01 – where it all began

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Ok… so the title is a little miss leading but I just want to start at the part of my story where I finally started accepting the doubt I’ve had for a very long time.

This goes back to October of 2018. One of my sons was in the hospital at the time for an asthma flare up which made it a very stressful time for my family. I was in the hospital with him from Saturday morning until Thursday morning. At the same time the Kavanuagh trial was occurring this trial was extremely triggering for me even though I didn’t watch much of it.

Brett Kavanaugh appears before the Senate Judiciary Committee on September 4, 2018. Drew Angerer/Getty Images

Her testimony was that Brett Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her but the comments from people that weren’t involved in the situation but on social media sent me on a tail spin. “Friends” on Facebook had an opinion about a woman who was sexually abused it was devastating. I started having flashbacks of the sexual abuse I endured during my childhood and even more my flashbacks included telling my mother about my sexual abuse and her denying it. During the weeks following my son being in the hospital I started having panic attacks at work, while driving, when I parked at my kids daycare to pick them up. I was quickly spiraling downward.

During one week my husband and I had a difficult week together, multiple fights where I was almost inconsolable and he was beginning to realize I was beyond his help. One of the best things he’s ever done for me and our marriage was asking me if I wanted to be hospitalized. I needed help, quickly and I hadn’t been to therapy for a few weeks because of my son’s illness. Through the weekend I did some research with my insurance and I continued to have breakdowns. I tried to go to the hospital and have myself admitted but they sent me home with medication because I had no desire to kill myself at the time. I was referred to the partial hospitalization program where I was finally able to get a break from being overwhelmed by work and kids … it gave me a chance to breathe and think but I wasn’t able to see a psychiatrist on my own so it was still a lot of time before I was able to be medicated. I went to the program for 2 todays before reality of the difficult situation, the trauma I endured, the fact that I strongly disliked my own mother set in… and on the third morning all I could think of was a way to kill myself. Train tracks… just walk in front of a train, that was the overwhelming thought in my mind that morning.

I went to the program and started my morning off with tears, it was a safe place… I was the first to see the psychiatrist that day and I fell apart, I couldn’t pretend I was ok because I didn’t trust myself at all so I told him everything and they sent me to the ER and later to the inpatient program.

By the end of that first day I had already “sobered” up, got some time and space to think but I was still hurting severely. I met with another psychiatrist the first morning in the facility and was finally prescribed medication. I was able to take sleeping medication in addition which helped with the nightmares and nightly wakings I was experiencing. The time in that facility helped me recharge, remind myself of things I loved but hardly got to do like reading, painting, and writing but it also gave me something else. It gave me space to finally admit the doubt I had for so long. I spent a great portion of my life being dedicated to a god that didn’t seem to be there for me when I needed him. I finally realized that most of my life I spent mentally ill with depression that was untreated because the people I cared about most in my life told me that God would heal me, help me, set me free, and save me but after almost 20 years I was still in pain and anguish bc of the abuse I endured. I never came face-to-face with the deep rooted issues I had because I was too busy trying to pray them away instead of confronting them. So in the hospital I admitted to myself that Christianity and God the way that the present day church teaches about and displays them are not something I thought the real god would appreciate.

It boggles my mind how Christians can think buildings costing millions of dollars would glorify him, or how better lights or sound build a better church. Is it really because you’re trying to give god your best or is it because you know a better production will bring more people which means more money? How does that feed the hungry, clothe the poor, or care for the widows and orphans?


So if that is the god other Christians are serving I want no parts.

One of the things that strikes me over and over about my life is that no one adult knew me well enough or got close enough or cares enough to realize I was hurting so badly to see that my home life severely hindered my growth socially, emotionally, intellectually… especially not the Christians.

So here I am bearing my soul and sharing my story, as an outlet and maybe to help someone else be able to get through the process of deconversion.

Yours Sincerely,



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