Church was my safe space — until the foundation of that place came crumbling down into a pile of doubts and frustration.
I could no longer, in good conscience, support Christianity as an institutionalised religion.
As a child and grandchild of immigrants, I unintentionally designed most of my life in a way that pleased my family, shaping myself to be someone who would make them proud. I never want them to worry about me or feel like their sacrifices were in vain.
This is how I now spend my Sundays — learning, growing and loving — and that feels like church to me, one that actually resembles home.