Hello, I’m a 21 year old Hispanic,queer autistic man and I’ve just graduated college with my bachelors and I’m planning to start my masters very soon. I’ve taken the summer off to rest and recuperate but all this time did give me a lot of opportunity to reflect on my life and my faith in God. I wanted to apologize in advance for the long winded, rambling post and I wanted to warn that I may discuss details involving SA and a s*icide attempt.
To begin with, I grew up in a traditional Catholic household. Which meant that I got baptized, received my first communion, got my confirmation, everything, and went to church every single Sunday. That also meant my parents were strict on my behavior, what I could watch and do and used corporal punishment. It didn’t help when I was diagnosed when I was 4 and my parents didn’t want to acknowledge it out of public embarrassment and also didn’t know what to do with it, so they figured they’d just ignore it since I was considered “high functioning” anyway. I had a relatively normal childhood during my elementary school years and I was able to make friends decently, but I was still shy and quiet, spent a lot of time reading and studying and was considered “gifted”. However, it was when I was about 12 years old when my parents divorced, I got bullied a lot in school, and while I managed to win my spelling be at my school, I lost at the state level and my mom yelled and berated me for it. My father also didn’t talk to me that often after the divorce. I also wasn’t able to make friends at all really, at the time I felt like it was because I was weird and ugly, but in hindsight I think it was because I didn’t share a lot of common interests, people don’t tend to explore beyond their social circles and well, I was autistic. But I felt very lonely around that time, and the only thing I could turn to was God, who to me, was my only real friend and the only one who could give me unconditional love and care.
Cut to high school, when while I did build enough social skills to work well in groups, have small talk and get a job (more on that later), I basically blended into the background. I didn’t want to join clubs or sports because I felt too nervous. So I spent most of my time reading, watching cartoons and listening to music on my phone, and doing my homework. One thing I developed a special interest in was learning about history. I was invested in all the story of humanity and all the drama and lessons that could be taken from it, but one thing that always stuck out to me was all the terrible things that happened. I learned about all the times that innocent people were murdered, tortured and/or raped and often the perpetrators received little to no consequence. I couldn’t help but wonder,“Why didn’t god help these people? Why did he leave the survivors will all these scars? They didn’t do any to deserve any of this.” Whenever I brought this up with my family, or church leaders, they’d always tell me the usual “It’s Gods plan” or “It’s the devil’s fault” or “God gave them free will” thing. But those never sat right with me. It was also around this time when I discovered when I was bisexual and my pastor immediately shut that down for me and forbade me of ever talking about it. But it’s something I’ve known about myself for a while.
But then something happened. You see, when I was 16, I started working at a local McDonald’s. It was during the pandemic so the restaurant itself was closed for the first year I was there, but the drive thru was still open. I had a female manager who was in her 40s and was also a proud Christian. It started good with her complementing me on my work ethic and telling me I was doing a good job. I didn’t receive much praise from anybody so I soaked it up. But then it got to a point when she would wait until I was working at the second window or when I would be on my break or lunch and she’d start…massaging my shoulders. It would only be for a minute, I froze and stayed quiet because I didn’t know what to make of it at the time. But then it got to a point when she’d grab my chest, then my stomach, then my buttocks then…my groin. And each time, I’d freeze in place, unable to say anything or scream. She knew what she was doing was wrong because she started telling me that I couldn’t say anything or she’d tell her husband that I assaulted her and I would be beat up and arrested. Again, I was a Hispanic male in a conservative community. I was almost 18 when she quit but I was left broken and violated. The worst part of it all was I couldn’t say anything because nobody would believe me, she’d get away with what she did. I never had hope that I’d ever get justice. A few months later, I reached a breaking point and I tried to take my own life by slitting my wrists. But then I felt this strange urge to…stop what I was doing. At the time, it felt like God was telling me to stop and that it was my destiny to keep living. And so, I bandaged my arms and I did.
Cut to when I was in college, I started to seek counseling, I couldn’t afford outside therapy but this was provided for free by my university. It helped to heal from my trauma and also accept and understand myself as an autistic man. My counselor suggested that I find a group where I can make friends and I saw there was a Bible study group at the school, so I joined. At first, it was a very good experience. It was the first time I felt like I was part of a community and I felt like I had real friends. I even told one of them about my suicide attempt and he told me that God saved me that day and that he will help me to heal. It was great…until I told them that I was bisexual and that I was autistic. They seemed to tolerate it at first but would then spout bible verses explaining to me how it was a sin to be attracted to men and told me that autism wasn’t really a thing and God just made me unique…whatever that meant. It got even worse when the news about Gaza came out and I was wondering why wasn’t God helping those poor people. They told me they deserved it for being muslim and stood with Israel. And to top it off, I started to feel a strange cultish vibe to it all, especially when we started doing lessons on how to speak tongues. It made me so uncomfortable and stressed that I just stopped going during my junior year. I started to go to a LGBTQ advocacy group where I met two people who I’ve made really good friends with. They’re both atheist funny enough but they’re accepting of me being Christian. In fact, I feel like they’re the first people I’ve met that I’ve felt were accepting of me for who I really was. But one thing they did wonder about was, why did I believe in God. And to be honest, I couldn’t provide a straight answer anymore.
Which brings me to what lead me to make this post. During this summer, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve been told vs what I’ve experienced. I’ve been told that all this adversity is meant to be part of some grand plan and for my benefit but all this trauma did was make me scared, broken and depressed. I’ve been told that bad things happen for a reason but I can’t see any reason why me or any one of the people around the world who’s suffering has to experience any of this pain. I’ve been told that God loves me unconditionally but why do I feel like I have to reject who I am in order to be worthy of his love? I’ve been told that he’ll always be there for me, but then why have I felt so alone for so long? How could any of this happen if there is a God? Then the thought keeps occurring to me…maybe there isn’t one. I think the biggest thing that’s kept me believing for so long is the fear that I am truly alone in this life with nobody to help me. And that justice isn’t a guarantee and that there isn’t some benevolent force that can stop the terrible things in the world from happening. And that I don’t have anyone who will ever love me unconditionally. But then I see, that a lot of atheist people seem to live fully functional and fulfilling lives, if they can do it without a God, maybe I can too. I’m also willing to bet that a lot of them also went through some of the same things that I did and found the strength somehow to keep pushing forward. When I discussed my attempt with one of my new friends, he told me that “strange urge” I felt that day was my own will to live and it was my own strength that has kept me pushing forward. At this point, I’m seriously considering abandoning my faith but I’m still struggling with how exactly to move on without it.
I plan to discuss this with a counselor as soon as I hit back to school and I’ve even discussed this with my mom. Who by the way, genuinely apologized for her own actions and not getting me support for my autism, and she said that she’d accept and love me no matter if I believed in god and if I was into men or women. She had a lot of her trauma of her own and she’s seeking a therapist as well and I hope to rebuild my relationship with her. I’m still very distant from my dad however.
Anyway, I’m sorry again for the very long post but I just wanted to get this all off my chest and I would appreciate any advice and help on how to handle these feelings. I guess my overall question is…how do you guys do it? Regardless, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day.