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Rated: ASR · Non-fiction · Personal · #1192014
Converting religions, my story.
         I never felt like I really connected with Christianity. As much I would try to pay attention in Sunday school and mass, I would always find my mind wandering. The gospels to me were boring stories that did not make sense. I would think how the creation story could be true if there is evidence of prehistoric creatures that existed before those we see today. Also, if all the people in the world who exist today, who have died, or who are to be born, go to either heaven or hell, would heaven and hell get somewhat full.
         I was scared that the way I was thinking was wrong, because my family was completely Christian. I tried to force myself to believe the way which people taught me was the true path. However, I could not even back myself up because the beliefs did not even make sense to me. Finally, when I began eighth grade I decided to find another religion that could connect with me. What I found was Wicca.
         As soon as I first read about it, I knew this was the path I had unknowingly followed; that this was my religion. However, at the same time I realized that not everyone would be accepting if I declared myself a witch, in particular my parents.
         At first, they did not seem to care. They laughed and joked about it, which I thought was their way of saying that it was fine with them. I never hid anything from them. I let them know if I was lighting candles in my room, and I did not hide books I had checked out of the library. It was not until I planned my first Sabbat ritual that I realized my parents where not happy about my converting.
         Upon finishing, my dad called me to him and asked me exactly, what I had been doing. I told him, but I was surprised, for he had never really cared before. The next thing I knew he was telling me “it ends tonight.” He asked me for all the books I had, and I hid my ritual tools. He told me what I was doing was wrong and said he understood if it would be hard to quit because it was addicting like drugs. It was the first, but not the last time that he would try to interfere with my beliefs.
         Now, over two years later, my parents and I have reached an uncomfortable agreement. They are fine with me being Wiccan, but I do not believe they truly accept it. If anything, we have agreed to disagree. I realized something though, as a child, my parents have much control over me. In the physical sense if they tell me to do something and I choose to ignore them, they can force me. Nevertheless, they cannot tell me what to believe.
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