Reason Breeds Insanity

For the past four years, I attended a “church” in my hometown. During the course of my time at that church, I attended most Sundays, went to Bible study fairly regularly, played in their euchre club, joined their women’s ministry, and made some “friends.” My mom died shortly after I started attending there, and people were kind about it, and I felt supported. Fast forward a few years. My dad died on September 11. I have yet to hear any sort of condolences from the pastor, or anyone else in leadership, aside from the one person I respect who holds the title of elder, as he and his wife helped move some furniture. Fast forward some more. I stopped going to that church the Sunday after my dad died, so September 14 was the last time I went there. Silence.

Now, I am not the type of person who needs to be needed or mollycoddled, but when you claim to be a big family, when you claim to be a church, I have certain expectations for how you conduct your communal life. One of those things includes making sure people who have been part of your family are thriving, whether or not they remain a part of your body. What makes me really sad about this situation is that my parents had a similar experience with the church they attended. When my mom was in the hospital, not a single person visited her, reached out to my dad, or made any attempt to make sure we were all okay, and we’d attended there for about 40 years. I guess my expectations are too high, desiring some sort of actual Christlike human connection when I lean into a church family.

Brene Brown says that in the absence of information, our brains tell us stories, and I have had to really reflect on whether or not my brain is telling me the truth about these people I formerly considered as friends/family. And, I want desperately for my brain to stop thinking about this, so at some point, I am just going to have to write it out, burn it, and let it go. So, I ask, in the process of trying to get past this shit, why would no one reach out to me when I left a space I occupied for four years? Why would the pastor not even tell me that he’s sorry my dad died? Why would people I considered friends not make any sort of attempt at communication with me? I’m looking at three particular individuals with this question. I considered you friends. And, now, here we are. Why would there be no follow up about my safety, my spiritual health, my life? Here’s the story I’ve made up in the absence of information: they are horrible people and merely tolerated my existence, and they are mindless followers of a narcissistic leader who speaks in pat answers and underdeveloped, childish theological black and whites. Oh, and they think queer people are going to hell, and it was clear I wasn’t buying that, so I am a lost cause.

So I know most of that probably isn’t true, but it’s the story my brain is telling me. What is true based on all the definitions I’ve seen, is that this group of people functions as a cult, not a devious cult, but a cult nonetheless. Sort of like the Amish or some rogue LDS groups; if you’re in, you’re in, but when you’re out, you cease to exist, you’re excommunicated. What hurts the most about this for me is that I am a person who doesn’t open up to people easily; I don’t just share my inner thoughts. I was telling my friend Molly about all of this, and she said it sounds like a cult, and I told her that I felt foolish, because I was made to feel safe by a friend and her friends, to the point that I shared information with them that I’ve never even talked about in therapy. How silly of me to trust people with my emotions, information about my life, or the ways in which I believe. I loved that Molly said to me, We’ve been friends for 25 years, and we’ve never had to find out that the other person is not who they presented themselves to be, because we’re authentic. I have asked around to lots of other friends, and they’ve all said that I am nothing if not consistent, so I have to rely on the fact that I am not the one who changed. I just left. Surely, I deserve some sort of good-bye, or fuck off, at least.

In short, for about four years, in a perfect storm of really shitty events in my life, I forgot who I was, I settled for false community to assuage my pain, and I allowed myself to be taken in by deceit. And I couldn’t sense that these people were horrible. I was duped. I’ve watched almost every cult documentary out there, and I used to think, how are people so foolish, how do people let themselves get taken in by this nonsense. And, now, I know. Through increased vulnerability, increased fragility because of life circumstances, humans reach out for what feels loving, helpful, and kind. I never thought I’d be the type of person to reach the wrong way, to cleave to something that was fake. I am so good at sensing who people are and usually very quickly. But, here I am on the other side, just wishing I’d never have gotten involved. I wish I would have never met these people. I wish I would have stayed over in my corner, away from these people.

I’ve come back from a place I don’t want to go to again, a place where I couldn’t recognize myself, a place where I lost myself, or rather I gave myself over to what I thought other people needed or wanted me to be. After spending the past several days without social media, disconnected from everyone (no phone), and reading the Bible, journaling, and reading fiction, I’ve discerned that I need to return to, and stay true to, who I am. I need to focus on compassion, love, and kindness. I can’t explain much more without airing dirty laundry, but I lost sight of some of the things that mean the most to me, and I became someone I don’t like, don’t recognize, and absolutely don’t want to be.

While just existing in silence over the past couple of days, I have been able to reflect on my own behavior, but also on the parts of me that were complicit in my own undoing. For example, I am not the type of person who needs constant companionship, yet I put myself in a place where I was constantly busy. Since December 20, I have slept about 12 – 13 hours each night, because I haven’t had commitments every night. I need a LOT of downtime, and I simply wasn’t honoring that about myself, because I was spending every single night doing something. I’ve read three whole books since December 19, which is a huge for me, since I am usually over busy, but I love to read, so I am incredibly happy with my ability to read so much. I’ve learned that I really like my own company and spending time on my couch with my snoring dog. I’ve learned that quiet and simplicity are my friends. 

I have spent time contemplating the Bible, and really digging in, rather than just reading to say I read it for the day, like I usually do. For a couple of years, I have been trying to read through the Bible, despite my M. Div I have never read straight through the Bible, and I am making great progress. I am in Job, which is one of my favorite books, and have passed through the Psalms of David (I am on Psalm 80), and I’m in Acts in the Second Testament, which is also one of my favorite books. I love that I have been reading the Psalms outloud, so that I can hear them as well as read them, because I think they were written to be spoken, since that is how Scripture was passed along originally. And, the words are beautiful, both written and spoken.

I guess what I am trying to say with all of this is that I am trying to get myself back together, again, again. Through silence. Through contemplation. Through slow living and simplicity. Today at church our priest said, “We may be grown but we have a long way to go,” and I really feel that. I am a grown up, I guess (if I have to be), but I also have so far to go to become who I want to be and who I think I should be. I told my wife that it’s weird to be 51 and be in a position where I am still trying to figure out how to be true to myself. I suppose this is why I go to therapy, but also why I need silence and contemplation in the midst of a really loud, confusing, and mostly shitty world.