By M. Raffaele ~
I posted a story awhile ago when I was 16 and, to be blunt, it was hurried and fictitious. Not to say that I was not truthful, but rather I, at the time, was in denial of the truth behind my choice to leave my superstitions where they belong. I figured out much later, through years of therapy (I am schizoaffective), the birth of my doubt and the eventual "death" of my faith.
After leaving MHS due to years of mental abuse at the hands of the "powers that be" and disgusted how vulnerable children were systematically conned into a vicious class war, I became a serious cocaine addict living with my mother and grandmother. My mother had progressive MS with early onset dementia, and my drug abuse took the place of my MHS brothers and sisters as my coping mechanisms. For two years, I chose to forget how bad my mom's illness progressed with the help of an eightball and a needle, to varying success.
But, I still prayed.
Even though I called myself an atheist, I still caught myself praying to whomever listened, begging for my mother's illness to wane, if only a little. When I was 18, after a week long binge, I finally "really" saw my mother. She didn't physically look terrible, but she looked confused when I waved.
"Who are you? When did you start living here?" She asked.
Words cannot describe my horror at that moment.
Afterwords, I got clean, dropped out of school to start working taking care of my mother, started my own recording studio, and now, at 22 years of age, have a beautiful girlfriend and daughter.
But why mention all this? Didn't I say all I needed in my last testimonial?
Well, not really. It is true that the indoctrination by MHS and subsequent abuse played a huge part in my crisis of faith, but why did I still continue to pray and hold on?
It was my hope God could save my mother. A mother, who was born normal, had her husband taken away, who treated her son with dignity and respect, and deserved much more...yet withers away slowly, mentally and physically.
It was her who showed me, without a shadow of a doubt, that the existence of a loving god is laughable at best.
Though I think of myself more as a freethinker, I still believe it is the people that have ruined Christianity and made it the sham it is today. Myth or not, Jesus was one to be admired, one who championed the poor, healed the sick and unwanted, and forgiveness of enemies that spelled his demise.
Yet, ironically, this Christ-like quality is what Christians lack most.
"Under no gods, under no masters." Neither of these could save my mother, and they will never have control over me again.
After leaving MHS due to years of mental abuse at the hands of the "powers that be" and disgusted how vulnerable children were systematically conned into a vicious class war, I became a serious cocaine addict living with my mother and grandmother. My mother had progressive MS with early onset dementia, and my drug abuse took the place of my MHS brothers and sisters as my coping mechanisms. For two years, I chose to forget how bad my mom's illness progressed with the help of an eightball and a needle, to varying success.
But, I still prayed.
Even though I called myself an atheist, I still caught myself praying to whomever listened, begging for my mother's illness to wane, if only a little. When I was 18, after a week long binge, I finally "really" saw my mother. She didn't physically look terrible, but she looked confused when I waved.
"Who are you? When did you start living here?" She asked.
Words cannot describe my horror at that moment.
Afterwords, I got clean, dropped out of school to start working taking care of my mother, started my own recording studio, and now, at 22 years of age, have a beautiful girlfriend and daughter.
But why mention all this? Didn't I say all I needed in my last testimonial?
Well, not really. It is true that the indoctrination by MHS and subsequent abuse played a huge part in my crisis of faith, but why did I still continue to pray and hold on?
It was my hope God could save my mother. A mother, who was born normal, had her husband taken away, who treated her son with dignity and respect, and deserved much more...yet withers away slowly, mentally and physically.
It was her who showed me, without a shadow of a doubt, that the existence of a loving god is laughable at best.
Though I think of myself more as a freethinker, I still believe it is the people that have ruined Christianity and made it the sham it is today. Myth or not, Jesus was one to be admired, one who championed the poor, healed the sick and unwanted, and forgiveness of enemies that spelled his demise.
Yet, ironically, this Christ-like quality is what Christians lack most.
"Under no gods, under no masters." Neither of these could save my mother, and they will never have control over me again.
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