Freedom Can Still Bring Guilt or Shame

In the years that I was gripped in religious fervor, not much of this world mattered to me. Everyone and all they did was forgiven. What I was focused on was obedience to religious mandate.

How I spoke and what I said to my family was affected greatly by this. I was sort of an empty vessel, and spoke and acted not from myself or of myself, but rather what I believed I should say. What would be well received by a deity. I was very goal oriented.

I did myself a disservice.

The worst thing I did in my life was forget myself, misrepresent myself, in the name of religion.

In this life, where everyone wants and needs something, there are going to be times where you have to push away what you don’t want and ask for what you do desire. Not for any greater purpose, but because such actions would help you to create a greater happiness for yourself. By allowing the self such indulgences, you can feed the soul, strengthening it.

This helps a person to grow, to survive. We are born to manipulate our environments, it is a curse we cannot escape. We are dissatisfied with this color, that texture, this tone, that attitude. We want it more the way we want it. This never ends. It is a part of being human.

I have an awful habit of knowing what I want and discounting it. It is a definite habit in all aspects of my life. Born of a religious life or a life of doing without, I do not know. It does not much matter.

If I want embroidered towels, I should buy them when I find them in a price and color that I prefer. If I don’t like something my family does, I ought to say something. Hell does not await me if I speak up, and poverty will not overtake me if I brighten up the house with color.

I am not proud of being either person, not the one who was perfectly obedient nor the one who is appropriately disrespectful. But I should be proud of having an emotional conversation, nay, confrontation. Because I have been so passive for so long.

Whether it is PTSD or years of repressed emotion or my internal mother bear doesn’t matter. I should be able to speak what I feel. Most people do, don’t they? There is no value in being that person who never offends anyone. No one will reward me for it. Being a goody goody is actually embarrassing. Other people are crabby. Why not me?

I don’t know where recovery will take me. I do know I am free, and I hope taking action means I am moving in some sort of positive direction.


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