leaves marks on your body that will never go away. They are reminders of how large we can grow when life is inside. In the same way, suffering stretches our hearts to become larger than we thought possible if we also allow life to grow inside. I once was closed-off, walled-up, guarded and thoroughly impenetrable. Now I cry at Tim Horton's commercials and I am only slightly ashamed of that.

I have no idea what the next leg of my journey will look like. When I am in relationship with God, I remember the things that light my soul on fire and I once again reconnect to my dreams. Whether or not they come to fruition is not the point, though. The connectedness is the point.

I'm not sharing this to evangelize Jesus. I don't care what you believe. I don't have space to care, in all honesty. I'm sharing this to evangelize knowing your own truth. I know that some will judge me for returning to God, and I know that some will feel they have won a battle. All of that is irrelevant to me. My inner knowing, my ability to lo

ve myself because God first loved me, that is what I am evangelizing. Wherever you are, whoever you are, if you are right in your soul, you are right with God. Find Truth for yourself and know that if you are not there yet, and you are suffering for it, your story is not over.