A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Seminary...

When I was 4 years old, my father had his first of many, many heart attacks which resulted in my family becoming very invested in our church. I was taught to have blind faith and, that God was the answer to every problem; that everything in life was pre-ordained to happen the way it does; that everyone has a purpose, and especially to never air our “dirty laundry” in public.

So, as a child of incest, sexual abuse by a friend of the family, and whose father was constantly having heart attack after heart attack after heart attack, all I knew was chaos, insecurity and never feeling safe. I was taught to never show my feelings, especially anger, around my father, because it would cause him to have yet another heart attack.

My world consisted of staying outside as much as I could. We lived out in the country, raised horses and had a huge garden. My favorite place on earth was sitting in an old car that had no tires, no doors, no back seat; yet it took me everywhere a young girl would ever want to go. I went to outer space, other countries, wherever my imagination would take me, and I was still always able to get home for dinner! But, I was almost always alone, but always safe in my magic car. And I could feel anything I wanted to feel. I could be sad, or angry, or happy…whatever. It was wonderful.
But, at age 14 my father died. We had moved into town, but we still stayed involved in our church. I was always desperately looking for safety and security, and all I ever found was empty space, empty promises, and lack of acceptance. I remember when I completed confirmation class they gave me my very own Bible; I thought this was my safety…so, I wrote in pencil on the inside cover (which was black), “Inside you will find all your answers.”. The funny thing is, and I guess very “prophetic”, was because it was pencil on black paper you couldn’t read what I had written!

I finished high school, went to college, and still searched everywhere for acceptance, safety, peace, contentment. No amount of pot, alcohol, food, religion, or anything else filled that vastness of pain and sense of lack that was so deep in my existence. I couldn’t find it in people, places or things, so I just continued to hate myself. I thought I just didn’t pray enough or the right way; that god hated me as much as I did. I just wanted to die….or do whatever to take away the ache so deep in my heart. So, after graduating from college, my first job was as a youth and campus minister in a small church in Oklahoma. My boss, and the pastor of the church, supported my decision to go to seminary, so at the end of the year, I was all set to go off to college….again…still searching for meaning and for me. The thing I knew about seminary was they took you apart and put you back together again. I needed that so much. I couldn’t figure out how to do it for myself. I tried, and failed, and tried, and failed…..time after time.

But my boss said I needed to go to a 2 week seminar on Chemical Dependency, so that I could better assist my parishioners. He had gone the year before, and what I didn’t know was that he knew I had a drinking problem.

I tried to get out of going, but he insisted. So, off I went to learn how to “fix” other people. Little did I know it would be the beginning of “fixing” me. To make a long story short, I met with the facilitator and after a very long discussion, I realized I was an alcoholic, and went to treatment. So began my recovery journey. I finished treatment and went to a halfway house. I started attending AA and going to therapy. I am very fortunate because my home group emphasized the H.O.W. of recovery, and I was exposed to many different people of different beliefs, backgrounds and cultural experiences. I learned that all the things I had be taught about God and religion didn’t have to work for me; that it was not just OK to question everything and develop my own beliefs, it was a sign of recovery to do so. No longer did I have to be what other people said I had to be; I could, and would, be more than I ever could be before recovery. I found that by honestly looking at what was important to me and my recovery; being open-minded, and having the courage to stand up for my inner little girl, as well as my grown-ass woman; and willing to do everything it would take to change the old tapes from wounded people, and allow myself to be free from religion, from god, from anything that limits my spirit.

So, I guess you can say, “A funny thing happened on the way to seminary: I lost the need for god, and found the need for ME.” And nothing is better than that! I am whole and complete within myself. I love me, warts and all. I am not perfect, nor do I strive for perfection. I am a work in progress, ever-changing and challenging the old beliefs from my past. They have no place in my life today. And all I had to give up was other peoples’ pain and senseless beliefs. And be willing to challenge every thought and every belief; to share my pain, joy, sadness, happiness, anger, grief, shame, and every experience with others and let go and grow