hello, welcome to my blog! this is my introduction post.
im apollo, i go by he/they/it pronouns. i am a satanist. i made this blog to discuss satanism and to discuss my own personal experiences with satan, as i believe in him as an actual deity.
i am a former christian, and may make posts about religious trauma, etc. but mainly the point of this blog is to discuss satanism, as that is my religion and i want a safe space to talk about it.
i am also looking to work with the ars goetia in the future.
any hate will be deleted, thank you. i hope to make some mutuals and such.
Laundry day is always Sunday
I wash my clothes of their weekly wear
The grit and grime and worldly tear
Fearful of the week, the damaged wreaked
A prayer and water are the way
Some morning rituals never fade
Unlike the colors from my clothes
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Like a tide of confession
Ablute and absolve my wears without question
@env0writes C.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
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Photo by @mynamemeanscloud
i think it's a pretty well-known fact that xtians have the biggest persecution complexes on the planet when being called out for the bigotry they pass around like blunts. but i also think it's just a little worse when they only pretend to support you or do that half-support bullshit. the "i'm okay with it but i'd want to fix you" or "i'm not against it but it's still wrong" kind of stuff.
Remembering back 4 years ago when I firmly stepped away from my tribe at the time. Admitted to myself that I wasn't a Christian any more.
I know I probably had begun the process years earlier. But that was the day I listened to a Rett and Link podcast talking about their deconstruction from Christianity. It felt like I felt myself for the first time in a while. It's also when I suggested my wife listen to those conversations and we both admitted to each other we were deconstructing our faith/identity.
It was hard to be without a tribe. No church, no political identity. It was hard not to point out where people were being dishonest or constructing straw man arguments to support their positions. And that's no way to make friends.
But I regret nothing. It's been a healthy season for the both of us and we've had beautiful conversations with our three kids all along the process.
Recently, starting a book club has been a very good step for me. Having people outside of work and from a diverse set of backgrounds discussing a very challenging novel has been wonderful.
Rewatched Fleabag season 2 and I keep rotating this bit in my head
And I'm thinking about all the people over the years who have insisted to me that their life is proof that God is real, because when they started giving their love to God, they found peace, and everything changed. And of course I believed them, because their stories were true.
Boo says "I'm serious, give it all to me" and fleabag just gazes at her in sheer relief. Boo saves her, gives her a place to put her love, loves her back, gives her little things to live for every day. And then she dies. And Fleabag is lost all over again.
And I'm thinking about the people I used to look up to that would remind me that in the end, no matter how safe and steady they may seem, every person in my life will fail and leave and be taken from me eventually. The only thing that can be relied on forever is God.
The priest found that safe place in religion. It gave him a sort of independence and a rock to hold onto. He was lost without it, and he knows it. He doesn't want to go back, because he learned the same lesson she did, and it scares him to death.
And even though she understands that, truly, to the point that she indulged her curiosity and tried prayer herself, she still can't get over the fact that he's willingly allowing the safe space he's made for himself in his head get in the way of real, honest to God, human-connection love.
And isn't that just the jagged, raw ore of the issue.
I’ve seen a lot of stuff this week that was vaguely triggering regarding religious trauma, etc. I’m not entirely sure how to classify my response to it. There’s been a lot of sudden nausea and tears and general sadness over the things I was taught growing up.
But the conclusion I keep coming to, over and over again, is that it’s so devastatingly heartbreaking that growing up religious means growing up hearing how you are-- from birth-- damaged and evil and broken and in need of saving. That you and your very existence are fundamentally flawed and in need of forgiveness and redemption and salvation from the source that decided all of this in the first place.
The foundation of a lot of my anxiety and distress in life comes from the feeling that everything about me is somehow a little bit wrong, a little to the left, off kilter somehow, and that I am-- at all times, knowingly or unknowingly-- wasting everyone’s time and unworthy.
I am on a constant quest to earn love and loyalty, and it’s gut wrenching to know that one of the earliest creeds imbued into me was that I am unworthy and fundamentally evil, but if I make the right decisions and say the right things, I may earn forgiveness and love... but I’ll never deserve it.
And then it was made my job to make others feel this way, too?
Being home schooled was such an isolating experience looking back at it. It was just me, my mom, and my siblings unless we were at church or co-op. Is it no wonder that I didn't know how to make friends till my 20s?
I don't think anyones gonna see this but I wanna post it somewhere because I can't stop thinking about it,, I was on tiktok and I saw someone ask a creator how they reconcile being queer and christian and they said that god created the night and day but also the colorful sunsets and dusk and the early morning and that he created the oceans and deserts but also forests and swamps and mountains and valleys and everything in between and I was like :( I'm not christian but I was raised as one and left it because I was queer and didn't feel welcome in christain spaces and that made me wanna sob (/pos). ok that's all
On the third day, He had risen,
But on the third night, I am awake
Bleary-eyed praying for five-hour-past-midnight miracle
What must I do, what must I stake?
Streetlights start to dim, starlight too
Thoughts are breaking down
But not my mind to sleep
Nor eyes to weep
Even inaction, in action is less action in my mind
To simply not do, is to do too much
For my body and mind to be aligned
In pursuit of rest
Rest too must escape my prayers,
My sevenday calls
Cigarette smoke lingers still, like cold spectre flames
From some other’s lips exhaled and exhumed, across me it trawls
Long winded lines of thought, dialogue fought
Drinkers of sorrow imbibing their social fear
Who need be a lamb to the wolves, if willingly goes
Ram forward to life, be it strife in a flock not so near
If rudeness be the currency of the times
Call a timeout, and let me rest for once
I’d rather be a poor man kindly,
Kingly in a way of my own dreams
Dreams I still await, with open mailbox watching
Thrice counted, still not amounted to even swim with the fishes
Loads of trouble to piece letters stamped together
Send me on my way, please let me be delivered
@env0writesC.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
Support Your Local Artist!
Photo by @env0
any other former xtians still slightly afraid of insulting g-d in any way likely due to the instilled fear of hell or "g-d's wrath" despite the fact you do not believe in such things anymore
I have no really issue with a drag queen story hour at a public library, so long as it's PG, parents are there and attendance is voluntary. But the American Church has been far too distracted for far too long by their neighbors lawn while weeds and dog shit have been piling up on their own lawn and they wonder why no one is spending time in their yard. 🤷
...was hard for me. From birth, I was raised in a radically conservative family of Christians. But even at a young age, I didn’t feel connected to the beliefs I was spoon fed in every aspect of my life.
I was made to feel guilty for not having blind faith. I was made to feel like I was a horrible person when doctrine was explained and it still didn’t make sense. I was made to feel shame for faking ‘my beliefs’. All for the sake of obeying my parents and being accepted by the only community I was allowed to be in.
But finally, after years of pressure and self doubt, I’m finally free.
There are still things I’m working on. I still am triggered and feel sick at the thought of entering a church or when I hear Christian music. I’m still trying to push aside the anti lgbtq+ thoughts I get automatically, even though I know the only reason I was against them was because I was told I was supposed to be - and without that harmful religion dictating my thoughts, there’s no reason why I should be against them.
And while I still have a ways to go towards a life where the trauma doesn’t affect me all the time, I can see the progress I’ve made already.
When I hear someone - like my family or random person - talk about Christianity, I now feel the same level of indifference towards it that I feel towards other religions with flawed beliefs/doctrine.
Yes, every now and then I still have that sense of dread that if I don’t believe in Christ that I’m going to suffer in hell for all eternity (such a wholesome thought that stems from a religion that says its based on universal love), but for the most part, now I can remember all those Bible stories and treat them the same as Greek myths. I can respect that someone’s Christian beliefs gives them comfort, but I don’t have to agree with them to be in a relationship with them.
Finally, I’m free to be on the outside and look in with indifference.