Guest Blog: Why Being Honest with Myself Led Me to Leave the Church

Below is a piece written by a guest author on her experience with religion and a change of heart in her mid-twenties. Do you have a story you want to share too? Contact me and let’s chat!

As I get older, I find that one of the hardest things I can do is be honest with myself. It sounds simple enough, until you actually begin digging into the deeper layers of who you are, why you do what you do, and figure out what you actually want for your life. It can be painful, tough, and can lead you to make some pretty drastic life changes- ones that could possibly change the course of your existence forever.

Let me back up a little bit and explain what I mean by this. Hi! I’m Hannah, and I’m an atheist. That’s right- an atheist. I left the church about two years ago and have been pretty quiet about it up until now. This blog post is about why I left the church, as this question seems to be blowing up my inbox these days. So, I thought I would tell you guys about it!

You see, I was raised in the church. Every Sunday, without fail, I would go to church and hang with my Christian friends. I tried really hard to read my Bible and pray every day. I went to Christian schools to learn about God and the Bible throughout childhood, went to youth group throughout my teenage years, and even was mentored in my marriage through church small groups. My life was the church, God, and Jesus, and I was content with that for long time- until I wasn’t.

It all started with a moment- a really small one. It was a typical Sunday morning, and the scene was what Sundays usually looked like for my husband and me. I would be holding onto the bed before we had to go, screaming, “I DON’T WANNA GO! I DON’T WANNA GO! I DON’T WANNA GOOOOOOOO!!!” Yes, as a full grown adult, I was still doing that.

I remember stopping my screaming and resisting for just a tiny moment one morning to ask myself, “If I truly believed in God, Jesus, and the Bible, would I really be fighting going to church every Sunday?” I couldn’t recall a single time where I wasn’t dreading to go, even as a child and teenager. Thus, began a journey into what would lead me to ultimately leave the church.

Now, let me tell ya, I’ve been to some fabulous churches- my favorite being the one I went to in Atlanta for a few years. I learned some valuable lessons, enjoyed the “Six Flags Over Jesus” style sermons, and adored the people I met there. They’re still some of my favorite friends.

However, even then, I would drag my feet every Sunday when it came time to sit for a sermon.

After I had my tiny “aha!” moment, I began to sift through my unbelief and ask a lot of questions. Like, an overwhelming amount of questions. I decided to read the Bible all the way through (for the third time), interrogated theologians I trusted, researched the internet for various different perspectives and asked everyone I knew who seemed to have it together why the answers were so difficult for me to believe. It just was never enough for me, and ultimately, I felt that I was believing in something just because, well, everyone else was doing it.

To put things into perspective, I also live in a rural town in the Bible belt, where there are churches around every corner. It’s pretty tough to find another atheist, and most likely, if someone is an atheist in the Bible belt, they’re probably not broadcasting it loudly for all to hear.

I remember the moment I started piecing together a world without God. It was foreign to me, as God was all I ever really knew, and it was scary to think of a world where God wasn’t “protecting me” or “in control.” Quite frankly, I didn’t think it could be done and could actually lead me to be find peace and contentment.

I was wrong, and I’m so thankful I didn’t allow my fear of the unknown or foreign keep me from asking those questions.

I was agnostic for a few months, pondering if there were any sort of higher power at all, God or not, until I finally decided on being an atheist.

You see, I actually found that the world made a lot more sense to me without God, and that I could live a moral, kind and compassionate existence without God watching over my shoulder to see if I would do it. In fact, my love and understanding of other people grew by leaps and bounds when I didn’t have a set of rules I had accepted from an outside source.

I finally had the courage to make friends with people who I had once thought would “influence me in a bad way” or “lead me away from God,” and now, they’re some of my most treasured friends. I found out that I’m a different person than I thought I was, and I’m seriously the happiest I’ve ever been.

Through this journey, I found I didn’t need God, and that I was perfectly okay with that.

I waited for so long to tell everyone, because well, it doesn’t always go over so smoothly. In fact, it takes a lot of courage to be different than everyone around you. It’s also incredibly scary to change your mind publically, especially in a town you grew up in.

I struggled with disbelief for a long time, but I didn’t feel I could be open about it until I met people who would help me embrace the parts of myself I was afraid to show.

I started seeing a therapist, and session by session, worked to unpack the parts of myself I had hidden away in a closet. My disbelief in the things I was raised with was one of them, and come to find out, I had been dealing with not wanting to be a Christian and struggled with disbelief in God for a very long time.

I came out about my atheism to my husband, family and close friends shortly thereafter and have been privileged enough to find love and support- something I was afraid I wouldn’t have.

I say all of this in hopes of encouraging someone who is in the same position I was. I want to tell you that it’s okay to have disbelief, and it’s also okay to want to do something different than those around you. You owe it to yourself to be honest about what you want, what you believe, and who you want to believe in. Because life is too short to go to church if you don’t want to.

 

Hannah Croscutt is a coach, fitness fanatic, health and wellness entrepreneur, and student living in Georgia. Follow her on instagram!

 

Becoming A River: Why I Renamed Myself at Age 29

Hey guys. My name is River… and that hasn’t always been my name.

*** I don’t talk about this much because my choice is to leave this part of the past in the past and I do not use/mention my old name like, ever. But in the interest of giving others who are thinking of doing the same or going through a similar situation, I share. ***

Let me introduce you to Katie Rivers (pictured above). She was me for the first 29 years of my life! …Sorta. I was born Kathleen Patricia… the names being from my grandmothers and meaning “Pure & Noble” which were the values my parents wanted me to have. I was Katie throughout childhood, teen years, and young adulthood. I never really loved the name because it just sounded sort of “meh” to me and I met SO MANY OTHERS with the same name. It didn’t totally feel like me but it didn’t cross my mind that I could change myself or even my name (yet). I accepted things as they were.

The older I got and the more I experienced, Katie became who everyone else wanted me to be (real or imagined). As a desperate people-pleaser and someone with no idea how to really love or value myself (plus terribly low self-esteem and self-worth), I spent a lot of time in denial. Unhappy and insecure, always seeking rescue from myself in other people, never really sure at all of WHO I WAS. Only of what others wanted me to be. I looked to everyone else to define me. I didn’t take responsibility for my own feelings or health or happiness. In the photos above I see someone uncomfortable in her skin, trying hard to feel worthy and confident and happy… but she wasn’t that way inside. I accepted life as it was, instead of creating it the way I wanted it to be. I was out of shape, anxiety-riddled, depressed and constantly not sure what was wrong with me and why I didn’t feel “good enough.” I was in the passenger seat of my own life. I always made sure others thought I was doing great and sometimes I even believed it, too. But I was just avoiding the deeper issues.

And then, after an incredibly horrific couple of years in 2012-late 2013, I came out of  the kind of fire that burns away a lot of a person emotionally and mentally. I found myself looking in the mirror at someone else entirely than who I had been up to this point in life. I had endured things I still can’t talk about in public spaces in the interest of protecting others’ privacy, but suffice to say, I was crushed by unfortunate reality and deep trauma hard. I had carried more grief, pain, and dismay than anyone should ever carry. And I did it mostly alone. I changed as a person out of requirement to survive. And after the dust settled, I was most definitely not the woman everyone else thought I was anymore, and I was finally looking at myself with honest eyes. I couldn’t live this way anymore—in no control of my future, lost in deep inaction, wishing and hoping that someone or something would change and fix me. I realized I had to rescue my own damn self. And somehow, finally, I was ready.

I was ready to throw out everything that hadn’t served me or that had harmed me: wrong views about myself, about relationships, love, religion, relationships, you name it. If it didn’t feel true to me, if it wasn’t good for me, it was gone. This was the first time maybe my entire life I really and truly loved myself by way of concrete action, in a way that did things for not just my present self, but my future self. I put myself first and made decisions 100% based on my wellbeing. People pleasing was dead, because I had come to realize I destroyed myself in the process. Miracle of all miracles… I finally cared about myself more than about people’s opinion of me.

I knew drastic change was required to be who I wanted to be — that the woman I was holding down just beneath the surface who had been formed through destruction and grief was ready to break free. And so I decided to do something crazy. I set my old life on fire and walked away. I told everyone in my life to stop calling me Katie — she was no longer me. My name was River. I went to court and finalized the process to make it legal, and haven’t looked back since. (I also got the tattoos I wanted, the divorce I needed, the haircolor I had always been too scared to try, the stamps in my passport, the experiences I had never given myself; I allowed myself to say no to the things I didn’t want to do, I became a runner and took on all kinds of challenges I was too afraid of before, etc etc).

Why the name, specifically? River was who I felt like. River is the me that follows her heart, faces the pain, asks the hard questions, doesn’t give a fuck when people try to bring her down. River is who I am, unapologetic and real and kind to herself, understanding of her human struggles. Yes, naming myself River was my way of declaring to myself and the world that I get to decide who I am and no one else does… it was a good way to close a chapter and begin anew… but really, I did it because I just wanted to. I loved the name, it felt right for me, and so I did it. The end.

Now guys, a name change is not as easy as flipping a switch. It was a pain in the ass legally, it cost hundreds of dollars, people still call me by my old name both on purpose and by accident. (Which is weird because I don’t associate with my old name at all anymore. You might as well call me Steve, I feel as connected to that name as I do Katie. As in, it is not my name.) When you change your name drastically, some people will act like you’re nuts/are going through an identity crisis, your parents will most likely be sad and hurt, some of your friends will get weirded out, people will talk behind your back. I lost relationships over the name change, because some people can’t allow others to make decisions for themselves. So it wasn’t easy and fun, but was it worth it? YES. It will always be worth it to do things you want to do for yourself and that you place value in.

Bottom line: define yourself however feels right for you, and if it matters to you, honor that. Prepare to lose relationships over it — but gain new ones too. Doing your own thing makes a lot of people likely to abandon or judge you, but if nothing else you learn about who is really in your life in a good way.

This is me now. Living life on my terms and learning to love myself and others better all the time 🙂 do you have a crazy life change story?! I’d love to hear it.

Love like always,

— River

Stop Telling Me That Jesus Loves Me

So, I live in America. Georgia, to be specific, which is the deep south: where we have sweet tea, hunting, and there is a church every 3 miles, basically. Protestant Christian religion is a major influencer of the culture here. Everyone tells you to have a blessed day, God bless, Jesus loves you… and to the people who say these things to me (from a random cashier in the store, to friends on Facebook), I would like you to know that these statements do not have the effect that you think they do.

Imagine someone says to you in all sincerity, “Allah loves you!” or, “Hey, remember that Zeus is always watching over you, he is always in control!” or even, “Santa/Ganesh/The Tooth Fairy loves you and thinks you’re so very special.”

Chances are you’d find these comments anywhere from weird, silly, absurd, to tone deaf; maybe a little too personal or assumptive. Kind of insulting, kind of off-putting. You don’t believe in those gods or characters, so those statements are difficult to know what to do with.

The only people who like this kind of comment are the people who already believe the same way the speaker does. 

To illustrate the problem, here is something that happened to me from a couple years ago.

I went to a new doctor and while in professional exam, she asked if she could pray for me. I was pretty surprised that she asked me this considering the setting but I politely declined, telling her I don’t believe the same way as her but appreciated the sentiment of care. She wouldn’t let it go. Instead, she insisted she would pray for me at home privately. Before, I had been fine. But this statement only served to piss me off. No respect, no consideration for my personal beliefs. I was flabbergasted and still am — it’s beyond me how someone can’t understand how rude and insulting it is to act that way and not consider someone else’s stance. I wonder if she would feel the same way I did if a Muslim or Hindu doctor treated her the same way in a flipped situation and insisted they were going to pray to the gods she doesn’t believe in about her very personal and private life.

Look, I get that it comes from a good intention when people tell me Jesus loves me. I know it feels true and beautiful to share with others, to those who believe in the bible and practice the faith. But “Jesus Loves You” literally means nothing to me. The only thing it does for a secular like me is make me less likely to talk to you and less likely to relate.

Why? Because it doesn’t feel respectful, relevant, or authentic. It actually seems like a lazy way of trying to make the world a better place without putting in the time or action required.

Bottom line: I don’t care if some mythical dude from ancient times loves me. How about instead of talking about this guy loving me, you love me? How about stop talking about some nebulous ideal I don’t identify with (and even dislike) and just make the people in your life feel seen, loved, and cared for? Without involving a guy from an ancient book?

I really do believe you can love people the way that is right for you and true to your religion (or lack of religion like me) without stepping on toes and driveby insulting people/their views. I would love to see respect go all ways between people who have different worldviews, religions, political stances, whatever.

It starts with consideration and respect of others, and I hope this post gives a new perspective to those who maybe hadn’t thought about how a carelessly thrown out “Jesus Loves You!” can only do worse for your religion, not better.

Love and hugs and bunnies because of spring,

— River

You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind

Hey, you! Do you live in the same world that I do, where changing your viewpoints on things or allowing new perspectives for yourself gets you judgment and loses you friends? Where you grow up, start thinking for yourself, and suddenly that’s very wrong to some people? Me too. It’s tempting to not be true to your inner guide. It’s easier to  compromise yourself so that you don’t pay the price of others thinking badly about you. But…

You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind

• about what you think and how you feel
• about who you love and who/what you’ve aligned your life to
• about what you believe in or don’t believe in
• about what you want in your life or don’t want in your life
• about the career path you’ve chosen for yourself
• about the marriage that used to be good and now isn’t

Friends, don’t let others bully you into thinking it is wrong to let your mind evolve and change and grow over time. It’s not disloyal, it’s not noncommittal, it’s not flaky. Do you still view the world exactly the same as you did when you were five years old? Ten years old? Fifteen? No, of course not! So why should we turn eighteen or twenty-five years old etc etc and be expected to be the same people forever after those benchmark ages?

People who are growing and learning and remaining open minded don’t stay in the same mindset as they did when they were younger and had less information on themselves and the world. And any friend who wants to judge you and shame you for being different than they are is not your friend and doesn’t respect you as a person.

Don’t be afraid when you find yourself changing and growing and not looking the same as you did in years past. You’re allowed to change your mind, to think differently, to want a different path than you used to. Now go be brave.