Entry 19: Fear

I'd been scared most of my life. Growing up in a doomsday religion hadn't helped, with me constantly bracing for the end of the world. Even before I was born there was fear, as Mom carefully protected me within her womb, now terrified of my upcoming birth. The religion had just predicted that the end was upon us, and it was set to hit around my birthday. My mom had been excited for my arrival, but now she pictured what life would look like trying to care for a newborn, as God exacted punishment on the world. Fortunately, the end never came, but it was always hanging over us even after I was born, as the church attempted to interpret the bible and God's timeline.

When a catastrophe occurred within the world, natural or man made, we were directed to "the sign of the times" within the bible. Mom would stock up on non-perishable items, stacking them in our large cupboard in the basement, as she prepared for what might be ahead. We were also told to prepare for persecution, possibly even torture, leading up to the end of the world, which had made the whole thing even more terrifying. Plus, there was no guarantee of our own salvation, with none of us knowing right till the end whether we'd be spared God's wrath. I'd already secretly made a plan as to where I'd hide if any of this happened, and that was a cubby hole underneath the stairs where we stored root vegetables and TV trays. Then there was the shed outside, the small space under my bed, and behind the soft water tank.

Within the religion, I'd also been fearful of being told on, as everyone watched each other and reported on the smallest infractions. We were told that if we witnessed a sin and didn't say anything, then we could be held responsible for the death of that person, if God decided to kill them when the end of the world came. We were often reminded that it was the church's responsibility to try and save our souls, as we watched countless individuals taken to the back room, never knowing if they'd be allowed to stay in the end, or if they'd be tossed to the curb. It was dependent on their repentance and type of sin.

At sixteen, someone reported that they'd seen me smoking in front of a convenience store during school hours. Out of all the sins in the world, this one was at the bottom of the list. I knew the small sins I could get away with and the ones I couldn't, and there was no way in a million years I would stand in public and smoke a cigarette. Still, this couple was convinced it was me, and headed over to my house to confront me in front of my parents. I was terrified of their accusation, because if my parents believed them, I could get thrown out of the church for good as well. "It's not me," I said, desperately studying my Mom's face. "I was in class at that time. Call my teacher if you don't believe me!"

"It's okay, I believe you, Ellie," she said, seeing the fear in my eyes. I let out a sigh of relief, but then looked over at the couple who still seemed unconvinced. I moved closer to them, so they could get a better look at my face.

"It wasn't me," I said, pleading with them. It didn't matter if my mom believed me, they had to as well. Otherwise, I'd continue to be in danger, the risk of losing my life in a heartbeat.

My mom decided to call the school while they stood there. "Uh huh, so she was in class at that time? Okay great, thank you very much." She hung up the phone and smiled. "Looks like the mystery has been solved. I think we can now conclude this matter." They said their goodbyes and scurried off.

In spite of constantly living in fear, I also lived somewhat on the edge. I wasn't a goodie two shoes or a full blown rebel, just somewhere in the middle. Touching the edge made me feel normal and alive, and it temporarily provided a distraction. There was a constant fear and heaviness to my life, and so I sought escape wherever I could, without it causing alarm bells to go off. I thought I was alone, that no one else felt the way I did, and then I started getting invited to secret house parties, hosted by individuals within the church.

They weren't just bending the rules but breaking through them, as I walked into houses overflowing with alcohol, so much so, that even the bathtub was full of booze. Couples were rubbing against each other on the dance floor, and making out in the dark corners of the room. I couldn't believe my eyes, as these were the things that normally got reported on, and yet there seemed to be some sort of unspoken pact. No one seemed afraid, and it was here they could be themselves. And so I grabbed a beer and walked onto the dance floor, pretending for just one night I was finally free.