When I was religious, I was really depressed. Although, for the record, I’ve always been depressed for as long as I can remember. Yes, it’s humbling to talk about this. But, I’m a blogger. We’re confessional, I suppose. Sitting behind the computer makes us think that no one is reading our “diaries” so we put it all out there. Even when it’s TMI.
Okay, aside complete. For now.
Back the story…I was depressed and I’d cry a lot. About life. About my “guilt”, my “sin”, my “inadequacies”, “my lack of self-control” and the list goes on. Because when you’re religious, there’s nothing you can do to be perfect. But the thing is, perfection is a myth. Assuming there’s a way to be “perfect” or a path there assumes that some people with certain types of behavior (or without certain behaviors) are superior to others.
This just isn’t true. We are who we are. And I for one am happy with who I am. When I’m not second guessing myself thanks to religiously induced guilt that will probably haunt me forever.
(Disclaimer: The author is in no way a professional medical or psychiatric patient…er, I mean, expert? Yeah. That sounds correct.)