I’m going to attend tomorrow’s Recovering From Religion meeting. This will be the second one in a row. I want to say that I’m going to support other people who leave their faiths behind, but that’s not entirely it. Going to the meetings, I hear stories from people who had similar bad experiences. It makes me want to minimize my own. The group still doesn’t know all of what happened when I left faith behind.
Instead, I speak about it in general terms. I went through a bad time. It was the lack of a job, not the culmination of years spent walking on the mental equivalent of a broken leg. Denial, as they say, ain’t just a river.
Some of them know I’m getting treated for depression and anxiety. But these people have already told me about their therapy needs. I didn’t initiate any disclosures. Even then, it’s just general depression. I don’t talk about how good I am at kicking my own ass.
This is depression talking, just as when I hear this insistent voice that says I should just give up going. Isolate. Remain alone. Do not be yourself. No one wants to hear about it.
I don’t have a response to any of it. If anything, my hope is that writing about it will help. And really, even if I don’t say anything meaningful, I want to listen to others and let them know they have someone who agrees with them.
In other news, I picked up seeds for an indoor herb garden. I also got some potting soil. According to the seed packets, I should have some fresh herbs in a few months or so. My hope is that it will liven up the kitchen.