Alright ladies and gents, I am not here to scrutinize other religious viewpoints. Everyone is different and has a way of going about viewing certain aspects in life. I am here to share my story and hope it will resonate with some that have acquired similar experiences.
For those that knew me when I was younger, you would have assumed my strong faith would have remained throughout the course of my life. A majority of my family members are either Christian or Roman Catholic and I grew up in the Parish. I was enrolled in a Catholic school from kindergarten through eighth grade. My grandmother and I attended church on a weekly basis, where I was enrolled in a Religion based course that was held around twice a week (shocker huh?), completed a majority of the Sacraments while attending the school and even participated in Liturgical Dancing at one point (the joke is on me).
I remember when I was around two or three years old, I stubbed my foot and said God's name in vain. My father reprimanded me and told me to have respect for him, as he was responsible for my existence. I can be forgetful but I will not fail to recall snippets of the conversation, where I persisted to ask him what would happen if I disrespected this man that was brought to my attention and why he was so gloryful. The answers were considerably vague as you can imagine, considering I was a toddler and my father's old-fashioned outlook on Religion.
With this being said, around a year later, I was enrolled in St. Michael's School. The beginning years were joyful as you'd presume, things began to slowly digress when I was approaching sixth grade. My parents divorced when I was approaching the beginning of the semester as a fourth grader. I was still naive and did not heavily rely on my faith to keep me strong, since the scenario in itself was a hard pill to swallow, slowly sinking in over a course of a few years.
My faith in the Lord began to grow when I spent more time with my grandmother. At one point in my life, she was somewhat of a mother figure to me since I felt resentment towards my mother, as she was responsible for the separation of what was perceived as a "happy family". My grandmother engaged in a significant amount of prayer, attended Mass and other ceremonies affiliated with honoring certain Saints. My mommy issues gave me the initiative to seek a source of comfort from the Virgin Mary. She was beautiful and the mother of Jesus Christ; how could it get any better than that? I read up on her childhood, bought narratives and statues of her for accessible worship and had my father customize a Miraculous Medal to wear on a daily basis for protection.
At this time, I was encountering several discrepancies in school. A lot of the students took Religion as a joke, causing me to feel alienated in my attempt to become closer to God. I was chubby, did not have the best reputation with these students, as they saw me experience a significant amount of anxiety from kindergarten through fourth grade. Not to mention, I was a Disney girl, innocent and wore my heart on my sleeve, making me an easy target to the girls that were more "experienced" and had the boys wrapped around their fingers.
Everything combined made me vulnerable and I called on God to alleviate me of these growing pains. My grandmother portrayed God as a role model and somewhat of a "Genie in a Bottle" at the same time. If I did the right thing in my everyday life, whether it'd be through his teachings or simply portraying humility, he would bless me with what my heart desired in time. This was considerably misleading to me. I always perceived life as a gamble, where we were given the opportunity to make the best out of what we had and relying on a spiritual figure to reward us for our good deeds seemed a bit eerie. What if I wanted to be greedy one day? Does this mean Satan is getting to my head and drawing me closer to him in order to diminish the relationship I have (had) with God?
As I encountered more instances in life, either triumphant or troublesome, I kept close to God in order to keep me sane and learn new coping mechanisms in life, through prayer and reviewing the bible. Something happened in my life (I should say a multitude of recollections) that caused me to slowly turn away from God.
My anxiety worsened over the years. I experienced Depression and the more I prayed, that feeling I once had of being invincible and secure vanished. Everyday felt like an emotional struggle, where I had to use every source of willpower to fight the negativity in my mind. I prayed and prayed, asking for a sense of relief and improvement in time. Something did not feel right mentally, a vacuum sucking away my energy and my heart racing from the unknown. I consoled in others and nothing assisted. After studying Psychology as a freshman at the college I was attending, I considered anti-depressants. Over time, the medication cleared my head and stabilized the inner chaos.
From where I stand, I feel Religion was a crutch to keep me going at times where it did not seem possible. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, causing things to feel out of my control on a daily basis. As the condition worsened prior to taking the benzodiazepines and antidepressants, I began to realize that all I needed was my prescription and practicing mindfulness at the end of the day.
I am not stating that I am an Atheist, I am open to the idea of a God. Everything in Catholicism was black and white, these expectations placed on worshippers seemed unrealistic at times. If I did not ask my father for an explanation after my obnoxious statement as a toddler or did not attend the school for almost nine years of my life, how would I have known any better?
Everything I have accomplished to this point in my life was due to my hard work and perseverance when life continued to throw curve balls. While others of faith believe God played his part, I shut my mouth and concur for the sake of peace. I have spoken to Priests and attempted to find God when I felt lost in my late teens, to feel that sense of closure I felt in middle school. Where did that feeling go? Will I ever feel it again? Only time will tell. For now, I am going to take my medicine and cope with life as it comes.
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