How Believing in Christianity Caused me to Start Dying Inside (Part 1)

Reconnecting with a few highly suppressed past versions of my younger self. (Yes, it's cathartic as hell.)

Just yesterday I stumbled across Jordan Younger’s Substack and found myself in familiar kind of awe, like I was supposed to see a bit of myself in her work.

I especially resonated with Jordan’s stories of being on AOL Instant Messenger (AIM!!) and in chat rooms from a young age, her stream of consciousness style of writing and I honestly felt a little homesick in a way I couldn’t describe.

I used to do that, too.

I used to do it, but why did I stop?

I got married. Became “more” Christian. More suppressed and cautious about saying the “wrong” thing and getting chastised by people more Christian than me.

The last time I wrote a post on my old stream-of-consciousness blog was November 29, 2009.

It was right after I started dating my now ex-husband, who used to be in an ultra fundamentalist “Christian” sect in the UK (for FIVE YEARS!).

Basically, he was in a cult.

(Again, FIVE YEARS!)

I was fascinated by that, too.

I was an evangelical but had no idea I was also in a cult. I felt different than my friends though. They bought in to the “go out into all the world” missionary side of things.

I didn’t.

Couldn’t, rather.

I wanted to see the world and explore, fall in love, feel alive, breathe deeply and eat amazing food in new places.

Often.

I needed adventure. I needed excitement. And I needed it OFTEN.

Because I’d been so, so bored, yet so anxious and — at times — secretly ashamed.

There was always something about the Christian doctrine that didn’t make sense to me.

I came to Jesus through people-pleasing. At the Baptist revival I went to at age 13 with my dad, Mitma (what I called our grandma), and Aunt Norma where I “gave my life to Christ”… I prayed the prayer because the hellfire and brimstone preaching worked. I was scared of hell.

I also knew that the adults in the room would be happy if I went forward during the altar call. I wanted them to approve of me. That’s how you got things as a kid! Whether it was attention, a new toy, permission to go to a friend’s house over the weekend… if your parents approved of and liked you, if you made them happy, life was pretty good.

I had no idea that was people pleasing.

So I did it… for years. The youth pastors had to be smarter than me because they were pastors, after all! If they thought you were awesome, everything was good. Nothing needed to change.

But at the same time, I “knew” my heart was untrustworthy and sinful. My desires were something to be suppressed, not fulfilled or acted upon. They were of the carnal mind.

And humans deserve hell, after all.

What they thought mattered to me. A lot.

That was the real hell. That prison of approving myself only to the extent I perceived they approved of me.

Although I wanted them to like me and approve of me, it did have limits. If getting their approval required doing something I didn’t want to do (like fundraise for a mission trip to a place I didn’t want to go to “evangelize” and bring people the “good news of Jesus Christ”) or NOT doing what I did want to do (study abroad, travel, etc.)… I wasn’t cool with that.

I did what I wanted to do… and just felt guilty about it the whole time.

My friends went on mission trips or had become teachers in Christian schools overseas in countries like China and Japan… they were doing “Christian” things with their lives versus doing “adventure” things like what I wanted to do.

In 2007, I enrolled in a study abroad program in Germany and LOVED IT but the whole time I had this constant undercurrent of anxiety that my “Christian” friends wouldn’t approve of my life choices while I was there.

My “trip” to Germany as a college student and weekend adventurer wasn’t Jesus-centric at all, and I felt secret shame about that.

Especially when I fell in love and gasp had sex before marriage!!!!!!

Oh, the SHAME! Premarital sex was the worst if you grew up surrounded by various purity culture narratives… like True Love Waits and Josh Harris’ I Kissed Dating Goodbye”.

It was these narratives that pushed me toward getting married way too early. At barely 24 years old. Two years before my brain finished developing.

Because I thought any relationship outside a government-sanctioned and approved piece of paper “legal” MARRIAGE couldn’t be part of a “godly” life of a Christian woman.

Instead of nonjudgment and acceptance and genuine freedom found in adventuring through Europe as a college-age young adult… I judged myself and felt shame because I’d accepted as truth that expressing myself sexually with a safe person I enjoyed being with was bad. Sinful, even!

Shame about my sexual experience as a college student in Germany (I was 20 and 21) was ever present. Like, the whole time I was there.

It was always on my mind in some way, at least a little bit. It clouded my subconscious. This general uneasiness about who I was and how I was choosing to express myself and with whom.

Funny thing is, now I can look back and see how not concerned my friends were.

You know that saying, “Nobody thinks about you as much as you imagine they do”? Most of the time they’re actually thinking about themselves and not you at all. So why care what they think?

It’s highly likely that I was imagining most of their attention. I was not actually at the top of their prayer list due to my insanely interesting life of abject and unbridled sin.

I called it adventure. And without the layer of judgment I got from religion, that’s exactly what it was. The whole time.

I was learning and growing through every single one of those experiences and had no reason to feel any shame about them.

Christianity caused me to hide and suppress myself in so many areas of my life that suffered because of the shame.

I hid who I was out of fear it would be labeled “heretical” or “worldly.”

No more :)

The fact was, they hardly thought of me. Although I was so insecure about myself and was seeking what I perceived as their approval, their opinion held a lot of weight. My opinion didn’t seem to hold much weight with them, although I seldom shared my opinions with them… so I don’t have a lot of data to confirm that bias or test that theory.

I just wanted them to like me. So I completely hid the parts of myself I thought they wouldn’t like. I watered down many others.

In some ways, I hid mostly from myself.

A lot of the shame I felt, came from me shaming myself. Where did I learn to shame myself?

I’ll have to do some thinking about that.

Anyway, I’d been in Germany for three months already without a peep from any of them, when one afternoon I received a piece of mail from one of my Christian friends back home.

I was so excited! Mail at my cool new German university dorm… from home in Florida!

But when I opened it, it wasn’t what I hoped it would be. I guess I didn’t hope for anything in particular, though. I was just surprised.

Caught off guard in a way.

Because it was a “cookie cutter” letter… that had been sent to dozens of other people… from my Christian/college classmate friend… who was asking for a donation to her planned 3-month long mission trip to the “10-40” window, which was this so-called very dangerous area for Christian missionaries, but that’s also what made it a VERY important place to evangelize.

You know, because there are so many unreached people groups.

It was all very serious, you see.

Since, after all, if these people didn’t believe in Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, they might be cast into the lake of fire and would never get to be with God in Heaven after they die … and it would be your fault, kinda.

But really it was their choice, because of their sin of unbelief in Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, since he died for them as a sacrifice to himself to cleanse their sins with his blood.

And they never sought him out.

How would they know Jesus died for their sins if you don’t go out and tell them?

All very, very serious!!

Truth be told? I was miffed at receiving that “give me money” letter from my missionary-minded friend from UCF/church back home in Florida.

Absolutely miffed.

I was telling myself a story, making myself a victim.

I knew she knew that I “had” money. I wasn’t rich, but it was true that I had gone to college and studied abroad on full and/or partial scholarships and grants, didn’t have any student loan debt (or debt at all), and was able to self-finance a lot of my stay in Germany…

… I was convinced that was why I got that piece of mail. I was a means to an end.

Maybe I was. Who knows?

She didn’t ask how I was, nothin’. We hadn’t talked since before i left. I was there living a totally different life, speaking another language, perceiving a different world entirely and she. was. not. interested.

Instead of realizing that, though, and just ignoring the letter, I guiltily sent her $100.

I felt guilty for only giving her $100 for her trip when I could’ve easily given more. I could have ignored it altogether (and been entirely within my right to do so), but I didn’t want to. Giving her something felt necessary since, well… she knew I had money, after all.

She needed my help.

Jesus needed my help.

Jesus wants to save everyone, but he can only save them if they believe in him. And my friend needs ME to give HER money so she can go tell them about Jesus so they can choose to believe in him before it’s too late and they die and go to hell.

One hundred of my dollars went to that objective.

I was a part of that in the summer of 2008 for my friend who went to that area in North Africa.

(Oh, this feels so good to express :))

Christianity never made sense to me, but I thought I was the problem. It was so easy. Just believe. Then go out and help others become believers to so they can go to Heaven when we die.

What’s Heaven? And what’s this place? Why is it like this? Who was Jesus, what was he actually doing?

What exactly do I need to believe to be saved?

that the blood of Jesus is what saves you? If so, how? What is it about blood that is “saving” you? Who asked for this blood? Who received this payment? Who set the price? What are we paying for? Why does it have a cost? What is the nature of this transaction? Is it love? I thought love kept no record of wrongs?

Church people could never answer those questions, and I took that to mean they were bad questions. “Jesus” was the answer to every question I had, even if it didn’t make sense.

Jesus died on the cross for your sins?

Jesus is knocking at the door of your heart, he wants to be Lord of your life, and all you have to do is

let

him

in.

That’s it. The whole point of life.

And if you don’t “get it” and can’t believe in it (perhaps due to it not making sense and you know this because you thought about it critically), then that’s unfortunate because now God rejects you and you’re choosing to go to hell.

That’s legitimately what people write on my Instagram comments. They believe it is their job to admonish me for the truth I am speaking from my heart. It is incorrect because it doesn’t deify or center Jesus enough for them. If Jesus is not being praised and worshipped first and foremost in your life, if you are not spending hours in prayer and meditation thanking him profusely for paying for your sins, then you are not a Christian and you will not be saved.

If you say you believe it, like many do, just ‘cause they’re afraid of what happens if they don’t, though… it’s ok. You’re still saved.

Maybe. Because after all, God is the final judge. He could decide you didn’t live “for him” enough.

Because God is Love, yes… but he’s still a judge, right?

*****

GOD IS NOT A JUDGE, YOU ARE.

I don’t think “God is a judge” is true anymore.

God doesn’t judge, and I think that’s what makes him God, which is love.

Unconditional acceptance requires non-judgment. Demands it.

I’ve been VERY challenged lately to not judge myself.

We mostly judge ourselves, don’t we?

I had no idea how much I had been judging myself until after a recent therapeutic psilocybin session.

I entered into it mindfully and with several intentions to reconnect with what’s important + cultivate self love and confidence.

It worked!

It was me who had been throttling the flow, the authenticity that was much more present back in my OG blogging days.

Still, I remember how much I held back, even then.

Now, here I am at 39, looking back at a 20-something-year-old’s blog from the mid/late 2000s… which reminds me of the Teen Open Diary account I had, the Xanga, the myspace, the paper journals I’ve kept over the years, the long-form Facebook posts I’d write before my divorce…

I USED TO WRITE A LOT. Even in a held-back kind of way, I wrote.

And I want to write (probably a lot) again.

What was holding me back was me, telling me things about what had to be true about my writing for it to be acceptable.

it had to make sense

be free of typos

BE INTERESTING ENOUGH that people would like it

not be annoying

not be too short or long

not be controversial or offend anyone

But now I just don’t care about offending anyone.

I finally realize that my truest intention here is authenticity. it’s freedom of expression. Uncovering the windows to your soul, your innermost musings that other people need to hear. That’s the nature of our expression. It’s all art when it’s from the heart.

That’s why I don’t care about offending Christians. This is my art — writing — and I’m not seeking “Christian” approval of it anymore.

Looking back, I see how wanting to be a “good Christian” and fit into the mold I thought Jesus wanted me to fit into, by checking all the boxes of “right” doctrine and activity, like mission trips (even if it was just to hand out green beans or meat loaf at the local homeless coalition for an evening) and “quiet time” with the Lord in “his Word” early in the morning before I did anything else… fed into me being even more of a performer and people pleaser than I already was.

I’d already figured out how to keep my parents happy. Never expressing any “negative” emotion whatsoever. And never reacting to their emotions.

(They were always allowed to express themselves fully, but I was not.)

I was scared to tell my mom I wanted to go to youth group.

I was scared to tell her I wanted to go study abroad in Germany.

I was afraid she’d disapprove, even if she technically couldn’t disapprove. I was an adult, after all — and I had the money to do it on my own, and I had a passport. I could do it.

So I did it.

I knew if I didn’t do it, I’d regret it the rest of my life, and I was right.

I WENT TO GERMANY from October 2007 to July 2008. I was also there for 5 weeks in summer of 2007. My minor was German at university, and I spoke it fluently by the end of my time abroad. It was awesome!

My Germany blog had exactly 1 reader most of the time, and it was my mom.

A few times, my friends would leave comments on my Facebook photos, but for the most part I was alone over there. Everyone else’s lives continued without me, just like mine continued without them.

They weren’t even there… yet I still cared greatly what they thought about what I was doing, even though they had no idea what I was doing because I didn’t tell them much about it, and they didn’t read my blog.

Who cares, right?

But I cared… a lot. There was so much to say and share but I censored myself so heavily for fear of criticism.

I have a lot more to say now that I’m 39, married for the second time, openly NON Christian… yet still following Jesus in that I am trying to live my life and speak my truth authentically and non fearfully. I do not give much attention to the government and now openly criticize it (along with Christianity).

It feels so good to say what I’m thinking again, in a way that I used to but better now, since I have more experience now.

I’ve traveled a ton. All through Germany (13 countries total in that time abroad alone).

And my next adventure would start with lots of writing too.

In 2014, I started blogging again!

Proofreading. I taught people how to start proofreading businesses from home.

Pre-AI.

It was awesome. I made a LOT of money between 2014 and 2022, but I lost myself in it in a way.

Because nobody cared about my personal life or my thoughts outside of what would help them in their proofreading endeavors.

I get it. They “paid for a course” and not for all the “other stuff” — like what I was learning traveling South America, building the business that had sold an online course to them, the consumer.

I had nothing else of value to offer these people as long as that’s what they wanted me to give them. I felt like a prisoner to my work in a whole new way.

Basically, I internalized that I was only valuable for what other people could immediately use. ONLY the proofreading side of me was valuable. Everything else was just “junk” or “noise” — but I was afraid of sharing it, too, because I was afraid of rejection. I was still just that little girl who wanted to be liked more than anything.

Liking myself felt wrong somehow. Wouldn’t want it to go to my head, expect too much from myself or actually start believing that I had something to offer people. That’d be weird.

Almost didn’t start my proofreading blog for that exact reason. I didn’t think anyone would want to learn from me and I didn’t think I had anything valuable to offer.

I wonder where that came from.

Growing up, I heard “shut up, Cait” a lot from my fraternal twin sister a lot. Or, “nobody cares, Cait.”

or “You’re so annoying”

That got internalized too.

(I know I said things to her out of sheer ignorance as well, and that maybe she internalized some of those things too. I’d love to talk about it all with her to see what we can learn about each other, but her inner child might not feel safe with me yet and that’s ok!)

If what you were doing wasn’t Jesus-centered, nobody in church actually understood why you’d want to do it, either.

“Why are you going to South America? Is it a mission trip?” it was BIZARRE to people why one would choose to travel. Going “just for the experience of it” seemed frivolous, I guess.

And “just for the experience” — just to see what happens — that’s why I went.

That’s reason enough.

I wanted to go because it was one of those things in life I knew would make me better. Like… there was no way i could do the thing (live abroad in Germany, South America, get the van, make the documentary, etc) AND NOT BECOME BETTER because of it.

What do I mean by better?

Better = more expanded

more patient

more resilient and resourceful

more courageous

more present

and more grateful.

I also knew there was no way I could not do the thing. My inner child, as it were, would not allow that. “No” was not an acceptable answer.

She’d be constantly restless, wondering when we were gonna get to go do something fun and exciting, impatiently poking me over and over, NEVER letting me forget that this thing she really wanted to do was not only possible, but I was the only thing standing in her way of getting to do it.

So I had to give in or I’d ruin her life. My inner teen would experience me as an overprotective parent if I didn’t just relax and let her go do something cool on her own.

Why not let my inner child live out her dream?

What I didn’t expect was that all new experiences do that thing of making us better versions of ourselves. That’s where we get wisdom, is through experience.

Doing the thing you’ve never done before, even if it’s scary, makes us better too.

For me, one of the things I’d never done before was making videos about what does not make sense to me about Christianity, out loud. It was scary at first, but now it feels SO GOOD, like something I can’t not do.

I finally no longer care about what the Christians in my life think about me and my “walk with the Lord.”

It was Christianity I walked away from, not Jesus.

So in making my videos, I removed a “stopper” to my most authentic self.

The stopper, again, was just me. I got out of my own way.

The stopper was my own fears, internalized nonsense from yesteryear, childhood, church times + friend groups that are no longer relevant because the belief I have in myself is what I was searching for all along. It’s what jesus wanted me to find.

(The real Jesus, that is — not the commercialized evangelical one)

Being more accepting and less judging of myself FEELS better too. Imagine that!

Loving yourself is supposed to feel good, yet I am still surprised by the joy of it.

Nothing is wrong, there isn’t another shoe that’s going to drop. I’m back with me and I’ve got me.

The only one I need to impress now is me. The only one to “compete” with now is me.

And I don’t want to compete. I just want to blossom.

(I also want to just stay in bed sometimes, especially on a snowy or rainy day!)

Blossoming starts with removing all the stoppers that, well… stop blossoming.

The fear of “what will they think”

The anxiety of “what will they say?”

The compulsion to care about how you look to others.

And cancel culture!!! (which is a culture of nonacceptance and labeling, othering, excluding. Hypocrisy.)

It feels way better to speak from the heart and say what’s actually going on in my head instead.

Random yet kinda related thought: I think instead of expressing my feelings, I was eating them.

I’m 30 pounds heavier now than I was when my awakening started.

"I’m in my chubby potato era,” as I like to say, and I have no problem removing the stoppers there, but emotional eating is real. We do it for a feeling. We do everything for a feeling.

But there are other ways to feel free and happy than eating — and one of them is writing. Authentic self expression. Describing your surroundings in a way that, in feeling heard by yourself, you also help others feel seen and less alone.

I have a hunch based on many social media comments that people want AND need to hear what I have to say, and I need to say what I’m thinking. So it works out.

A win win. It’s also mega efficient, which I love.

By the way, a lot of my posts will be free, but a good chunk will be paid, too, since there are different (deeper) levels of safety from an emotional standpoint and some things are better said on the other side of a paywall.

But just know that I’m about freedom. Creating freedom starts with setting yourself free, so that’s what these writings are primarily about. Allowing myself and my words to soar and reach whomever they will, observing the ripples they make and enjoying myself along the way.

Until next time

C