Altar

Dear diary…

Catholic guilt, a tale as old as time.

Born to an Irish mother and a Spanish father, I wasn’t going to have much choice but to grow up catholic. I lost that faith at around 16 years old; that was a strange and difficult process. So I made my own altar. Sometimes it’s nature, sometimes it’s losing myself amongst moving bodies, sometimes it’s the people I love most in the whole world - because in my opinion, they’re the things to believe in.

It’s hard to watch your belief system fade away. It brought me so much peace and reassurance in many ways, but looking back now, I can see that was only an illusion for me. Not having god to fall back on forced me to see many of the uncomfortable ways in which my brain worked. That was difficult, but an invaluable revelation.

There really is something sticky about catholic guilt, though. I’m sure if my therapist were reading this, she would agree, I hold a lot of guilt and shame in many aspects of my life. I realised I still needed faith, but through belief in my reality. How much love I am surrounded by, how much escapism I feel spending 5 hours moving by body listening to techno - - how much belief I have in the serenity and peacefulness of nature.

Combining the vulnerability of these musings with thumping kicks and swirling synths really does feel quintessentially Tonguetied, so I hope Altar can bring you your own escapism on a dance floor somewhere, someday.

Until next time…

TT x

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