Hi Jeannie, I can appreciate your concerns about sharing your creative past. Thank you for honouring how that may be for your readers AND having the courage to take this as your next step. Congratulations for your previous successes and the knockbacks that enabled you to shed old skin and become the next iteration of who you are creatively, spritually, and humanly. Thankyou for acknowledging the compounded grief and betrayal the people you interviewed felt and for caring. In my humble opinion, that avenue was an opportunity for expression and that was great value, AND it wasnt the right portal for those stories to be published with integrity, grace, and compassion. Those stories yet exist and you continue to hold space for those brave, devastated, broken, and perhaps slowly healing family members. Thank you. I trust you will continue to deal honourably in your writing and living journey. Thank you for you.
Melanie, what you wrote gives me so much strength. You have a gift of encouragement. Every time you write something, I feel all of it and it really seeps into my psyche and my heart. There is a healing quality to what you share, and knowing that you have a deep understanding of the complexities surrounding religion and trauma helps me find the courage to keep writing through the shame. Thank you for showing up for me today. I needed to know this was the right direction to come out of the closet, so to speak, about my past.
Thanks Jeannie. You yourself are the quite the encourager! I have a few messages of yours that i havent yet replied to. They aren't forgotten, I just don't have the answers yet. In saying that, if I knew how to send you a private message on Substack that's likely what I would choose next. Not sure if you're open to that. So just putting it out there. Either way, have a great day 😊🦋💗
I appreciate that, Melanie, and would love to have a more private, personal conversation with you. To DM, just click the little chat bubble on the left of your home page. Then you can click on a little square with a pen on the upper righthand corner of the left side of that screen. Type my name, and you can directly message me, which is a private form of communication with me. Alternately, I can just start us off by sending you a DM and you can reply!
Notifying those 6 people who shared something so intense with you, believing it would help others, must have been so hard for you and for them. Of course, they must have felt betrayed, but so were you. You demonstrate integrity over and over again. It is too bad the editor and co-author did not demonstrate integrity.
Thanks, Nancy. It is heartening to have someone call me a person of integrity, because I do aspire for that. In my experience, living according to my personal integrity means that often I have to make tough decisions like I did here. The “easy way” would have been to just keep writing what I was writing and ignore the fact that something really tragic went wrong here. Unfortunately, there are people in every industry who do not operate with integrity, and there are those who do. So that’s why I keep showing up now with the intention of having a good heart motivate me in all I say and do.
Jeannie, as a former Catholic, I appreciate your disillusionment. It seems to be the price of outgrowing one consciousness. Then like shell-less lobsters we crawl naked looking for a shell of consciousness that fits our expanded awareness.
I hope you might write another book on grief, maybe you already have, that includes the stories that were too raw for one Catholic publisher but would be medicine for many who’ve been knocked off their spiritual path and more by grief.
Thanks for sharing a bit about your own religious background, Jane. It’s interesting that you wrote about a lobster without a shell, because I will never forget something my spiritual director told me when I sobbed to her about five years ago, saying, “Why do I feel like the church I love doesn’t love me? I feel like I’m losing my faith. I feel like I hate God.” And she said, “Good. It means you are outgrowing your faith. It’s like a snake shedding its old skin. You are growing into something bigger than the containers of your old faith.”
That has stayed with me for five years.
As for grief writing, it’s also interesting you suggested writing another book on grief, because about nine months ago, the publisher of my book, From Grief to Grace, told me it was going out of print. And I was stunned for a moment, because it has been a steady seller for ten solid years. But then I thought, “Maybe I can rework this book and its concepts so that it broadens the principles to apply how I have grown since I first wrote this book and that reflects ideas that might reach more people.”
So I will take what you suggested as a seed and keep it tucked under the soil of my heart. Thank you. :)
Isn’t it wonderful how love speaks through us and the messages each one needs come through? I’m glad I got to share that seed with you and look forward to the book you will produce.
Jeannie, is your artistic garden in your mind and heart or is it literally somewhere on the earth, on an altar, ...? It sounds like a very cool idea I'd like to create my own version of. Can you tell me more?
That’s a great question, Jane! So I don’t literally have a flower garden that I cultivate. I’m not really a landscaping type of person, though I have asked for various flowering trees/bushes for birthdays, holidays, etc.
Right now our peony bushes bloomed and then withered quickly.
The knockout rose bushes are budding.
In early May, our flowering crab apple and viburnum bloom this sweet, floral fragrance all over our yard.
Regarding nurturing plants, I am more of an indoor plant person. I have quite a collection (at least 2 dozen) and they are my green “babies.”
What do you think in terms of a literal or metaphorical garden?
I have lots of houseplants and a desire to start a garden. One lone oregano plant blooms year after year without attention and is so hardy. I guess I’m thinking of something where I can place seeds of projects that’s more of an altar object or art installation. I’ll have to see what inspiration comes along and share it with you.
Jeannie, you can’t get rid of me this easily! I’m in this for the long haul, so here is one small piece of my story.
As a result of what I believed was my calling, at about the age of 27 I went through the process of becoming a candidate for the ministry in my Protestant religion. My husband was in the military and I approached the Base Chaplain, who ultimately agreed to sponsor my candidacy. I worked during the day, went to University at night over the next year, met with the regional council, and received instruction from the Base Chaplain. The time came for me to give my first sermon, and that’s when I realised that I couldn’t reconcile my passion of what it means to be a good Christian with what went on in religion.
I had no problem with the Church’s stated approach to Christianity which emphasizes deep spirituality, discipleship, and justice, or with its stated encouragement that we live our faith through compassion, social justice, and inclusiveness. But I knew the morning of that sermon, as I stood at the pulpit, that stating a belief in progressive theology and actually living it freely were two different things. All I could think of was the many serving members who were absent on peacekeeping duty, far north rescue missions, sleeping in after a night of policing disturbances in a community, and how various members of the congregation who showed up every Sunday could see the empty pews as indications of lack of belief in a God of their understanding. My first and last sermon, on the topic of what it means to be a good Christian, was well received, but I knew that day that the God of my understanding had a different purpose for me. It was another 20+ hard and painful years, feeling lost and unknowing, before His purpose was revealed to me. However, it’s in the valleys we grow, and I am here today, living a life of gratitude and service, with a strong spiritual connection. I live in the certainty that this was always the plan for my life and that God’s timing is always perfect. I needed to become wise enough to understand that religion holds no attraction for me, but that my spiritual journey with and for others is vital.
Wow, what a powerful story, Heather, and I thank you so much for sharing it in my Substack space.
What struck me was how you described “the God of my understanding” and how that shifted for you over time. I see that in many of these kinds of conversations I’ve had with others who are sharing their conflicted feelings surrounding religion and religious belief—that something shifts in them that seems to go “against” what they were taught to believe, and the inner turbulence kind of has this tornadic effect in them, because they aren’t sure what to do with it.
It seems to me that it’s an indicator of spiritual growth when a person has the courage, as you have, to step outside of the prescribed boxes and ask the questions that are bigger than the small containers of doctrine. When a person’s faith expands, it seems natural that it steps outside of a denominational affiliation. At the same time, I believe one can remain within a particular religion and question it, too, which is what I am trying to do.
I commend you for acknowledging that your faith and your concept of God is bigger than what you were taught.
Thank you for seeing/feeling my experience. I agree with you that one can stay within a particular religion and yet question it, too. I think it was about 10 years ago that I came to believe that God is everything and everywhere, in all His holy names. That belief keeps me centred, especially right now. I do personal/spiritual life coaching with women, and am working with an Anglican priest right now. I cannot tell how much joy I get from our conversations about God, faith, spiritual principles, and remaining conscious of the fact that we are not in charge.
What a beautiful and holistic perspective, Heather. You are cultivating meaningful connections with the women you coach. You hold space for the sacred.
My dearest friend, I so admire you for writing about this! Religion is a tough one. Everybody I think has a strong feeling about it -either positive or negative, but rarely just “maah, whatever.” You know my story and how long it has taken me to feel comfortable again sitting at church or a synagogue. I also understand your reluctance to write about it for fear of judgment, and the shame… you shouldn’t be ashamed, but I get it. As you know I am writing about the cheerful subject of domestic violence and my mother kidnapping us to Israel and finding out I wasn’t Jewish. Shame shame shame. Terror terror terror. And I’m writing through it!
Thank you so much, friend. I love your openness. It really gives me permission and courage to keep writing through the hard things. I admire what you are doing, that tough writing through the domestic violence and your mom telling you that you were Jewish when you weren’t. There is so much to say, isn’t there? Please know I’m here for you as a friend and to support you. Just leave me a voice message if you need to vent. I’m here. XO
Oh Jeannie, I had no idea the origin story behind you leaving this former life as a sponsored Catholic author, only that you had left and that, well, it got complicated. I am so grateful and touched that you are sharing "the story", as it may be, now, and in so doing, being true to your story. I deeply admire the way you approach people, all people, and I can only imagine that comes from a divinely inspired upswell of love and compassion and grace. We can be both questioning and faithful beings all at the same time. You prove that every single time you write.
Jess, that means so much to me, especially given our recent Zoom conversation, which I think gives a little more texture to your comment and to my story. My biggest fear of opening up about this was that people would instantly reject me or not listen or decide they knew me. And I wanted to present myself honestly and truthfully, while demonstrating that I do try to welcome all people and to give all people who come into my space and my life the time they need to share what they feel compelled to share. To know that I am doing this gives me strength and confidence. Thank you, friend.
I am certain there are people who would have their own judgments, but I also truly believe that if you cultivate a garden filled with love, acceptance, kindness, and grace, it is truly challenging for judgment to survive there. And you, my friend, have built the loveliest of gardens. 🌷
I'm a bit confused, but I don't see a reason for any shame or confession. It's not your fault the Catholic publisher and your co-author didn't want to publish those truths. And what were they expecting to get from you anyway? That's a reflection on them, not even the Catholic church in general. Maybe I'm missing something.
You felt awful for the hurt not publishing the truths those suicide survivors shared caused them, and that is certainly understandable. They likely understood, too, though. Sharing those deeply personal things had to be so hard for them. The entire experience was hard for you as well as deeply disappointing.
Religion can be so complicated and divisive. Sad but true. I haven't been to church since my mother died. Long story. Not sure what I've been too embarrassed to share about. I have a secret or too, but they'll remain that way.
Thank you for sharing. I look forward to your next piece.
Thanks, Nancy, for this thoughtful comment. My shame is surrounding the fact that I haven’t written a deconstruction story and haven’t walked away from my religion. I think most stories like this involve a person completely rejecting their former way of life, while I have felt a quieter, gentler nudge to reform and re-frame it.
You are right in all that you laid out here—that it’s not my fault the publisher chose not to publish what I wrote, nor that the interviews I conducted with the suicide survivors was my fault. I get that. I didn’t feel shame surrounding that. It was more about admitting to all of you where I came from and who I once was, because I was such a different person back then.
And if you were to look up the articles and books I wrote during that time, you would see evidence of who I was and what I believed and what I was telling people was “right” and “wrong.” So that’s shameful to me. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I have to be honest about it.
It means a lot, too, that you admit here you feel conflicted about your relationship with religion, too. I am finding more and more of us feel that way. And I am wondering if there might be some larger conversation surrounding our complicated relationships with religion, something that might be more healing than revealing. Or maybe it is both.
I understand better now. Thank you. And yes, there is a potential larger conversation surrounding our complicated relationships with religion worthy of being had. No doubt about it.
You really are extraordinary. I’m Protestant but find most of my fellow believers just want to toe the doctrinal line. Some will acknowledge that doubt is okay but a searching attitude takes effort and it’s easier to say I believe and let it go at that.
I needed to change much in my life which required open mindedness and willingness. Should the same not apply to spirituality?
Thanks for saying all of this, Ed. I love how you wrote “a searching attitude takes effort.” YES! I agree. In my experience as a former grief writer and speaker, most people I met did not do this. They felt, in some way, they couldn’t. Like they didn’t have permission, like it was “wrong” if they questioned what they were told or taught.
I have never been that kind of person.
I can follow rules if they make sense to me—like for public safety—and if they align with my inner moral compass—like treating people with respect and kindness, no violence or hatred.
Yet, of course, there are so many rules and doctrines in Catholic theology that simply are. There is little to no room for discussion. You either accept it and are a “good” Catholic, or you reject it and are treated, even covertly, as a heretic or apostate.
There’s a larger conversation here, and I’m grateful my post is opening them up. Thanks so much for being here, Ed!
You showed bravery and integrity in what you did, and shame on the publishers for not using your work and the stories of those survivors. They let those people down, not you. They took the easy way out, in my opinion. That's not who you are, at least not from what I see and read here in your work. I'm a lapsed Catholic and struggle with not wanting to be associated with any religion claiming to be "Christian" these days. However, your past experiences and life have shaped who you are; if someone wants to reject your good work because of that, let them go.
Yes, I hear you, Doreen. Thanks for sharing that and for your encouragement. I absolutely can relate to the hesitation in calling myself a “Christian” because of the common profile and behavior of a Christian being this fire-and-brimstone, Bible thumping, homophobic, misogynistic, sanctimonious “believer.”
To me, living as a Christian means that I integrate the values I have adopted from following in the footsteps of Jesus. I try to do that. Jesus was a quiet, humble man. He sought out the people on the fringes of society. He loved most dearly the people who were rejected and ostracized from their families and communities. That’s what I want to do, too—not because I think I am better than they are, but because I see myself in them. I see us all as one. We all share human experiences in common, and I believe so strongly that if we looked at what we share instead of what makes us different, we might begin to heal ourselves and each other.
And I also think a lot of Christianity is presented as this is “right” and this is “wrong” or a sin. Well, if everything is presented that way, it’s going to create a lot of shame in people whose lives don’t fit in the containers we’re taught to accept and believe.
Your contribution is opening up so much in this conversation, and I value everything you shared, Doreen!
Thanks for reading and for your thoughtful comment, Liz. Yes, it has been tough. At the same time, I am seeing how it is opening up conversations surrounding people’s difficult and painful relationships with religion, so for that, I am deeply grateful.
I for one loved your Catholic writing and I believe God was pleased with your work. Whether you knew it or wanted it, I believe you drew people to the Faith or helped people lean into their Faith, grief, etc. We’re all called to be disciples of Jesus. Your Catholic writing is one avenue for your discipleship.
I hear that, and I am thankful you could see that my previous work helped others. I did hear from many who read my articles and books tell me that something specific spoke into a painful situation they were struggling with. I think where I am now is just this strange place of expansion. I am not in the camp of deconstruction. Instead, I am trying to find my way, using the gifts I have, to reach people outside of organized religion. It’s been a discernment process for me for at least three years.
Thank you, Kyle. The truth is, I am not even sure I still have their contact info to see if they still want their stories to be shared. It's been long enough now that I wouldn't even know where to open that door.
Jeannie, I'm woefully late to this conversation and am just catching up on reading your Substack. But I wanted to thank you for all of the ways in which you sharing your own lived experience has blessed so many others. I am honored and gifted to be walking this journey with you. You have such a beautiful family and are an amazing mother. Your gift of writing continues to be a beautiful way of serving others. Thank you for what you are sharing.
Lisa, it really means so much to see your name and comment pop up here, especially as I share openly about why I walked away from religious writing specifically. I don't have a deconstruction narrative, which I think confuses some people, and I still very much value my Catholic faith. I just realized over the course of a few years that I was called to step outside of the containers within Catholic publishing, so here I am.
You have been a pivotal part of my writing journey. I will never forget it. Thank you. ☺️
It's a gift to see where your path is taking you and to know how many people you are touching along the way. Stepping out in courage with an open heart is courageous, exciting, and fulfilling. Count on my continual friendship and support. I'm a fan!!
Thank you, Nakamya. I appreciate the blessing. I think I see it happening through every conversation and connection I am having with incredible people like you.
Hi Jeannie, I can appreciate your concerns about sharing your creative past. Thank you for honouring how that may be for your readers AND having the courage to take this as your next step. Congratulations for your previous successes and the knockbacks that enabled you to shed old skin and become the next iteration of who you are creatively, spritually, and humanly. Thankyou for acknowledging the compounded grief and betrayal the people you interviewed felt and for caring. In my humble opinion, that avenue was an opportunity for expression and that was great value, AND it wasnt the right portal for those stories to be published with integrity, grace, and compassion. Those stories yet exist and you continue to hold space for those brave, devastated, broken, and perhaps slowly healing family members. Thank you. I trust you will continue to deal honourably in your writing and living journey. Thank you for you.
Melanie, what you wrote gives me so much strength. You have a gift of encouragement. Every time you write something, I feel all of it and it really seeps into my psyche and my heart. There is a healing quality to what you share, and knowing that you have a deep understanding of the complexities surrounding religion and trauma helps me find the courage to keep writing through the shame. Thank you for showing up for me today. I needed to know this was the right direction to come out of the closet, so to speak, about my past.
Thanks Jeannie. You yourself are the quite the encourager! I have a few messages of yours that i havent yet replied to. They aren't forgotten, I just don't have the answers yet. In saying that, if I knew how to send you a private message on Substack that's likely what I would choose next. Not sure if you're open to that. So just putting it out there. Either way, have a great day 😊🦋💗
I appreciate that, Melanie, and would love to have a more private, personal conversation with you. To DM, just click the little chat bubble on the left of your home page. Then you can click on a little square with a pen on the upper righthand corner of the left side of that screen. Type my name, and you can directly message me, which is a private form of communication with me. Alternately, I can just start us off by sending you a DM and you can reply!
@Ally Hamilton I just published this today and it goes along with our comment string from your latest essay, in case you’re interested. :)
Notifying those 6 people who shared something so intense with you, believing it would help others, must have been so hard for you and for them. Of course, they must have felt betrayed, but so were you. You demonstrate integrity over and over again. It is too bad the editor and co-author did not demonstrate integrity.
Thanks, Nancy. It is heartening to have someone call me a person of integrity, because I do aspire for that. In my experience, living according to my personal integrity means that often I have to make tough decisions like I did here. The “easy way” would have been to just keep writing what I was writing and ignore the fact that something really tragic went wrong here. Unfortunately, there are people in every industry who do not operate with integrity, and there are those who do. So that’s why I keep showing up now with the intention of having a good heart motivate me in all I say and do.
Jeannie, as a former Catholic, I appreciate your disillusionment. It seems to be the price of outgrowing one consciousness. Then like shell-less lobsters we crawl naked looking for a shell of consciousness that fits our expanded awareness.
I hope you might write another book on grief, maybe you already have, that includes the stories that were too raw for one Catholic publisher but would be medicine for many who’ve been knocked off their spiritual path and more by grief.
Thanks for sharing a bit about your own religious background, Jane. It’s interesting that you wrote about a lobster without a shell, because I will never forget something my spiritual director told me when I sobbed to her about five years ago, saying, “Why do I feel like the church I love doesn’t love me? I feel like I’m losing my faith. I feel like I hate God.” And she said, “Good. It means you are outgrowing your faith. It’s like a snake shedding its old skin. You are growing into something bigger than the containers of your old faith.”
That has stayed with me for five years.
As for grief writing, it’s also interesting you suggested writing another book on grief, because about nine months ago, the publisher of my book, From Grief to Grace, told me it was going out of print. And I was stunned for a moment, because it has been a steady seller for ten solid years. But then I thought, “Maybe I can rework this book and its concepts so that it broadens the principles to apply how I have grown since I first wrote this book and that reflects ideas that might reach more people.”
So I will take what you suggested as a seed and keep it tucked under the soil of my heart. Thank you. :)
Isn’t it wonderful how love speaks through us and the messages each one needs come through? I’m glad I got to share that seed with you and look forward to the book you will produce.
Thanks, Jane. I believe strongly in seeds. I have many planted in my little artistic garden, each in various stages of development.
Jeannie, is your artistic garden in your mind and heart or is it literally somewhere on the earth, on an altar, ...? It sounds like a very cool idea I'd like to create my own version of. Can you tell me more?
That’s a great question, Jane! So I don’t literally have a flower garden that I cultivate. I’m not really a landscaping type of person, though I have asked for various flowering trees/bushes for birthdays, holidays, etc.
Right now our peony bushes bloomed and then withered quickly.
The knockout rose bushes are budding.
In early May, our flowering crab apple and viburnum bloom this sweet, floral fragrance all over our yard.
Regarding nurturing plants, I am more of an indoor plant person. I have quite a collection (at least 2 dozen) and they are my green “babies.”
What do you think in terms of a literal or metaphorical garden?
I have lots of houseplants and a desire to start a garden. One lone oregano plant blooms year after year without attention and is so hardy. I guess I’m thinking of something where I can place seeds of projects that’s more of an altar object or art installation. I’ll have to see what inspiration comes along and share it with you.
Jeannie, you can’t get rid of me this easily! I’m in this for the long haul, so here is one small piece of my story.
As a result of what I believed was my calling, at about the age of 27 I went through the process of becoming a candidate for the ministry in my Protestant religion. My husband was in the military and I approached the Base Chaplain, who ultimately agreed to sponsor my candidacy. I worked during the day, went to University at night over the next year, met with the regional council, and received instruction from the Base Chaplain. The time came for me to give my first sermon, and that’s when I realised that I couldn’t reconcile my passion of what it means to be a good Christian with what went on in religion.
I had no problem with the Church’s stated approach to Christianity which emphasizes deep spirituality, discipleship, and justice, or with its stated encouragement that we live our faith through compassion, social justice, and inclusiveness. But I knew the morning of that sermon, as I stood at the pulpit, that stating a belief in progressive theology and actually living it freely were two different things. All I could think of was the many serving members who were absent on peacekeeping duty, far north rescue missions, sleeping in after a night of policing disturbances in a community, and how various members of the congregation who showed up every Sunday could see the empty pews as indications of lack of belief in a God of their understanding. My first and last sermon, on the topic of what it means to be a good Christian, was well received, but I knew that day that the God of my understanding had a different purpose for me. It was another 20+ hard and painful years, feeling lost and unknowing, before His purpose was revealed to me. However, it’s in the valleys we grow, and I am here today, living a life of gratitude and service, with a strong spiritual connection. I live in the certainty that this was always the plan for my life and that God’s timing is always perfect. I needed to become wise enough to understand that religion holds no attraction for me, but that my spiritual journey with and for others is vital.
Thanks for listening, my friend.
Wow, what a powerful story, Heather, and I thank you so much for sharing it in my Substack space.
What struck me was how you described “the God of my understanding” and how that shifted for you over time. I see that in many of these kinds of conversations I’ve had with others who are sharing their conflicted feelings surrounding religion and religious belief—that something shifts in them that seems to go “against” what they were taught to believe, and the inner turbulence kind of has this tornadic effect in them, because they aren’t sure what to do with it.
It seems to me that it’s an indicator of spiritual growth when a person has the courage, as you have, to step outside of the prescribed boxes and ask the questions that are bigger than the small containers of doctrine. When a person’s faith expands, it seems natural that it steps outside of a denominational affiliation. At the same time, I believe one can remain within a particular religion and question it, too, which is what I am trying to do.
I commend you for acknowledging that your faith and your concept of God is bigger than what you were taught.
Thank you for seeing/feeling my experience. I agree with you that one can stay within a particular religion and yet question it, too. I think it was about 10 years ago that I came to believe that God is everything and everywhere, in all His holy names. That belief keeps me centred, especially right now. I do personal/spiritual life coaching with women, and am working with an Anglican priest right now. I cannot tell how much joy I get from our conversations about God, faith, spiritual principles, and remaining conscious of the fact that we are not in charge.
What a beautiful and holistic perspective, Heather. You are cultivating meaningful connections with the women you coach. You hold space for the sacred.
My dearest friend, I so admire you for writing about this! Religion is a tough one. Everybody I think has a strong feeling about it -either positive or negative, but rarely just “maah, whatever.” You know my story and how long it has taken me to feel comfortable again sitting at church or a synagogue. I also understand your reluctance to write about it for fear of judgment, and the shame… you shouldn’t be ashamed, but I get it. As you know I am writing about the cheerful subject of domestic violence and my mother kidnapping us to Israel and finding out I wasn’t Jewish. Shame shame shame. Terror terror terror. And I’m writing through it!
Thank you so much, friend. I love your openness. It really gives me permission and courage to keep writing through the hard things. I admire what you are doing, that tough writing through the domestic violence and your mom telling you that you were Jewish when you weren’t. There is so much to say, isn’t there? Please know I’m here for you as a friend and to support you. Just leave me a voice message if you need to vent. I’m here. XO
Oh Jeannie, I had no idea the origin story behind you leaving this former life as a sponsored Catholic author, only that you had left and that, well, it got complicated. I am so grateful and touched that you are sharing "the story", as it may be, now, and in so doing, being true to your story. I deeply admire the way you approach people, all people, and I can only imagine that comes from a divinely inspired upswell of love and compassion and grace. We can be both questioning and faithful beings all at the same time. You prove that every single time you write.
Jess, that means so much to me, especially given our recent Zoom conversation, which I think gives a little more texture to your comment and to my story. My biggest fear of opening up about this was that people would instantly reject me or not listen or decide they knew me. And I wanted to present myself honestly and truthfully, while demonstrating that I do try to welcome all people and to give all people who come into my space and my life the time they need to share what they feel compelled to share. To know that I am doing this gives me strength and confidence. Thank you, friend.
I am certain there are people who would have their own judgments, but I also truly believe that if you cultivate a garden filled with love, acceptance, kindness, and grace, it is truly challenging for judgment to survive there. And you, my friend, have built the loveliest of gardens. 🌷
You're such a kind person, Jess. Thank you. I'm grateful you're a flower in my garden. 🌼
Hi Jeannie,
I'm a bit confused, but I don't see a reason for any shame or confession. It's not your fault the Catholic publisher and your co-author didn't want to publish those truths. And what were they expecting to get from you anyway? That's a reflection on them, not even the Catholic church in general. Maybe I'm missing something.
You felt awful for the hurt not publishing the truths those suicide survivors shared caused them, and that is certainly understandable. They likely understood, too, though. Sharing those deeply personal things had to be so hard for them. The entire experience was hard for you as well as deeply disappointing.
Religion can be so complicated and divisive. Sad but true. I haven't been to church since my mother died. Long story. Not sure what I've been too embarrassed to share about. I have a secret or too, but they'll remain that way.
Thank you for sharing. I look forward to your next piece.
Thanks, Nancy, for this thoughtful comment. My shame is surrounding the fact that I haven’t written a deconstruction story and haven’t walked away from my religion. I think most stories like this involve a person completely rejecting their former way of life, while I have felt a quieter, gentler nudge to reform and re-frame it.
You are right in all that you laid out here—that it’s not my fault the publisher chose not to publish what I wrote, nor that the interviews I conducted with the suicide survivors was my fault. I get that. I didn’t feel shame surrounding that. It was more about admitting to all of you where I came from and who I once was, because I was such a different person back then.
And if you were to look up the articles and books I wrote during that time, you would see evidence of who I was and what I believed and what I was telling people was “right” and “wrong.” So that’s shameful to me. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I have to be honest about it.
It means a lot, too, that you admit here you feel conflicted about your relationship with religion, too. I am finding more and more of us feel that way. And I am wondering if there might be some larger conversation surrounding our complicated relationships with religion, something that might be more healing than revealing. Or maybe it is both.
Grateful for you.
I understand better now. Thank you. And yes, there is a potential larger conversation surrounding our complicated relationships with religion worthy of being had. No doubt about it.
You really are extraordinary. I’m Protestant but find most of my fellow believers just want to toe the doctrinal line. Some will acknowledge that doubt is okay but a searching attitude takes effort and it’s easier to say I believe and let it go at that.
I needed to change much in my life which required open mindedness and willingness. Should the same not apply to spirituality?
Thanks for saying all of this, Ed. I love how you wrote “a searching attitude takes effort.” YES! I agree. In my experience as a former grief writer and speaker, most people I met did not do this. They felt, in some way, they couldn’t. Like they didn’t have permission, like it was “wrong” if they questioned what they were told or taught.
I have never been that kind of person.
I can follow rules if they make sense to me—like for public safety—and if they align with my inner moral compass—like treating people with respect and kindness, no violence or hatred.
Yet, of course, there are so many rules and doctrines in Catholic theology that simply are. There is little to no room for discussion. You either accept it and are a “good” Catholic, or you reject it and are treated, even covertly, as a heretic or apostate.
There’s a larger conversation here, and I’m grateful my post is opening them up. Thanks so much for being here, Ed!
You showed bravery and integrity in what you did, and shame on the publishers for not using your work and the stories of those survivors. They let those people down, not you. They took the easy way out, in my opinion. That's not who you are, at least not from what I see and read here in your work. I'm a lapsed Catholic and struggle with not wanting to be associated with any religion claiming to be "Christian" these days. However, your past experiences and life have shaped who you are; if someone wants to reject your good work because of that, let them go.
Yes, I hear you, Doreen. Thanks for sharing that and for your encouragement. I absolutely can relate to the hesitation in calling myself a “Christian” because of the common profile and behavior of a Christian being this fire-and-brimstone, Bible thumping, homophobic, misogynistic, sanctimonious “believer.”
To me, living as a Christian means that I integrate the values I have adopted from following in the footsteps of Jesus. I try to do that. Jesus was a quiet, humble man. He sought out the people on the fringes of society. He loved most dearly the people who were rejected and ostracized from their families and communities. That’s what I want to do, too—not because I think I am better than they are, but because I see myself in them. I see us all as one. We all share human experiences in common, and I believe so strongly that if we looked at what we share instead of what makes us different, we might begin to heal ourselves and each other.
And I also think a lot of Christianity is presented as this is “right” and this is “wrong” or a sin. Well, if everything is presented that way, it’s going to create a lot of shame in people whose lives don’t fit in the containers we’re taught to accept and believe.
Your contribution is opening up so much in this conversation, and I value everything you shared, Doreen!
Thank you, Jeannie. I am on the same page as you with all of this.
Grateful for you, Doreen!
Likewise Jeannie.
This must have been so hard--both then and now. Thank you for sharing it.
Thanks for reading and for your thoughtful comment, Liz. Yes, it has been tough. At the same time, I am seeing how it is opening up conversations surrounding people’s difficult and painful relationships with religion, so for that, I am deeply grateful.
I for one loved your Catholic writing and I believe God was pleased with your work. Whether you knew it or wanted it, I believe you drew people to the Faith or helped people lean into their Faith, grief, etc. We’re all called to be disciples of Jesus. Your Catholic writing is one avenue for your discipleship.
I hear that, and I am thankful you could see that my previous work helped others. I did hear from many who read my articles and books tell me that something specific spoke into a painful situation they were struggling with. I think where I am now is just this strange place of expansion. I am not in the camp of deconstruction. Instead, I am trying to find my way, using the gifts I have, to reach people outside of organized religion. It’s been a discernment process for me for at least three years.
I'm excited to watch this series unfold. This is really inspiring Jeannie!
Thanks so much for reading, Sam, and for being here. This was so hard for me. I was nervous all morning until it posted. XO
Jeannie, I can imagine how hard it was to make those phone calls, Jeannie. I hope their stories have been, or will yet find a place to be, published.
Thank you, Kyle. The truth is, I am not even sure I still have their contact info to see if they still want their stories to be shared. It's been long enough now that I wouldn't even know where to open that door.
Jeannie, I'm woefully late to this conversation and am just catching up on reading your Substack. But I wanted to thank you for all of the ways in which you sharing your own lived experience has blessed so many others. I am honored and gifted to be walking this journey with you. You have such a beautiful family and are an amazing mother. Your gift of writing continues to be a beautiful way of serving others. Thank you for what you are sharing.
Lisa, it really means so much to see your name and comment pop up here, especially as I share openly about why I walked away from religious writing specifically. I don't have a deconstruction narrative, which I think confuses some people, and I still very much value my Catholic faith. I just realized over the course of a few years that I was called to step outside of the containers within Catholic publishing, so here I am.
You have been a pivotal part of my writing journey. I will never forget it. Thank you. ☺️
It's a gift to see where your path is taking you and to know how many people you are touching along the way. Stepping out in courage with an open heart is courageous, exciting, and fulfilling. Count on my continual friendship and support. I'm a fan!!
That means a lot to me, Lisa!
Sorry about that, you were write to quit. It was so disappointing. May God bless your work.
Thank you, Nakamya. I appreciate the blessing. I think I see it happening through every conversation and connection I am having with incredible people like you.