Lost in the Wilds
Spiritual crisis is a midfield of conflicting ideas and thoughts all battling for control. On the one hand, I could return to Christianity, on the other, I could find my own way and my own truth. For so long I dithered between both options until I realized that no choice is a choice after all.
While dithering, I explored and learned a little bit about other religions. I learned more about my own fascination with tarot cards and the Old Gods. I explored the basis of ethics in religions. I read tons more books. I can thank the Gods there is a good library nearby. I dug into Church History and even reread the Bible again.
I was still as confused and still on the fence. Even trying to change in according to my husbands wishes, or what I thought his wishes were; didn’t take. Ladies be careful, some husbands will say anything if they think it will make you happy without giving any thought to it. Only much latter did I realize how much of an agnostic he is.
So I spent a lot of time just thinking and trying to figure out why I was struggling so much with something that my parents had fought so hard to obtain. I’ve always struggled with doing according to the rule especially when I see things so differently. And this didn’t feel any different.
Repression is a bad thing. It’s even worst when there is the force of trauma behind it. My crisis was reaching a head at the same time I was dealing with the trauma of sexual abuse and the fresh trauma inflicted by an ex. So many issues swirling together and playing off each other.
The short of it was that I was a mess. Some ways the only healer was time. In other’s I had a lot of work to do and most of it was mental. Spiritually so much had happened I couldn’t understand why I still believed in God. I just started to think that perhaps the whole world had it wrong. That God spoke to each of us, in the heart and never to hurt was the only faith I had left.