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Losing my Religion....

  • By girly-d
  • On 24/11/2017
  • 0 comments

My brother and I were raised as Catholics, and so we went to a Catholic school.

Which we hated.

Because unfortunately, Catholics are born with guilty spoons in their mouths. Which is something that you come to realise, just as soon as you are able to comprehend things.

Mainly because you get into trouble a lot.

Pretty much everything we did, thought or acted out from toddler age onwards was deemed to be a sin.

And it was Schools job to re-inforce that and knock the naughtiness out of us.

So it wasn't much fun being a Catholic kid.

If we weren't being caned or having blackboard rubbers thrown at our heads for not paying attention, we were in detention for being naughty.

If we weren't in detention for being naughty we were waiting to go to Confession.

If we weren't in Confession,  we were in church waiting to go to Confession - Ready to tell God just how naughty we had been so that we didn't have to burn in hell.

Depending on which priest you got it was usually ten "Hail Marys" and a promise not to do it again.

Unless the Priest was having an off-day.

In which case it was 10 "Hail Marys" along with Ten "Our Fathers" with a very occasional  go on the Rosary if we had been really bad. At which point it was usually time to go home, lessons learned, and burning in hell averted.

At least for the next 24 hours.

I was a really good kid.

But the Catholics have impossible standards, and so I struggled a bit with the rule book. 

By the time I entered my early teens I had said thousands of Hail Marys. 

By the time I reached Seventeen I'd broken every single commandment. Including murder. (But only if insects count - I'm petrified of insects)

And that's when I decided that I wasn't cut out to be a Catholic.

So I told him.

God I mean.

I told him that I was tired of feeling unworthy all of the time. And that technically I could actually be a priest because I knew every single word of mass off by heart.

Which meant that I wasn't a bad person as bad people aren't supposed to be priests.

And so I asked him if he could cut me a bit of slack if I just muddled through and lived by my own rules for a bit. 

Because I was all  confessioned out.

Half the time I'd had to invent stuff to admit to anyway, as the priest wasn't happy unless you'd done something wrong. Which had to be something different from the last time you confessed anything....otherwise it looked like you weren't learning your lessons.

And so me and my religion parted ways.

Well, me and my catholic religion anyway.

Because I do believe in something.

And that something doesn't make me admit to stuff that I haven't done or make me feel a failure because I'm not a perfect person.

Because it doesn't expect me to be.

The thing that I believe in is cool.

And it seems to believe in me too. And it listened to what I said. About cutting me some slack.

Because I've made mistakes. 

Loads. 

But I'm still here.

And so far, without being Blasphemous, there's not a bonfire in sight.....

anxiety mental health me myself and i

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