I went to a christian funeral last week for an elderly person I used to go to church with and have been processing it for days. I didn’t know the person who passed very well (I mostly went to support their spouse), so I was able to see a christian funeral from outside the lens of personal grief for once and it was also the first one I’ve been to since deconstructing.

I have..so many thoughts.

There was just. So little emotion. So little sadness or grief was expressed. The pastor who led the service spent all of maybe thirty seconds talking about the man who had died, and the rest of the time warning everyone in attendance that they ought to get right with god before their own time came to an end. Repeatedly emphasizing how imperfect and sinful this poor man had apparently known he was deep down, and how wonderful that Jesus had bothered to save him in spite of that.

It felt disrespectful, to be quite honest. It felt so callous and cruel to all of this man’s grieving family and friends, to spend this time meant to be in his honor — a celebration of his life — talking about all his supposed flaws and sins and the inevitability of hell for the unsaved. And god, I know for certain that some of those people there were not christians. I’m not! And I wasn’t even one of the ones grieving. I can’t even imagine the pain of having to sit there through a service like that and be talked down to and chastised and scolded and threatened with never getting to see their loved one again if they don’t “ask god for forgiveness” immediately. All while mourning said loved one.

Just. The whole service! Every song, every anecdote, every prayer and poem, all about their god and their heaven and hell. That poor man was barely an afterthought in his own funeral, and what’s worse is that’s probably exactly how he would have wanted it! I just sat there and kept thinking, How does this help anyone? Who is this comforting?

It’s been a while since I went to a christian funeral as a practicing christian, but I don’t remember the sermons and songs being particularly comforting then either. It’s like every emotion is frozen, unable to be expressed, because you’ve been promised that you’re going to get to see them again. They’re not gone, they’re just with Jesus now, and actually that’s a good thing. That’s the real future you’re supposed to be looking forward to, if you’re a good believer, so there’s no reason to be sad or upset or angry. There’s no point in lingering over the grief. Better to use this great opportunity to save as many other souls as we can while we have a captive audience! ..It sounds ridiculous to me now.

I used to wonder why I never grieved the way people in books or movies seemed to. I thought it must be proof that I was secretly uncaring or broken, when I sat at my grandmother’s funeral and couldn’t shed a single tear despite how much I had loved her. But how many times was I lied to about death? To me, death wasn’t real. It wasn’t something I was allowed to get upset about, at least not for long. It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. And now I wonder how many deaths I have never grieved, how many losses I never processed because it wasn’t safe to do so. And I wonder when I will finally be able to cry without tricking myself into it with sad movies or angsty stories just to release a bit of all that pent-up grief.

The dissonances of all that masked loss and false promises were staggering last week at that funeral. I had felt it before, but never so acutely and with all the context I have now. Christians like to claim that they’ve overcome death, but to me it seems pretty clear that they’re just great at repression.

I just hope that I’m getting better at allowing myself to feel again. It’s a work in progress.

Part of my own healing process has been accepting that there's a lot of things in my past I won't be getting apologies for. Which means that in most situations, it's up to me to decide whether or not I can move on in those relationships without one.

Sometimes I can.

Sometimes I really can't.

So when someone from my evangelical past apologized for how things were between us back then, it really meant a lot. I've recently grown to appreciate how much more emotional awareness we all have about apologies these days, viewing them as something to offer another person because they deserve it—and because we care about them—rather than a transaction to assuage our own guilt. And yes, the recipient might not accept our apology. They might not forgive us. The relationship may remain broken. But acknowledging the way we've hurt someone, taking that first step back toward harmony and wholeness… it matters.

Actually, ex-Christians have earned the right to make fun of Christianity. It comes free with the religious trauma.

Where’s that gift receipt???

Are your glasses a result of unconfessed sin, Deborah? Then neither is my mood disorder ☕

I've got this recurring nightmare where I catch sight of a mirror and decide to creep myself out by levitating. (Look, it's scary in the moment, okay?) So I drew this to rewrite it.

Listened to Ava Max’s Kings & Queens 50000x and this is what came out.

God I love The Good Place. I’m reading Michael Schur’s book How to Be Perfect rn and it’s just as hilarious. Highly recommend.

Me and my little demon <3

"I got guns in my head and they won't go. Spirits in my head and they won't go." (c) The Strumbellas