On Belief

I am teaching myself how to believe again.

I grew up in a Christian household. We went to Sunday morning service (we were always late and interrupting prayer). Youth group was an almost constant Wednesday night activity, and most of my socialization happened under the roof of a church.

There was something so confusing about church, it could be the most soothing experience but it came riddled with shame, judgement, and power dynamics I had no idea how to navigate. I felt the overarching message from a young age: you're going to hell, unless you follow our rules, but even then you're a born sinner.

As a child I prayed.

I prayed for each of my family members' health, I prayed for all the sinners in hell to find repentance, I even prayed for the Devil himself -that in all of His divine mercy and forgiveness He might find it in his heart to redeem the great betrayer. It was all very dramatic.

I begged for forgiveness for my unholy thoughts when I was angry, begged Him to change me so that I could be a better daughter.

I prayed deep in the night when the nightmares came, when I saw shadows move and heard sounds creeping across my floor. I prayed that He would protect me until all my belief ran out, because He never did. In fact, His name was used to excuse all kinds of hateful behavior toward me, my queer and agnostic friends, and people of color everywhere.

When religion left my life I had nothing to fill the gap where belief belongs, except maybe a resignation to suffering alone.

I saw my life as a burden to bear alone, all my problems and feelings and needs were no one else's business. In fact, it was shameful to need and feel.

Living this way is lonely, and it starts to make you see people as uncaring.

My internal monologue of 'you don't belong anywhere' started as a suspicion but turned into a spell woven around my heart, constricting like vines when I'd face any hint of rejection.

Thoughts tend to become beliefs if they go unquestioned.

A series of events kept happening. I'd stumble upon someone interested in me, I'd see all the potential and greatness they carried, they'd wound me, I'd push away from everyone.

I believed it was my fault, that there was something wrong with me. And there was something wrong: no one had taught me of my inherent worth and goodness, no one taught me healthy boundaries or assertiveness, conflict and repair were completely unknown to me, I was taught to treat myself with hatred, cruelty and shame.

Once I recognized this, I was overwhelmed with helplessness because undoing all of that damage to my psyche felt impossible. I longed for change but didn't know how.

I'm pulling directly from Narcotics Anonymous' It Works: How and Why:

'Our surrender in the First Step leaves us with a deep need to believe that we can recover. This surrender makes it possible for us to feel hope. By admitting our own powerlessness, we open our minds to an entirely new idea: the possibility that something greater than ourselves might be powerful enough to relieve our obsession to use drugs. It is quite likely that, before coming to NA, we never believed in any power but our own willpower, and that had failed us.'

I may not experience addiction to drugs or alcohol, but escape from suffering has always been my addictive subconscious goal. I thought people could save me if only I could be good enough for them, perfect even. I was going through life rabidly seeking the love I craved. This desperation attracted a lot of people who did me harm.

Something magical happened in my life. I hit rock bottom.

I came to find the relationship I was in was abusive. Nothing I did or said was ever 'right' and I was always fearfully chasing the moving goal posts of his approval. He was judgmental and cruel, his words matched the inner monologue in my head -so I thought I deserved them. He lied, cheated, stole, but the real damage was an erosion of my already shaky self worth, self respect, self love.

I say that it was magical because it taught me that I could not will myself into being the perfect person deserving of love -despite driving myself past my edge to try to achieve it.

It was only once I accepted that no one was coming to rescue me (to prove to me that I was lovable), that I myself had to pick myself up -only then could I start to surrender to the belief that I was worth saving.

Once I accepted I was worthy of my own care, I could accept that I was already lovingly held -by the earth, by nature, by humanity, by myself.

I was not unlovable, I had just been shut off from the source.

In Tara Brach's Radical Compassion she writes:

'When we're infants, we depend on those around us as sources of love and care. And as developmental psychologists have shown, we humans have the inborn capacity to internalize that loving with remarkable speed. If all goes well, we build inner resources of love, safety, happiness, belonging, and strength that we can draw on throughout life.

But here we're exploring another crucial fact: Even if those positive inner states were not created early, or even if emotions like shame have cut us off from them, we can still find ways to Nurture and develop those resources. At any time in our lives, we can cultivate our access to the inner experience of love and belonging.'

This is the practice I must believe in. Change is something I can exercise. Belonging is something I can access. Patience and forgiveness are gifts I can tenderly give myself.

After awakening to my own worthiness I see prayer differently, I see spirituality differently, I see connection to a greater spirit differently.

When I was a child, an all seeing all knowing all powerful God frightened me. I've looked into other religions, some with interesting ideas -but no organized religion has successfully gone without doing great harm, I can't get behind them.

Instead, my practice is to feel connected to myself and to the earth and all the living creatures that thrive because of her.

I close my eyes and feel the ground that I'm standing on, envision myself glowing with warm golden light that radiates through the earth, through rocks and trees and up through the feet of cicadas and foxes and humans until I am one with all that exists. The feeling of this is an expansion of my heart, an openness of my lungs, a grounded sensation throughout my being, and gratitude that brings tears to my eyes. The sweetness of it lingers, and it's easier to be my best self when I feel in touch with it.

This is how I touch god.