The Open Door
From a young age, I've been on a quest for meaning. Rules, logic, and details never captured my interest unless they served as tools in my search for purpose. Guided by my philosophically driven mind, which I attribute to my Libra sun and Virgo moon, I have always been more intrigued by the question of "why" than "how." I believe I was born with a passion for spirituality, music, and romance, which have always been the driving forces in my life. I credit this pursuit to my Aries rising. Because of this, linear storytelling doesn't suit me—a thematic approach resonates more deeply. Yet, I recognize the importance of context to better understand the themes I hope to convey. So here goes...
In 2020, at the age of 47, I made the pivotal decision to leave behind a lifetime of Christianity. My faith and personal relationship with Jesus had been my reason for existence, shaping my worldview and guiding my actions. Raised in an Evangelical Christian family, I was taught from infancy that I was good because God made me, but as soon as I entered the world, I began to sin, due to my sin nature. I belonged to Satan now and I was bad. However, God in his mercy, provided me with a way back to that goodness through His only-begotten son, Jesus. This would make me more than enough. I gave my heart to him at the age of nine and was baptized to demonstrate that the Holy Spirit now resided within me. As a child growing up in California during the '70s and '80s, I talked to Jesus often. Despite never hearing him audibly, I believed in his constant presence, guiding and supporting me—a powerful encouragement for a deeply sensitive and introverted child drawn to the feminine side of life, others, and myself.
My parents loved me deeply, and I always felt their affection. Though they yearned for a daughter after my birth, complications prevented them from conceiving again—until my brother Matt arrived nine years later. I adored my new baby brother, spending countless hours with him. However, this period marked a shift within our family. My mom retreated into her own world, and my dad immersed himself in his work. A growing coldness and silence between them cast a shadow over our home. I felt invisible, and this feeling intensified when I transitioned from a small private Baptist school to a local public middle school. Without the refuge of jazz choir and an inspiring literature teacher, I'm uncertain I would have survived.
Throughout those years, pursuing biblical knowledge and spiritual growth sustained me, even into my first year of high school. Each day felt like a battle at school, but I found solace in my faith. In my sophomore year, a friend introduced me to what he claimed was a Christian rock band. This turned out to be a pivotal moment in my life (which I’ll write about in more detail later). One night, with headphones on, I sat in the dark and listened to U2’s "The Joshua Tree" album from start to finish. I wept—truly wept—as the music and lyrics struck a profound chord within me. Little did I know, this marked the beginning of a long and gradual separation from Christianity.
The summer of 1989 brought another significant change when my dad left his career as a research physicist to lead a new laser optics program in Southern Oregon. The move, right in the middle of my high school experience, was challenging, but it also led me to meet Leslie, the love of my life. We married nine months after I graduated, both aged 19, and we remain married and deeply in love. Leslie is sharing her own story on her Substack page, which I highly recommend.
After several false starts with college, I attended a Bible college in downtown Dallas. We followed Leslie’s parents to Texas to join their new evangelical mission. During the falls, winters, and springs, I worked the graveyard shift as a local courier to support our growing family of three daughters, attending classes during the day. Summers were spent leading youth groups on short-term mission trips to Mexico. However, as I delved deeper into the Bible and church history, my questions multiplied, creating irreparable cracks in my faith. I was repeatedly told that I was the problem, not Christianity or the Church—virtually all by men. Despite my gut feeling that they were wrong, fear lingered that they might be right. Consequently, I left Evangelicalism and converted to Anglicanism, hoping to find answers in the historical roots of the Church.
The initial excitement of conversion led me to seminary, aspiring to become a priest and lead others. My vision was clear—I wanted to demonstrate with my life and my words that the shitty aspects of Christianity could be shed, revealing a God who profoundly loved His people, a love embodied in Jesus. I was ordained, became the rector of a growing parish on California’s Central Coast, and thrived in my vocation—until the questions resurfaced. By 2018, my belief in Christianity was severely tenuous, and by 2020, it had vanished entirely. Leaving the priesthood, Leslie and I stepped away from the Church, Christianity, and organized religion.
I went back to school and in early 2021, I opened a private hypnotherapy practice, a career shift that initially felt exhilarating. I felt like a kid again, liberated. But by 2022, I realized that the programming and trauma I'd accumulated over a lifetime remained within me. Thus began a long, challenging journey of deprogramming and integration, with the help of all kinds of therapeutic modalities and psychedelics.
The transformation within me was deep and rapid. During this time, I helped my mom through the final stages of her battle with Alzheimer’s. The experience was completely overwhelming, and by the end of 2024, my former identity was sufficiently dismantled. Now, at 52, I feel as if I've stepped through an open door into a brave new world, eager to continue learning and discovering its significance for my life and what lies ahead. ❤️