What I Was Not Prepared For When it Came to Deconstruction

No one ever warned me about this part of my life. With everything I read on the subject, very rarely did the conversation come with a "heads up" on what to expect when you begin to wade through the waters of deconstructing from your past faith.

As a former fundamentalist, I was not prepared for the sheer ability to ask questions. My existence in my community, especially as a female, meant I was silent and constantly fell into line when told to. As a follower my leader dictated the emotions I was to feel and thinking outside of the box was foreign to me. Leaving meant searching for a new identity entirely. I had no clue who I was to be without my fundamentalist past self or without the pastor leading me each week on what I was to believe spiritually.

I wasn't ready to watch friends turn into enemies or hearing past members refer to me as a stranger, instead of the little girl who grew up in their midst for the past fifteen years. I wasn't expecting that some would reach out to share the same gospel I, myself, at one time shared with the lost.

I didn't realize I was going to somehow be the lost.

I wasn't prepared for the pain of being basically shunned and not having who I thought were the closest to me not run after me and pray I would come back. I was not expecting how much that would hurt and how it would wound me so deeply. I was not able to grasp the realization that I was not fight worthy.

No one warned me that sometimes living a life ruled by fear can be almost terrifying when that fear starts to fall away. That feeling calm is nearly unbearable at times after living in what truly felt like prolonged chaos. Many of the emotions felt were nearly impossible to pin point and learning that in some cases their very definitions were misrepresented from the start was beyond confusing.

In Christian Fundamentalism, it's such a black and white mentality and out of it suddenly you not only begin to see gray everywhere, you become it.

For years, and in cases such as mine of having been born into it, you are told what is right and wrong, but walking away meant questioning right and wrong themselves. If one thing could have been falsely depicted, or even was a lie, now you have this constant question mark hovering over your head when it comes to so much. What else could I have been wrong about? What else out there do I not really understand?

Stepping away, I was not expecting to learn what truths I have. The good, the bad, and sometimes even the most controversial things found new meaning for me and new lines were drawn in the sand every time I turned around. I wasn't aware of how deeply those convictions would become and how easily past convictions that once were so strongly held paled in comparison.

I wasn't ready for the emotional rollercoaster with all its highs and lows deconstruction would provide. I never imagined that not only would I find myself questioning my past beliefs but also the people behind them. How once great men of God would fall not only from grace, but also in the basic of human standards. Growing up in IFB, it was common to have our "heroes of the faith." I was not prepared in any way to find that some of those "heroes" had victims and never dreamt that I would have conversations with these survivors of some of the most horrendous things done at the hands of men and women in some cases I had counted as fellow believers, visited their churches, and even grew up with their young people.

It's not easy being a victim of abuse yourself suddenly finding other victims everywhere and result of an environment we were taught was to be godly and for our own good that ended up hurting us the most. There are no words to accurately describe being understood and made to not feel alone, then those feelings being replaced with the grief of why that is. Because more than anything else you never want another to experience those same things and yet, they do.

Hearing the hundreds of hundreds of stories of abuse survivors connected to my Oceania, IFB, was unbearable. I grieved that fact and on most days I still do. I was not prepared for that.

I didn't realize that survivors of these environments, along with abuse, can emotionally and physically experience a kind of "burn out" that can impact their mental health negatively. That having periods of once locked memories can, without warning, find their way to the forefront of your mind and flashbacks of sexual, physical, emotional, verbal and spiritual abuse can occur. I needed to know that in order to be supportive of others it starts with being in tune to your own needs. You cannot pour from an empty cup and on some days you have to recharge your emotional batteries. And that's more than okay. In fact, it's important, along with vital.

I was not ready for the utter frustration to wake up and watch others sleep, remaining numb to the pain of those they're around, especially in their very own groups. It's something that on my worst days also brings anger to the surface stemmed from feeling like that helpless little girl all over again.

Which leads me to the reality that upon leaving I had no idea how to respond to life with grown up emotions that others would use in the world while still feeling like my wounded inner child. In fundamentalism, emotions are stunted and immaturity common even among leaders. I really didn't have role models to look up to in that respect. All this was very new to me and became part of my deconstruction journey.

No one told me that a part of deconstructing from faith is the healing from the bad dogma that was ever present with it. That some things are not really "bad religion" but not a part of religion, period. As a former fundamentalist, it's imperative that I remind myself of that fact. If not for my own spiritual wellbeing, for my humanity.

There are many things that I was not prepared for. Deconstruction, much like life, can be messy. It can have its incredible highs and the lowest of lows. But it also has its moments of hope that show up at the most unexpected times. The key is to hold onto those moments throughout the crazy ride and let your new truths better you as a person. It's like jumping ship and the time to swim is now. On some days, it's just treading water; on others, you're only able to hold your breath, wondering if drowning is somehow the easiest choice, but still your head is above water. Most importantly, keep pushing forward and know that somewhere out there, there's someone else feeling the same way, questioning the very same things, and choosing to follow their doubts to answers. We're all just trying to figure this thing called life out. You're not alone.

And that was one thing I was not prepared for...support. It's out there if ever you need it.♥


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