Growing up in a household with critical Christian parents was like walking on a tightrope every day of my life. On the surface, everything seemed picture-perfect – a loving family, a strong faith, and a community deeply rooted in their beliefs. However, beneath the facade of sweetness and righteousness lay a suffocating atmosphere of judgment and suppression.

My memories of childhood are filled with countless instances of sitting down with my mom, talking about my dreams, my struggles, and my school updates, only to be met with disapproval and condemnation. It wasn’t blatant punishment or harsh discipline; rather, it was a subtle yet potent form of emotional manipulation that left me feeling like I could never truly be myself.

The more I tried to conform to their expectations of what a “good Christian” should be, the more positively they responded and the more lost I felt. If I dared to express a thought or engage in an activity that didn’t align with their narrow definition of righteousness, I was swiftly chastised and made to feel guilty for even entertaining such notions. It would have been so nice for them to just ask me what I meant—perhaps their horizons could grow. But this rarely happened.

As I grew older, I found myself drifting further and further away from my family. The constant pressure to fit into their mold became unbearable, and I began to resent the facade of perfection that they projected to the world. Behind closed doors, they were quick to gossip about me, criticizing my choices and questioning my faith, but deny it to my face. “We’re family! We love you!” they’d say, but they never initiated a conversation or engaged with my social media. It was a form of gaslighting that left me feeling confused and isolated.

Their unapologetic support for causes like Israel and Trump, coupled with their indifference towards the suffering in Gaza, only served to widen the gulf between us. Does God only change about children if they’re in the womb? I don’t understand. While they preached about love and compassion, their actions spoke volumes about their true priorities. It became increasingly clear to me that their version of Christianity was more about maintaining power and control than it was about embodying the teachings of Christ.

When I made the difficult decision to leave my job at a religious nonprofit, any positive words my family had for me dissipated. For years, I had poured my heart and soul into the work, believing wholeheartedly in its mission of spreading love and kindness to those in need. But as time went on, I began to see the cracks in the facade – the subtle manipulation, the judgmental attitudes, the prioritization of religious doctrine over genuine compassion.

Leaving that job was like ripping off a bandage, exposing the raw wounds of disillusionment and betrayal that had been festering beneath the surface for so long. It was a painful but necessary step towards reclaiming my autonomy and finding my voice in a world that had tried so hard to silence it.

Now, as I navigate the uncertain waters of forging my own path, I find solace in the small moments of connection and authenticity that I share with others who have walked similar journeys. I won’t lie to you: I’m extremely lonely. I think about giving up every day. Yet I’m holding on to the sentiment that “This too shall pass.” I may still be searching for my tribe, but I refuse to settle for anything less than a community that embraces me for who I am – flaws and all.

If this resonates with you, take comfort in knowing that you are no longer bound by the chains of conformity, but are free to chart your own course towards a life of authenticity and fulfillment.

-Elizabeth, Ohio, 36.

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