Faith and Loss

One thing I realized during my breakdown is I had lost my religious beliefs.  Whether this had happened before or because of the breakdown, I can't say, but it happened.

Before the breakdown I was a practicing Asatruar--a careful reconstructer of Norse beliefs and traditions.  I wasn't obsessive with it, but it was there.  I wore a Valknut, a symbol of Odin and all he encompassed.   Not the most common religion, but it was mine.  That necklace was integral in my realization I no longer have any faith.  That a key necklace, both of which I wore daily.

I had originally stopped wearing jewelry because it made me physically ill to remove my necklaces and realize I didn't have the third in the trifecta of necklaces I always wear--the owl necklace given to me by my exboyfriend.  I had given it back to him when we broke up because it hurt me to wear, and it made my stomach drop whenever I realized it was gone.  After a week or so I realized I had no desire to wear anything with meaning to me.  When people fall on hard times they fall to their beliefs, and this I have none.  I discussed this slightly with my ex the other day, as well.  He has faith in something more, and I wish I had that.  I wish so badly I had that.

On my drive back from my psychiatrist's today I thought about going to a church one day this week.  My family was never the God-fearing type, and I know I'll never be a Christian or a follower of a monotheistic belief.  I was always more of a mystic, I suppose: I read tarot, I believed in ghosts, now it just seems as thought there's nothing there.

"I want to believe" is the poster Agent Mulder has in his office in the television show The X-Files (my favorite show).  That's the only way I can describe how I feel right now.  I want to believe, but I can't.