I wait until my boyfriend is trapped in the car with me, on a longer-than-I-thought drive to breakfast, following my impulses, before I decide to tell him the story about where I was two nights before. Looking back, the whole thing sounds like a setup for one of those bad jokes – you know the judgy kind, definitely catered for adults, maybe ending up with a priest caught doing unpriestly things – as I explain to him how I sat on the bench in front of a church, scared, crying, asking the universe to send me a sign that it was safe for me to go in only for a gay couple to walk up and stroll right inside like it was nothing. I’m never even intentionally homophobic but I grew up in a homophobic household and even though I’m open now about not being straight myself, I can’t help but find myself judging that part of me a little harder sometimes and casting the blame outward onto unsuspecting victims. That’s the thing about healing trauma, and toxicity, we have to acknowledge that it’s still there no matter how hard we’re trying to move past it and want to believe we already have. The truth is, it still seeps through our subconscious and laces our interactions with the world. We still need to work to filter it out.
I was immediately enraged that they had the audacity to just walk right in the church like that. Shouldn’t they be questioning if they’re even welcome there? How do you feel safe just strolling right on in when the church is known to hurt you if it’s not the right one? How can YOU go in but I* can’t? What’s wrong with me?
I know the answers now. Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing is wrong with them. They shouldn’t feel unsafe walking into a church and truthfully I’m happy for them and proud that they didn’t feel the need to pause before strolling right on in. It took me some time to soften from the defensiveness of my own feelings of lack of self-worth that were triggered by seeing people love themselves and be confident in their own worth. It inspired me enough that eventually, I made it inside. I’m still waiting for the inspiration to hit that will help me find the courage to say I saw the Devil inside rather than the vague “there was something in the corner” that I keep spitting out.
The Devil is in Church
The Devil is in the Church
I thought of my statue stance at the door
An indication that the Devil is inside of Me
Only permission can allow me to walk in
I remember black eyes gazing down at me
Wonder if mine glaze over when mirrors aren’t around
The Devil is in the Church
I’m learning what that means
The back left-hand corner he stood, staring back at me
I waited for him to move, waited to feel the fear
A dissociated tingle started creeping through the air
The Devil never moved but his curiosity touched me
I saw he wasn’t a threat, was just there to test me
The Devil is in Church
You’ll feel him by the fear
he’s the heavy discomfort permeating everywhere
When the Devil is in Church
You can cast him out
Don’t go running, not inward, stand your ground
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 