Return

My sister and I continued to maneuver through this new world together, as my Dad's heart officially broke. My sister and my father had always shared a deep bond, so for him to lose one child to the outside world had been hard, but to lose a second one had been devastating. He blamed himself for Mom's suicide, for being too busy, and for not providing enough of a religious foundation so my sister and I were able to withstand the pressures and traumas we'd faced. And yet the one thing he'd been blind to, was the source of all these problems - the religion itself.

The longer I was away from the church, the more resolute I was in my decision, determined to build a fulfilling life on the outside. As for my sister, she was struggling much more than me, trapped between worlds, with her confused as to her identity and purpose. The church had put a mold around her, and now that it had been removed, she was all over the place.

She struggled to invest in anything, including romantic relationships, as the men entered and exited like a revolving door. Then one night, over a glass of wine, she told me how she'd fallen for a woman, but had yet to confess her feelings. Deep down, I'd always known my sister hadn't been straight. She liked men enough to have a relationship with them, but it was women that she attached herself to, in a deeply emotional way. I'd seen it time and time again; the vulnerability, the need for affection and closeness, as if she was a child latching onto a mother. The women in her life had been religious and straight, so all they could see was friendship, but now she had an opportunity for more than that. "I'm proud of you for finally being true to yourself," I said, picturing the beautiful life ahead of her. It filled me with joy that she'd finally be loved the way she needed to be.

But as time ticked on, my sister's bravery waivered, as the guilt and shame returned. She'd not declared her love from the rooftops as I'd hoped, nor had she embraced her sexuality. Instead, she placed me in the center of her world, showering me with gifts, affection and attention, as if I was her lover. When anyone else got close to me, a friend, a boyfriend, she immediately got jealous, determined to control my life, as she struggled to gain control of her own. It wasn't long before I could feel myself suffocating under the weight of her, no longer knowing where I ended and she began. I was her sunshine, but I was buried in her cloud, and so I began to pull away, just enough for me to be able to take a breath. And as soon as I did, poof, she disappeared, retreating back to the church. She'd not told me her decision in person, but instead had written an e-mail. "I'm going back to the religion because I'm lonely," she wrote. To which I replied, "I just want you to be happy."

After that, the lines were drawn, and everything changed for me. It was now me against my family, with them excluding me from activities. My sister went as far as to send texts with photos of her and Dad at a pub, attending a baseball game, and enjoying a weekend getaway. Yet, when my sister and I met up for an occasional lunch or dinner, she acted as if nothing had changed between us. As for my Dad, I could tell his view of me had completely shifted since my sister had returned to the church, with him now acting as if he was sitting across from a daughter who'd become a drug addict or prostitute, refusing to ask me anything about my life. I owned my own home now, I had a close circle of friends, as well as a successful career, but none of that mattered if I wasn't part of the church. As for my sister, I could tell she was lost once again, as she now placed Dad in the center of her world, showering him with affection and gifts.

When I questioned each of them, asking why I was being excluded, I was told that we no longer had any commonality, and that I wouldn't be interested in their conversations now I wasn't part of the same faith. My Dad took it a step further, using the term "beating to my own drum." Then he ended his email with, "But please know that I still love you."

I could feel the pain come to the surface, the same pain I'd experienced after losing Mom. Only my family was still alive. I knew then, that I'd never truly be loved unconditionally. I'd wanted to believe that my family was different, that they wouldn't be influenced by the community around them, and that we'd stay bonded by the tragedies and losses we'd shared together. But I'd been naive, I knew that now, as the religion always won in the end.

No matter my accomplishments, no matter the good qualities I possessed, I would always be reminded of my inadequacy. And in that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if there'd ever come a day when I didn't feel I had to prove my worth.