We’re all given examples of what we should and should not do growing up. Sometimes, though, it’s questionable whether they’re legitimate, or just plain petty.
I love my older sister. She was my hero when I was a kid; I still remember the times she got up early before school with me so she could make me banana milkshakes. She’s never been perfect, but then again, none of us is. We all just do the best we can getting through life, and that inevitably involves plenty of both good choices and bad. With regards to my sister, however, I was mostly ever told about the bad.
I can’t think of many times my mom told me she was proud of my sister. She’s told me plenty of times how proud she is of me, but much of what I remember her saying about my sister was negative. How she dressed, the friends she hung out with, her choices in men, substance use, tattoos and piercings, the music she listened to, not living as a christian should, the list goes on.
As time went on, growing up in a evangelical christian home, I eventually found myself on my mom’s side. Sharing her disappointment of my sister, and slowly growing more distant in my relationship with her. Christianity is fond of using others as examples, the most obvious being the righteous believers who will spend an eternity in heaven instead of the unrepentant sinners doomed to an ever-immolating lake of fire.
My mom for the most part always treated me like I was her favorite child who could do no wrong, and even today can hardly have one phone call where she doesn’t bring up my sister and all her mistakes. Just today I mentioned something my sister said my mom told her (miscommunicated hyperbole), and my mom responded by calling my sister “an idiot”.
For obvious reasons that didn’t sit well with me, but in all honesty my mom’s continued trash-talking of my sister annoys me now for a different reason: I’m not some saint anymore. My mom knows I’m no longer a christian and got excommunicated from their church, she knows my now-wife and I didn’t wait until marriage for sex, she’s seen my risque metal show outfits, she knows I smoke weed, she’s seen me somewhat drunk before, and she even told me the tattoo I got was “cute”.
What’s funny is there are things she does take issue with about my life, and to some pretty ridiculous extents. Even though she absolutely loves me and my wife now, she once refused to let me take one of their cars (they had two at the time) to go pick up my wife’s car before the two of us were married so I would have my own vehicle to drive after my truck broke down.
Recently, I changed jobs. With healthcare jobs at a different health system, a change in scrubs is usually necessary. At my first job, I could barely stop her from buying me extra work scrubs. However at my new job she has gotten me several pairs of scrub pants but refuses to buy me any scrub tops. The only difference is I now wear women’s scrub tops. So my mom doesn’t care that I’m an apostate stoner, but she does care that I’m trans and have boobs now, to the point where she won’t buy me boring gray scrub tops for my job where I help provide life-saving medical care.
The inconsistencies are confusing, and call into question true motives and intentions. Is it truly righteous conviction, or just thinly veiled envy, discontent, and fear hiding under the guise of Christian morals. Part of what drove me away from the church was how many so-called “Christians” I saw who didn’t really believe in Christ. Oh sure they went to church every Sunday, memorized a dozen Bible verses, took communion, and all that jazz. Many also subscribed to far-right political ideals, emotionally abused their kids, guilted those going through hard times that they just needed to pray more and that all their troubles stemmed from straying from god. Many times it seemed like they really followed American evangelicalism and not the Bible. And when I left the church? How quickly they all abandoned me. I am now the example of the wicked sinner fallen from grace, no doubt doomed to hell and eternal separation from god (or some nonsense like like).
God and his church were never really there for me through my depression and pain, my numerous scars are a testament to that. Now though, I am the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. My wife, our girlfriends, my job, my friends, my derpy dog, have all made my life feel so full. Despite that, while my superficial scars are long-healed, the ones inside aren’t. I guess what doesn’t kill you just gives you episodic depression and chronic anxiety.
These days? I’m just done.
Done with the hypocrisy, done with the examples and fearmongering, done with the lies.
Having a life as happy as the one I do now makes me realize all the more how much pain I endured, and for what? The satisfaction of the whims of a few self-righteous followers of god?
If their god is real and I meet him after death? Then I will make him beg for my forgiveness.