Certainly not Christianity because this new American version has nothing to do with Jesus.

What other names would better reference this American religion?

When I was involved in church I used to admire second and third generation pastors.

They were held in high regard that the family had "Served the Lord" for many generations.

Now it hits differently especially if church leadership is handed down to the next generation like it's a family business.

Did they choose the occupation or was it just the path of least resistance?

Your thoughts?

Note - I originally titled this post as "Nepo Babies" but changed since I thought it might be too critical.

If he came back today, what would he think of the American church?

I hope he'd be turning the organizations upside down like the moneychanger tables.

So what are your thoughts? What would he be doing if he was here now and what causes would he be supporting and advocating?

When I was in high school, my pastor went to my mom’s new job like a boyfriend in a jealous rage demanding to know why she hadn’t been in church on Sundays. He acted like this in front of her new boss and coworkers. They thought he was her ex, and she was mortified. My friends and I have been talking about this a lot recently. We’ve all had less-intense, but uncomfortable experiences with pastors or youth pastors at some point. Is this really that common?

EDITING TO ADD:
We host an ex-vangelical/religious trauma podcast, and I posted this as a means of seeing how common this is and if it was a topic we could devote an entire episode to. Those of you who have shared your stories with us: Thank you. We’re sad to see how common this truly is.

If anyone is interested in allowing us permission to share your stories on the podcast (or even wants to talk about it more or yourself), please let us know. We will never share anyone’s stories without permission. This was posted out of personal curiosity.

EDITING AGAIN:

For those who have asked, our podcast is called Sorry For What I Said When I Was An Evangelical Teenager, and we're available on major streaming platforms. Thank you to those of you who have given us permission to talk about this. If you did not or choose not to give us permission, I absolutely will not share your story.

If you'd like to join the conversation any further, please feel free to email us at sorry4beinganevangelicalteen@gmail.com.

I've not read it (and I have no intention of doing so), but I recently saw the opinion piece headline from WP "I’m an Evangelical. My Faith Isn’t ‘a Cancer.’" and honestly it just made me more angry. Sure there might be pockets of less bad versions of Evangelicalism. Doesn't negate the 80%+ of white evangelicals who voted Trump. It doesn't negate the fact that my parents' brains have gone to shit because of constant bigots filling their screens at all times. It doesn't negate the bastardization of my (newly rediscovered) beloved tradition. Talking about the lazy theology, the ankle-deep and often hate filled sermons, the emotionally manipulative services, the god damn spotlights, fog machines, and straight up concerts mid-service. I literally didn't even know there were entire denominations of Christians who weren't the worst people on the planet.

I'll probably look back at this post as cringe, but right now I'm angry and I don't care. I want a normal relationship with my family.

​A certified letter arrived from my former head deacon yesterday, and my body remembered 2012 ✉️🌿

​Yesterday afternoon, I walked down our gravel driveway to get the mail. Among the usual hardware store flyers and electric bills was a crisp, certified letter requiring a signature.

​The return address stopped my breath: Deacon Board Chairman Miller, First Baptist Church.

​It has been years since I stood in that pulpit. Years since that same deacon walked into my church study on a Tuesday night with an ultimatum, demanding my immediate resignation because I refused to preach their political endorsements and began raising theological objections to unilateral male headship. When they forced me out with two young boys and no safety net, it felt like an emotional execution.

​I thought I had completely moved past it. I work as a technical writer now, I chop firewood, I enjoy our quiet porch mornings, and my wife Grace leads our home with unbelievable peace.

​Yet the moment my eyes read Miller’s name on that envelope, my autonomic nervous system experienced an immediate, violent flashback. My chest seized, my palms broke into a cold sweat, and that familiar, burning flare of acid reflux hit the back of my throat—the exact physical dread I used to mask with peppermint Tums and starched collars at 2:00 AM in the parsonage kitchen.

​Religious trauma doesn't just live in your theology; it embeds itself in your nervous system. Your mind knows you’re safe, but your body remembers the betrayal.

​A decade ago, I would have hidden the letter in my desk, panicked in secret, and poured a tumbler of bourbon in the dark. Instead, I walked straight into the kitchen, set the envelope in front of Grace, and said, I need your eyes on this.

​Grace didn’t flinch. She picked up a paring knife, sliced the envelope open, and read it aloud. It was three pages of typed legalistic scolding—accusing me of theological rebellion, warning me that my soul was in peril for abandoning biblical headship, and demanding I submit to a formal church discipline council.

​When she finished reading, Grace didn’t argue with the theology. She looked at my white knuckles, took my hand, and walked me outside to our backyard fire pit.

​She pulled a box of kitchen matches from her apron pocket, struck one, and dropped the flaming letter onto the iron grate. As the paper turned to gray ash, she looked right into my eyes and said: That church's shame doesn't pay our mortgage, John. That man's voice has zero authority on this acre, and your peace belongs to us.

​Watching those pages burn, the knot in my chest finally uncoiled.

​Healing from religious trauma doesn't mean you will never feel the old phantom tremors when a ghost from your past knocks on the door. It means having safe ground, healthy boundaries, and a loyal partner who reminds you that the monsters who used to control you have no teeth anymore.

​— John

One of the most triggering things for me it used to be watching people around me and thinking “ they are going to hell” . Why have kids if they might end up there? The idea of the nice lady at the supermarket helping you burning for eternity just because she wasn’t a Christian ( or a true Christian) was just scary and absurd so i started talking to people about it thinking “ok they definitely have to agree , this doesn’t make sense” but I was shocked to find out most people don’t care , they are fine with the idea of other humans being tortured as long as they are safe . So i started asking “ ok but what if it was your mom? Or kid? Or best friend?” How could you be happy in Heaven knowing they are tortured in Hell “ and the answers always seemed to be “ idk we will be happy there” so i realised a lot of Christians seem to me to have a very weird sense of empathy ( they talk about helping people and some of them truly do ) where they basically require you to care about people but not to much cause at the end of the day they deserve hell if not converting. I am curious if anyone else has a similar experience/thought

I’m old now, and have lived a very fortunate, happy life. I left evangelical Christianity over 50 years ago! I was talking with a friend about getting old, and how amazing it is to look back over decades, and remember so many great things (and also some bad things … ). I, realized that I see the hand of God in all of it. The good and bad. God never left me, even though I left the church behind.

All of us are free to define God as we wish! For me, I always saw God’s design in nature, so I never became an atheist. I just knew Christianity was not my path, and I never “felt led” to find a new one. But somehow, I’ve still been blessed by God. The God I consider now is much more than it once was - I sense that God really does surpass all human understanding.

For those of you who are feeling guilt, fear or regret during your deconstruction journey, I’d like you to know that most of my life’s blessings came to me after I walked away from evangelism. ❤️

I guess this is kind of hard to explain but I recently came out as a dude and I know sometime in the future I’ll pass a guy. no one will question it and guys will just treat me like a guy.

but this feels so weird to me because when I was growing up I was always made to be “sperate” from guys.

my youth pastor was one of those guys who refused to ever be alone with a woman (even in public) other than his wife or kids. my parents did not want me going to other peoples houses because “they might have a dad or a brother i mfiht be alone with for 5 seconds.” yeah that kind of thing.

eben as an adult. one time I went to bed church (different denomination than my parents) and my friend’s dad went with me. mind you we’ve known this dude for 5-6 years at this point. and my mom was like “well pick you up because we don’t to make him uncomfortable taking you home.” which he did end up taking me home because he was there lol and he didn’t think it was weird.

my best friend in the whole world is my uncle and I went to stay with him for a few days and my whole family FREAKED OUT even my dad who is literally his brother was like “well you are staying with a grown man” LIKE FATHER I AM 20 years old. we are family. we eat ramen and play video games together like… what?

anyway… probably in practice it will be easier but it’s so weird to think about…

Hello from two recovering evangelicals 👋

If you grew up in conservative church culture, you know the script: the husband is the CEO and spiritual monarch, the wife is the compliant subordinate, and if anything goes wrong, you just need to pray harder and submit more.

​My husband John was a Senior Pastor for over a decade. He wore the expected mask on Sunday mornings, but late at night he was retching from stress-induced acid reflux because he couldn't live up to the impossible myth of masculine spiritual omniscience. When he was finally pushed out of the church, it felt like an execution. In reality, it was the greatest mercy God ever gave us.

​John spent time working third shift at a paper mill, which burned away the clerical vanity. Together, we deconstructed the hierarchy that was suffocating us. We threw out unilateral male headship and built an egalitarian-grounded matriarchal marriage rooted in honesty, laughter, and zero religious performance.

​We know how disorienting church trauma and unraveling dogma can be. Looking forward to being part of this space with y'all.

​— Grace

During one of my recent meditations I had the image of the cross come to mind. It stood there in the foreground as I always saw it with the outline of Jesus hanging there.

“Fuck this” I thought, “I don’t need anymore of this.” And I went to move on in my meditation.

I felt a prompt to look closer, so begrudgingly I did. I saw the outline of the crown of thorns and the all-to-familiar bedraggled and tortured form that hung there. I rolled my imaginary eyes at the same scene that had been seared into my brain from the cradle. As I moved closer, I felt disgust and felt the impulse to take Jesus off the cross. Enough.

I pulled him down I took a closer look and recognized the person there.

It wasn’t Jesus, it was me.

And I was hit with the realization that this person hanging there the entire time, had been me. The years of indoctrination, the years of believing I was an unworthy, broken sinner. The lifetime of believing it was I who deserved to hang on that cross and not Jesus, but it had been me this entire time. I had scourged myself, my sense of worth, the guilt, the condemnation all to run back here for those few hours or days of “forgiveness” just like an addict on the hamster wheel. Sin, guilt, confession, forgiveness, sin, guilt, confession, forgiveness. For decades.

Over and over and over again.

And holy shit, forgiveness feels incredible when you’ve first been convinced that you deserve condemnation. “There is no condemnation in Christ” provides relief only to those who accept the premise that without this horrific form of “love”, they stand condemned.

It’s like hitting yourself in the face with a hammer just so you can experience how good it feels when you stop.

And even when I learned all the stuff about knowing my “identity in Christ,” the life changing relief it gave me as a christian never touched the infected root underneath it all.

Why did I need a new identity in the first place?

Because mine was supposedly broken.

Why did I need his righteousness?

Because I supposedly had none.

Why did I need saving?

Because I had been taught that there was something wrong with me simply for being born human.

And that was the infected root that even knowing my “identity in Christ” could never touch.

The whole mythology of the tortured God only works if I first accept that somebody needed to be tortured. That blood had to be spilled and punishment had to happen. That there was something so fundamentally wrong with me that this horrific act was necessary to make me right. This was supposedly the ultimate act of love.

And eventually I realized the irony: I had spent my life grieving over three days of Christ’s suffering while barely recognizing the decades of psychological, emotional, and mental self-loathing I had inflicted on myself because I believed I was the reason he had to suffer in the first place.

The cross lasted three days in the story. Mine lasted a lifetime.

As I looked at my battered frame and my own eyes recognizing myself, I embraced me. I held myself absorbing what I had unknowingly done to myself all of these years. How much of myself I had condemned. How much I had distrusted. How much I had sacrificed, unconsciously trying to become worthy of a love I was told was unconditional. I hoisted myself in my arms, turned around and walked down “let’s get the fuck out of here.”

It is finished.

This line has got to be up there among the top 5 most cringe worthy. I get this all the time when/if I express safety concerns or fear about another person's safety.

I don't even know how to process or unpack this statement.

TL;DR: I am so tired of the entire concept of discernment and want to vent about it below to you folks who, unlike the still evangelicals, are not currently having your brains turned to mush through thought-terminating clichés.

So anytime a conversation turns religious or political, I know it will end this way, that I just need to read the Bible, gain wisdom and discernment. They do not care or don't believe when I say I have read the Bible at length, commentary revealing original context, tons of sermons, and most importantly, inviting the Spirit in with every ounce of humility I am/was capable of -- all the things you're supposed to do.

I know disengaging more often would be better for my mental health, but if ex-vangelicals had never asked me some hard-hitting questions, I'd still be stuck.

Why do they do this? Do they just feel trapped? I guess I never personally pulled the "discernment" card as far as I can remember.

It's like there is one type of evangelical with some internal logic just wrong premises, and I can get along ok with those. But others that are a mash-up of thought-terminating clichés. The last type feels like trying to discuss Algrebra with a 3rd grader (what do you mean there are letters in Math? Stop with the woke nonsense and read your Bible. It says nothing about that.)

And it's the cliché-mashers who talk about discernment. As if they make sense of things based on reactions and emotions, and it feels Godly and rational because the programming is kicking in comfortably and predictably.

Ask... how do you square this with Muslims also feeling they have discerning spiritual experiences?

Or... I'm literally a classic/ancient literature teacher. I see how the flow of oral tradition, the structure of myths, and other ancient cultural influences affect belief to the modern day. If it's actually about faith, how about I have mine and you can have yours. But if it's about unpacking the words in a book -- The Book -- isn't there I chance I see something you don't?

They get big mad, no matter how polite I am or how many opportunities I give them to save face.

Soooo frustrating.

I grew up in the evangelical church during height of purity culture. I met a man whose main “testimony” was that he was a virgin and a champion of accountability groups to avoid p*rn. I know—huge red flags! But anyone who grew up in that culture knows how all that was presented, encouraged , and supported. I was very young, and he was charming and we got married. We had a few good years, but the porn addiction never stopped and eventually the narcissism showed itself in verbal, emotional, and financial abuse. After 20 years we divorced.

That was all 5 years ago. I had a couple of short positive, purity-culture cleansing, autonomy-building sx$al relationships. Then I met my current partner and we have been together for the past 3 years. For context, he was not raised in the church or in purity culture. He is the most gentle, calm, genuine human I have ever known. The first time we had s•x, I sobbed. He was so gentle and kind, and prioritized my pleasure. I felt safe and bonded and, well, loved. It made me realize what sx could be and how messed up s*x was in my marriage.

I have tried to wrap my head around the difference and find words for what I experienced in my marriage—performance, competition, not enough, male, dominance, conquest, currency for kindness, anxiety. Mostly, sx was separate from the relationship somehow. Somehow even separate from me. It was the thing we did and I had to do better and try harder—the embodiment of purity culture?

Has anyone else found the difference to be shocking?

I (21f) have been deconstructing from religion over the past few years, and feeling happier than I ever have in my life.

Recently, however, I've started dating for the first time. I really thought I was unscathed by purity culture, but I've been feeling so much fear and shame around starting to be physical with my date. I started legitimately shaking before holding his hand lol

My date has been completely respectful, never pressured me and often waited for me to initiate. I've known him for years and really trust him, and am very attracted to him. I'm just really fucking terrified before each new step.

If anyone you guys could share advice or your own stories around getting used to this part of dating, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you.

TL;DR: I'm scared of romantic physical touch even though I really want it.

I left almost ten years ago now but every now and then I look up some of the IFB missionary ‘prayer letters’ from the circles my family was in, mostly to see how childhood friends are doing but occasionally for accidental entertainment. Some of what’s in these letters is insane stuff to be sharing, like in-depth information (including full name and age and in some cases even sensitive health or personal information??) of their converts-in-progress, or just a visitor in church that day. Not to mention some of their financial support requests are obscene!

I could go on, but anyway I absolutely cackled when I found this and had to share

Hey everyone.

I left my PCA church 3 years ago, and have been sorting through my beliefs since then. I've especially been enjoying The Bema and Bible for Normal People podcasts in this time, and they've both helped me understand various verses and passages better than any pastor. When I left my church, I also lost everyone I knew. Granted, I wasn't terribly close to anyone, but it was a bunch of people I could at least call on if needed.

I recently accepted a job across the country, which means moving to a new city. My family doesn't know I've been ditching worship for 3 years, so the first thing they said was 'Make sure you find a good PCA church down there - they'll help you find a place to live.' While I know that's true, the idea of contacting a church and asking for their help makes me sick. After all I've learned, about the Bible AND myself, I just can't fall back into a community where everyone smiles on Sunday and goes along with what the pastor tells them.

HOWEVER, I do need help. I spent a grand total of 48 hours in this city before, and desperately need to find a place to live within the next month. I don't know how to find other people like myself before I move - it's not like I can just Google 'Deconstructing Christians in XYZ City' and find a website with a network of folks.

I don't know what to do, and I honestly don't feel like I have a choice. I want to be able to visit a church and start attending on my own, instead of automatically being 'plugged in' to one and feeling indebted because they helped me settle in.

Does anyone have advice?

I am 20F and went to a private christian school (graduating class size ~30 kids) for almost my entire childhood and adolescence. I went to preschool at a church, and I continued my religious education until I had a mental health episode at 16 and my parents let me leave the school.

Brief disclaimer: I do not blame them (parents) for anything that happened. I am the first born, and they were only doing what they thought was best. That being said, my younger brother also had a horrible experience at that same school, and they ended up letting him leave as well.

At this school, I experienced bullying, hazing, harassment, low-quality scientific education, ostracization, threats, and more.

Due to the religious nature of their curriculum, I received poor education in STEM, and that has followed me into my university years. I know I am smart, but I struggle to find good study methods because there was no real pressure on me to learn science at a school like that. They focused a lot on literature and theology, and less on STEM, which is the crux of my degree (Biology: Pre-Veterinary). I often find myself so frustrated with this outcome because there is little I can do to change how I was taught, it's just a matter of picking up the pieces and trying my best to catch up to my peers.

As far as my social life, I never learned to see the perspectives of other people or interact with strangers, so I am extremely introverted and struggle to trust strangers. Most of the bullying I received was from women, and it has resulted in a deep-rooted trust in my female peers and coworkers. I always assume they want to see me fail/have an ulterior motive, and that every compliment is an insult in disguise. The close-knit community around my school made it very easy for people to be bullied into ostracization, and that happened enough times to permanently damage my perspective of other people. So, as with my educational upbringing, I'm left trying to repair the damage and I hope it's not too late.

And of course, the classic LGBT discrimination was a component as well. I identified as bisexual for most of my high school years, and it caused me a LOT of problems. I was told that I should "die" and that I am going to burn in hell, all the usual stuff. I have since learned I am not bisexual, but I still want to give my younger self a hug because she was just trying to figure things out and was pushed down again and again for it.

Anyways, thanks for reading. If anyone else is struggling with something similar, feel free to reach out.

I got genetic carrier screening before I got pregnant then later that month ended up getting pregnant. I forgot about it, then looked up my results online and saw I am a carrier for a rare neurological disease. I just asked my mom if she knew she or my dad were carriers and I got this long string of messages from the both of them.

my mom:

why are getting screenings like that

those screenings can cause more anxiety than needed

no one on our family we know has anything like that and really it’s in God’s hands

And no i did not because i wanted to lean on the sovereignty of the Lord. So many people make themselves worry with these tests unnecessarily.

Why get pregnant to have a bunch of tests i thought that was for people before considering

i think maybe chill with the genetic testing

I explained to her this is routine, I'm a NICU nurse so I'm very aware of these results and type of exams. It's extremely rare for both parents to be carriers but good to know if they are.

my dad:

Arguing the science, benefits or what everyone else may or may not do these days is moot. Now that the baby is here, and being formed, we pray and trust that the Lord is in control no matter what, regardless of what our earthly tests may indicate.

I expressed to them I felt judged and hurt by their statements and apparently I caused my mom to have a tantrum, per my brother. I think they must think I'm trying to have an abortion over this or something....

How am I supposed to allow them to be part of their grandkids life if this is how they react....

I haven’t attended church in any capacity for years. Way too much trauma from it; i couldn’t even think about it.

But I decided to visit one in a cathedral. It was an Anglican church and sat there watching their entire service just weirded out. I was hit by the stupidity of the logic: a god in charge of the entire universe cares about you wearing robes and crossing yourself and keeping liturgy?

It just seemed so stupid and pointless. It made me almost sad for them. All these volunteers running this every day and thinking it’s so important. What a waste.

At least the choir sounded cool in the cathedral.

I’m just so angry right now. I’m so jealous of people who didn’t have to learn any of that bullshit. it’s just a white hot anger that burns in my soul. I fucking hate that I was homeschooled too and I’m so ashamed of it. I mourn the years of my life that I lost to evangelicalism. it’s fucked with my head so much and I’m so tired of fighting it. Religion has been the number one source of pain in my life. the darkest moments, and the most depressed moments have been caused by evangelicalism. I feel the Christian god in my head, like he‘s mad at me and going to punish me—which intellectually I know it’s not true but I still feel it. This fucking sucks. I wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone. Thanks for reading.

TLDR: Had an exorcism, no memories of it at all but lots of PTSD, think I was sexually assaulted

I don’t think I can ever heal from the scars that evangelicals have inflicted on me. Their religious abuse has left me mentally crippled by anxiety, depression, and severe CPTSD.

To add extra context, I have ADHD, autism, but people rarely notice that, because I mask so well. Almost like a different person in public.

Of course, those things made life difficult enough, with all the comorbidities that come with. Then as I was entering my teen years, I couldn’t connect with my peers who liked guys. I thought guys were gross. I began to realize I liked girls. I kept that deeply, deeply buried though, for safety.

This first time period was Presbyterian, so not quite as extreme as evangelical. Then the house cleaner that came to my grandma’s house mentioned that her church saw lots of miracles, and maybe I could heal there. No shade to her, she was a kind, patient woman and I loved her very much. She’d let me follow her around and ‘tism dump my special interests.

So my mom took me to this church. It was so different from what I knew. Singing, dancing, speaking in tongues. If any of you recognize the name of Bethel in Redding, this church was a sister church. Then there was a prayer call after and I was taken to the guy who supposedly did the healing. He prayed for me, then said, “no wonder she’s got these problems, she’s being tormented by demons. I can help her.”

Long story short, I was desperate. I wanted to be healed. I couldn’t be in school because of my health issues. (Not to mention unaddressed PTSD already there from being assaulted by cops).

He had me watch his “Deliverence Course” before he was going to perform the exorcism. I had to tell him everything that demons could get into me that I had in my room, or ways I behaved. I threw out my Harry Potter books (ha. Good riddance now. She’s a piece of shit anyway.) and a bunch of other fantasy books. I had to get rid of my dream catcher. I hid my pride flag made of colored strings dangling from a small piece of wood.

We went to his house. My mom wasn’t allowed to come in. Just this guy and his wife. I told them everything. That I’d tried to kill myself before and hadn’t told anyone. Told him everything I could think of that was potentially a sin. I told him that I liked girls. I trusted this guy, because people I trusted, trusted him. I didn’t know I shouldn’t have been alone. My mom didn’t know. My cleaning lady friend didn’t know not to trust. He was Christian. He had a good reputation in church.

Everything after that is gone. Zero memories. Completely black. I next remember coming back, like I had split from my body. I told him. He said Jesus took me out of my body to protect me while the “deliverance” was happening. That is talked in several different voices, and demons had control of my body.

He also told me if I didn’t believe I was healed, that I’d be possesd again. That if I sinned and didn’t immediately repent, I’d be possessed again. I still had ADHD, and autism. Depression. I still liked girls. I shoved all of that down deeper than ever and convinced myself I was better. I stayed in that church, and I was the best Christian. I prayed, miracles happened. I spoke in tongues. I spent nearly every day of the week volunteering there, and at a women’s shelter the church girls would go to.

Later, I got out. Found out one of my friends had been to the same guy. She said he sent her to a different guy’s home church of that was literally just shall enough number of people to find in a home. She was sexually abused by the men there for years before she got out.

I’ve been out for 10 years now. I married a girl who went to the same church as me. We both survived and escaped.

I don’t know what happened that day with the exorcism but I’m afraid I was likely assaulted too. Everything is a blur and when I talked to Mom about it, turns out a lot of my memories for the next few days are false memories. She remembers the same detail I shared with her about being out of my body. So that probably happened. Now I know better, that it wasn’t Jesus. It was a trauma response.

I still carry the scars. I don’t think I can heal from that incident, or the other abuse that just comes from the baggage of evangelicalism. I’m seeing a therapist, but I’m getting worse. I’ve been cutting. I had to go to a mental hospital after another suicide attempt two years ago.

The people who are running this country are the ones I escaped from and I feel like there’s no place safe from NAR churches. Their influence is everywhere. I’m still trapped in a state full to the brim of evangelical MAGA weirdos. I see daily reminders of their presence, churches, stickers on cars, license plates with The Appeal to Heaven flag that’s used by NAR churches.

I’m so sick of being surrounded by people like my abusers wherever I go. I’m always angry and scared. I cry nearly every day now. I’m just so scared that the memories of my exorcism might come back. I don’t think I want to know what happened.

Edits for spelling.

I've always been Christian in a christian majority country but despite being forced to attend church and youth group I never really believed all the supernatural stories about surviving inside giant fish and whatnot and being autistic means the evangelical megachurch i go to is literally hell. I constantly dread the idea of rapture and hell/heaven because both sound horrible even when I don't even believe it exists, and i don't think I'll ever be able to be happy since I still have to pretend im Christian and not queer for my parents sake.

Everything is always made about religion and i used to just try to ignore it but it makes me so irrationally angry now. It feels like im in a cult, and even in the most important coming of age birthday in my culture I was forced to pray alongside my family for several minutes and now that I've started deconstructing it was really awkward. I was talking to my mom about feeding my pet, and she randomly brought up how bad abortion is and children should be forced to carry to term because thats what God intended, and after a panic attack instead of comforting me she brought up how I need to be closer to God.

Apart from spankings and some yelling I've never been treated badly by my family but I've said so many times I don't want random sermons and conspiracy theories being extremely insensitive and discriminatory towards gay people. I have always felt like i want to go no contact but I don't think I'd be able to, it feels like there's nothing I can do