The Uncomfortable Freedom of Thinking for Yourself
It’s been a complicated year for a lot of folks. I’ve sat across from many of you as you talk about the grief and growth, the confusion and moments of clarity, the “Aha!” moments and the “Oh shit…” moments.
For many of us former church kids, there was an element of simplicity in the “before times.” At one point, we all had a clear playbook for life's decisions, filled with highlighted verses and sermon notes scribbled in the margins. There was some degree of comfort in having all the answers handed to us - even if we didn't always like those answers.
You loved your family and friends because you were supposed to love others as you loved yourself. You went to church and bible study because you were told that’s where you belonged. Now, many of us don’t even feel like we belong in our own country, let alone our families and churches of origin.
So, while there’s freedom in breaking free from the strict narratives of your religious upbringing, there can also be confusion and discomfort. With a shift of perspective comes the responsibility to make the best decisions you can in a world that’s not always black and white.
The Safety of Black and White
There's something undeniably comforting about binary thinking. Good or evil. Right or wrong. God's way or the world's way. When every decision can be measured against an unchanging standard, life can feel a little more manageable.
When someone asked you about a difficult topic, you could simply refer to what you'd been taught. No wrestling with nuance required. No staying up late turning possibilities over in your mind. Just check the manual, point to the pulpit, share the meme your pastor posted, and move on.
This certainty also came with built-in community. Everyone around you understood the same rules, spoke the same language, nodded along to the same certainties. There was safety in that shared understanding (all for the low, low price of ignoring the part of yourself that was dying inside.)
The First Cracks
But then something happens. Maybe it's a political election where neither candidate fits neatly into your moral framework. Maybe it's realizing that your LGBTQ+ coworker is one of the kindest people you know. Maybe it’s realizing that the same coworker is the hottest person you know and you’re not as straight as you thought you were.
Maybe it's listening to someone spew hate from the pulpit during election season when they’ve spent the rest of the year saying “God is love.” Whatever it is, suddenly the black-and-white lens starts cracking and you’re left with more than a few shades of gray (sometimes as many as 50, but that’s a different blog post.)
No matter the starting point, you eventually find yourself thinking:
"But what if this situation is more complicated than that?"
"How can something be 'clearly wrong' when it seems to help people?"
"What if the 'obvious answer' actually causes harm?"
Once you start seeing complexity in the world, it's hard to unsee it.
When the Dam Breaks
The process of deconstruction often starts with one question, one crack in the certainty. It might even be the smallest, most seemingly insignificant doubt. But questioning one belief has a way of leading to questioning others.
Suddenly you're looking at everything differently. The "obvious" rules about dating and marriage seem a bit arbitrary. The things you were taught about sex and gender don’t seem to line up with your lived experience or the experiences of people you care about.
When you start thinking for yourself in a new way, even small decisions become more nuanced. Can you really let yourself watch that show you were taught was "worldly"? What about things like having a drink at dinner or making friends with “nonbelievers”?
The Grief of Growth
Let's be honest… This process is exhausting. There's a unique kind of mental fatigue that comes from having to think through every decision instead of just consulting the rulebook. You might find yourself feeling overwhelmed by simple choices or missing the comfort of clear-cut answers.
Even as you're enjoying the freedom that comes with leaving high-control religion, there can be an element of grief that comes with the loss of certainty. And after a lifetime of having all your decisions made for you, it’s common to doubt your own ability to make good choices.
Finding Strength in Nuance
Here’s the good news that they don’t tell you in Sunday school: working through the nuance of difficult choices builds your decision-making muscles in a way that blind obedience never could.
Considering multiple perspectives, weighing potential outcomes, and listening to your intuition are all skills that will help you feel more confident in your choices over time. That way when you do make a mistake, you’ll be able to learn from it rather than take it as evidence that you’re a complete and total failure.
Building Your Decision-Making Muscles
1. Start Small
Practice making minor decisions (like what to wear or what book to read next) without seeking outside approval.
Notice how you feel about your next small decision without judging it as a “right” or “wrong” choice.
Congratulate yourself next time you realize you don’t like a choice you made: it just means you learned something about yourself!
2. Gather Information
Research topics from multiple perspectives.
Seek out diverse viewpoints.
Look for evidence-based resources.
3. Build a Support Network
Connect with others who are asking similar questions.
Find spaces where doubt and uncertainty are welcomed.
Seek out resources specifically for life after religious deconstruction.
From Blind Obedience to Conscious Choice
The journey from blind obedience to conscious choice isn't easy, but it is worthwhile. There's a different kind of peace in knowing that you've thought through your choices carefully, even when they're imperfect.
And despite what your old pastor says, your capacity to think deeply about complex issues is not a character flaw or the devil trying to entrap you. It’s a strength that should be celebrated and embraced.
Building Your Own Path
If you're struggling with the weight of making your own decisions after years of following prescribed rules, you're not alone. Many of us are walking similar paths, learning to trust ourselves and navigate complexity together. Feel free to reach out for a consult. I'd love to explore whether I might be a good fit to support your journey.