Trauma. If I have learned anything about my scrambled egg brain is that a lot of my mental wrestling matches involve some form of trauma. A close family member recently told me that I was a professional victim that was bringing my entire family down with me. They informed me that I will continue to fail (see my very first post). Fuck. Possibly true? Also, fuck off.
I know it must be excruciating for people to be around those affected by mental fuckery. I get that seeing, hearing and living with someone else that constantly shares their heaviness is just too damn … heavy. Personally, this is very hard for me. I want to be transparent and show my true self. I want to show everyone something good but I want to feel good too; because I don’t and I haven’t for a long time. This has to be one of the hardest, shitty things about my life; I know I’m a drag.
Two decades ago I was starting my “career” inside the walls of a church. Many churches to be exact. With little pay I was ‘living’ for eternal investments which I would later find have shitty returns. Paid ministry was the ultimate qualifier of spiritual ‘wokeness’ to any young evangelical. Only to be quickly followed by the size of your …..pppppppeeeee……..church. I was born into an evangelical christian family and evangelicals have one fucking job: disrupt the world around them in the name of White Jesus. Hate sin and love the sin out of the sinner! All LOVE! Right?!
I bought in as if I had a choice with Mrs. Shimp when I was FIVE YEARS OLD! I couldn’t even wipe my own ass, prepare my own food, or read what I was supposed to believe. But I knew one thing for sure at five years old: I was a total failure. I was broken and needed someone named Jesus to live in my heart who could fix me because I didn’t want to be broken. And if I didn’t decide to make room for Jesus in my heart then I would go far away from mommy and daddy to a scary place called hell. What choice did I have?
It took 20+ years to start thinking for myself. Full Tyler Durden moments. I’d be in a church staff meetings and think …”wait, what the fuck did he just say?”. I started to realize that church is BIG business. Bigger than Alcohol with none of the tax. So I started a website with a friend called stupidchurchpeople.com (SCP). We would write about our disgust with the current state of the church and in its infancy created the podcast. It was a success. It was my outlet and I was still young.
Years passed and our audience grew. We dealt with our trauma from the church in the open for everyone to spectate. It was a breath of fresh air for some and swift kick in the nuts to others. I clung to it as if it was the only thing keeping me breathing. It was. I finally had a new circle of like-minded people. People willing to ask the questions we were told to never ask.
Like most passion projects, SCP eventually dwindled and died. My friend took control and let the site die. It was all dead. My new outlet. My new church. Gone. Years later I was told the site was being ‘nurtured’ when I asked if I could help revive it. Nope.
But I realize something now. Though it helped me through a transitional period of my life, it was just my new ‘stupid’. SCP was needed for me in my life and maybe some others, but it is dead now. It was never the answer or the conclusion. It was only the spark I needed to want to help others deal with their shit. It showed me there are people out there that get me. These people see my hurt. These are my people. My new stupid. 😉
Transparency is hard when trauma hurts more than yourself. Shit is painful and I don’t want to fan any flames. I recognize that I have never been perfect, but I am no victim.
I believe in you.
You are my people. You are my stupid.