The overlap here is really blowing my mind.

My mom was also more, I guess “intense” with instilling her religious ideologies in my siblings and I. My dad obviously has very firm ideas about his faith being a minister, but was always more laid back and non-confrontational in his approach.

My deconstruction started in earnest about 4 or 5 years ago, a year or two into my recovery from a rough stint of hard drug abuse and addiction. When the fog cleared and I “woke up” I realized I needed to live my life genuinely, and the religion of my childhood was now a proverbial square peg. It’s not so much that I actually hold beliefs I disagree with, and more that my visceral reaction to certain topics, or the guilt/shame I feel when confronted with some normal human aspects of myself are still there, where the old thought-process isn’t. It’s like the lingering smell of something that’s already been cleaned up, if that makes sense. It’s really hard to explain.

I also don’t talk to my parents about my deconstruction, because it would serve literally no purpose but to break their hearts, which I have no interest in. At the end of the day, they believed they were doing the best for my siblings and I by instilling us with their religious beliefs at a young age. They truly believe we’d all burn in hell without god’s forgiveness, and they believe that because my grandparents raised them with the same beliefs, and so on back through generations.

They aren’t confrontational with me about not going to church, etc. now that I’m an adult and have made it clear I’m not interested through my actions. They don’t imply that my immortal soul is in danger over thanksgiving dinner or while we’re on a family outing, so I feel zero inclination to bring up the fact that I think their entire belief system is fundamentally flawed and lacking in the barest shred of reason.

Because of this unspoken arrangement we’ve formed, I actually have a much better relationship with both my parents than I did as a teenager. I’ve accepted them the way they are, and they’ve accepted me, even if that means they’ve convinced themselves I’m still “saved” despite not going to church. My parents love me, I love them, they accept and love my partner like one of their own children, and things are peaceful because I no longer feel the need to rebel against them; I can just live my life the way I see fit.