Do your partner’s religious beliefs differ from yours? (Plus “Smile” and “Cock and Petals”)

I have a Cardi B song stuck in my head. I like the song, but it just won’t leave me alone. Maybe some writing will distract me…

Do your partner’s religious beliefs differ from yours? I’m an atheist – pretty straightforward. My husband doesn’t believe in god but believes in a higher power. It’s really just a slight difference and I can see where he’s coming from. Definitely not enough to make us incompatible.

When I was younger, I dated men from all different backgrounds. I was an equal-opportunity girlfriend and I think it’s kinda funny that I married someone so similar to me. 

But when it comes to religion, I don’t think I could settle down with someone if they were really different from me.

I was once in a long-term relationship with a Jewish man. We lived together in Los Angeles. When I was with him I took classes on Judaism (that his parents paid for) and his family expected me to eventually convert. 

While I’m not a Christian, I grew up in a Christian culture. My family colored Easter eggs and gave Christmas gifts. He wanted nothing to do with it. It became a touchy topic and made me really uncomfortable. Why was I the one expected to change?

There was a lot I didn’t understand (and probably still don’t). His Jewish family and friends often talked about being oppressed, but at the same time, these were the wealthiest people I had ever been around. I know their grandparents were oppressed, but I just didn’t see them as oppressed; I saw them as extremely privileged. Unfortunately, it kind of affected how I viewed Jewish people in America, but logically I know one family does not represent all Jews. It’s been years and I think I’m still processing it all.

Eventually, I left him and moved back in with my family in Ohio. It was at this time I finally got the help I needed for my mental health. Dating in recovery gave me a little more confidence, and I met some really interesting people.

After a year back in Ohio, I went back to school and dated an Indian man. We were both students at the same college. One day, we drove all the way to Pittsburgh to visit a Hindu temple. It was a long time ago and I don’t remember all the details, but it was nothing like anything I had ever experienced before. There were so many people there and it was definitely eye-opening. He never pushed his religion on me and I was very grateful to have experienced his culture without the pressure to change myself.

Then there was the conservative Christian (and virgin). We also met in college. He was dead-set on converting me and I didn’t budge. Had I converted just to please him, it would have been a lie. You can’t force someone to believe in something, and I’m not willing to fake it like so many people do. Obviously, it didn’t last very long. I really liked riding around in his truck though.

Lesson learned: if your partner wants to fundamentally change you, it’s probably not going to work out.

Soon after I met my husband and the rest was history. I was only twenty-four when I met my husband online. He always made me feel so comfortable. I can tell him anything and he doesn’t judge me. He’s easygoing, we have so much in common, and I always feel accepted. Sometimes we have really interesting discussions about religion and spirituality. I enjoy them. My husband and I believe similar things, but if we were exactly the same, maybe the discussions wouldn’t be as interesting.

If you are dating or when you were dating, how and when did religion come up? Have your partners’ views differed from yours? Did you avoid the topic, agree to disagree, or were you comfortable discussing it?

Religion always came up early for me as atheism has been an important part of my recovery.

How important is it to you for your partner to be similar or different from you? Did you settle down with someone with different views and how do you deal with that?

 

Also, can someone name a different song to get stuck in my head?

 

Now enjoy some weirdo art!

NaPoWriMo Day #27 — “Free”

Free


My two feet
ignite flames
scorching the earth
for the miles I have covered.
What happens when the fire
goes out?
When I was left
with smoke and ash
my lover carried me.
Everywhere I went
I was helpless,
dependent on his strength only.
Until the day
my stride burns again,
he takes me with him –
thousands of steps
until I’m free again.

 

Only two and a half more weeks of crutches!

How do you feel when you know someone is praying for you?

I had my follow-up appointment on Tuesday from my knee surgery earlier this month. They removed the sutures, but unfortunately, I still can’t drive and must work from home for another four weeks. I start physical therapy next week so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Only three more weeks of crutches!

Before I left work for my surgery, several of my coworkers said I was in their prayers. I politely said thank you and went about my day even though I don’t believe in prayer. A coworker called me last week and said that he and some of my clients actually said a prayer for me at work. I think it’s sweet that they’re thinking of me, but at the same time, it’s just another reminder of how ostracized I feel at work.

I don’t work for a religious organization, but many of my coworkers are very vocal Christians. Unfortunately, god and church are frequent topics of conversation at the office which makes me very uncomfortable. I just don’t think work is the right place to have that kind of discussion. It’s not like it ever turns into a debate – they agree with each other – but it definitely makes me feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I always feel like I have to hide who I truly am just to function at work.

Obviously, I don’t think prayer does anything, but they do. Is it the intention that counts? Have you ever been in a similar situation? How did you feel? What do you say when someone says they’ll pray for you?

NaPoWriMo Day #19…Recovery Day # 29384756

Them

Can a sweet and sour love
live happily ever after?
How far can the fire’s embers reach?
Life is in an aquarium
for all the spectators to see.
Naked,
exposed –
like a dandelion in the breeze
I dissipate into a million pieces
carried off by an invisible force.
The spectators grab their popcorn
laugh nervously
and pray it doesn’t happen
to them.

 

When my knee is finally healed, I’m going to get a new couch. I can’t stand this one anymore.

Anyone got any Netflix or Prime Video recommendations?

Do news stories make you emotional? Do you feel differently about things that happened when you were younger?

Tonight I started watching OJ: Made in America on Netflix. It’s an absolutely fascinating series. I just finished episode three. I did not understand how much race played a part in OJ’s career and eventually trial. The series showed racial tensions and police brutality that were going on in LA while OJ was becoming a big star. It was a lot to think about. I really had no idea.

Where were you when the Rodney King video came out? I was in middle school in a white community in rural Ohio. I remember watching it, but not really understanding what was going on. It didn’t seem to affect me at the time. As far as I was concerned, Los Angeles was so far away and so different from where I grew up that it might as well have been another planet. I seemed so far removed from it.

But here I am thirty years later. While I was watching the series they showed the Rodney King video and I just lost it. I just started crying. I couldn’t hold it in. How could anyone justify that brutality? It hit me like a ton of bricks; it was far different from what I felt when I was younger.

I’m just going to chalk it up to getting out of my little rural community and having a little more life experience, but man, that was really hard to watch.

Have news stories ever hit you that way? Do you remember stories that happened when you were younger and they resonated with you differently when you were older? I feel like there’s so much I don’t understand. Do you ever feel that way?

Have you ever worked for a religious organization?

My surgery last week was done in a Catholic hospital. I didn’t choose it. It just happened to be one of the hospitals my surgeon uses. His office is in a secular medical building not affiliated with the hospital. 

It was a good experience. The nurses and staff were very nice, and most importantly, the surgery was successful. Nobody pushed religion or prayer on me, but there was a rosary hanging over the registration desk and a wooden cross over the doorway of my pre-op room. It’s a smaller hospital but fairly busy. It is one of several Catholic hospitals in the city.

I’m just wondering about the staff at the hospital that go there to work day in and day out; do they really think about the religious values of their employer? Do you think that’s important to them? Or is it just a job like any other job? Is religion ever pushed on the employees?

I’m curious. I just don’t know much about it.

To be honest, I applied for a marketing position at a religious organization right after college. I thought I could just go in and do my job and not think about it. The main thing was getting a paycheck. I had an interview but wasn’t offered the position. Looking back I’m glad I didn’t get it. My husband was like, what were you thinking? I think I was just desperate.

I’m sure there are many people like me – desperate for a paycheck – but do you think employees at religious organizations really care about their organization’s values? 

Have you ever worked for a religious organization? Was religion pushed on you? Was it just a paycheck? I would love to hear some experiences.

Writer’s Block and Paint Chip Poetry

It’s been a week since my knee surgery and I’ve pretty much stayed camped out on my living room couch. I’m hooked up to a DVT pump and ice machine. I only get up to use the bathroom and to shower every other day. Obviously, I’m a little bored.

It’s hard for me to find things to write about. I very rarely write fiction; everything’s based on my life and when I’m not leaving the house and doing things, there’s not much to write about. 

But this is NaPoWriMo and I am dedicated to writing poetry every day. Enter the game Paint Chip Poetry. Paint Chip Poetry is a game where you use color names to write poems. It comes with prompt cards and then you draw your colors. You know how you can get those free paint sample cards at Home Depot with the fun color names on them? That’s basically what you are using. It’s a lot of fun. Sometimes my poems turn nonsensical but I’ve noticed the color names are great for developing similies and metaphors. It’s really just great practice when I can’t think of anything to write about.

It’s day #9 of NaPoWriMo and thanks to Paint Chip Poetry I’ve written nearly fifty poems. It’s keeping me going when the rest of my life has basically come to a halt. 

If you are interested in Paint Chip Poetry, you can purchase it here. I was bummed when I bought the game two weeks ago because the price had gone up. I first purchased this game several years ago for work for ten dollars. I decided before my surgery that I wanted to buy my own copy since I was going to be spending so much time at home. It had gone up to seventeen dollars! I really shouldn’t complain. I don’t have much money but it has been well worth it to have something to do during my recovery.

If you decide to give Paint Chip Poetry a try, I’d love to see what you come up with! 

Next Monday, I have my follow-up appointment and return the DVT pump. Hopefully, then I can start driving again and get out of the house. I will be on crutches for six weeks which is frustrating, but I am definitely looking forward to getting my butt off the couch.

NaPoWriMo Day #8 — “Hometown Girl”

Hometown Girl


I’m not your cookie-cutter
small-town girl.
I waffled between expectations and freedom.

Your Jesus doesn’t save –
he divides.
Frosty images and sharp tongues
over here,

me over there.

Generations of hometown girl misfits –
I’ve lived here for years;
you know me but not.
You denied me my purpose, my curiosity,
and your asses in pews never made it right.

Forty acres in the dappled sunlight –
you never made me a home.
Home isn’t a physical place –
it’s love,
it’s belonging,
it’s acceptance –
and it isn’t with you.

I finally chose freedom.
I escaped and I survived.
I celebrate by making my own home.