When Staying Neutral Becomes Self-Abandonment

What my church wound taught me about disagreement, voice activation, and feeling safe in my own voice

Recently, a question arose within me:

Where does Jesus stand in my work as the Lemurian Priestess?

I did not have an immediate answer. I knew it was not something I could answer mentally, so I allowed the question to stay with me.

Eventually, during prayer, I was guided to explore the connection between Lemuria and Christ consciousness. That became the beginning of another article.

But before I wrote it, I noticed a hesitation inside me:

Do I really have to talk about this?

The fact that the question stayed with me told me that it needed to be explored. Once I decided to write the article, the words flowed easily.

The hesitation came before the writing.

It was not about softening every sentence or carefully adding “perhaps” to everything I believed. It was about whether I wanted to enter the conversation at all.

If I avoided the subject completely, nobody could challenge what I believed. Nobody could condemn me. Nobody could tell me I was wrong.

And that was when I realized that what I had once called neutrality was not always neutrality.

Sometimes, it was self-protection.

Sometimes, it was self-abandonment.

I Left the Churches, but I Never Left Jesus

I do not have a church wound in the way people commonly describe it.

I was not personally attacked by a church. I did not leave Jesus because of what happened inside one.

In fact, I have never left Jesus.

But my experience with Christianity still taught me that certain parts of my spiritual life were safer to keep hidden.

There was an unspoken understanding that there was only one acceptable way, and anything outside that way could be judged as wrong or even demonic.

Yoga could become “praying to the sun” because one of the poses is called Sun Salutation. Mantras could become dangerous because the words were unfamiliar. Rather than becoming curious about what Om meant or recognizing that Sanskrit words could be translated and understood, the entire practice could be condemned.

Nobody needed to condemn me directly for me to feel the boundary.

Sometimes, what remains unspoken feels even more frightening. You are left anticipating what might happen if you cross a line that no one has clearly named.

What can I say here?

Which parts of me will still be accepted?

What will happen if someone discovers what else I believe?

So I learned to read the room before I spoke.

I learned to adjust my voice according to who was listening.

The Parts of My Spiritual Life I Kept Hidden

I once had a very close friend who was a staunch Christian.

She was an amazing woman and incredibly supportive of me. She watched my videos, attended my workshops, and supported the life-coaching work I was doing at the time.

She never asked me to hide any part of myself. But because I knew how strongly she believed in her Christian doctrine, I censored myself.

She knew about my life-coaching work, but not the other spiritual practices I was exploring.

Looking back, I can see that the friendship was not the problem.

The pattern inside me was.

I was trying to protect our connection by hiding the parts of myself I feared might not be accepted. She never once asked that of me. I did it to myself without realizing.

Humility Does Not Mean Silencing Myself

I still do not want to become dogmatic.

Voice activation  is not about speaking louder, becoming deliberately controversial, or insisting that everyone must believe what I believe.

I do not see myself as the final spiritual authority. I see myself as a vessel.

I can acknowledge that another person may understand something differently. I can remain open to learning. I can research what I write and care about sharing information responsibly.

But humility does not require me to hide my own understanding.

There is a difference between saying, “This is the only truth, and everyone else is wrong,” and saying, “This is what I have come to understand.”

That distinction is the one I am learning to stand inside of—not remaining open by staying silent, but remaining open while still speaking.

I Can Be Disagreed With and Still Feel Safe

This is where my church wound became part of my voice-activation journey.

The wound was not that I stopped believing in Jesus.

It was that I learned to suppress the parts of my spiritual voice that might not fit within someone else’s beliefs—the way I did with my friend, even if she never asked that of me.

Someone can believe something completely different from what I believe, and I do not have to panic, defend myself, or disappear.

I can write something that directly differs from what another person believes, and I will still be safe.

My voice does not become unsafe simply because another voice enters the room.

That is what voice activation means to me in this season.

It is not about proving that I am right. It is about allowing my voice to remain present when someone else says something different—without abandoning myself first.

I can feel safe in my own voice.

Reclaim Your Voice Across Lifetimes

If this reflection has shown you where you may also have learned to hide, soften, or silence your voice in order to remain accepted, you can reclaim your voice too.

I created a Light Language activation called Reclaim Your Voice Across Lifetimes to support you in releasing the suppression of your voice and reconnecting with the truth that already lives within you.

You do not have to become louder or prove that you are right.

You are allowed to let your voice be present.

Experience Reclaim Your Voice Across Lifetimes Below