With dread filling my stomach, I laid out my light blue dress with dark blue flowers and black leggings on my bed. It was Sunday morning — I’d leave for church in 30 minutes.
Each week when Sunday came around I’d wake up and desperately will my parents to let me stay home — maybe they wouldn’t make me go if I kept sleeping.
But that never happened. I’d still get in the car and go, sticking to my parents’ side instead of going to the room with kids my age. If I had to go, at least I wouldn’t be alone surrounded by energetic, joyful kids who were far more interested than I was.
But it didn’t matter who was around me, within the walls of our church, I felt alone. I didn’t understand what the pastor was saying or why I needed to pray, sing or read the bible.
My stomach knotted up as I reluctantly lowered myself in the infamous padded blue chairs — preparing myself to spend what felt like three hours in this spot. The discomfort I experienced took away any interest I had in religion, even from a young age I knew forcing religion on me was the wrong way to get me involved.
I’ve never been against religion, I’ve just never felt a deep connection to it. As a pre-teen, stumbling across Instagram posts or posters about God made me upset, and I couldn’t understand why.
This would send me into a spiral of guilt. According to Research Gate, one-third of U.S. adults have experienced religious guilt. When I didn’t want to go to church, it felt as if I was disappointing my parents. Not because they made me feel like I was, but simply because they wanted to go and I’d do anything to avoid it.
I felt like I was doing something wrong. Maybe I wasn’t praying enough or maybe I wasn’t praying correctly. I didn’t even know if that was possible, I was just a kid.
But it didn’t stop there. The older I got, the more anxious I became. As time went on, I began to uncover the more prominent differences between my church and I. Learning my church wasn’t accepting of all sexualities left a permanent resentment in me of that place.
The last time I went to a service, I stood crying in the dimly lit room. I didn’t want to be associated with a church where certain people were unwelcome. I was beyond uncomfortable and itching to leave. From then on, the only times I mustered up the courage to go to church were for Christmas Eve and Easter.
Sundays became homework days instead. No more knots in my stomach while getting ready for church. No pressure to stand uncomfortably at a service.
Religion doesn’t have to be scary though — it shouldn’t be. Religion is something I’ve realized I can connect with by myself and not just an activity that I’m being dragged to. It’s not a sport, I don’t have to compete. It’s completely up to me, and there’s important lessons to learn about independence in religion, forming your own opinions and more.
One of my resolutions this year is to try to get closer to God. But with no pressure or forced meetings because it’s my choice and on my own time. This way I can decide how I want to worship instead of someone else guiding me through it. That is what religion looks like for me and that’s okay.
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