The Two Halves of Life: Why Deconstruction Isn’t a Crisis… It’s a Rite of Passage
I used to believe that certainty was the point.
That faith meant clarity. Obedience. Doing what I was told.
That questioning meant falling away. That curiosity was the gateway to deception.
I used to believe in black-and-white.
But like so many others who’ve walked the path of deconstruction, I’ve come to learn that real growth—the kind that shifts you at your core, usually starts with a crack.
For me, that crack opened wide during a season of travel and quiet curiosity. Austin and I were attending Buddhist meditation camps in Thailand. Sitting in silence. Watching the sunrise through palm trees. I was surrounded by people who believed in something so different than what I was raised with—and yet I saw so much love, peace, and wisdom in their practice.
It startled me.
Because at the same time, I was noticing so much fear, rigidity, and stress being taught within the Christian spaces I grew up in. I was starting to hear teachings that no longer reflected the God I had always loved—the one who felt full of mercy, love, and spaciousness.
And slowly, the wiring began to unravel.
Unsubscribing from Fear
I didn’t “lose” my faith. I chose to unsubscribe from teachings that were making me feel further from God, not closer. The God I choose to believe in isn’t small or angry or constantly disappointed in me.
But I’d be lying if I said it was easy.
Letting go of black-and-white faith is terrifying.
I had been taught that questioning was a slippery slope to hell. That listening to voices outside my religion was exactly what Satan wanted. That in the “last days,” many of the faithful would fall away—and I worried I was one of them.
I felt like I was breaking some sacred code.
There were moments I begged myself to stop looking, to stop peeling back the layers. To just sit down, shut up, and follow the rules.
It would have been so much easier.
Safer. Familiar.
But it wasn’t sitting right with my soul.
And honestly? I wasn’t feeling God there anymore.
Choosing Mystery Over Certainty
One of the most transformative things I’ve read is from Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward, where he talks about the two halves of life. The first half is about building the container – creating structure, identity, and safety. We need that. But eventually, for many of us, that container no longer holds what our soul is ready for.
The second half is where we begin to break the container open.
We stop needing all the answers.
We start welcoming mystery.
That’s what deconstruction has become for me.
Not a loss – but a becoming.
Not a rebellion – but a return.
And it hasn’t been just spiritual. Around the same time, I was also learning about the brain—how our beliefs are formed, how easily we can be conditioned, how “truth” can be programmed into us by repetition and fear. I started noticing how many of those old teachings felt more like control than connection.
Where I am at in my Two Halves of Live Journey
I don’t have all the answers. I don’t think I ever will.
But I’ve made peace with that.
Faith isn’t supposed to be certainty.
It’s trust. It’s mystery. It’s movement.
And while the path out of black-and-white thinking has been lonely and scary at times, it’s also been sacred. I’m not trying to throw everything away—I’m just being honest about what no longer feels like God to me.
This isn’t a crisis.
It’s a rite of passage.
And if you’re somewhere in that messy, confusing middle—I see you.
You’re not broken.
You’re becoming.
