Embracing Your Ego Death(s)

Thirteen years ago I left my family’s religion. It was the first of many ego deaths I’d go through – and so far, it’s been the hardest. Sitting across my mom in a room, night after night, neither of us knowing what to say, was torture. I knew I let her down, I knew she didn’t understand, and I knew that I was shaking up the dynamic of the family.

My dad had been a pastor before my parents’ split, which meant my mom had been a pastor’s wife, my older sister had been heavily involved in Bible Studies and her college Christian group, and my older brother was preparing to become a full-time overseas missionary. For the first year of college I was following in my older sibling’s footsteps by becoming involved in the same Christian organization. I went to the Bible Studies, the Thursday night worship, the retreats, even emceeing a retreat myself. I was following the path that had been laid down for me.

But it did not feel right to my soul. Over and over I “prayed the prayer” just to make sure I was really good enough to go to heaven and wouldn’t end up in hell. I was terrified of being alone and tormented for eternity. Anything I could do to save myself from that fate. Fear absolutely consumed me. If I do not live for God and Jesus and do what I am told, I’ll go to hell.

Then I met a boy (who eventually became my husband). Going into my sophomore year of college I was home for the summer and started a new job. We started hanging out and for the first time I met someone who gave me permission to think differently. Cody had spent years figuring out his beliefs and why he believed the way he did. I had never heard of someone actually analyzing why they believed something – it had always been ‘because the Bible says so.’

Finally, I came to my own realization that I could not believe in a God that scared me – one that would send me and others to hell. A God that was not loving and kind. So, I decided my belief was strong enough that it was worth the pain of enduring this ego death of who I had been my entire life and transforming into the next version of myself.

The next six years or so I was still figuring out who I was and what I believed. I knew what I did not believe. But what did I believe? I went through a mourning process – I was angry at Christians; how could they tell other people they’d go to hell if they didn’t believe the same thing as them? How could they teach child Ariel that she was inherently bad and a sinner, when she was just an innocent child. Why was I taught it was okay to not trust myself and to first think of myself as evil?

Eventually, when the anger dulled away, my mind felt free to explore. The world is full of possibilities and paths to journey toward. At first I thought I was an atheist. But that did not quite fit. Maybe an agnostic? Ehh, the word felt wrong too. For years I tried on new labels and views, taking them off when they no longer worked and putting on a new one that suited me better.

Then I came across a friend’s Instagram page. She had recently gone on a retreat and had come back changed. She seemed lighter and was talking about “energy” and “healing” and “reiki” –and to be honest, I thought she was a little kooky. I was so intrigued that I signed up for her Reiki class.