Pieces

I think one of the hardest things about coming to terms with Christianity, and in particular, Jesus, is that I have spent the last ten years learning that no one can really save me. I used to think that if I found the right friends or the right man or the right drugs or the right therapy, then they would push the magic button inside me and make me well. It took a long time for me to realize that that's just false. No one knows the answers, so they can't make you well. You have to make yourself well.

And getting well takes a long, long time. I used to be terrified of what people would say if they found out that I took anti-depressants for my anxiety. Now I don't care what people think. I know what I'm like without them--ten times worse. I remember coming home and lying on the floor with my arms spread out, staring at the ceiling because my heart ached too much to get up. I remember crying and lying there as stiff as a board. I remember staying up until three in the morning drinking huge glasses of rum and coke. I remember many things that would not be better now if I had not started taking anti-depressants.

The other thing I've found about my religion (and it makes makes me sad) is that nobody really wants to see or deal with broken people. This is mostly because they think that Jesus is like a sticker to a six year old--a one-stop shot of get well instantaneously. They think that wounds are kind of like skinned knees, not realizing that some wounds were nearly fatal. A lot of Christians want people to come in a box like Barbie. They think that all the pieces should be included, and if you don't have all your pieces, then clearly you are the cousin nobody likes who loses every nice thing she ever got, and no one should play with you. After all, you might lose their pieces, too. You might break them by association.

The truth is that we come broken. We come in pieces, and we have to learn to put ourselves together. Anyone who thinks there is no assembly required on a human life is fooling themselves. We come broken, and time breaks us even more. It teaches us to be hard and strong or it tears us apart. Worse still, all the pieces are sold seperately. We don't even come in one single box. Sometimes there are even extras. A human life is a horrible puzzle to assemble.

I've stopped going to church again. More and more, I find that there's nothing for me there. There's a lot of judgement for the person I am, but the person I am took a lot of breaking and putting back together. And I might be a mess, but at least I am a mess that I can say I came by honestly. At least I can face up to the fact that I am a mess. I'm tired of starting over in new churches, and I'm tired of going there and pretending I feel bad about things that I don't feel bad about. I'm tired of pretending I feel happy about things I don't feel happy about.

I'm in pieces more often than I'm together. That's the way I came. If Someone wanted it to be different, He should have built me that way at the factory.