Nine months – just like a baby…


Wow. It’s been 9 months since I last did a post here – just like birthing a baby.  And just like a baby it feels as though something new is growing inside of me, waiting to be born.

Of course, the agonizing part is, just like being pregnant, this new thing comes with a crazy rollercoaster ride of mood swings.  Having been through actual pregnancy and birth 3 times I can attest that this feels very emotionally similar.

What is this thing being born within my soul? Well, truthfully, I’m not yet sure.  It’s sort of a Dark Night of the Soul combined with a Leaving Behind Evangelical Christianity, with a dash of Seeking the Divine Feminine and a large helping of Reclaiming my Self.  Or something like that.

Sometimes it pushes so strongly from the inside that I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t go *do* something.  Sort of an existential “itchy feet” wanderlust kind of feeling.  Other days I want to create my own little private sanctuary and go hide from the world (like today – it’s been a loooong concert/SOL/14 hour days kind of week).

It’s hard because, by it’s very nature, it’s not a communal experience.  I have been alone and lonely a lot.  It’s a journey without a guide or companions.  Books have been the closest thing to companions.  How does one take a journey with no map?  I don’t even know my destination, let alone when I might reach it.

And I’ve become more of a square peg than ever – I haven’t even shared the journey with my mother (not that she’s asked, but she wouldn’t understand).  I’ve been tentatively involved with but avoiding “our” new church.  Even the mainline Protestants in this part of the country are too Evangelical for my taste now.

I’ve explored (mostly through books) many different Faiths – Buddhism, Hinduism, Gnosticism, Wicca.  But I still feel like a little kid trying on somebody else’s clothes.  I can’t just pick up a new religion and go on my merry way.  I can’t just relent (or repent, or whatever) and pick up my old one either.  To deny everything I’ve learned and experienced these past two years and shove myself back in that mold (the good Christian wife and mother) would cause my soul to shrivel up and die, never to rise again.

So here I hang, in limbo.  I don’t *like* limbo. I was raised in a family where ambiguity was never discussed, and tolerated only when unavoidable.  I live in fear of the day some well meaning stranger brings up religion.  I expect I’ll either stand there with my mouth hanging open unable to speak, or else regale them with my life story.  My boundaries are all screwed up right now – I have to think really hard about how to “act normal”.  Normal flew out the window 2 years ago and hasn’t been seen since.

Good grief – if only I could figure out what to *call* myself that would help.  And I’m searching for a visible symbol that I can wear to remind me that I went on this unintended journey in the first place in order to *preserve* my sanity.

My husband thinks that the problem is that I’m too smart and I think too much.  Guess I’m in good company with all of history’s other “heretics” then….


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