Week 4: Tired Thoughts
I’m tired. I just took a 4 hour nap, and I’m still tired. I’ve been tired all week. And, if I’m honest, I really want someone to be tired with or someone to help me bear my tiredness - maybe both. There is a very real part of me this week that wants someone to be invested in life with me and to come alongside me in the work even though I very much know that is not what I actually need at this moment, nor will it be what I want when this moment is over and done. But, in the spirit of this moment of tiredness and in the spirit of honesty here are some of my relatively unfiltered thoughts and quandaries from the week regarding the Church, relationships, purity culture, and singleness:
There are certain types of people that I’m incredibly attracted to. In fact, I’m so attracted to them, they probably think I don’t care for them at all. ‘Cause you see, when I want someone, when I really want them and I think they want me too, my defenses go up. I cling to a rigid control that manifests in withdrawal. I’m terrified of what would happen if I let go. If I engaged. If I actively partook. If I enjoyed it. I am terrified of where it would lead. Because I’ve already gone so far in my mind, I am shaken to my core when I think about these dreams becoming reality. I am fearful of betraying the values that were instilled in a younger me and what that would mean for the current me. And, if I’m honest, there is a part of current me that is scared of hurting the younger me that is still alive and watching every move I make.
This church is haunted with ghosts, and not just the usual kind, the ones of me and you and everything that was and could have been. It’s funny, how churches are like that for me - deeply spiritual places on all fronts. Places where past and “could have been” versions of my life play out repeatedly.
Looking back, the Church was the first place I felt objectified. It’s sad that no one stopped it - if anything they encouraged it. Like Herodias’ daughter sent to dance for Herod, I too was a pawn in a game much larger and more sinister than I understood.
Why does the Church teach so much in absolutes and so little in moderation? We are all hurt by impossible mandates. They breed harm and pain.
Sometimes, you see someone from your past and your world just stops. You feel like you’ve been kicked in the stomach, the breath knocked out of your lungs and caught in your throat. You want to look away, but you just can’t as you wonder: “Why did no one protect me? How did no one catch on? Why weren’t we all taught better?”
Why is preserving the reputation and future of straight, white men so often at the core of Church policy and decision? Why must we all be second to them?
I chose this year, and I still believe in it, but today it is exhausting. It is exhausting watching other people live the life I once believed I was supposed to. The wedding, the kids, the house - I thought that was as good as it was supposed to get for me for so long. And, while that isn’t my dream anymore, there is a part of me that wants to know that I could have it if I wanted it.