Faith has to become nothing in order for it to become everything.
When I first “came to Jesus” there was a period of “being on fire for the Lord”. I’d tell everyone about my newfound faith which probably made people feel mad uncomfortable, so sorry. I was enthused and very disciplined in my bible and prayer routines. I’d read the bible every morning before I started the day. I’d make sure I pray in the morning and at night before bed. It’s easy when you have time and energy like I did when I was 24, not yet responsible for anything or anybody but myself. I attended church every week because I loved it and looked forward to it. But then, I got married. And then I had a baby. And when you have a baby, it’s a known fact that you don’t have time to read your bible because you must whip your boob out so that your cute little thing stops crying.
So over time, that Jesus fire died. It always does. It has to. But, because that fire died, the truth surfaced. The truth about my family, about my childhood. The truth about how unhappy I had become and what happened. I had to face the truth about myself.
Enduring the impossibilities of relentless anxiety and severe depression, I got to a point where I felt that I had nothing left, nothing to rely on, nothing that would fix these scary feelings. I’d experience nights where I couldn’t even formulate words for a prayer. I gave up even trying to pray. And when you’re suffering and unhappy and can only speculate why and everything is new and you feel like you’re drowning, you reach a point of no return.
I said ‘fuck it’. Fuck the southern-ass church, fuck the Christians, fuck these bitchy mom groups, and fuck Charleston. Nothing was working. Nothing was making me feel better. I never felt that I fit in… anywhere. I had tried so hard to fit into this new life I chose and it wasn’t working and I was sinking deeper and deeper… and not expressing. Until I did. Until I acknowledged it and confronted it myself. Until I expressed all of this to my husband.
I then took ownership over these long-lived suppressed emotions and opinions. I started claiming pieces of myself back. I am totally open now at the fact that I do not like Charleston, the place I live. But, that’s okay. I don’t like church mom groups, they are totally and completely 100% not for me, they actually grind my gears and make me super uncomfortable. I don’t even really like church in general. I still attend here and there, but my faith is deeper than ever because of my suffering, not because of church. I have some good Christian friends, but lately, I like the ones who are not. Through deep deep suffering and a period of grief, you discover a lot about your relationships. I now know exactly who my ride or die people are. For those reading this, you know exactly who you are. I love you forever and will forever thank you for holding my hand through the hardest year of my life. When you have no energy or time to give to other people, the ones that are left are the ones that love you the most.
My point is, is that we feel like we have to fit in with groups or be friends with people we think we should be friends with. Or love the place we live right now when we actually really don’t. Deep down. And this piece, my journey, has been all about eliminating any “should’s” from my life. For cutting myself a damn break and for taking ownership about who I am, what I like and what I don’t like. For example, I’m a warm-hearted chap who sees right through bullshit and mends with people who love the mountains and have nothing to prove. I’m someone who knows my own bullshit a little too well. I’m not a church person. I like my hippier mom groups who appreciate mother earth and a stripped lifestyle. I believe in the absolute depth and everlasting meaning and love and peace of Jesus Christ. But I will not “preach the gospel” to anyone. Oh, and I don’t think God spends anytime being upset at gay people. Like give me a break? He doesn’t care if you like girls or guys or if you are black, white, purple or brown. He cares about the heart. Period. I also take ownership that part of my torturous depression and anxiety from this past year has been based on a loss that I am still not comfortable sharing with the world. And that’s okay. I honor that.
What faith is is actually a quiet walk. Part of having faith is when you think you’re a piece of shit, but slowly you begin to see you’re actually not and that you’re strong and beautiful and wonderful.
I had to feel that I was nothing in order to see that I was something.
So, in summary, I hope this gives courage to those who are trying and trying and trying, should-ing, should-ing, should-ing with whatever it is in life. That it’s okay to stop. Lay on the couch if you wanna lay on the couch. Don’t go to church if you don’t want to go to church. Have a beer if ya wanna have a beer. Get pist if you wanna get pist. BE YOU. Because if you let yourself feel and do these things without feeling guilty, you’ll see yourself change, your body relaxes. It’s a clue that you’re getting closer to the real and authentic you.
I also hope this gives courage to those who may be low and are confused about who they are. To those who feel they are shit. You’re not. Just wait. Ride through the fearful feelings and keep a seed of hope by your side. Because life is a wild ride. And you will be spit out the other side. I am being spit out as we speak. I and my faith had to become nothing in order for it to become everything. Everything in silence.
XOXO,
Kelly Jett.