I will try and explain what it was like to be in my head. From an early age I had been told what to believe and how to believe it. The world was figured out for me. My curiosity was hindered and damned by dogmatic ideology. If I had a question about the world that could not be answered, it was left up to “faith”. The little me inside- the one that questioned these beliefs became weak. I did not want to be different, I would stop questioning. Accept things as they were told to me, instead of finding a true understanding for myself.

These thoughts that I once knew to be others, became louder and took over my day to day experience of life. Judgmental thoughts would echo in my mind when I saw someone not in-line with my belief system. This constant cascade of criticism, solidified those thoughts as the dominant voice in my head. I no longer saw other humans. I saw sluts, punks, heathens, blasphemers… Lost souls, If they only knew what I knew. I have the truth, I would pray for them. These thoughts would play out over and over. The rational mind, and my curiosity, was over written. Programmed over. Left to be forgotten in the attic of my subconscious.

My first glimpse of reality was on my mission when I had a gun put to my head. As a Mormon, I wore under garments. If I were faithful and living the commandments, they would protect me from any harm. I was raised on stories of how people’s garments saved their lives. Stopping bullets and knifes from penetrating. I remember as a kid thinking it sounded like magic, but again, the questioning was stopped and replaced with “faith”.

With a gun barrel to my temple… all thinking stops. The room became quiet. My mind became quiet, It was… Beautiful, in a strange way. It was the sensation of that first breath of air after jumping into the lake as a kid. Me, the one that was silenced and drowned by these dogmatic thoughts that polluted and distorted my experience of life broke free.

The conflict was resolved, and this new awoken state soon faded. The judgmental thoughts turned back in on this awakened self. But that experience stayed with me, the me that I picture as an insecure child locked away in the attic. Saw what was downstairs for the first time as an adult. I would slowly try and sneak down the ladder, but the fear of judgement kept me from venturing too far. My life was put in jeopardy on a few more occasions as a young white man biking down random alleys in Detroit. Each occasion brought me back to that same state, where I was able to cultivate enough confidence to climb down that ladder for good. I left my mission early as the feeling of hypocrisy made me cringe, I could not claim to know it’s true without actually believing it.