How I Ignored My Intuition, Lost My Power, and Became a Religious Zealot

Part 1

Happy Tuesday and Happy 4th of July!

I publish every Monday morning but didn't make it happen this week.

I've had this story in my head for a long time and wanted to do it justice by not rushing it. Telling you my story means a lot. I want to get it right.

At times I've been ashamed, and other times proud. I worry about others' reactions, but I know it’s out of my control. It doesn't benefit me or you to hide from the truth.

It is what it is.

For years, I ignored my intuition. I was so detached from myself because I was living a lie.

Back then, I knew nothing about yoga, meditation, or journaling. I wasn't taught to be mindful. I never questioned whether my thoughts were true or not. I certainly didn’t observe my thoughts as separate from me.

I was a go-getter. I achieved a triple promotion at work, a real feather in my cap. I bought my first house with the money I had saved. I paid off my student and car loans.

I had everything going for me except the most important thing. I wanted to start a family. I was in my mid-twenties and, according to my mom, behind schedule. She pressured me to settle down, and I did the same to myself.

When I met my first husband, I was a ripe peach ready to be plucked.

Before meeting him, I'd abandoned several relationships, always finding an irredeemable flaw in my partner. Isn't that what dating is about?

I kissed a few frogs.

It's puzzling now that I ignored the red flags when I had been so discerning for so long. I'd left earlier relationships because things hadn't felt right, and I acted on an internal voice. I’m referring to my intuition, but I didn’t know it as intimately as I do now.

I was giddy from my personal successes that I didn't think I could fail.

My desire for a new family coincided with untangling myself from the dysfunctional one I'd been born into. I had witnessed my parent's tumultuous relationship and knew I didn't want that.

My mother had unearthed my fiancé's flaws, but her words carried no weight for me anymore. She'd been hyper-critical of everyone she encountered, including my father and me. While her opinions glistened with some truth, I was determined to prove her wrong.

Through sheer will, I would have the perfect family.

Buoyed by the confidence of youth and the ticking of my biological clock, we got married within two years of our first date.

Everything had moved along so fast. We built a new house in the suburbs, moving into it with a substantial mortgage and two babies.

Our new love hit choppy waters early. A chasm grew between us. We were two people with very different ideas of what a marriage should look like.

After the joy of moving into our dream house dissolved, it became apparent that I'd made an expensive mistake. To complicate the situation, our distance as a couple meant I was the sole caretaker of our two beautiful daughters.

I was stuck.

Where had I gone wrong?

I never thought it was because I'd ignored all the signs of our incompatibility. Not once. That would have been too easy. That would have also meant that I was stupid. I knew it wasn't that.

I was grasping to find a reason for this mess.

No, I'd landed in this wretched place because I hadn't been a good Catholic. I'd stopped going to mass while in college and thought I didn't need God anymore.

That had to be it.

I'd been baptized as a member of the one true church and had sixteen years of Catholic education under my belt. That wasn’t something a person walked away from. All that training could be ignored only at one’s own peril.

Through my hubris, I exerted my own will, which had been my downfall. I should have been a better disciple.

There was absolutely no way I could leave my marriage. My religion and family taught me that divorce was unacceptable.

One thing was for sure. I could no longer trust myself to make decisions. The stakes were too high. I would become the best Catholic I could and raise my children to become faithful church members.

I would follow God’s law to the letter.

With my new resolve, I gave away my power to the Church for the next 18 years.

To be continued next week.