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Here's my current situation. I copy-pasted this from my thread A Common Pagan's Crisis of Faith from the Pagan Fluffy Rehabilitation Center.


So yeah. I've been feeling pretty messed up lately. And not because of my head cold.

I've been a pagan for at least the past ten years. I began my pagan path between the typical issue of classmates spouting Bible verses at me, the church I once went to as a child thinking the world was going to end back in 2000, my conflicting issues with the Bible itself, and my best friend and her mom being closet Wiccans that did not come out until her mom got divorced.

When I got into Wicca, I felt so good because everything seemed to click at the time. Whatever anxieties I had were gone, I found an answer that didn't fall on the fire and brimstone that came from living in a small-but-now urbanized town in Alabama. (Which, fun fact, I'm from Alabama.)

I never really got into Christianity that much when I was a kid. I was taught some Christian things in daycare and knew the importance of Christmas, but aside from that, I almost never went to church until I was 8. My parents worked a lot so they never really had the time to take me. When I did finally go to church, it was in one of those youth programs where kids could play and then go to mass. I never really paid attention to the mass part. (But then again, who does when you're a kid?)

My Dad suffered from lymphoma in his throat and had to endure nearly a year's worth of chemo-therapy. My mom is a Baptist and turned to her faith for a bit while he stayed at the hospital with him. Eventually he got better. My Dad was raised Methodist but had not gone back to church until a couple years ago to play in a local church band. He still has his bible though.

Anyway, during my preteens and teens, I went through the usual phases of exploration. But the paganism and Wicca stuff still stuck with me, much to my parents' dismay. But it felt right. So I just kept quiet and avoided the subject of religion as much as possible.

I am not much of a practitioner aside from meditation, prayer, and the occasional tarot spread for friends. My rules of faith still stuck with me though. And by that, I mean "harm none, then do what we will" I still tried to do something special on the sabbats and esbats. But s**t keeps getting in my way. I was in a couple of ceremonies, like a Samhain ceremony, a Yule ceremony, and a group spell that kinda backfired. But things were still good with me. I had friends like me. I had Christian friends that were not all heavy with their religion. And high school seemed like a breeze for the most part.

When I was sixteen, I hooked up with my current boyfriend, who is seven years my senior and a former Satanist. I never got into the dark arts but read up on some stuff for the sake of knowledge. He's currently an aetheist. But despite our differences, we got along pretty good. I rarely had any fights about faith with him. And the few "debates" we had, he was drunk. So. Solution: We don't drink together anymore (or at least not as hard), and we avoid religious talks outside of its significance with death metal. But I still begin to have this sense of nihilism that began to grow. But I've always managed to shove it back with my own thoughts and beliefs.

I'm taking this moment to also bring up the fact that I suffer from anxiety. I would like to think that my anxiety disorders are no different from anyone else I know. But I know very few people who have panic attacks like my sister and me. I'm 99% sure it is a genetic issue because both of my parents have confessed to suffering from it one way or the other. Also, my parents both come from relatives of some form of abuse. My dad was abused by his father. My great-grandmother was prone to beat both my grandmother and my mom when they were young. So anxiety and depression trickles through the old DNA. Abuse does too, but I've managed to find ways of dealing with my anger problems (videogames, art, etc). This is probably nothing new to the average American in this day and age but I cite this for later reference of a cause in my issue.

My mom, dad, and sister have seen doctors and been prescribed medication of all kind for their mental angst. My sister has been on zoloft, prozac, xanax, and colodypins. The same could be said for my parents. I think I'm the only person in my family that has chosen not to treat my s**t with medication for the usual reasons.

1.) I don't have the money for it. I'm currently not insured.
2.) I've seen too many of my friends have their life go to s**t because of drugs. I also don't believe that pills are the solution to every problem in my life.

The downside to this, of course, is that I am prone to panic attacks, thought loops, and other anxiety behavioral patterns if I am not careful. The most common time it hits is near my period, of course, because of hormones. But lately, my levels have been higher than usual.

Weed does not get me high. I've tried. If it's supposed to, I would have to order it from somewhere because we just have ditchweed down here. Meth and meds are normally the drugs of choice down here sadly.

Anyway, here's where my crisis of faith begins to surface.

My best friends, the ones that first got me into my paganist ways, converted to Christianity.

This all started when my friend Theo and her mom Rowan moved to someplace in the sticks after the divorce. Rowan suffers from hardcore back issues that run in her family and was prescribed oxycontin among other things. Also, she was coming off prozac. Among the stress of being a single mom with two kids, both of which, were having issues coping with their father, s**t began to happen. Theo began to hate her father and went through her rebellion phase with me. Theo's younger sister, Rain, was a Daddy's girl and had issues with her mom for separating from dad.

Anyway, long story short, Theo and Rowan suffered from their fair share of drug problems for over five years. Pills, weed, coke, but not meth or heroin. They drew the line on that. Rain stayed clean because we hid the drug stuff from her and made sure she did not know half of what was going on. And she's still clean aside from her coming-of-age teen alcohol and weed moments. All done in a safe environment under our watch of course.

Anyway, s**t got so bad that eventually, Theo's grandparents took her and her sister to live with them while Rowan dealt with her s**t alone. Eventually, because Rowan became homeless, they moved her in with them, thinking that perhaps they could help her too.

Eventually, Rowan does get semi-clean. She takes Theo and Rain with her to Florida where they lived near the beach for a couple of months. Rowan had friends down on an island so they were not completely detached from help. Rowan takes this time to detox off of oxycontin. Eventually, she steps down to lortab and no longer takes OCs. And to this day, she has been oxy-free. She is still clinically diagnosed with fractured disks in her back as well as a fractured ankle she could not receive treatment for. So lortabs had to stay. But I was okay with that because she had a legit medical reason to be on them, which cannot be said to most of my other friends who take pills.

During her withdrawal, Rowan says God spoke to her. I forget what he said. But the usual things you would expect a Christian God to say. "I was always with you. You have this spacial amount of time in the world and you need to do something with your life." Something along the lines of that.

I think we all can guess what happens next. Rowan, Theo, and Rain move back up to Alabama because it was too expensive to live on the island. Rain also still had to finish school. But the main part is that Rowan, my spiritual guide and still trusted advisor on many things, has been whacked with the Jesus stick. She threw away all her spellbooks and replaced them with Joyce Meyer and The Purpose Driven Life. Joyce Meyer half-hour almost every day. And the talking of how the Lord works and how God has helped her life so much even though she still has loads of problems.

Theo eventually seem to become more Christian as well. Rain always was and was possibly the most Christian of the four of us anyway because she was innocent and took on a lot of things from her father, who was a methodist-now-pentecostal.

Now I'm taking this moment to say, I have nothing against Christianity. As long as no one gets all fanatical about it. Yes, I have gone through my times of rebellion and resentment in my years. I have had my spats of semi-blasphemous behavior. So did Theo and Rowan. But I've come to terms on a lot of things and have grown to respect the three power religions in the world. Because they do have much significant value regarding the evolution of our civilization, regardless of what was true and what was not.

But also I still very much look at the Bible and take it in with a lot of grains of salt. A spoonful almost.

And I also felt perfectly fine with being a pagan. Between the Christian drama of my youth and the beliefs I learned to stick with, I was happy with what I got. There were numerous times where I had my spouts of night syndrome, but I'm also have an anxiety disorder and living with an nihilistic aetheist. It's kinda hard not to freak out after a while.

But let me get to my point: As far as Rowan, Theo, and Rain go with their faith, I'm happy for them if it makes their lives better. If it means that Rowan will stay off the hardcore s**t, then let her be Christian. If it means Theo and Rain being better people, I'm happy for them.

But it still stung something fierce when I head Rowan say, "I can't believe how wrong I was about the Bible and the Wicca stuff. I was so wrong."

So...what the ******** does that mean for me?


Eversince then, my anxiety levels have been up. I've been having racing thoughts about my soul and what the ******** will happen to me when I die. The fact I haven't done anything in my life. I wondered what would happen if the Christians were right. What if we were all wrong. All that kind of s**t. It even made me stop writing for a couple of days because for some reason I kept on thinking what kind of person I was for writing of all the violence and what not.

That's when I questioned my thoughts and caught myself in an anxiety attack. The problem, though. Is that I normally use my own comfort thoughts to counteract it. But the fear my hormones induced wouldn't let me me shift out of it. I eventually came out of it somehow. But the after-effect still lingers.


So. There you have it. My story. My problem. But the question is, how do I handle it?

I like my paganist ways because it's my personal connection to my god and goddess outside the doctrines and beliefs of others.

But also, one of the things I think my mom has against me is that she thinks her faith in God was what had helped her with so many things. She said that when Dad was sick, a boatload of people and churches prayed for him. The guilt of it all (on me, I mean).

But also, the whole reason why I averted from Christianity was because of the guilt and fear. Also, what would people think of me if I became Christian? A few people, I'm sure would be happy for me. But I'm pretty sure it would be a dent in people's own pagan faith. Normally, faith should be centered around the security and happiness of one's self. But I'm in my mental shithole because my closest friends that I confided my faith with, did the that very thing.

I don't hate them for their beliefs. I just hate where this s**t puts me.

And here I am, once again. Stuck in a loop.