I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

You’re not going to understand me as I want to be understood
Do I oppose rulers because I hate rulers — or because I hate rules?
Competent, beautiful girl mirrors what I’d love to have in daughter
In other news, donations keep pouring in to feed the monkeys
I need a romantic partner who’s already facing her inner demons
We’re trapped in our own heads, fearful of other folks’ judgment
Goodbye, Dagny (2004-2019)