Prayer and PTSD

Living in the South, you hear peppered into conversations a dozen times a day religious topics or aspects, requests for prayer and invitations to attend services. Since navigating a church congregation is something akin to a nightmare for my PTSD family, we have simply elected to stay out of church, but not out of touch with God.

We have been told, by dozens of well-meaning individuals, that church is the answer for my Squee's problems. I disagree, somewhat. I believe a strong faith in God can help make the road to recovery a shorter one, a calmer one, if the person is so inclined. I do not believe that the concept of 'church' is a help. Bear in mind, in the South, congregations vary from about a dozen in a tiny country chapel to the over stuffed megachurches, and every one of them eager for new members. There has been no shortage of inviations, but I'm running out of polite ways to say no.

Our reasons are simple yet complex. Whereas an average person might become nervous walking into a new chuch for the first time, maybe face sweaty palms and a racing pulse, but still a normal reaction, a PTSD reaction is vastly different. Sweaty palms and nervous breathing happened in the parking lot, racing pulse before the car ride to get there. Nausea as soon as you're spotted and know you can't leave without seeming rude, having to overcompensate to quell a reaction when a well-meaning congregation member welcomes you with a slap on the shoulder or a hug you weren't expecting. It's an hour of sitting in the back pew, as close to the door as you can get, not because you're not focused on the message but because you're still on alert to any threat in the room. It's the little twinge of fear that you get when you close your eyes to pray, and hoping that God forgives you when you squint towards the noise you heard up front before anyone says "Amen". It's being unable to focus on God's message and promise of Heaven because you are too aware of the evils you have witnessed on Earth. It's not that we don't want to be there, it means it's harder for us to be there than you realize.

It doesn't help when there are fundamental differences in what is preached in some local churches and what you feel in your heart is right. I discovered at a young age that my own morals are only strengthened in resolve by the constant barrage of opposition, but when one is already physically and mentally exhausted it doesn't bolster resolve but instead drains a person's very soul, which isn't the point of church.

Now, does our lack of church attendance make us less Christian? To some, it does. I have been called everything from an atheist to a whore because we don't attend church regularly. I silently endure these comments, because I know full well what I am and what I am not. I am not an atheist, though I do have atheist friends. I am not a whore, though I know a few. I am not a perfect Christian either, indeed far from it, but I am a child of God, a wife and mother, and in my heart that's all that matters.

Since the beginning of our time together, relationships with family and friends outside of 'us' as a couple and then as a family began to deteriorate, albeit many have remained. We have understanding people, judgmental people, and compassionate people. That's a vast array of people in our lives. And you know what? I pray for every last one of them, every single day.

When I say "I pray," I can see my atheist friends' eyes rolling now. Most often, these are the friends that take automatic offense because they believe my prayer for them hinges on some contingency that they turn to God or change their entire beliefs system.

That's not what I mean, so perhaps I should explain.

I mean that every single day of my life, I pray for the health, happiness, and well-being of my friends and family, no matter what their beliefs are. Prayers are good thoughts or positive vibes from me to them, in appreciation of their roles in my life, because that's the intention of prayer at it's core: praying for others, not for yourself. You may scoff at religion, but I believe prayer to be a powerful tool in my caregiver survival kit, and I'll pray for your happiness regardless, because it makes me happier to do so.