Christianity for a Non-Christian Heart
Christianity was all I new for the first half of my life. I prayed almost daily, I read a good portion of the bible, and memorized some of it. I took communion. I sang in the choir. I spoke to pastors and other church-goers. I tried to date within the Christian community. I volunteered for the kitchen, VBS (Vacation Bible School) and sometimes for the nursery. I had a crush on the pastor until I was a teen.
Communion introduced me to grape juice. I loved Communion, but not like I should have. The crackers and grape juice were a nice snack. I started drinking grape juice because Communion made me love the taste. But that is not why you're supposed to have Communion. You're supposed to commune with God. God never really spoke to me then.
The family would all get together...my sister, my mom, my grandma, and me. Sometimes my aunt would come too. My grandmother would pass out mints, and we'd suck on them while we listened to the sermon. My grandma always had a little too much perfume on. I tried not to fall asleep in church. If I started to, the whole family would glare at me and I'd get a lecture after everyone filed out. It was never my fault but for me, it was a guy, rambling on about God, whom I revered, but only because we all did... and because I was told we had to.
I never really had a good boyfriend or friends in the community. I was always "flawed" and encouraged to improve. I once had a guy I liked come up to me and push me for info about my sister, who he said was hot. He didn't seem to feel the need for discretion around me. I'd have been happier gutting out my eyes then satisfying his curiosity. I once had a boyfriend in the church. It didn't last long. He kept trying to convince me to have sex inside the church. His obsession with sex drove me off (which is amusing, as I am a lot more sexual in the current stage of my life than I was then).
I was never good enough. All the Bible Studies, all the prayer, all the belief. People judged me; there were rumors about my purity. People sympathized with my family, but in not-obvious ways. I was often shunned.
The first tremor in my faith came in school. I was part of the Christian group in my school. We'd hold morning prayer in a class, and sometimes prayer circles outside. We'd take time sometimes to sing the praises of Jesus. One day I woke up, and the feeling of enlightenment, and of reverence was gone. I spent the entire day, feeling lost, confused and empty. I went to our praise group, and after a couple moments, I had to leave. I didn't feel I belonged anymore. To this day, I have no idea what happened.
The second rift came when I went to a church and was asked to be baptized. I was told that I'd be honoring Jesus by being baptized. I wanted to go through with it. This would honor my family, too, and prove to everyone who didn't believe in me that I truly wanted to be a good Christian. Unfortunately, it would mean I had to be fully submerged. To this day, I cannot completely cover my head with water. For some unknown reason, I go into a literal panic.
Despite the fact that other churches baptize with oil over the head, this church insisted that in order to be baptized, I would have to be submerged. My fear outweighed my faith. I couldn't do it. I was shunned harder than ever. I was judged and criticized daily. People would constantly push me to get baptized. Finally, I was threatened with eternal damnation. I quit the church. I just couldn't take the judgments anymore. I knew I'd never be good enough for God, or at least that's how it felt by that point. So I walked away. I became non-religious. I let go of generations of faith, and just quit.
Following that, I searched through many religions, trying to find what faith struck true with me, inside my heart. I liked Buddhism, but it didn't fit. I flirted with the idea of witchcraft, but all I found were shallow, fake witches. Witches who would claim they cast spells to make people love them, or to get the position they wanted in a job, or to summon X-deity to fill them with divine energy. Some would even "summon demons" to have sex with them. I moved on. The path felt right but the people didn't.
I met various groups in my journey. I learned about real-world vampires, werewolves, and their hierarchies. I learned about people who made pacts with demons they let into their souls. I learned about mirrors as portals, and people foolish enough to open them (and not close them). I learned about angel-people and demon-people. I learned about were-beasts non-related to werewolves specifically. And I tried out all of them. It was fun, and I even met a few high-level psychics. I once knew someone who would channel Thor. Thor, in his usual mannerism, saw a woman (me), and flirted with me.
Not long after, some of my new, unique friends brought chaos and danger to my home. I did not know if it was demons or spirits. I wisely chose not to find out. One time, I was weakened to the point of barely being able to walk. I somehow made it home. It was around this period that my empathy became highly apparent. I also had some presence tied to me. Whether I let it in or it would speak through me, it was definitely there. It would close me out sometimes when I was tired, and take control. It would talk to others about me. I retained some small memories afterwards. It talked about wishing to be with me, that it fell in love with me.
After some time, while learning to deal with my empathy, I shut it off for awhile. I became horrified, in a way. My empathy now locked away, I could FEEL nothing. There was no emotion. I floated through life, empty. I hated it. I hated it more than almost anything I've ever experienced. It also gave a window to the spirit, who was overly bold and said and did many things I did not approve of. Eventually (and at this point I can't remember how), I managed to return my empathy, and I locked that spirit away, slammed the door, and threw away the key. I never know if he is still with me but I keep him locked away. I have not felt his presence in many, many years.
At this point, many people would say, "You had a schizophrenic episode. Glad you're better now." But I believe it was more than that. I learned so much about the world that no one really sees. I don't flirt with dangerous, dark things like I had in the past. But the evil is out there in many forms, I can promise that. I chose a path of light. I am still easily attracted to darkness. It's arousing to me. But I do not let it sway me. I am stronger than the darkness now, and it doesn't control me.
There is much more story to follow in my journey, but for brevity (or what I can manage after all that), I will simply say, I found my way to paganism, and then to witchcraft again. I became a solitary witch, as no coven was available that seemed open and accepting for my needs. I practice little, but I still feel, in my heart, I truly am a witch. I am a healer. I am a giver.
I write this blog, to share my experience. I was born a Christian, but I became a witch. To me, Christianity was, and always will be, a cult. And I know I am strong, because I walked away. I left the cult to pursue my true calling, though it took a lot of struggle, risk, and pain to get to where I am today. My life was never a quiet, boring one. There's been a lot of strife and struggle for my entire journey. Now here I stand, and I accept Christians as equals. But nothing would ever convince me to go back to that. For me, I have grown well beyond my Christian roots. There's no turning back now.
NOTE:
For any Christians, werepeople, vampires, or others who read this post, know that this blog was about my experiences and my life, and it has no reflection on you. I do not judge you. I will treat you as any other equal until which point you give me reason to do otherwise.
