for a time today i remembered
how i was
looking through a familiar window
impossible to say she was happier
or sadder or more confident or lonely
secure being a relative term
a delicate balance between responsibility and desire
striking each side like a gong
and ringing ringing hollow
deaf to empathy
a kind word lost
a paradox
where the only way to the actual
is through some imagined hope
dropped down quietly
into a large empty space
walk away quickly
i am so tired
i am so tired
(and fears imagined with too much might
chase themselves out of our ears and into broad daylight
where they stand on the other side of the street or the phone or the bed
and look at us with big, unblinking eyes saying
"i'm here. i'm here now. what are you going to do?")
fast, go, now
wake up with that ringing
in your ears
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
here on out
too much/ not enough
broke
n
the ridiculousness of
the idea of
unconditional love
occurred to me today
and
from here on out
home is where
i am
every small violin
strung so tight
heart pounding
words choking
drinking alone in the shower
wash it down
from here on out
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
truth
No robots, just me.
Good luck on your journey. On the road toward truth is a nice place to be.
William
P.S. You are a good writer.
(I just want to remember this for a long time.
People looking out for and encouraging others.
That I'm still on a journey, even if I've settled into disbelief.
Growth growth growth.
There is so much life to live.
There are so many things to write.
So much to capture.
Pictures and words.
Cut to the core.)
Good luck on your journey. On the road toward truth is a nice place to be.
William
P.S. You are a good writer.
(I just want to remember this for a long time.
People looking out for and encouraging others.
That I'm still on a journey, even if I've settled into disbelief.
Growth growth growth.
There is so much life to live.
There are so many things to write.
So much to capture.
Pictures and words.
Cut to the core.)
losing my religion
Dear William Lobdell,
I just finished your novel, Losing My Religion, and I feel compelled to write a brief word of thanks, as I'm sure many readers do. You very concisely captured so many emotions that accompanied my de-conversion as well. I related well to the expression of the comfort and sense of order that embracing faith initially gave to your life. I appreciate your systematic and respectful deconstruction of those ideals through your experience. The last bit that addressed the grieving process, the anger, and also the sense of relief and wonder that comes from finally admitting to your loss of faith were also feelings that I know well, and they were comforting to read.
I was Catholic for the first 25(?) years of my life. I went to a private Catholic school all the way through high school. After only a brief time away from my faith in high school, I embraced it again full force, touring the country with a Catholic group called NET Ministries and finishing my college work at the uber-Catholic Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio. After a tough year teaching with Teach for American in Philadelphia, I moved to California and have been teaching at an all-girls Catholic high school for the last six years.
About four years ago, I found that I was no longer able to believe not only in the Catholic God, but in a God at all.
It was a slow period of realization for me as well. For so long, I guilted myself into believing that it was just the new California free-thinking friends that I had made who had impacted my thinking. During my faith-practicing days, I had developed so many of the personal qualities that I admired most about myself. I attributed them all to God, and felt like the floor was knocked out from under me when the deluge of doubts and unanswered questions and seemingly endless gaps in logic finally were too large to ignore.
Due to financial needs, I have had to remain at my job for the past few years despite my lack of faith. I've found little ways to avoid hypocrisy, but every year when I teach The Crucible, I find myself revisiting my ethical dilemma. "Because it is my name" John Proctor shouts, tearing up the signature that would implicate him in a system of lies and hypocrisy. His deep regard for personal integrity cuts me to the core. I hope someday to be able to be open about my lack of faith.
After building most of my career around Catholic connections, it's daunting to refashion a whole new world of connections. I truly empathize with priests or others invested in the church who have to keep their skepticism and spiritual journeys silent because they've built their whole lives around religious identity. I hope one day I can be free enough in my own choices to help them in some way. I look forward to the day when I am able to cut ties completely and support myself outside of links to the church. I look forward to the day when I can make the blog I've been keeping about my personal qualms and spiritual journey public. I look forward to the day when I can live authentically and share my story more freely.
Your story brought me great comfort. I haven't read a de-conversion story so respectfully told. Thank you for your candidness and courage.
You're a Howard Stern in your own right.
Sincerely,
I just finished your novel, Losing My Religion, and I feel compelled to write a brief word of thanks, as I'm sure many readers do. You very concisely captured so many emotions that accompanied my de-conversion as well. I related well to the expression of the comfort and sense of order that embracing faith initially gave to your life. I appreciate your systematic and respectful deconstruction of those ideals through your experience. The last bit that addressed the grieving process, the anger, and also the sense of relief and wonder that comes from finally admitting to your loss of faith were also feelings that I know well, and they were comforting to read.
I was Catholic for the first 25(?) years of my life. I went to a private Catholic school all the way through high school. After only a brief time away from my faith in high school, I embraced it again full force, touring the country with a Catholic group called NET Ministries and finishing my college work at the uber-Catholic Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio. After a tough year teaching with Teach for American in Philadelphia, I moved to California and have been teaching at an all-girls Catholic high school for the last six years.
About four years ago, I found that I was no longer able to believe not only in the Catholic God, but in a God at all.
It was a slow period of realization for me as well. For so long, I guilted myself into believing that it was just the new California free-thinking friends that I had made who had impacted my thinking. During my faith-practicing days, I had developed so many of the personal qualities that I admired most about myself. I attributed them all to God, and felt like the floor was knocked out from under me when the deluge of doubts and unanswered questions and seemingly endless gaps in logic finally were too large to ignore.
Due to financial needs, I have had to remain at my job for the past few years despite my lack of faith. I've found little ways to avoid hypocrisy, but every year when I teach The Crucible, I find myself revisiting my ethical dilemma. "Because it is my name" John Proctor shouts, tearing up the signature that would implicate him in a system of lies and hypocrisy. His deep regard for personal integrity cuts me to the core. I hope someday to be able to be open about my lack of faith.
After building most of my career around Catholic connections, it's daunting to refashion a whole new world of connections. I truly empathize with priests or others invested in the church who have to keep their skepticism and spiritual journeys silent because they've built their whole lives around religious identity. I hope one day I can be free enough in my own choices to help them in some way. I look forward to the day when I am able to cut ties completely and support myself outside of links to the church. I look forward to the day when I can make the blog I've been keeping about my personal qualms and spiritual journey public. I look forward to the day when I can live authentically and share my story more freely.
Your story brought me great comfort. I haven't read a de-conversion story so respectfully told. Thank you for your candidness and courage.
You're a Howard Stern in your own right.
Sincerely,
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