I am at a point in time where there are things I am thinking about, hard.

There are things I miss, things that I cannot give voice for the fear of dismissal from the one who it would actually (…?) matter to. The constant thought of it just makes me feel like I should just be done with the whole thing.

I miss feeling that deep, spiritual connection with things. People ridicule this feeling, but it has always, always been a part of my life. Even when I didn’t feel a connection to any specific tradition or denomination, I felt the need to feel connected to something.

And it is hard to shake off the feeling that something is wrong with everything when the person who I’m spending so much of my time on it… well, doesn’t.

Confession time—for a long time in my life, I wanted to be a priest.

(No comments from the peanut gallery on how that might be influencing my writing.)

I spent an inordinate amount of time thinking, “this is it,” until I found out that only men could. Turns out that you lose your religion fast when you find out you aren’t welcome where you want to be.

I’ve since found ways to get that deep connection, but… what does one do when your other thinks it’s bunk? Not necessarily the practice, but the entire concept?

I miss being able to share that part of my life. And the more I think about how I’ve had to keep it quiet from, well everyone, the more isolated it feels.

It influences everything. It contributes to how I enjoy the things that I do. To be met with a roll of the eyes—or, in the case of family, “you’re going to Hell”—to call this deflating would be putting it lightly, but I don’t have a word for what it does.

I have things to think about, and I don’t know where they’re going.


4 thoughts on “Impasse

  1. That is an awful dilemma. It sounds perhaps you are more spiritual in the nontraditional sense, while your family is fundamentalist Christian. Also, it appears that your boyfriend is a nonbelievers. Am I on the right track here?

    • You’re dead on. I’ve been ignoring the problem over the years with… some success, but after a while, one begins to feel starved.

      The irony of the situation is that I found out what I could do in Catholic school, and the principal at the time, a truly ahead of the times Sister, was integral in my search. I came out of there researching everything, and he—cliché ahoy, we met in high school—came out of it atheist. We didn’t reconnect until much later.

      It’s the latest in a string of issues, and this is the most minor of them (things got ugly lately) but wouldn’t it be funny if this is what kills it off.…

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