Tears of Embarrassment

After dinner last night, my 20 year-old daughter asked me if I was having a midlife crisis? I answered affirmatively and told her about my blog post from yesterday. 

She had long forgotten about mommy's neglected blog, so I pulled out my laptop. We scrolled through memory lane together. Her special person was also with us, gaining insight into my girl's childhood and the woman who raised her. 

Some memories were hilarious. She loved the story of the time she called her brother a pussy. She asked special permission to read about my miscarriage and other sad stories. I granted permission. I have no problem sharing hard times with her. 

What really got to me were the religious posts. Those were painfully embarrassing. Transparently sharing my attempts to be a good Christian was like ripping the bandage off of an open necrotic wound. I not only wished the wound was healed, but I wanted all evidence of it erased. My God posts made me feel stupid. 

Later, my daughter and I continued talking about my break from religion. I finally shed deconstruction tears. I spoke about having been raised in a cult-like church, and my disappointment in what our UMC has become. I spoke about how I feel like I've been manipulated all my life by mislead people.

After my daughter left, I cried on my husband's shoulder. I said that I feel like I wasted the last 25 years trying to be a good Christian mom/wife/daughter/woman. Reaching out for an ideal that was made up by men trying to explain the unexplainable and control the masses was a practice in futility.

I've missed so much of the good and beauty in the real world around me because of my fear of the secular. That ends now. I'm diving in. I'm drinking in the world, the tangible, the here, the now. I'm not going to feel guilty for pursuing the beautiful things of this world any longer.