I wasn't always like this.

In my early twenties I desperately needed answers to life's myriad dilemmas occurring constantly. It consumed every aspect of my personal life, so I turned to the only resource available; religion. Not having grown enough or seen enough of life outside my own little world it seemed sensible and logical to seek, with a promise that I would find what I was seeking. Problem is, I didn't really know what I was seeking. I've always wanted to be a good person, doing the right thing. Church was supposed to be a safe haven, well, according to the movies I'd seen, like The God Father, as it was my only real glimpse into how the church protected and nourished it's believers. We were forgiven, made whole, and unconditionally loved no matter what. Who doesn't want that? It wasn't long before God, the bible and the church became an addiction and prophesies of the end times by way of a nuclear holocaust became the one thing I feared most on planet earth. I dove in feet first without testing to see how deep the water was and nearly drowned in indoctrination. Looking back with 20/20 hindsight, it wasn't God or religion I was seeking. It was love and acceptance. I wanted and needed understanding. I didn't understand the world around me let alone the world within me. It was a very lonely time then.


There were many days when I would awaken to one goal in mind. My thirst for knowledge was insatiable and the bible was my resource, reading it like a novel from beginning to end. Similar to reading Shakespeare, hardly understanding half of what was written with all the old English, it was easy to be manipulated by the so called elders, clergy, and mouthpieces of the almighty. I was to put my trust in them, they knew what God meant to say.

I was so heavily indoctrinated that others found me to be an annoyance, so much so that my live-in boyfriend locked me out of the house! Problem solved, said the church. I was living in sin and God would have rejected me if it hadn't been for the rebellious boyfriend who was going to hell, a place I feared more than the end of times holocaust. He became a hero in the eyes of the church members... Praise the lord! God could actually turn me into a virgin again! Visions of hot Arabian knights lusting for my virginity danced through my head with passing amusement. Would I be a gift from Allah that kept on giving? (perish the thought)

Every morning the PTL Club filled me with... (honestly?) Curiosity. I found myself feeling guilty for thinking Tammy was a freak and Jim was the biggest bawl baby excuse for a man I'd ever seen. Satan, get thee behind me and send those good Christians your last twenty dollars so God will multiply it three fold! Amen and Amen!  Little did I know the multiplication wasn't meant for me! Their dog lived better than I did.

Less than ten years later, having my fill of hypocrisy laden church life with more questions than answers I married into wealth, more religiosity without going to church, faux morals and family values that only Dick Cheney could equal. It wasn't a bad life, it just wasn't quite so realistic, even if I didn't understand it at the time. My eyes were forced open and I was accused of being idealistic, but I still begged to differ.

It was six years and I was starting to look for an escape route from a marriage that was going sour with major irreconcilable differences. I needed to do something quick.  Being artistic and talented, I sought out a means to incorporate this with an income. Cosmetology was my next choice for things to learn. Since childhood my hands were always in someone's hair, creating styles. It was one of my favorite pass times. In the seventies I'd been a commercial artist, painting road signs, murals on vans and company logos on buildings. It wasn't so glamorous. In fact, it was hard work that didn't satisfy my creative outlet. Cosmetology was a nine month course, easy enough to get through in a breeze while loving every minute. It was half way through the  course during a class practicing perm wraps on mannequins while casually talking with classmates that my views changed drastically in a flash and I walked away from religion and it's dogma forever.

The young man standing next to me chatting up a storm was slender and feminine. He was flamboyant and loved to flaunt it. On cold mornings he came to class in extravagant fur coats and heels. I liked him. He was friendly, humorous and good natured, not to leave out that he was one of the most creative, talented students in the school. He felt comfortable enough to discuss his personal business, his homosexuality and told stories about his relationships. It was always entertaining, but on the day I lost my religion is the day I hurt him terribly without thinking and I will never be able to undo what was done. He was devastated and ran out of the building never to return.

He said, "God made me homosexual. I was born this way"
I blurted, "God doesn't make what he hates."

It was the most ignorant, hurtful statement I've ever made to another human being and I will regret it always. From that day forward, over twenty five years ago,  I vowed to never allow myself to be so brainwashed, so ignorant of another person's feelings for the sake of defending "God". But that's not all there is to it. Since then "seek the truth and you will find it" has been my mantra, and the truth is, the boy was right. I was wrong.