How Deconstruction Breaks You Open One Layer at a Time

(Mostly about the layers. Definitely about the crying. 🧅)

I wasn’t catapulted into a deconstruction.
I sank into it over a decade.

Or rather, it was under the soil of my religious beliefs since my pre-teen years when I’d have moments of dissonance wondering why I didn’t fit, why I didn’t feel like everyone else around me, why the beliefs that seemed so bone deep in everyone else were barely below my skin.

Deconstructing my religion was a slow burn process.

And during that process it felt so all consuming because our religious views and spiritual views are often all tangled up with our worldviews and self concepts and so much other stuff. Deconstructing your religion can feel very much like your entire life gets flipped topsy turvy and it’s hard to know which way is up.

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I Thought Once I Deconstructed, I'd Be Done

But it wasn’t the end. I naively thought once I’d finished deconstructing from high control religion I’d be done deconstructing.
Ahahahahahahahaha.
Not even close.

And this probably comes as no surprise to you,
but it was a surprise to me.

And I want to write about it here, in case you're finding me in the midst of your own journey.

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Deconstructing Sexuality

After deconstructing my religion
came deconstructing my sexuality.

Which makes sense.
I experienced my teenage years at the height of the 2000s purity culture surge among evangelical churches. Books like I Kissed Dating Goodbye shaped (or constricted) my early relationships and sexual expression.

The unfurling was slow.

First, just admitting I was sexual.
Then, exploring sexuality without shame.
Then, testing what I’d once thought was “bad”: being brazen, being a tease.
(Strictly forbidden, lest we “cause our brothers to stumble.”)

Owning my hunger.
Reclaiming my body.

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Deconstructing Politics and Nationalism

Next it became political.

The 2016 election brought Christian nationalism right back into clear view.

For a few of my friends, this was their deconstruction began.
It started with politics and then moved on to things like sexuality.

The layers are always waiting to be unfurled.

I saw the language of my upbringing mirrored back to me by the party in power.

And, shockingly, I realized: I had been raised in Christian nationalism.

The military airforce shows.
The "proud to be an American" songs.
The conflation of church values and American values.
Pastors giving political advice from the pulpit, full of unspoken expectations:
fall in line, or be othered.

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Deconstructing Capitalism and Burnout

After that deconstruction I thought surely I was done.

Then came capitalism.

I was months into a severe burnout and wondering why for the first time in my life I had zero desire to build any sort of new business.

I had zero desire to push.
Zero desire to perform.

"I had no hunger for the hustle. And I didn’t know who I was without it."

It was so disorienting. And still is. So much of my identity was wrapped up in being a successful entrepreneur, in being a bread-winner, in being a woman that made shit happen.

I had achieved incredible things.
And yet — I had no desire to overwork anymore.
Which led to a deeper question:
What is my value if I am not impressive?

That’s exactly what capitalism teaches us, isn’t it?

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Deconstructing Ableism

Next came the hard confrontation with ableism.

My own diagnosis.
My daughter's diagnosis.
And the peeling back of painful, internalized layers.

Questions like:

• Who will love me if I can’t keep all the plates spinning for them?

• What is my contribution if I feel like everyone is let down by me?

• Am I safe if I ask for help?

• Am I valuable if I’m not constantly squeezing myself into the mold?

"Ableism drove me to bootstrap my way through forty years of living — hiding the consequences, expecting others to do the same."

Witnessing autistic humans who didn’t mask (or masked less)
was both healing and confronting.
I wrestled with:
"Why should they get it easier than I do?!"

And had to face the ableistic perspectives I had unknowingly absorbed.

Because that’s what all of this stuff is and does. Most of us don’t grow up radicalized. It’s more like a subtle smell of smoke in the air. The poisonous perspectives are in the very air we breathe. So it gets into our systems little by little without us even really realizing it. Till one day, everything smells like smoke.

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Deconstructing the Patriarchy

And finally… patriarchy.

This one didn’t just surface.
It purged itself from my body like venom from a snakebite, burning on the way out.

Around the time of the election, my anger at men bloomed in full force.
I wanted to de-center them completely from my body, my beauty, my clothing, my validation.

And in doing so, I stopped getting it.

Which led me to a spiral of a whole other sort.

• Am I safe if men aren’t attracted to me?

• What happens as I age?

• Can I opt out of this whole game?

Beyond appearance — it kept unfurling:

• Can I let men feel uncomfortable around me?

• Can I call out their bullshit without smoothing it over?

• Can I stop performing emotional labor to keep them comfortable?

It’s an ongoing deconstruction.
The layers run deep.

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If You're Peeling Layers Too, You're Not Alone.

If you find yourself peeling back deeper and deeper layers
If you feel unmoored
If you wonder if it will ever end

You are not alone.
This is normal.
This is part of the way back to yourself.

"Deconstruction doesn’t happen in masculine energy. It happens in the fierce feminine energy of birth."

It happens the way a uterus contracts.
The way muscles stretch and tendons loosen.
It happens in waves.

If you tense against it, you prolong the discomfort.
If you relax into it, you allow yourself to be carried through.

Breathe.
Trust yourself.

There’s a wisdom older than ancestors leading you home.

You’re Okay. You’re Okay. You’re Okay.

You’re doing sacred work.
The work of remembering.
The work of reclaiming.

You are not broken.
You are birthing yourself back into wholeness.

It hurts.
And it’s okay.
It’s overwhelming.
And it’s okay.
You’re afraid.
And it’s okay.

You’re okay.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.

xo, B

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✨ P.S.
If this piece resonated, you’re not alone.
Feel free to share it with someone who might need it today.

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