But, as cringe as it is, I will reflect on these moments for the intention to extend compassion to myself; for I thought this was my life’s purpose.

Everything felt purposeful – like I was making a difference, even though there was no tangible evidence of it. And the rush I got from conquering my fear of talking to strangers about Jesus? It was intoxicating.

I saw how Palestinians lived under occupation; I saw the watch towers, the protests, Jewish settlements being built oppressively on top of Palestinian homes/land, and Israeli soldiers at the border wall.

Prayer was something I did routinely and fiercely, but what I was taught about prayer and how prayer works might have been a little off.

I describe my deconstruction journey like riding a roller coaster in three phases- phase one starts off with getting into the roller coaster, gearing up for the ride, and slowly approaching the top, not really sure what to expect.

To notice, look, and have attraction to a body that you were not married to (or engaged to) was lustful, dirty, and a slippery slope. After walking away from that belief known as Purity Culture, I have come to understand that is not the truth.

As I have dug deep into my beliefs and listened to a plethora of stories from both ex-christians and those still in the faith, I sometimes wonder if the effects of religious trauma was maybe my own doing and I am the one to blame; not the congregation.

I was in a situation I didn't know how to get out of, manipulated and pressured into something I didn’t want to do. I wasn't given the language in how to speak my boundaries, or the education on how to respect my body. I didn't know what was happening to me or how I was supposed to make it stop. I just froze.

What started out as just simply wondering if maybe certain rules were actually man made and not god ordained, quickly then opened up to understanding the anxiety I had endured for years from indoctrination and the physical manifestations it had on my body resulting in trauma.

Like a loose thread from a sweater, the unraveling began. I was challenged to let go of who I thought I was supposed to be; the good Christian girl who does everything right, the believer who was obedient and submissive to the church and its teachings, and embrace who I really am.

If you are not familiar with the word “deconstruction”, here’s a definition I can offer: Deconstruction in a faith context is the process of picking apart and digging through deep-seated questions and situations.

Could I really be having a TIA? (aka mini stroke). Every symptom I was feeling was matching up with the description on google. I would panic but literally at that moment, nothing was coherent. I couldn’t express any emotions, I couldn’t communicate well, I couldn’t think, it felt like I was shutting down.

What I didn’t know is that the Evangelical church would justify or bypass the injustice, and deaths of innocent human lives with their interpretation of the Bible.

Perhaps the problem isn’t the news entirely, or how it’s being spread, or who says what about whom, but perhaps the problem is how much time we are allowing what we see and hear, affect our actual reality.