The Theologian's Daughter

Religion is like food. But whether you want to use it to feed your neighbour or shove it down their throat is upto you.

Hello! Thank you so much for traveling with me in my journey of the Disentangling my Faith series. Were you able to pause for a bit and introspect on the two questions I posed earlier? Or let me remind you. One was how does an athlete cope when they lose a limb? I’m sure you already remember the second question. Were you able to come up with answers for the same? If so, please take the opportunity to pause and converse with me on the same. 🙂

Before I proceed any further, I would like to remind you that this series is not a prescription to faith but rather a description of my personal journey. I hope you are able to read it keeping the same in mind.

No but seriously, how DOES one cope with the same? Does their identity crumble with them? How do they live with the fact that they can’t go back on the field? Ouch!

4. The Embrace

With everything that was happening around me so quickly and so unexpectedly, I started spiraling into a combination of PTSD along with the identity crisis of my faith. Like I mentioned before, it felt like I was spiraling and spiraling and there was no bottom to it. In the depths of my spiraling, I encountered something unexpected—a space where I could rest, unburdened by the questions that haunted me. I looked straight into it and it looked straight back at me and realized that never in my 21 years of existence could I imagine my life to finally turn out this way. But it did. And I let it embrace me. And I embraced it back. It was atheism, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe.

It was comforting for me because it allowed me to breathe between the painful sessions that caused me to spiral. It numbed me from the otherwise hurting moments. It was comforting for me because I did not have to have an answer for the whys and hows about the questionable lifestyles of so many religious people. Atheism gave me permission to pause—to stop wrestling with answers and simply exist in the unknown. It freed me from the weight of needing to reconcile others’ actions with a deity I struggled to understand. And in that isolation was my solace. It gave me room to heal.

But it also came with the insecurity of still not knowing who I was. Who was Sharon if she was everything else, minus a Christian? (There are tears in my eyes as I answer this)

1. She is still loved: Still capable of experiencing love from members of her family and her close friends.

2. She is still worthy of experiencing joy.

3. She also experiences grief, maybe a little more than usual, but that is okay.

4. She is cherished: My father cuddling me in his arms and kissing me made me realize that love is never earned, love is never deserved, but it is still love.

At the Threshold

I realized I am human and still worthy of human connection. And somewhere along those lines, when I felt I had enough space, I had enough room, I was ready to re-navigate my past beliefs – fully embracing the roller coaster of emotions it would come with.

Click here for Part 5. At the Table.