No, my name isn't Maud.

This is not my real name. Why? Because I'm still sorting a lot of things out and I don't necessarily want my family to read these things yet.

When I told them that I no longer believed in god, my mom was convinced that I must be depressed out of my mind. This reaction completely shocked me because I had gone out of my way to list my reasons for no longer believing. I thought that they would be upset, that they would want to argue.

I never anticipated my family assuming that I was mentally ill. They staged an intervention and kept digging, digging, digging for the "real" reason. That was when I realized that, to them, no reason would ever be sufficient. According to their theology, atheists don't really exist. They think they know everyone else's thoughts and feelings better than the owners of those thoughts and feelings themselves.

When I realized that they weren't listening, the lights started coming on in my head. They have never been listening. They've always been sorting everything through their filter. Praying for "hearts to be changed" when people didn't conform to their idea of a good christian life while imagining themselves to be incredibly humble, caring people.

I always knew something wasn't right. Now I have a term for it: emotional abuse.

What is emotional abuse? In short, it's the demeaning of another person's feelings and experience. It's the manipulation of someone else's emotions to fit a mold that another person has decided is most appropriate. It happens when someone tells you how you're supposed to feel and who you're supposed to be. It is not the same as teaching a child the proper way to treat other people. You can read more about it here.

This is my mother in a nutshell. I'm thirty-two-years-old and I'm still afraid of her disapproval. I still hear her in my head every time I make a decision.

You don't want to wear that today, do you?
Don't you want to put some makeup on?
You don't really feel that upset about that.
You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?
Fine. Just do what you want. No one cares about my feelings.

I am finally breaking free from their manipulation and control. One of the ways I am doing that is by finding my voice through this blog. I'm hoping to eventually attach my real name to this, but in the meantime I need the freedom to say things and not be afraid.

So I Left

Once upon a time, I said I would never leave him. We were twined together for all eternity and I couldn't imagine my life without him. My entire family loved him, worshiped him. We were going to change the world together.

There was one problem. He didn't exist.

When I realized that christianity could not be true, my world broke apart. I am the oldest of four and we were all homeschooled, raised to be warriors for Jesus in a damned world. For thirty years, I walked my talk. I evangelized, I led worship, I studied, I prayed constantly.

And it wasn't real.

What do you do when you discover you've based your life on a lie? How do you cope when everyone you know (because your parents made sure you only had "edifying" friendships when you were younger and those habits are hard to break) thinks you are lost when you have finally found your way?

You throw a fucking dance party, that's what you do. You cry really hard and then you move on and then you cry really hard again. You let that pain hit you full force because you are finally living, goddamit, and nobody can take that from you.

You swear a lot because you couldn't before without feeling guilty. Dear nonexistent gods, doesn't "fuck" just sound delicious?

And you read! You can read whatever you want now. You are no longer limited to that non-inspiring inspirational fiction with its nasty fake sheen. No paint-by-number life stories with perfect "come to Jesus" moments for you anymore. No overly simplistic life lessons. You can read erotica! and all of the edgy, morally ambiguous literature you've avoided for so long!

Oh the music. Can't forget the music. No more groveling songs about how wretched you are (unless you're feeling into that sort of thing). No more avoiding certain stations because they play songs with swears. You can listen to whatever the fuck you want.  Whatever-the-fuck.

That low-cut blouse you bought a while back but have felt too guilty to wear? Put that baby on. No, do not put a camisole under it so that you don't cause your "brothers" to stumble. They can control their own goddamn eyes and thoughts. Get yourself a great bra and hold your head high. You're a woman and, oh! you don't have to submit anymore!

Yeah, there was always that part of you that knew the whole patriarchy thing was a load of bullshit. But you trusted and obeyed anyway. Enough of that. You might be late to the feminist party, but you can still join! Just don't burn that brand-new bra. It makes your tits look amazing.

After you've done all these things, you cry some more. You sleep too much. You try pot for the first time. You feel incredibly alone.

So you start this blog.