There’s a fact about me that surprises anyone who’s only known me for the past three or so years. It’s no secret, between social media and old blogs here but fairly new characters are stunned hearing it:
I was raised Catholic and that used to be VERY important to me.
It surprises new people for a number of reasons. I’m VERY sex positive. I’m VERY pro-choice. I’ve gotten more comfortable wearing “revealing” clothing. I’m an astrology nerd who loves a pretty tarot deck.
But the big reason people are shocked is because I’m queer and proudly queer at that.
I’ve openly identified as bisexual since I was about 17. How loud I was about it has varied over time, but it’s always been a part of me. I spent a good amount of middle school thinking I was just gay but my sexuality had to go do that fluid thing. I joke that I’m actually gay with some exceptions or that I’m actually pan but just like the colors of the bi flag better. No matter what, my queerness has become an important part of my identity.
The subject of religious trauma has become relevant lately as Millennials and Gen Z are moving away from organized religion, if not simply identifying as atheist or something similar. I’m having trouble finding the numbers for 2024, but the general consensus (from a Google search attempting to find anything unbiased. I’ve stated a million times that this blog is very informal and that’s that!!) is that about one-third of the demographic is leaving religion behind, and that number keeps growing.
In my case, I’d call my religious trauma “little t trauma.” There wasn’t one big event that took me from the church, but instead it fizzled out when I realized the main driver for my involvement was the sense of community and fear that I would be alone in my life if I left. Looking back on my time, there are a lot of things that have unfortunately stuck with me: Views on sex, views on abortion, views on suicide. And of course, views on the LGBT community. There are things that were said to me about how I lived my life that genuinely pain me to this day.
I’m 28 and realized I was attracted to women when I was 12 and yet the embarrassing fact is that I’ve not dated a woman at all. What’s the driving force in that? The deep-seated Catholic beliefs that I can’t marry a woman. Do I still go to church? No. Does it still matter then? Not at all. But quieting that voice is so difficult.
Pride is a challenge for me every year. I always have a great time, but my head plays through all of the internalized thoughts.
Am I showing too much skin right now? Should I be more demure? What will happen if I try to talk to a woman? Am I wrong for being here?
Now this isn’t to discount any friendships I made through church or the support I received throughout this time. I will forever be grateful for those things I needed at the time and I have SO MUCH love in my heart for those that guided me through difficult times.
I’ve just learned that the after effects have been more harmful than I originally had thought.
Like I said, it touches many aspects of my life but Pride Month brings out this particular struggle. Will I ever quiet that voice? If a woman is who I end up with, am I going to be less than who I would be if I ended up with a man?
As per usual, this sort of turned into a rambling piece but I feel like it’s important to discuss.
The one thing I will carry with me, though, is a good “Tony Tony look around” when I lose something. The saints are cool, okay?
Rose’s Ramblings 