*i wrote a lot last night. then i deleted a lot of it. then i wrote some more. then i made all of it private. except for this part.
last january i stepped outside of sacre coeur in tears feeling like a part of me was really sad that religion never quite worked for me. something about sitting through mass, being moved, being completely overwhelmed by the basilica itself and the whole mess of emotions clanging around inside of me looking for a way out. i sat down on the steps, paris at my feet, this dazzling view, miles and miles of city and sky and all i could do was cover my face wishing i had some sort of faith because most of it had been sucked out of me already. it took some time to realize that what i wanted was someone to fix it for me. it had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with the fact that i felt so emotionally dysfunctional that i wanted someone, something, to make it go away.
it takes work to make your way through the crazy that happens throughout your life. i spend a lot of time berating myself for having feelings like it's some sort of flaw when what i really need to do is let it pass and then step outside of my head for awhile because no matter who i pray to or how badly i wish it was so, i was not born a robot.