Bitterness about my Religious Upbringing
I don't hate Christianity. For my first two years of college, I was a fairly devout Episcopalian. I've recently been growing more unsure whether I believe in the religion, but I haven't left it yet. Only time will tell whether I stay or leave.
Episcopalians are fairly chill; they think the gays are fine, they typically won't threaten you with Hell for questioning whether some part of the Bible literally happened. If they threaten anyone with Hell, it will be billionaires; a certain sort of Episcopalian is fond of quoting James 5:1.
But this is not the sort of Christianity I was raised in. I was raised in Conservative Calvinism, with all its rough edges and idiosyncrasies. With firm and dour certitude, my mother told me that gay people were doomed to everlasting torment. The same fate awaited everyone who didn't follow of our religion. Or perhaps even everyone outside our particular subculture. We were never particularly clear on this point. The vast majority of human beings would certainly be damned. Those of us who weren't still certainly deserved it, there was no transgression so small it did not merit eternal pain.
In high school, I attended a Christian school, and I was taught that everyone knew with certainty that God exists. If anyone denied this or expressed doubt about it, they were suppressing the truth in unrighteousness, knowingly casting their souls into the maw of Hell. And, to make whole thing a bit more Lovecraftian, God had decreed all of this from eternity past, that his glory might be increased.
For whatever reason, I have never intuitively believed in supernatural beings. To me, the world has always presented itself as impersonal and mechanistic. So I have always been filled with doubts about Christianity. And, while I spent many years making a heroic effort to ignore my sexuality, I am in fact bi. It was wrong to imply that these things meant God likely hated me and had predestined me to everlasting torture. It's wrong to tell a child that they deserve to be tortured forever for punching their sibling or stealing staplers (or that they will be after the age of accountability).
This makes me mad. I love my parents. My parents love me, my parents have done so much to care for me and support me. But their theology is harmful and ridiculous. And it harmed me. I spent many years telling myself that this was normal and okay, but it isn't. It was awfully fucked up, and it's okay to feel a little bitter about that.