The First Goodbye

      A lingering remnant of holding on to my past faith became apparent to me this morning. After arguing with my husband over dirty laundry, I realized I am still trying to be Suzy Homemaker meets Betty Crocker. It was only an argument because I felt guilty for one specific item being in the washing machine. His lunch was packed, the house is clean, but one pair of pants ruined my morning. How could I leave the one thing he needed out of the dryer?
     I then went on to see countless blogs on my facebook wall about "the glories of motherhood," "secrets to a clean home," "the oh so perfect budget," and the list went on. If that is your cup of tea then great. You are a far better woman than I, lets move on. By noon today, sitting in my pajamas doing research for a writing project I felt like a grime spot one of my more womanly friends clean with their miracle cleaners.
     For more than twenty three years my life consisted of church three times a week, multiple positions in the church, Christian rock concerts, and good ol' Bible. About four years ago I went off to my second of two bible colleges. Sitting in a class that was designed to counter arguments against Christianity under the cloak of "Intro to Philosophy" small doubts began to blossom. Then a student organization falsified a chapel meeting where they detailed events concerning a female Muslim who had supposedly been murdered by her family after abducting her from Dayton, OH. "We are at war with Eastasia and always have been" started becoming normal in this Christian circle. This was my second attempt at Christian academia and it was a failure.
    After a traumatic event in my life I thought I might have never been "saved" and gave it a second try. I wanted to wash my soul of what happened since my body was forever ruined. The guilt did not subside. I was dirty. Maybe so dirty God refused to enter in. Maybe God had walked away a long time ago. If he inhabited those around me, surely he did hate me.
    Slowly, my faith evaporated. The songs were comforting. I loved my Sunday school class dearly. Each time I discussed a lack of faith at home I was guilted right back in. My love for family equated love for God. If I did not love God I did not love them.
   Long story very short, this past spring I was grasping for something to believe in. I studied Wicca and old religions. They were empty and hollow as well. Then I saw the ugliness that breeds in fundamental Christianity. Dirty, pagan, whores deserve to be treated one way, good girls another. It was the last straw. I had been fighting to keep a small hold on my faith. The things that were good and respectable showed themselves as fleeting mists. If you have not already guessed, I am an atheist. Not a spur of the moment hipster atheist either. It is not cool. It is not chic. I feel like Nietzsche's mad man looking for God. Growing up a Christian I always thought atheist were smug, rude, and self assured. It is not so. Maybe eventually it comes to that, but at first it is heart wrenching. 
    
     Religion was part of the white picket fence dream I had. Even when I scrapped that plan knowing I wanted a career, I held on to a superficial view of my body and my role inside the home. When push came to shove in the closest relationship I've ever had, I still thought I had to put on the "wife show." 
    When I am at home, I do "wife stuff." I rarely ask for help, I rarely want help. If he steps in I am upset that I did not act like "wife drone 1" well enough.  So the first piece of my "deprogramming" needs to be the expectations I put on myself for so long. Yes, I will have clean clothes and so will my husband. I love him and like to do things for him. I will, however, stop allowing guilt to pull me away from my writing because there are dishes to do or dinners to cook. I will stop crying over unfinished chores and insinuations about my marriage based on my cooking and cleaning. My sole purpose in life is not the order of my home or even the happiness of my husband. If I fail at those things I am not a failure. 
     Dirty and clean are such polarities in Christianity. They ultimately mean, as do most polarities, bad and good. Christ makes a dirty heart clean like Ajax cleans the bathroom. The religion is based on cleanliness metaphor. As a woman, dirty is also tied to our sexuality, our homemaking skills, and our ambitions. I could always be more organized to be more productive in the things I enjoy- but that is the extent of my homemaking desire. I am an atheist, I am not a prude, and I am untidy, but I am not dirty and I will not buy into that title any longer. To my faith that once was, this is our first goodbye.