Trained Up and Cast Out

 

Trained Up and Cast Out

⚠️ Content Note: This post contains honest reflections on religious trauma, parental rejection, and spiritual manipulation. If you're navigating your own journey with faith, family, or identity, read with care and at your own pace. My intention is not to incite hatred or bitterness—but to speak truth, spark reflection, and reclaim my voice.

“Train up a child in the way they should go: and when they are old, they will not depart from it.”
— Proverbs 22:6

This verse has been quoted to me more times than I can count—especially by my mom. It was a foundational pillar in the way I was raised. But lately, I find myself asking: What happens when the child you "train up" walks away from what you taught—not out of rebellion, but out of survival?

Does that make the Bible wrong… or the training flawed?

Because here’s the truth: I didn’t depart from God.
I departed from your version of Him.
And I need to say it out loud now.

The Training Ground

Growing up, church wasn’t just a weekend thing—it was a lifestyle. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, Friday youth service. If the doors were open, we were there.

I was raised in a system of rigid gender roles, unquestioned authority, and spiritual fear. Boys did this. Girls did that. There was no room for nuance. There was no room for me. You were expected to obey, to perform, and to never challenge the people “put in authority over you.”

I was trained, alright. Trained to suppress, to conform, to disappear.

When the Cracks Began to Show

It didn’t happen overnight. But 2016 was the first real crack—when Trump was elected, and I began to feel a deep discomfort in the pit of my stomach. I voted for him, because that’s what I was taught. But something felt off.

And then COVID hit. And suddenly, the people who claimed to be “pro-life” were mocking masks, denying science, and hoarding resources. The church community I was raised in no longer looked anything like Jesus. Compassion gave way to conspiracy. Love got replaced by smug superiority. And I started to realize: maybe the version of faith I’d been given wasn’t built to withstand truth.

The Fallout of Coming Home to Myself

Coming out as my true self—trans, queer, and whole—was the most honest, faith-filled thing I’ve ever done. But it was met with silence.

My parents, who raised me to believe in unconditional love, turned their backs when I stopped fitting their mold.
One with scripture. One with silence.
Both with the same outcome: rejection wrapped in religion.

What does that feel like?
It hurts.
I’m angry.
I’m disappointed.
And on most days, I’m just… numb.

I used to think maybe it was a generational thing—that maybe they just couldn’t understand. But since moving to Colorado, I’ve met people their age or older who do understand. Who don’t need blood ties to show me more love than I ever got from the people who raised me.

The Hypocrisy in the Posts

The final straw might have been this: seeing my mom post a quote about how we should love people as they are. About how we should let God change hearts—not worry about modesty or behavior. About how Jesus welcomes people first.

And yet… she can’t even welcome her own daughter.
She refuses to acknowledge me, let alone love me.

And I have to ask: If you preach grace and refuse to practice it, what exactly are you training your children to become?

But I know what she—and others like her—would say in response.
They’d claim, “Yes, come to God as you are… but He’ll change you.”
As if the transformation they envision is holy. As if the “change” they mean is about surrender to God, when really it's just surrender to them.

Let me be clear:
God didn’t ask me to be less of who I am—you did.
You want me to come as I am, only to break myself apart until I resemble something comfortable for you.

That’s not transformation. That’s assimilation.
That’s fear masquerading as faith.
That’s your need for control dressed up as divine authority.

They say God will change me—but I’ve already been changed.
Not by shame. Not by fear.
But by truth, by love, and by the terrifying beauty of becoming who I actually am.

If your version of God demands I erase myself to earn your love… then maybe it’s not me who’s departed from the truth.

I Haven’t Departed From Truth—You Did

That verse you love to quote says I wouldn’t depart from the way I was trained. But maybe I wasn’t trained in the way I should have gone. Maybe I was trained in fear, control, and compliance. And maybe what I’ve found now—authenticity, self-love, chosen family, faith that breathes instead of strangles—is the way I was always supposed to go.

So no, I didn’t abandon truth. I escaped control.

I’m still figuring out what faith looks like for me. I don’t have all the answers. But I know this:
Any version of love that abandons people for being honest is not divine. It’s manipulation.

I may not walk the same path you wanted.
But I walk with love.
And grace.
And courage.

And that’s more Christlike than anything I was taught growing up.