Facing My Deepest Fear

My mother started saying grace as usual. She thanked God for the food and the safe trip and a whole lot of other things that we were actually responsible for. Then it was my father’s turn. He thanked God for most of the same things and asked God for a nice vacation for us in the mountains. My brother took his turn and thanked God for his good fortune in finding a job that he liked so much. Then it was my turn.

"God, I don’t believe you exist. I don’t believe Jesus was your son. If you do exist you’ll have to accept me for who I am. If you can’t do that I will accept your judgment and burn in Hell. Amen."

 And that’s how I came out of the closet as an Atheist. My mother tried to shove me back in.

"Jesus, don’t listen to her. She’s just being stupid."

I felt like I was eight years old again. I never got any respect from my mother. She always treated me like a little kid. I wasn’t going to back down this time.

"Jesus can’t hear me because he’s stone cold dead, mother."

I spoke the last four words slowly and firmly. I was trying to push my mother’s buttons. She loved Jesus more than anyone or anything. He was her personal savior. I knew she’d get angry. I wanted her to.

"Now you listen to me young lady. You will apologize for what you said or you won’t eat tonight."

"Fine!"

I couldn’t believe it. She sent me to my room without any supper. It was no big loss, my mother’s spaghetti was always way undercooked. It just made me so mad that she still treated me like a child. I mean, here I was, 24 years old and still getting sent up to my room. I knew that the one thing I had to accomplish that week was to have her respect me. I wanted to be treated like an adult. She didn’t have to like me or accept my beliefs, she just had to give me respect.

My brother came up to my room after dinner. He brought me a couple of rolls. He’s three years older than me. He’s a great guy but sometimes he can be a real jerk. We used to fight a lot when we were kids. I used to be jealous of him. My mother liked him better than me. He got so many more breaks than I did when we were growing up. He got more love and attention. It was like he could do no wrong. I always got the short end of the stick. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right. But when he saw how I was suffering he started sticking up for me. He got my parents to let me do lots of stuff they never would have if it wasn’t for him. I owed him a lot for that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay him.

We talked for a while. He asked me if I was serious about not believing. I told him that I was. He said it was fine with him but that it would never be fine with my mother. He asked me to go along with what she wanted and not make waves. I was crushed. He wasn’t going to stick up for me this time. I was on my own. I felt so alone.

The next day my mother was pretending that nothing had happened. I played along for a while. I was having second thoughts about coming out. Maybe my brother was right, mother would never accept me as an Atheist. It seemed pointless to even try to get her to see things my way.

We acted like a model family again. We were good at it. We got a lot of practice acting like we all got along fine in public. We are so repressed it’s ridiculous. We all hide so much crap underneath our facades. We harbor anger, frustration, hatred, and lots of bad stuff toward each other. We usually keep it under control. Usually. Every now and then it blows up in our faces. It’s scary when that happens.

That evening we said grace before dinner again. Once again it came around to me. I was going to go along with it like I had all day but for some reason I couldn’t. At the last moment I just blurted out how I felt.

"There is no God."

"What has gotten into you young lady!"

My mother was suddenly very angry. She did all the talking. Always. My father had long ago learned to keep quiet around her. He never liked fighting. He is such a sweet man. He is so kind and considerate of others. The years of living with my mother had taken their toll on him. He seemed resigned to his fate. She told him what to say, do, and
think. Sometimes I hated him for being so weak, but then I never stood up to her either, until now.

"Mother, I am an Atheist. I don’t believe in God."

"Who brainwashed you to think like that?"

"No one did. It’s what I chose to believe."

My mother stood up and just railed on me for what seemed like an hour. She called me a Satanist. She called me a liar. She called me an embarrassment to the family. She went on and on. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I just stared at her. As usual her ranting turned to how badly I was making Jesus suffer. I was a horrible sinner. I was torturing Jesus. I was an evil person. She demanded that I repent right there and then, but I didn’t feel any guilt. I’d taken the power to make me feel that way away from her years ago. I just said what I felt.

"Jesus doesn’t feel any pain because he’s dead, mother."

So I spent another night in my room without any supper. I was starting to think that the whole week would be like this. What a waste. I felt like I had screwed things up between me and my family for good. I cried that night. I wanted things to go back to being like they were before. I hated how things used to be, but this was worse.

The next day I felt better. I ate a big breakfast and a big lunch thinking that I’d end up without supper again. We pretended to be a family. My dad and brother decided to go play golf and I was all alone with my mother for the afternoon. At first I thought she was going to start yelling at me. She had other plans. She was going to convince me that I was wrong.

My mother started out so condescending that it nearly made me sick. I tried hard to stay calm. I didn’t want to lose my head. That would make it easy for her to trap me. We went through all the dumb old arguments, like "Who created the universe?" and  "Atheists have no morals" and that stupid Pascal’s Wager. I was able to answer all those questions thanks to what I’d learned on the internet. Then she talked about how many Christians there were and how they couldn’t all be wrong. I asked her how she could think all those Buddhists and Hindus could be wrong. Then I found out how obscenely racist she was.

"They breed like rabbits. They have no morals. They’ve been tricked by the devil."

I was too surprised to answer. I just stared at her like "Do you really believe that?". Any hopes I had of her being rational about her beliefs were gone. The discussion went nowhere. I was glad when my father and brother finally returned.

That evening my mother said grace and didn’t allow anyone else to say anything. I guess that was for the better. After dinner we all had a discussion about the factuality of the bible. Ick. It was so unfair. Whenever they had a point about something in the bible being true it was more proof that the bible was correct. Whenever I made a point about something in the bible which was obviously made up they just rationalized it away. They said it was either metaphorical or a miracle or just that "things were different" back then. I couldn’t win. When it came time for bed they asked me if I had seen the light yet. I told then that you could take any holy book and explain away all the problems in it. They told me that church bible scholars had studied all the holy books and found that the bible was the most accurate. What a crock! Talk about biased. I was too tired to continue arguing that night. It was all completely pointless.

I was bummed out the next day. It seemed so futile to argue. They had all the answers, no matter how stupid or contrived. I just played along all day. I guess they thought they had me convinced. We didn’t have any discussions that night. I told them I was too tired and went to bed after supper. All that night I brooded about what to say. I couldn’t think of anything that would get me anywhere. I felt like I had totally failed.

Then it hit me. They had me playing their game. I had to prove hundreds of years of Christianity wrong in order to justify my beliefs. Well, there’s no way I can do all that. So I decided to make them play my game. My game is all about fear and need. I try to figure out what people are most afraid of and what they yearn for. That’s why people need religion, to cover up their fears and give them what they need. I dig into people’s fears and needs all the time on the internet, but I had slipped into my old mode around my family. I decided that they had had enough of Ann. Now it was time to give them a taste of Veyanne.

Friday I woke up full of energy and purpose. My mother decided to take me shopping. My brother and father went off to do more guy stuff. I casually brought up the subject of religion. This time I was going to be civil, even friendly. I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere being antagonistic. That’s where I screwed up earlier in the week.

I just started asking my mother questions. I wasn’t trying to catch her or anything, I was just trying to learn more about her. I asked about her relationship with Jesus, what he did for her, when she first started believing in him, things like that. I learned stuff about her I’d never known before. It was kind of weird. She used to tell me all about Jesus when I was growing up. I thought I’d heard it all. Now I was seeing a side of her I never saw before. As she recalled fond memories of Jesus, I could see Joy within her. It was an actual honest Joy, not like the fake happiness she wore sometimes. I can’t remember too many times when I saw her like that. It felt nice just to see her feeling that way. It was nice to see her talking openly about herself. It didn’t last long though. She was back to her old self when we got up to the checkout counter.

I found out she started believing in Jesus when she was a little girl. She remembered being afraid of the dark one night. Her parents were away, so she called out to Jesus for help. Suddenly she felt as though Jesus was there with her. He took her fear away. She thanked him and went to sleep. She told me of other times in her life where she called out to Jesus for help. When he answered he always helped her through whatever she was going through. He didn’t always answer, but she said at those times he was testing her (yeah, right). When she really needed him, Jesus would be there to comfort her, or show her the way, or give her wisdom, or something. She didn’t get too specific. I asked her if Jesus ever talked to her. She said no. I thought I remembered her saying he talked to her a long time ago. I guess she didn’t want me to think she was crazy.

As she told me all these things I had to stop myself from giggling. Jesus was just her childhood imaginary friend. She just forgot to get rid of him when she grew up. I was having this major revelation. All her belief in the bible and God and the church was just rationalization. All that biblical proof stuff meant nothing. Jesus was why she believed anything, and Jesus was all in her head!

I asked her about the things that scared her. I asked if she was afraid of a giant meteor hitting the Earth. No, she said, Jesus would save us. Then I asked if she was afraid of nuclear war. No, Jesus would stop it. Then I asked if she was afraid to die. No, Jesus would be there to take her to Heaven. It didn’t take long to figure out that Jesus was her security blanket. She needed him so much. The reason she talked about him all the time was because she was scared all the time. It was so obvious. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to figure it out.

That evening we had supper. When it was my turn to say grace I just said "thank you" for a whole bunch of stuff. I didn’t say who I was thanking. I really meant my parents and stuff. I guess I kind of copped out but I really wanted to eat that night. Later we were watching the news. My dad saw for the first time how badly the stock market had crashed that week. He looked pretty pale. My mom asked him how their money was doing and he said he didn’t know. She was nervous and upset. I just waited for her to say something about Jesus. It took a little while but she did.

"We’ll just have to hope that Jesus held our stocks up."

 I had to excuse myself to the ladies room. I was doubled over with laughter. I was trying hard to be quiet about it. I just had this image of Jesus as a stock broker telling his clients that he was going to make their stock prices stay high. Talk about insider trading! I had my mother pegged. Jesus was her crutch.

Saturday it rained. We were supposed to go horseback riding but we had to stay in. That was fine with me. I wanted to talk religion some more. I started off the discussion with this innocent sentence…

"Well, I’ve heard what you’ve all had to say, but I still don’t believe in God."

I tricked them. They fell for it. Now the shoe was on the other foot. They had to prove their beliefs to me instead of me having to disprove theirs. Now it was my turn to shoot down their arguments. I surprised myself. I have to thank all the Atheists on the internet whose arguments I used. I felt so confident that I could handle my family’s challenges. It was great. After a while my brother and father stopped arguing. They respected my point of view, but my mother kept on trying. She was getting pretty flustered. I just stayed calm and thought my way through her arguments. I think it was the first time I’d ever managed to do that.

That night we were going to go out to eat. I had packed all my Goth clothes. I thought that I might come out as a Goth as well as an Atheist that weekend. Tonight seemed like a perfect night to dress up. I really didn’t know whether to do it or not. I went back and forth a couple times. Finally I decided to do it. I went all out, black lipstick and everything. I thought about taking my camera with me downstairs to get a picture of my mother seeing my like that for the first time. I could put it up on my website next to my picture. That would’ve been great but I chickened out. All I can do is tell you about it. She was speechless. That’s really rare for her. Her eyes popped out and her mouth dropped open. I even heard her gasp. It was great. After a moment of absolute silence she told me to go up and change.

"You are not leaving this house dressed up like that!"

"Mother, this is how I dress when I go out with my friends."

"We’re not your friends, we’re your family."

That got a laugh out of my brother. Then my mother realized what she had said. She asked my brother what he thought of my clothes. He said he thought I looked cool. He supported me! I could have kissed him. My father came in and my mother grilled him too. He didn’t want to be put on the spot. He just looked at me and looked back at her. She asked him to make me go up and change. He said he was too hungry to wait that long. What a coup! Mother was out voted. To dinner we went.

Mother was so uncomfortable. She was looking around and fidgeting like a little girl. She was so concerned about what others would think about us. That was so silly. We were hundreds of miles away from home. No one we knew would be there. She stared at me, but she looked away whenever I looked back. She was scared to make eye contact with me. It was like a dream come true. During dinner she pulled our server aside and asked him what he thought of me. She really put the pressure on him.

"Doesn’t she look awful all dressed up like that? Doesn’t she look like some Halloween trick-or-treater? Do you agree with me that she looks like a sick young girl?"

He looked at over me. I gave him my best evil seductive grin and flashed him a pair of bedroom eyes. The poor kid was frozen stiff. I felt sorry for him. He was trapped between me and my mother. He just stuttered and left. My mother turned back to me and said…

"See, he’s so nervous because you look like a freak."

"No, he’s so nervous because he wants to do me."

My brother laughed. My father stayed out of it. My mother just sat there simmering. I knew I was going to hear it when we got home.

I was wrong. Mother didn’t say anything that evening. That was kind of scary. We just all went to bed. I was in my room feeling happy when I heard my mother yelling at my father. I remember her doing that a lot when I was growing up. I could tell she was really mad. It made me feel bad. My father didn’t deserve it. It was me she was mad at. It was me she should be yelling at. It wasn’t right that my father had to suffer for something I had done. I knew what I had to do. I had to face my fear. I walked down the hall to the door outside my parents room. I could hear her clearly on the other side. She was letting my father have it. She was blaming him for everything. I thought to myself that this was the moment of truth. I swallowed hard and opened up the door.

It took a while for them to see me. My father noticed first, then my mother. She stopped yelling when she saw me. I was shaking like a leaf. I didn’t know what she was going to do. I was afraid she was going to start yelling at me or worse come over and hit me. There was an eerie silence. I couldn’t speak for a while. I felt like I was beside myself watching myself standing there. I kept telling myself that she was angry because she was afraid. That helped calm me down. I built up my courage and spoke with conviction.

"Don’t yell at him. It’s not his fault. It’s my fault. This was my decision. This was my choice. I take full responsibility for what I’ve done. If you’re going to yell at anyone, yell at me."

More silence. I was so scared. I felt like I was confessing to God himself. I felt like I was telling God that He should send me to Hell because I deserved it. Finally my mother broke the silence.

"Tomorrow you are going to church with us and we are going to have a talk with the reverend. He’s going to set you straight young lady, mark my words."

That was the last thing she said that night. I felt so relieved. I’d faced down my worst fear. I had stood up to my mother. I stopped her from yelling at my father. I felt like I was floating back down the hall. My brain was buzzing. I couldn’t believe what I just did. It all seemed so unreal.

The next day we all went to church. I dressed in church clothes. I didn’t feel like I was faking it anymore. I felt comfortable even though I wasn’t a believer. I watched the service as if I was an anthropologist studying a tribal ceremony. It was all about fear and need. God is the big parent who saves us from all our childish fears. Religion is for people who can’t face their fears. I used to just think that. Now I knew it for sure.

We met with the reverend after the service. Mother explained to him how lost I was and how I needed guidance. She told him that she thought I was a Satanist. She told him how I dressed for dinner last night. She told him that I didn’t believe in God. The reverend assured her that he dealt with "at risk" kids all the time and that he could help me. She kept telling him about all the things I said and did that week. She went on and on. He finally had to tell her to stop and let him talk to me. It was funny seeing my mother all wound up about me. Better still, I realized that I had won. She was admitting that she couldn’t beat me. She needed to have someone else do it. I smiled. For the first time in my life I felt like I was her equal.

The reverend and I sat in the first pew while my family waited outside. He was a nice guy, and friendly too. I could see why kids felt they could talk to him. I was still in Veyanne mode so I started asking him questions about his beliefs. I had an idea of his fears from the sermon. He feared loneliness and isolation. He needed companionship. I dug around a little. It turned out that he was divorced and had two kids he hadn’t seen in years. I could see why he was so lonely. I asked him if he was searching for another wife. He said no. I asked him if he was thinking of starting over. He said he couldn’t. He said he didn’t think he could love that deeply again. I asked him if he thought he would ever get back together with his wife and he said he doubted it. He hoped that he would see his kids again some day. That’s what he wanted the most. It was so sad. I told him that I hoped his children would come and see him when they were older. I told him that he would be a part of their lives again. I reassured him that he had been a good parent and that they would not forget him. We had a wonderful talk. We talked only about him, but that’s what I wanted to do. He had forgotten about why my mother had me talk to him in the first place.

He told my parents that he thought I was a kind and caring person. He said that that was the most important thing and told them not to worry about how I dressed or what I believed. He said I was just "going through a phase" (gag) and I would eventually come around (hurl). He said I wasn’t at all like the "hopeless" kids he sometimes meets. In time he thought I would become a model Christian (sure I will). Well, that seemed to satisfy my family, even my mother. Although she seemed to have some doubts, she kept them to herself.

On the drive home she was content for the most part. We went back to pretending we were a normal family again. But this time I felt we were all a little different. My mother seemed less assertive. My father seemed a little more animated. My brother seemed to think I was pretty cool. I was more self assured.

I know I probably can’t fix all the problems my family has, but I feel I brought a little healing where there had been so much hurt. So who needs God when Atheism can accomplish all that? I certainly don’t.

I had faced my deepest fear and it is gone. I feel free to be me.