Hey. I hope you’re doing okay right now.

I live in a very religious community, and I remember when I was younger, about eight years old in fact, when during RS the teacher made us all answer questions on this sheet of paper. I was doing fine (growing up with constant lessons about the bible meaning my “factual” knowledge is fairly good) until I reached one question in particular. It asked me “Why do you believe in God?” I sat there for ages, desperately trying to come up with an appropriate answer, until the teacher came up to me.

I remember this in so much detail, because it was the exact moment in my life when I realised I wasn’t actually religious whatsoever, and if anyone found out they’d do God knows what to me. I was so scared my family would find out and disown me, or I would be cast out of the community and labelled evil, or exorcised, or worse. I was young and lost, and had no idea how to answer what was probably supposed to be the easiest question in the world. So I just sat there, frozen, as the teacher came up to me and asked me why I wasn’t working. I said that I was stuck, because I was also scared of lying. If God did exist he would punish me for lying. So I just kept saying I was stuck. The teacher was getting really angry with me, and told me that if I didn’t finish all the questions by the end of the lesson she’d be getting in contact with my parents. I just started crying and ran out of the room.

Suffice to say, that was one of the worst days of my life, which probably sounds ridiculous, and my parents were told about the incident as soon as they came to pick me up. My parents sat me down and told me that they loved me, and that they wanted me to love God too, or else I would go to Hell and they wouldn’t be able to see me again. I’ll never forget how disappointed they were in me, and I decided that lying would be so much better than telling the truth at that point, and it would be easier too.

I was taken to Church a lot more often after that, and my parents enrolled me in a weekly after school group with kids around my age. We had ‘bible time’ where we would read passages of the bible together and then talk about what they taught us, and we would have group activities like cooking to help us learn about the importance of community and make sure we could work well in a group.

I felt so out of place and so awkward, and I would get myself really worked up thinking about what would happen if everyone realised I didn’t belong. I had my first panic attack in one of their bathrooms, and I remember being given a hot chocolate by one of the ladies running the group and thinking that I must really be evil if I still didn’t believe in God despite how nice everyone was. I thought I was spiritually unclean and I hated myself.

After a few years of constantly beating myself up about anything and everything, I joined an acting group just outside town. I realised then that I was attracted to girls as well. I never let myself think I could be anything other than heterosexual, but there was this one girl in the group who would talk about stuff like being part of the LGBT community. Once my mind was opened to this, I couldn’t stop questioning myself, and I came to the opinion that if I was already evil, adding to it make wouldn’t that much of a difference. I was just so fed up, and I felt that if I didn’t do something, I would explode. I started going to the group regularly every Thursday, and told my parents that I’d met this boy who helped me discover myself again, and that I embraced God and his message blah blah blah. It was a load of rubbish, and I’m not proud of what I did, but it got them off my back.

They were a bit sceptical at first, but the drama group helped my acting improve, and I was getting better at lying to them because of it. I still hated myself, but not as much as I used to. I nearly tried to kill myself about a year later, but managed to carry on. (I still keep in contact with the group, and they’re the only people I’m not afraid to be open with, and I’ve grown quite a bit from who I was.) I asked my parents shortly after that if I could be re-baptised during Mass, Because I wanted them to believe my lies, and it was within my rights. I said it would help get rid of previous sin, and they agreed.

I feel horrible for doing it, but our relationship is less strained than it used to be, and I’m allowed a lot more independence. I’m open with only a select few people, but right now that is enough. I’m desperately trying to get away from all of this, and I nearly have, but I don’t think I can ever come clean with my parents. I’m still too scared. But one day I want to find somewhere I’m free from all of this.

I’m sorry I can’t help you with anything but my understanding, and my wish for you to be happy, no matter how ridiculous it may sound. I’m sorry you feel the way you do, and I hope that one day you feel comfortable enough to embrace who you are. “I’m sorry” isn’t good enough, I know that, but I had to say it nonetheless. Because it’s true. I hope you can read some of my story and realise you’re not as alone as you may think.

If you need me, I’m free to talk. I want to help as much as I can. Look after yourself Maggie.