On Not Trying to Be Good

Listening to: "Sympathy Magic" by Florence + The Machine. 

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I have lived a great many places, both in and outside the US, but I've spent the majority of my professional life between Tennessee and Florida, both of which are primarily Christian states. 

The reason I mention this is because most of my coworkers across different jobs have been Christian, which usually means something positive, but doesn't usually mean I find them very interesting. 

How do I know when my coworkers are Christian? They'll mention upcoming church events, or how they have no time on the weekends because they are at church. Sometimes they will hum hymns under their breath. Sometimes they will strike up conversations with clients about how God is good or how he's getting them through tough times. I'll read lovely god-referencing messages of consolation when I'm signing the office "Sorry for Your Loss" card. Sometimes the women will dress modestly, sometimes they'll give God the credit for things that are going well in their lives. Sometimes I'll hear them ask for others to pray for them or their loved ones. The Christian women I work with are typically pretty feminine and oftentimes they will complain about how incompetent their husbands are...how they have to cook and clean on the weekends, how their husbands will call them to ask what's for dinner. 

I haven't worked with many Christian men in my professional life so I don't have much personal data. The only two men I worked with for an extended amount of time were unusual Christians. One is no longer Christian and we have great conversations about faith and philosophy. One is Catholic and we have also had many excellent discussions on faith, philosophy, and making fun of the stranger sides of religion. 

I was raised Seventh-Day Adventist and when I told my Catholic friend about Adventist cultural beliefs about the Catholic Church being evil, he was initially shocked and then started making jokes. It was so funny and freeing to laugh together about the Catholic Church secretly creating murder bots to set loose specifically on SDA's in the "end times". This isn't specifically an Adventist belief, but it isn't all that different from actual things I've been taught to believe about Catholics. 

Sometimes I end up discovering a coworker is Adventist, and in an attempt to develop rapport, I'll tell her I was raised Adventist. Then she asks if I still go to church and I smile and say, "No, I'm not a Christian anymore." 

She looks me up and down and nods her head with a sage understanding, saying, "I have a daughter like you. She says she doesn't believe in God anymore." 

I say "Oh ok", noting the quiet sadness that's filled her eyes. She shakes her head, lost in thought, then points at me. 

"You say you left, but you'll come back. Take a look at the way you live. Ask yourself why you do half of the things you do, and you'll see. You never really left." 

My heart starts thudding against my ribs. I don't know what to say. Not because I don't know what I think, but because I understand the conversation isn't really about the words she's saying. 

She's looking at me in my cute long skirt with the cherries on it, with my open face and gentle smile and she isn't seeing me. She's seeing her daughter, and she's consoling herself. She doesn't know me or why I do what I do. She doesn't see me on the weekends, or at home. She doesn't know the inside of my head or my heart. 

I am a placeholder. The young, earnest, kindhearted woman who lives conscientiously. The kind of woman who looks like she'd fit right in standing in a pew singing praise songs and offering prayers to a benevolent male god. 

I know that I am not that woman anymore, but I don't want to take away this other woman's opportunity to comfort herself. She thinks she's giving me some good advice, maybe something that will make me think. Something that will bring me back. Something that she hopes people will say to her daughter. 

So I just smile at her again and nod.  

My coworker looks at me and shakes her head again, "I couldn't do it, you know. Life is so hard... if I didn't have God to get me through, I don't know where I would be. My belief grounds me. "

I nod with her, "Yes, faith is a powerful thing."

And her face relaxes, as if she realizes I'm not an enemy. She repeats her earlier statement about examining the reasons why I do what I do. 

I tell her that's a good idea and we part ways. 

The inside of me is a bit raw and sensitive. Part of me is satisfied that the interaction didn't make her upset. But then there's the rest that feels like I've narrowly escaped by letting someone else use me. I wonder if I've betrayed myself. I feel invisible. 

I feel like a survivor. 

I validated her faith and positioned myself as an ally even though she didn't try to understand me. 

I let her use me as a proxy for her daughter and showed her respect even though she didn't respect me. 

Truth is, when I'm at work, I probably don't look or act all that different from a standard Christian woman. 

I often wear long dresses and skirts. I don't dress immodestly, I don't wear heavy makeup, and I have a gentle voice. I decorate my office to look pretty and inviting and I treat people with unflinching kindness. 

I probably do look and act like a Christian woman. 

But I'm not. I don't seek the comfort of God when I'm going through hard times. I don't credit God with my successes. I don't use the Bible or other religious texts to inform my behavior or lifestyle. I don't sing hymns under my breath or pray before I go to sleep. 

My coworker's words did make me think. Why do I do what I do? 

I often wear dresses and loose skirts because my body is shaped by decades of trying to hold in my stomach, even when it was concave. I'm trying to learn how to let those holding muscles relax so my diaphragm and fascia can soften - even if that means my belly looks bigger - because it means I'm finally taking full breaths. 

After decades of hearing that it is morally correct to be thin, I am no longer trying to force my body into a shape that it is not. Waistbands and anything that puts pressure on my middle triggers my body back into that holding pattern that I'm trying to unlearn. So right now, dresses are a strategy, and I like them long so I can sit cross-legged or with my knees up. 

I don't wear makeup very often for the same reason I don't shave my legs very often. I shun the idea that I have to present a certain way in order to fit society's gender norms. It's the same reason why I'll go to the gym and work the big weight machines alongside the men. 

I want to be powerful and I don't give a fuck if it makes my body look more bulky or "less feminine". I have a lot of body and a lot of capability, and I'm more interested in pushing my limits than I am in fitting a societal construct. 

But I still wear modest clothes at work because it's professional and also because I work in substance use and mental health. I'm not at work to draw attention to myself; I'm there to make people feel heard, empowered, and seen. At work, I balance approachability and personal safety, which often means I'm purposely avoiding the male gaze. It's not about pleasing god or being a good witness. 

I am kind and gentle with people not because I'm sharing the love of Jesus but because I understand how much suffering they have endured. My clients are adults, but in their eyes I see the souls of the children they once were, the innocence they've lost, the pain and loss they were forced to hold alone. I am gentle and soft because I know how fragility hides behind rigidity, how pain bubbles like lava under the crust of addiction. I treat people with respect because I see how hard they have fought to survive, the shapes they've had to adapt to make it through impossible situations. 

I am loving because I don't know what happens after death. 

I choose to be good to creatures because I don't know if there is a god. 

I give my empathy to the disheveled, unkempt, and disoriented because they deserve it. 

I give myself grace because I am just a human. 

I forgive and seek peace because life is short and I do not want to lose any time or life force carrying darkness that does not serve a purpose. 

And I do carry a lot of darkness. It's the flip side of sensitivity and empathy and hearing constant stories of abuse, oppression, broken systems, lack of access, trafficking, and violence. 

But instead of letting the darkness harden me or force me to seek relief from above, I reach inside myself. I open to the suffering, the existential questions, the pain, and I find that I also have room for greater joy, love, and meaning. 

I have never truly felt the guiding hand of god, but I have felt a powerful warmth when I intertwine my fingers and remember how it feels to be alive. How I love the taste of good food, the satin of my dog's ears, and the encompassing strength of my husband's arms. 

The thrill of losing myself in a fantasy book, the ecstasy that curves my lips when I'm listening to a song and the beat drops, the glory of the sun shining veridian through leaves - It's all religion to me. Connecting to the things that make me feel alive. 

And this is why I don't shun religion, hate god, or try to argue with well-meaning people when they say I'll be back to the church. I know that religion and faith are incredibly grounding and meaningful for people and I will always respect the good that religious institutions do for individuals and larger systems. 

I just wish people saw me and the fullness and strength I have without trying to attribute it to a god or a system that I've purposely left behind. I am the way I am in spite of where I've come from. 

But I'm going to keep softening, giving grace, standing up for what I care about, and showing love, even if others misattribute it. Because ultimately, life, existence, and consciousness is a magical mystery and I just want to make the most of it, no matter what state of being I'm in.