How Fear Happens

So, in your twenties, you think, if you have lived alone for any amount of time in your life, you've got this figured out. Nothing scares you anymore, there are few things you can't fix with your own hands in your own condo and you go out at night on a weekend and take the last train home by yourself and don't think anything of it. Oh, and yeah,  in my case I also moved to another country on another continent with another language. Didn't bother me one bit. Moved to a big city a few years in, lived in a rather scary part of town, took trains, walked home at night, drove my car just about anywhere, no trouble sleeping alone at night. You're a practically fearless twenty-something.

Fast forward a few years and you meet the love of your life. You live together, everything gets easier, you don't have to fix stuff at your own house anymore, -there's now a man, who does that. You move out of the bad part of town, you drive everywhere together, you no longer take the train anywhere, and you don't have to sleep alone, unless said spouse falls asleep on the couch every once in a while. Sounds great, however, there comes the moment, when you realize, not only do you not have to do the things anymore that you did in your twenties, you are now incapable of doing them. That happens to also be the moment when you realize you've become a scared-to-death-bundle of thirty-something and just about everything terrifies and worries you.

That's not normal. It can't be! I'm the same person. What happened and when? It makes no sense. I find myself living in a safe neighborhood, I have a dog in the house since over a year and I've got to unlock 3 doors to get into my house myself, I'm safer than I've ever been and yet I'm ill-at-ease.

Now that my husband's line of work dictates that he is away a lot in the evenings and into the night, I find myself facing those fears. Trying to be alone again after so many years of together-ness, is not as easy as it might seem. Sleeping is still the hardest part for me, I have a really hard time sleeping when he is not here. I am getting better at finding things to do and spending time with myself, something I used to enjoy so much, reading, painting, watching TV, working out.

The dog has been a great help, don't get me wrong, he is a small Jack Russel Terrier and by no means a guard dog, but just his presence makes me feel less alone and much comforted. I still don't quite know how being fearful started, but I know I am chipping away at it little by little with every time I'm by myself and I am getting better at not letting it interrupt the things I want to do, even if they are as insignificant as going to the mailbox at night or getting something out of my car...Babysteps.

I need to find a new hobby...

The Gospel of Barnabas --or Finally Putting my Perpetual Contemplation into Words.

First off, I usually stay away from posts or opinions about Religion, especially in my blog. Why, you ask? Because I know better, that's why! Because I don't want to be one of those people, who constantly bicker about it. Religion (and maybe politics) has been the one subject in human history that split continents, nations, families etc., when really by design, it was meant to bring us together.

To set the record straight, as quiet as I may seem to the outsider about religion, and many people take that silence as a sign of me not being religious at all or even atheist, this could not be further from the truth. I'm Catholic, I was born Catholic and if that is possible, I feel Catholic. Or better I feel most affiliated with the Catholic Church. Do I believe everything that Catholicism preaches? Absolutely not. Do I believe in God? ABSOLUTELY.  I just refuse to publicly argue a subject that, I feel, should be private for each individual and everyone should be allowed to determine their own level of involvement in and with Religion. My grandfather, an avid church-goer and Catholic, taught me that you don't need a church building to be close to God or to pray, the same way my family has always believed that you don't feel closest to a deceased family member by standing at their grave site. I'm not saying that other people should feel that way, too. But I'm saying, I do.

Well, enough of the intro. The reason why I'm venturing out of my comfort zone, or even actually into my absolute "discomfort-zone", is the fact that I read a story in the news about an ancient bible that surfaced in Turkey and contained the Gospel of Barnabas, claiming, among other things, that Jesus may not have been crucified.

Don't worry, I don't have a theory that is going to change Christianity as we know it, nor do I claim to have solved an ancient mystery that the professors, philosophers and preachers of the world have not been able to crack.

No, I claim none of that. But I must share what has baffled me for years and compelled me to finally put it down in words: I have always had trouble with the controversy, people arguing about whether or not what the bible says, is all true.

Don't get me wrong now, my trouble, is not with whether the bible is fact or fiction. My trouble is with the fact that there is an argument at all, and why it would matter? The part that confuses me is, if you choose to believe in God and Jesus, if you have made the conscious choice to believe, why would changing details of the story of Christ's life, or even an alteration of the outcome of the story, matter? Why would that change someone's belief? I am here to say to you today: "So What?"

So what, if Jesus was actually married? So what, if he was not actually crucified? I'll even go as far as to say, so what, if he was not God's son at all, and there was just some kind of historical inaccuracy or misinterpretation?

There have always been rumors for centuries that the Vatican may know the "real truth", but must keep it hidden to "protect" Christianity. I don't understand why Christianity needs protecting. If you say you believe in Jesus Christ. And you chose to believe. Then there you have it. You made your choice. Would it really be so bad to believe in a historical figure, that we can all agree on by historic accounts, lived among us, and, who has done great things in his life?

So what, if he may not have had supernatural "god-given" powers or may even have been a regular person, who just made a major difference in so many people's lives? And is remembered and worshipped for it? And people re-tell/re-print his story over and over to remind ourselves that there's good in the world?

Does a possible lack of divinity hence deserve less of our belief? Is it really so crazy to think that we just believe in a good Samaritan? I, for one, would be completely fine with that. For me that is enough. Must we really have the miracles, the virgin birth and a gruesome death by Crucifixion in order to believe in someone that has made it his life's purpose to make others feel better, physically and spiritually?

We should believe in good people, who do good to help others, who are selfless, compassionate and giving. I'm sorry, but from where I'm sitting that is a no-lose kind of situation: You believe in a genuinely good person, the thought of and prayer to whom make you feel fulfilled and grateful. And if he was Jesus, the divine and all-knowing, wouldn't he be happy to see that we as a people have chosen to believe unconditionally in just a normal person, who did good deeds and lived their life right. Wouldn't we then exactly live by HIS example? Food for thought.