It is weird to reconsider questions of faith.

I am not even really reconsidering much. It is not actually a “thinking” process. I am just feeling things and I am doing things. Many of them are very different from what I might have done a few months ago.

For a part of me, this is like a soft, well-worn shirt.

For another part, it raises the question, “Who are you and when did the aliens bring you here?”

And then I also wonder why this is necessary, only to realize that is the core of it. I was ritually abused. I was raised in a religious cult that looked the other way when it came to child sexual abuse: The cult was distinct from my father’s ritual abuse, but it created a lot of other mental custard. At the same time, the most important person in my life was a quite sincere, quite devoted believer and her faith gave her strength. Her faith gave me strength too, but it was forbidden to me.

My core trauma is about the nature of God, the matter of morality, and the question of good and evil. Those themes run through every other kind of trauma I experienced too, and in those traumas they play out in different ways, creating different problems and different confusions. I grew up with three Gods: an evil God, a harsh God, and loving God. I can’t integrate myself within integrating that.

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