Update on Easter
Apr. 7th, 2015 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bleedingangel84So my Easter was...uncomfortable. I am so grateful my cousin's girlfriend's dog was there. He stuck by me almost the whole time we were there. I didn't talk much because I was busy petting him and talking to him.
We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sausages, baked beans and potato salad, none of which are things that I would voluntarily eat because, just...no. There was also some sort of weird broccoli/cauliflower bacon salad-type thing, and Fritos scoops with spinach dip.
For dessert, there was a deconstructed chocolate eclair thing, which was nice, and my sister made peanut-butter lasagna, which was a recipe she found on pinterest. There were cupcakes and banana pudding as well.
I was a good girl and ate the food without moaning, mostly because it was a special occasion. Everything was all well and fine until my mother's siblings came from their church's Easter program. These are people that I'm grateful to see only two to three times a year at most.
My aunt started asking me questions about what I was up to in my life. I managed to navigate those, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, my aunt brought up church. She asked me if I'd gone to church that morning, and I said no. She asked why I hadn't. I said that I just hadn't. She asked me if I was even looking for a church to go to, and I said no, because my experiences with the Christian school that I went to just causes the thought of going to church every week to stir up negative emotions. I said this to her. I did my best not to be rude. I wasn't mean and didn't swear,
even though I REALLY wanted to.
I also said that my relationship with God is personal to me, and that the church isn't just a building, it's people. You'd have thought I was demon-possessed or some shit. My uncle, bless his heart, could tell I was uncomfortable and tried to lighten the situation by saying what I really needed was a man to motivate me to go to church.
I was just...no.
Luckily, about then, my grandmother was ready to go, and I was able to escape their clutches mostly unscathed.
My question is this: Why the hell is what I choose to believe or disbelieve in anyone's business but my own? I don't go around hurting people or killing babies. Why the fuck does it make a difference to them that I don't choose to patronise a building each week? The Creator that I choose to believe in does not care. He/She/They/It/Whomever knows my inside, and I'm not doing shit to please anybody when it makes my soul and heart hurt. I'm sorry, but I won't.
I don't even care what someone else's beliefs are. I haven't voluntarily entered a church since I was about 15. That doesn't make me immoral or lost, even if they seem to think so. I believe in the the freedom to believe or not, as someone chooses. The role of religion and/or spirituality in a person's life has to be an individual chioce, at least to my thinking. I've had enough of having other people's beliefs and ideologies forced down my throat to last several lifetimes, so I don't force what I believe on people. I'm not here for that, and I don't appreciate when they do it to me. It hurts and it just makes me want to scream.
We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sausages, baked beans and potato salad, none of which are things that I would voluntarily eat because, just...no. There was also some sort of weird broccoli/cauliflower bacon salad-type thing, and Fritos scoops with spinach dip.
For dessert, there was a deconstructed chocolate eclair thing, which was nice, and my sister made peanut-butter lasagna, which was a recipe she found on pinterest. There were cupcakes and banana pudding as well.
I was a good girl and ate the food without moaning, mostly because it was a special occasion. Everything was all well and fine until my mother's siblings came from their church's Easter program. These are people that I'm grateful to see only two to three times a year at most.
My aunt started asking me questions about what I was up to in my life. I managed to navigate those, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, my aunt brought up church. She asked me if I'd gone to church that morning, and I said no. She asked why I hadn't. I said that I just hadn't. She asked me if I was even looking for a church to go to, and I said no, because my experiences with the Christian school that I went to just causes the thought of going to church every week to stir up negative emotions. I said this to her. I did my best not to be rude. I wasn't mean and didn't swear,
even though I REALLY wanted to.
I also said that my relationship with God is personal to me, and that the church isn't just a building, it's people. You'd have thought I was demon-possessed or some shit. My uncle, bless his heart, could tell I was uncomfortable and tried to lighten the situation by saying what I really needed was a man to motivate me to go to church.
I was just...no.
Luckily, about then, my grandmother was ready to go, and I was able to escape their clutches mostly unscathed.
My question is this: Why the hell is what I choose to believe or disbelieve in anyone's business but my own? I don't go around hurting people or killing babies. Why the fuck does it make a difference to them that I don't choose to patronise a building each week? The Creator that I choose to believe in does not care. He/She/They/It/Whomever knows my inside, and I'm not doing shit to please anybody when it makes my soul and heart hurt. I'm sorry, but I won't.
I don't even care what someone else's beliefs are. I haven't voluntarily entered a church since I was about 15. That doesn't make me immoral or lost, even if they seem to think so. I believe in the the freedom to believe or not, as someone chooses. The role of religion and/or spirituality in a person's life has to be an individual chioce, at least to my thinking. I've had enough of having other people's beliefs and ideologies forced down my throat to last several lifetimes, so I don't force what I believe on people. I'm not here for that, and I don't appreciate when they do it to me. It hurts and it just makes me want to scream.
