My Journey?

When I was little, about kindergarten, my mom used to make my sister and I get up and go to church. I would go off to my specific area, them to theirs. All was good. I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it. I was very neutral. However, one day, we stopped going. Abruptly. It's not like we went every other week and slowly stopped, no. We just stopped altogether. Why? I didn't know then, they wouldn't tell me. I figured out about five years ago. My moms had received a letter from the church asking them not to come anymore because they didn't approve of their "lifestyle".

Ever since, whenever I was asked if I believed in God, I would say "Yeah, I think." I mean, how much would I truly understand and retain from my kindergarten self? I guess I just slowly drifted away from the religion.

About two years ago, my mother forced my sister and I into going to church again. It's not a fancy church like the one before. You don't have to dress up or anything. It's very large, easily 100-200 people a service and they have a modern band singing church songs dedicated to God.

I didn't like it. I would dread it the whole week, then the second it was done and over, I would be dreading the next visit. I hated that place. I began back lashing at my mom and saying I didn't like it and I didn't want to go. She didn't care, she said it was her obligation as a mother to make me go to church, because that's what she promised God when she had us.

Now, I wasn't keen to going to some giant building and lay down my life to some dirty deity that I didn't even believe in. I felt the whole thing was completely overrated. I would put up fights and refuse to go. She would hit and smack and drag me by my hair and make me get in the car and often I would be grounded.

To this day, I still go. I don't fight as much but I still dislike it. And guess what? I still don't believe in him.