Going to Chuch

Yes, it's true. People like me go to church. Sometimes I've only gone out of habit without saying too much else about myself. I felt so guilty knowing I was shoplifting on a weekly basis since the accident--a little thing here, a little thing there. Maybe a designer dress or something. And no one knew. It's not like the old days were everybody really knew everybody. I'm not going to be put in the town square for all to see me in the stocks. I'm not going to be tarred and feathered, live in a prison where rats will nibble on my toes, publicly paddled (ouch), whipped (ouch) or have my hand cut off (seriously ouch!). Almost no one has to know. I even keep other blogs that don't acknowledge this side of me. This blog is my confessional.

I feel better knowing that I'm not lifting. Church was more meaningful today. For so long I didn't care that I was doing anything or not--at least until I got to church. I want to talk about it with a spiritual adviser, but not at MY church. That would be too embarrassing. They think I'm Miss Pure. I want to go to a catholic church that has screens in the confessional. It's because I am ashamed. I want my secret to be somewhere else for safekeeping. After what happened with the ex whatever I just don't need any more pain.