I struggle with fickleness. With people I have major trust issues, with life circumstances I’m swift to assume a pestilence from God. This makes me a bit slimy I suppose. For example, my faith – I don’t always profess to be a Christian in real life or online, because I have trauma related to the religion. Also I practice different spiritual practices from other religions as well. Because of this, I await the day some horrible person says I am not a Christian, or can’t be a Christian, because if I read the bible I’d know better. I read the bible every morning, thanks. And these accusations have already happened. Additionally I struggle with the identity of one faith. I’m more of a spiritual deist I suppose, but Jesus is a friend of mine.
As you can see, this is a very individualistic take on Christianity. What I’m really doing is looking out for myself – I don’t want to be hurt by religion – when I know that the Christ does deserve loyalty. However I can’t commit all the time, even within moments. The trauma the church inflicted on me is too real.
Sometimes I meet people that amaze me, whose faith was all the more strengthened by church evils. I know other preacher’s kids with worse experiences than mine who have great devotion and passionately spread the Gospel. My sister and I are at a different part of the spectrum, but not all the way off by any means.
Then there’s my husband. He is being tested for COVID-19. We pray he has a negative result. During this time of waiting I have had high anxiety. I cry pretty much every day, and I had a big ugly sob yesterday night. All I want him to do is quit working and let me hold him, but at least he has told his boss that he will work from home permanently now. He’s an essential worker and was exposed at work.
Other than crying and being clingy, I have been a complete mess online. Sometimes I complain about my husband on various social media, which I should never do. He has been so devoted to me. Throughout multiple separations he stood by me and didn’t even try to divorce me. We are still weathering the storm but I think I took him for granted. But even in this time of despair, I find myself tweeting the snarky tweet, and then feeling like the piece of shit I am afterwards.
Since I’ve been home, I keep having flashbacks of times he was angry or frustrated. Him opening doors or shutting drawers makes me jump. Sometimes, when I sense a fit of his coming on, I whisper “he’s going to explode” and prepare to hide. I have a better tolerance for his range of emotion now, but I’m not entirely sure that it’s healthy of me to be that way. What’s scarier is the fear I have that we will go down in flames again after a few months if we test negative for COVID. The pattern has been I come home, things are roses, things turn ugly, things explode and I leave giving him a sharp reprimand. Then we work through our emotions and can’t stand to be apart anymore and I move back.
If either of us dies, I’m going to feel a huge void beyond. I don’t think I could survive if I lost my husband on an emotional level. The regret is too strong and so is our friendship. Through it all we are still each other’s best friend.
I do love my husband, but I fear him. I love my God and worship him in what some would call questionable ways, and I fear him. At the heart of all lack of trust is fear.