.23 The Never-ending War

This evening I tried to put my foot down. I proceeded to get knocked the fuck over and bruised a little bit.

If you’ve been following me for a while (or looked back at previous posts), you know that religious functions/opinions and I generally don’t get one well. I will state again that I don’t have anything against people who follow a religion, those who practice faith, or anyone who goes to a place of worship. What I do have a problem with is when religious practices are shoved in my face or down my throat. If I ask about it, please educate me. Clearly I have things to learn as I was not raised within the church.

My mother has recently (like 2+ years ago) become a follower of Christ. What denomination, I couldn’t tell you. And she has seen positive changes in her person and is wholly happy with her decision to give her life over.

That’s swell. Kudos.

But she has made it her mission to bring the family together under faith. And this is where my problems start. If she wants to be a woman of faith, then by all means I encourage you to do what makes you feel good about yourself and your life. That does not mean I want to be constantly hounded to attend services or worse: be forced to go to service.

I’ve been fighting this war for two years now and I continue to fight even though I’m not winning. I have my reasons for not going, but they are valid enough for her to give me a damn break. I have to be honest that I’m just simply not interested in learning about it. Being forced to go is not going to make me feel as though I need to give my life over and start praying and reading the Bible constantly. If anything, I want to run farther and faster away because I want to make my own choices.

This is part of the reason I didn’t want to come home. I was quite certain she’d continue throwing me under the Jesus bus, and I just didn’t want this hassle. Aside from, you know, having my own space and living my own life.

Regardless of how much I complain now, I’ll still be at church tomorrow morning. I will be unhappy about it, and every single person will know. I won’t say it, but I can guarantee that tomorrow morning will not be a pleasant experience for this family.

Immature much? You’re probably right.


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