Forbidden Freedom

This is the moment when the realization of what I am about to do enters my mind, and I stop and stare at my reflection in the small simple hand mirror that is a reminder of living this plain lifestyle. As I don my crisp white cap and navy blue dress, I wonder how I never noticed before how uncomfortable this fabric feels against my skin. This, along with the tightness of the bun at the nape of my neck, is an indicator of who I was brought up to be and how I was supposed to live my life. Memories flood my mind as I am reminded of the once young girl who was determined to please her parents and community while following the many rules without question or waver. Tension and anxiety rise into my chest as my breath sharpens and a lightheaded feeling sets in. My parents had been so ashamed of me; had cast me away as the decisions I had made were considered worldly and evil, and a complete mocking sham of what I was raised to believe and want. I feel tears forming as I feel the heaviness of shame and guilt set in while contemplating the pain and agony I had caused my family and friends. In their eyes, I was a disgrace for abandoning the holy faith and this devout way of life. My decisions were beyond questionable and absolutely forbidden to exist within my conservative Amish community. It was a shame no one ever tried to understand me or why I needed to leave. I really had wanted to please everyone, but ultimately my adventurous and curious nature prevailed against this strict and plain lifestyle, and I left without the promise of being able to return.

As I am chauffeured along in my most luxurious, or rather, most simple ride pulled by exactly one dark horse in just as dark of a buggy, I realize I am about to come face to face with my greatest fears and I am suddenly beyond unprepared. Then I see it….my older sister’s barn which appears to be worse for the wear and is greatly showing its age. This….this is where my parents will be celebrated for the wholesome and holy lives they lead while existing in this world. This is where my siblings and I say goodbye forever, although somehow I feel that my goodbye has already happened and I feel somewhat angered and saddened by this fact. As I depart from my buggy, I slowly walk over to my sister and two brothers who are quietly talking while obviously reminiscing about our parents’ legacy and planning for the future. I approach cautiously as I am not entirely sure how my presence on this day will be handled amongst my family who has shut me out for the last ten years. To my surprise, my sister immediately envelopes me in a hug and rocks me back and forth whispering how glad she is that I am here with them. Her tears wet my shoulder as she mumbles how much she has missed me, and how unfair it is that our parents were taken away from us so tragically. My brothers’ approach patting my back, but manage to keep some distance as to not cause a questionable scene with their shunned family member. However, my sister does not seem to care what the community thinks, and she eases the burden of seeing my family after all this time, especially since the circumstances surrounding my return are so glim.

As the drawn-out service begins, I am suddenly forced to go through the motions with the congregation while realizing there are eyes all over the room staring at me like daggers in an impending battle. I force myself to ignore the eyes of the people that once beheld me as one of their own, and that now look at me with obvious disdain begging for me to leave. They are hard to ignore, but I do the best that I can, as this day is to honor my parents and not to be focused on my outcasted self. As the service comes to a close and the final prayer uttered, it is now time for the common meal which will continue on into the afternoon and evening. I suddenly feel nervous, not knowing whether or not I will be expected to leave immediately following the service. I decide I will try and stay as long as I can in order to cherish my parents’ memory and legacy.

As the meal commences, the eye daggers are immediately at work again following my every move while I patiently wait for instruction. Thankfully, my sister rushes to my side aware of how extremely awkward this situation is for me and graciously puts me to work pouring glasses of water for the many community members. As I begin my task of pouring the many drinks that are needed, a group of women approaches me and immediately starts demanding to know how I dare to set foot in this community again after my leaving so abruptly all those years ago. I explain that I loved my parents dearly and wanted to show my respects while also celebrating their lives. In exchange, I receive insulting looks and under-the-breath mumbles that are clearly disapproving and negative. Thankfully, they move on and I continue on with my monotonous task of pouring water into paper cups. I take a deep breath as I desperately try and allow myself to relax for a moment as I keenly focus on the task at hand. However, I look up for a split second to see the bishop along with a few of the elders approaching, and I suddenly start shaking and feel a tightening in my chest. They quietly approach, yet still managing to make a scene, and the bishop tells me in a plain stern voice that I must leave immediately. He abruptly says how inappropriate my presence is in the community considering I am a shunned individual. Apparently, they were even reluctant to allow me to stay for the service, and now that the service was over, under no circumstances was my presence allowed. In my mind, I debate whether to argue my position on staying, considering this is my parents’ funeral, or if I should just simply show myself out quietly. I decide on the latter as this appears to be the most peaceful, and honestly the sanest option at this point.

As I turn to leave, I take one last glance at the community that was once my home and family, and I decide to leave in a more memorable and less quiet manner this time. I clear my throat and in a calm and collected voice, I explain to them that I now live a life where love and forgiveness are not based on conditional rules set in place by man. I go on to explain that I am truly happy and that I have no regrets with my choices, and I hope that one day they will all feel the joy and happiness that I have had the opportunity to experience. I state one last time the love I have for my parents and that I wished they had accepted me for who I truly was, and then I quickly leave with tears forming in my eyes. Surprisingly the tears I feel running down my face are tears of joy and relief, as I realize for the first time since I left, that I absolutely made the right decision for my life. This time I am leaving without fear and guilt sitting on my shoulders. Despite the circumstances, at last, I finally feel free.

As I arrive back home the next day, I am greeted warmly by a wild running mop of blonde curls, and embraced in a long warm hug. I watch my husband approach from the back patio with a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. I grin back as my daughter chatters on about how much she has missed me and how she wants to show me her new drawings. I am reminded of the beautiful life I have chosen for myself, and that living this life is the most rewarding decision I could have made. I am able to live the life I was meant to live and love fearlessly and unconditionally without fear of reprimand. The guilt and fear I had been holding onto for the last ten years have finally melted away and given birth to the most amazing sense of peace. I have learned that freedom is a complicated concept and can come in many forms, but if you can find it, hold onto it with everything you have and never stop fighting. Find your freedom and live your legacy; whatever that may look like for you.