Religion and The Big Questions In Life

Ok, taking a break now from whining about my family to explain my beliefs in a higher power.

Quite simply, I have none.

I guess I'm technically an agnostic, since I can't be 100% sure there is no supreme being, but I call myself an atheist since I live my life as if there is no god. Now, I know a lot of people think that atheists have a depressing worldview. I feel the opposite. To me, religious people are depressing and with a little background, you'll see why I think that.

I was born and raised a Lutheran (offshoot of Protestant Christianity). I believed, with the wholeheartedness that only children can muster, the following:

• The Tooth Fairy gave me money for each tooth I lost
• Santa Claus gave me presents every year, except the years my mom didn't have a job.
• There was a monster under my bed with red eyes and black teeth.
• There was a God in the sky who saw all and rewarded me according to my behavior.
• The world would end at any second so I had to constantly be good so I'd go to heaven.

To illustrate the strength of my belief, here's a lengthy anecdote that I'm sure won't bore you in the slightest:

(FLASHBACK)
I was out riding my bike one day and my mother had told me not to go past the end of our block. Naturally, being a child, I figured that if something was forbidden to me, it must be amazing, so I had to go see it. So I set off, on an epic journey, no doubt, to parts unknown. Who knew what wonders lay beyond the confines of the walnut trees that lined my street.

I got four blocks.

Coming to a large dip in the road, I felt my bike pick up speed. I had never gone that fast before. It was like flying. I was too busy enjoying the speed to notice that one of my shoelaces had come untied. It got tangled up in the gears and I was launched from the seat. I flipped over the handlebars, somehow landing on my back instead of my neck. The bicycle, still attached to my shoe, flipped on top of me. It hurt like a motherfucker. Amazingly, I walked away with only a gash on my leg. But that meant I had to limp four blocks back to my house. Four of the longest blocks I've ever walked. I've never been more afraid in my life.

I was already afraid of what how my mother would react. I was still very naive then and it never occurred to me to lie about where I'd had my accident. Instead, I thought that not only did my mother know that I had disobeyed her, but so did God. For four blocks I wept and offered up the most sincere prayer of my life. It wasn't for some toy, or for a loved one to get healed, or for my mom to find a better job. It was a prayer that somehow, God would forgive me for my transgression and wouldn't send me to hell. I rarely slept for the next few nights and when I did I dreamed of hellfire.
(END FLASHBACK)

Looking back, it's easy to dismiss my fears that day as childish. But the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. God might have forgiven me for disobeying my mother, but what about the other sins I had committed? What about the sins I had yet to commit? I began to ask questions. Questions my pastor couldn't answer to my satisfaction.

It was a gradual thing. I didn't think what I was doing was wrong. I was simply using the brain that God gave me. But after years of reading the Bible cover to cover, I began to realize that I would never be fully satisfied with the answers inside. I looked into other religions, but after years my church telling me the reasons why these other religions were wrong, I just wasn't satisfied with any of them. And then it occurred to me that I was looking at this all wrong. Instead of trying to find the right religion, I should have been trying to find out if religion was right at all. So I did some research and I came to a conclusion:

They're all the same. Every last one. Every single religion in the world does one thing and one thing only. It explains the unexplainable. The stories of Enkidu, Krishna and Apollo are ridiculous, but are they really any more ridiculous than the story of Jesus rising from the dead? And there it was. After all those years I suddenly found something that made sense.

When I walked my bike home for those four blocks, I couldn't find comfort in God's forgiveness because it wasn't real. I had to forgive myself. I had to stop seeing the world as something sinful and broken. People aren't sinners. They're people. And if the world has problems, we weren't going to find the solution in heaven. We have to be there for each other because, repeat after me:

There is no Tooth Fairy.
There is no Santa Claus.
There is nothing under the bed but dust bunnies.
There is nothing in the sky but clouds.
The world is gonna be here for a while, so we have to help others. Not for any reward, but because it's the right thing to do.

I've never been happier.

The Cycle

To wrap things up, I'd like to explain my thoughts on my family. And finally, I'd like to examine myself to see how I match up.

I see my grandfather's domineering personality in all 8 of his children. They may not be as upfront about it, but it's there. And it's not completely a bad thing. It gives them drive to be successful and assertive. But it also kind of hurts me to see these people I love tainted by such cruelty. And they're passing it on to their kids. The phrase "my way or the highway" might as well be my family motto.

I personally think it stems from their feelings of helplessness during childhood. Maybe since they were told what to do and how to think for the first 18 years of their life, they built up a defense against other people's point of view. Or maybe it's because it's all they know.

To make things worse, they all want their siblings to use the same parenting style they do. It's maddening to see them have conversations with each other. They all agree and nod and shake their heads at all the right times, but I know for a fact that they'll be bitching about the other siblings parenting style later on. Why can't anyone compromise? It's what drove my uncle and a few of my cousins away. It just might drive me away too.

I can't help but feel alone among them sometimes. I think so differently and I want to be nice and have a good time, but I can't help but cringe sometimes at the things they believe. And the worst part is that it's rubbed off on me. I've caught myself being arrogant and domineering to my friends. I feel like shit afterwards. I love my family so much. They've always been there for me and it kills me to say this, but it's the truth:

I don't want to be like them.

My uncles

Ok, time for my uncles.

1. Oldest, is an absolute control FREAK. This is a running theme in my family. But he had his kids under an iron fist. He even had his step-kids under an iron fist. (This led to his divorce with their mother, sad.) I'm too young to really know his kids that much. But our few interactions aren't really that pleasant. I get the feeling that they don't want anything to do with this family. (Don't know how I feel about that.) I should add that my uncle is currently going through a revival of his faith. It's annoying as all hell, but it gives him comfort, so hey, can't be too bad.
2. Second oldest is the black sheep of the family. Literally. He's dark enough that he gets mistaken for a black guy a lot. I can't imagine what life was like for him under my grandfather's racist regime. He doesn't interact with the rest of the family much, but things are a lot better than before when they weren't on speaking terms. From my personal experience with him, he's something of a player. Dude can talk his way into and out of any situation. (And into and out of women's pants, judging by his track record of girlfriends) He's been nothing but nice to me though. He has one daughter and seemed to take a hands off approach to raising her. She married and moved to Connecticut. She has, by far, the most stable home out of the entire family.
3. This uncle also took a hands off approach to his kids. He's really talkative and excitable. He's also highly emotional. His oldest child is now a father and is trying his damndest to figure out how parenting works. He'll kill to protect his son, which leads me to think that he's already got it figured out. The oldest daughter just graduated from high school and is at community college. She keeps to herself and seems to be doing just fine. The youngest daughter is still in grade school, so I can't really comment on her personality just yet. She's adorable though.
4. This uncle is practically a father figure to me. He's always been there for me (quite literally. He's never lived more than two miles away from me.) However, he also subscribes to the overbearing parenting method. Even though my grandfather died when he was young, my uncle seems to be a nicer version of his dad. He has a three daughters and one son. The two youngest kids are constantly getting into trouble. (mostly due to their deadbeat mother's interference.)

So that's my family. I've left out my mother and my grandmother. Mostly because I live with them and I want to describe them a little more in depth. I'll wrap up this little arc in the next post.

My aunts

Ok, now to get into the way my grandfather affected my family

Let's start with my aunts (in descending order of age):

1. The oldest, I admit, I don't know much about. She's always been away from the "hub" of my family. But I can see how her parents affected her. She raised her daughters with the lightest touch possible. She basically waited on them hand and foot for their entire childhoods. It shows. None of them seem to have much clue what to do in life. Two of them got pregnant in high school. As for my aunt, she has always been heavily involved in church activities for as long as I've known her.
2. The second oldest is my mom. She'll get her own post later.
3. This aunt also took a hands off approach to parenting. It also shows. Her oldest daughter married a French guy and flew off to live with him there. She's not really on speaking terms with my aunt. Her second oldest daughter, after a period in which she got on the bad side of the local law enforcement, got knocked up in high school. (I've always been close to this particular cousin, so don't think I'm passing judgement, I'm just stating facts.) The youngest daughter barely finished high school, and at the second she turned 18, ran away from home to live with a friend. She's got issues too. She's also a lesbian. (Something my highly religious family frowns upon, but wouldn't dare say to her face.) At any given moment, she might be on her way to jail. As for my aunt, she's constantly medicated and I can't help but feel pity for her. All of her children ran off the second they could.
4. The youngest of my aunts has the exact opposite parenting style to the two aunts I've already described. She keeps a tight leash on her daughters at all times. This has had mixed results. Her oldest daughter (you should've figured out by now that I don't have many male cousins) is currently attending a community college. She's a stuck up brat. She's my cousin, I love her, and I will fight for her, but she is a brat. Once again, facts is facts. She has rebelled a little by trying to be a wannabe popular girl, but with her personality, she doesn't really have any close friends. The youngest seems to be on the same road, although she's a lot more conservative and prissy.

So those are my aunts and their families. My uncles will be covered in the next post.

First!!!!

So yeah...

Kind of a stupid way to start off a blog that hopefully no one will read. (I won't go into the psychological ramifications of putting a supposed secret journal of private thought on the internet) But anyways, here it is. My first ever blog posts will consist mainly of me bitching and whining about people who bitch and whine. But since there's a lot of backstory, I'm gonna split them up for easier reading. (Once again, if I don't intend on anyone seeing these, who am I making these easier to read for?)

My grandfather, who I never had the pleasure of meeting, was a violent and cruel person. I have no doubt that he loved his family, and worked his ass off for most of his life to provide for them, but credit where credit is due. From the stories I've heard, he was an asshole of epic proportions. Alcoholism, child abuse, racism, sexism. This guy had it all. As far as I know, he didn't molest any his kids, (more on that later), so I guess he's got that going for him.

I kinda feel bad for slandering the (good?) name of someone who I've only heard anecdotal evidence about, but meh. My point is, he definitely kept his legacy alive in his kids. I won't go as far as to call any of my aunts or uncles assholes, but I can definitely see how they can be mistaken for one. It all stems from the different, yet similar ways they reacted to my grandfather's tyranny. I'll get into that next time.