My secrets

My friend recently shared an article from the Guardian about a nurse, who while working for years in palliative care, recorded her patients' regrets during their last days of living. Apparently, the most common one could be summerized as "I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me."

This made me think. A lot. I'm spending my spring break observing the Holy Week.

I spent the entire year before we moved away for my new job, attending an Orthodox church 45 minutes away from where my husband and I resided at the time. Besides spending there almost every Sunday morning and early afternoon, we would go for Vesper's services on Saturday nights. We got so involved that I started singing in a choir there, granted after spending months working up a nerve to do that. By then my husband has been contributing his musical talents rather regularly. During the Holy Week last year we fasted, attended all the matins for that week, only drank liquids for three days, and even spent the night at church reading at an all-nigh vigil. For someone having lived in a bible belt, this probably wouldn't qualify for too over-the top religious. The catch is, almost nobody I knew outside of church had the slightest clue of anything described above. I carefully crafted what I say about my day with my parents to avoid mentioning that we spent the entire weekend, doing something church-related. With most of my friends, this was never a topic for a conversation.

I remember somebody tagging me on a facebook picture that showed me in our church. It was almost like coming out of a closet. I wondered what my parents would think, if any of my friends would draw surprised looks. Nothing happened, though. No unwanted questions. Life went on.

I don't want to portray myself as somebody that I'm not.

Something is broken. It's like when you sense something wrong, but can't define it. You peel away variables one by one, until you get to the layer that makes all the difference. I wonder if any of this makes sense. 


If I dedicate so much of myself to that place, the church, why is it such a secret that I'm there, with the people I love?