Left with nothing

I’ve written a bit about my religious life as a child, and how that experience was born out of childhood trauma.

I remember fitting in at church as an adult. I had what I thought were friends. That is to say they relied on me heavily at times, but without reciprocating.

I was a bigtime volunteer. I became a member, I eventually worked on the board as an elder. People made me feel like I was a part of something and that I belonged.

I got home from a tour and my mental health went to absolute crap. I struggled publicly. I went from perfect attendance to spotty. I withdrew from volunteering, I didn’t go with my family to events.

I was crushed that nobody cared. Nobody asked, nobody offered, nobody showed any signs of life when it came to taking care of me. I thought we were a family, and all that nonsense they push on you.

Finally, I made one last attempt at social reconstruction. I sat down with some of the people who had been closest to me, and discussed my problems. I explained that social interaction was getting really hard, that I became bitter towards them, but I understand that it was my distorted reality that made me upset with them.

A few of them refused to talk to me after that.

I moved and repeated the cycle. Got into a new church, got my family involved, became a member, volunteer like crazy. Went to the bible studies, said very nice things to people.

Six years later, I’m getting bitter again because I have made exactly zero connections. I’m especially bitter at the pastor, as he is clearly ignoring me. Six years and nothing more than the initial intro. I’ve had enough of this.

I move. I start to repeat the cycle. I go to this church again and again and again. Over six months. And every time they congratulate themselves on how welcoming and friendly they are, and how there’s so many ways to get involved.

I’d tried to get involved, but nobody would keep an appointment with me to meet. I couldn’t even get a friendly hello from the lady who stands by the door on Sunday morning.

Eventually, my eyes started to slowly open. These people aren’t my friends. I’ve given and given and after 20 years in the church, I have zero connection. Not for lack of trying.

I’m moving on but it’s not easy. Everything from childhood to 40 revolved around those beliefs, and the belief that if I didn’t go to church, I would be cast out. Now I’m making the choice not to believe in that anymore. It’s a long uphill road.