I love deconstructing. Really, really love it. I love deconstructing recipes and furniture, appliances and books, politics and faith, working my way back to see all the components, figuring out how they work together, and seeing if there’s a better way.

I think deconstruction is one of the greatest privileges and responsibilities of being a grown-up because it leads to humility (I don’t know everything), compassion (nobody knows everything), and peace (it’s OK to not know everything).

Most of all, it leads to so much fun, adventure, and discovery. The world opens up when the preconceived ideas are dismantled, human beings are no longer the enemy but fellow travellers who have things to teach us, and our creativity flourishes as we press past boundaries and begin to build a new faith, community, political ideology, or way to make pancakes.

But first, we have to face the fear and prepare ourselves for backlash.

Institutions really, really, really dislike deconstruction. Political organisations, religious groups, businesses, friendships and families, they’d all prefer that we muddle along in a state of unquestioning acceptance and tradition because it makes things so much easier for them. They’re also rather fond of controlling people, and get quite cranky when we say, “No more.”

Sometimes it’s not about power or control, it’s simply the discomfort of change. Change in those we love is unsettling and scary, it threatens our sense of belonging, understanding, and security, it can make us feel like we’re being judged, abandoned, and as if our opinions, beliefs, and ideas don’t matter.

As I’ve deconstructed, I’ve lost community, family, and friends. I’ve been judged, rejected, gossiped and lied about. I was told I was evil, going to hell, and a shame to God, the church, and my community.

In the beginning, those reactions were devastating. They broke my heart and sent me through a long period of grief and mourning. And then, those reactions became a gift. They showed me the reality of how people saw me and freed me from relationships and institutions where I was not loved, accepted, and respected. And those lonely spaces they left in their wake? They were just what I needed to study, write, observe, examine, test, ponder, and discover.

Most of all, they gave me the time and space I needed to realise that going forward, no matter what happened, I would never abandon myself again. I would be my most devoted advocate, fiercest warrior, and dedicated worker-through-er-of-things so I could build a life grounded in reality, love, and adventure. Yes, adventure.

By choosing to see deconstruction as an adventure, it has become truly delightful. Yes, there are still periods of rage, grief, and loss as I uncover lies and process trauma, but I know now that each of those moments will be followed by peace, greater freedom, and deeper joy. I can go through the yuck because I know the wonder is coming. I can feel it as the trauma pain leaves my body, the nightmares lessen, my breathing becomes ever more deep and natural. I see it in my reactions to the world. I no longer have space for bullies or abusers, but my heart gives ample space for good folks with differing viewpoints, ideas, and thoughts. My world now is full of colour and nuance and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I write all this today firstly for myself, so I can celebrate how far I’ve come and how much I’ve learned, but secondly, for anyone who might be in deconstruction and feeling the terror of it.

You’re going to be OK. You really, really are. It’s going to be horrible and then beautiful, horrible, then beautiful, over and over until the beautiful begins to outweigh the horrible and the things and people that traumatised and harmed you will lose their power and you won’t feel the weight of them anymore.

You’re going to be OK because they lied to us. You don’t need faith to heal. You really don’t. You can heal with faith, and you can heal without it. Faith is not a determinant for healing from trauma and abuse anymore than it’s a determinant for healing from cancer or influenza or a broken leg. Anyone who tells you it is, is lying.

You’re going to be OK because you are never going to abandon yourself again. Slowly but surely you’re going to heal the disconnections with your own, dear self, you’re going to rebuild trust, you’re going to be able to distinguish your own voice from the clamour of others and find that it is wise and good and trustworthy.

You’re going to be OK because you have all the time you need to work through whatever you need to work through. There is no deadline, no exam, no evaluation, just good, steady, beautiful, loving work until you die. And every day when you wake up, you are enough, just as you are, no matter what stage of grief or healing or thriving you’re in. You’re just right and just where you need to be.

You’re going to be OK because you can do hard things. You’ve already done them. You’ve already survived lies and abuse and trauma and poverty and job loss and loneliness and rejection and illness and the loss of people you love. You’ve done all that. You’ve woken up every day and chosen life, and that is incredible.

You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to do this alone ever again. You can ask for help without shame, you can go to the doctor and keep going until you get the help you need, you can find a psychiatrist and keep trying them out until you get the one you need, you can get books from the library, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, join supportive Facebook communities, call depression or anxiety hotlines, go for walks, eat lots of veggies, drink enough water, sit in the sunshine, help others in need, take naps, cry your heart out, do something creative badly until you get better at it, whatever it takes to care for your own dear, beloved self. You are worth fighting for.

You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to know the ending to start the journey. You may end up with a beautiful new faith or a beautiful no-faith and no matter what anyone says, both of those are valid. If there is a God, he’s never, ever going to abandon you no matter what you are able to believe or not believe, and if there is no God, he was never there to begin with and you’re going to be just fine.

You’re going to be OK because you will find a home for yourself again. It’s going to be lonely for a while as you figure out who you are and what you believe, but, as you get settled in yourself, you’ll find people who will love you, as you. You will find good people who are loving and supportive and kind and will welcome you with open arms, people you can love and care for and who will do the same for you. There are people of faith and people of no-faith who are absolute gems and love based on a person’s humanity rather than whether they measure up to their correct idea of belief or not. There are good people who don’t care how you vote or what you believe, they just see and value you.

Lastly, you’re going to be OK because you don’t answer to anyone but yourself. You don’t owe anyone a description of your belief system or the state of your faith. You don’t have to explain it, defend it, or even define it. It belongs to you and you alone.

You might be a hope-er instead of a believer, you may retain faith but switch denominations, you may embrace a mix of pagan, Islam, and Christianity, you may toss all religion on the burn pile, you may simply not have the strength or energy to care anymore. It’s OK. That’s the other great thing about being a grown-up, you’re allowed to shape your own belief system. No one has the right to tell you what to believe. No one. They may think they have a monopoly on truth, but they don’t. It is simply impossible for any of us to have all the information in the universe to make a sufficiently informed decision about anything, so all we do is make our best guess. And frankly, when we realize that all of us are just guessing our way through life based on limited information, we’ll be a lot kinder to each other and a lot more humble.

One last thought. As humans, we get to keep growing, changing, and learning. We get to adjust and alter along the way as we learn and experience more. For me, there’s great comfort in this. This life is an adventure in every way, terrifying and exhilarating, mundane and wondrous. A deconstructed and mindfully rebuilt life is a glorious thing and I am so proud of you for doing this incredibly hard work.

Wishing you courage, endurance, and so much love as you explore and experiment and examine. You’re going to be OK. xo