I don't go now, but I used to go all the time.
As a child, I was forced to go by my parents and I was miserable. At the church I attended as a child, I was the only kid in my church that attended my school. I told my parents that I didn't have any friends, but that didn't matter. As I stated on another post, my feelings were ignored and invalidated. My parents told me it was my fault that I didn't have friends, and I could make them if I tried. Or, when they were angry, which was frequently, they told me I didn't have sense enough to make friends and, with the way I acted, there was no wonder other kids didn't like me.
Growing up, I was forced to be in the Christmas play every year, and I hated it. One year, I refused to go to practice, and I was whipped so hard that I got sick and missed two days of school. When I got into my teens, I protested even more because I was nearly grown and most of the other kids were grade school age. One Saturday night, I refused to go practice. The pastor came up to the house and asked me why I wasn't down at the church practicing. I told him I wasn't interested and didn't want to be with a bunch of little kids. When I said that, my mother made me go practice and be in the play. The next day, Sunday, I made a profession of faith to please my mother and to get the preacher off my back. I later asked my mother why we went to that church, and she said because my father liked the people.
Before I go any farther, let me stop here and say that I have nothing against the church. I am a Christian and I believe in Jesus. But I am also aware that I am different, and that makes me uncomfortable around other people, and vice versa. All my life, I have been blamed for something that I can't help, and I'm sick of it.
In my adult life, I have had no end of trouble as far as interpersonal relationships are concerned--everything from being unable to keep a job to being asked to leave church because the people didn't feel comfortable with me. This happened with the church I grew up in, as well as the last church I attended. As a result, I am never going to church again. I miss going at times, but why subject myself to such torture since I can't connect to people. When my mother died almost seven years ago, no one from my church came the night she died except one man that had a part in the service--he came to get some information about my mother such as when she married, where she worked, etc, stayed about fifteen minutes, and he was gone. The interim pastor at the time, who was good friends with my mother and me, didn't even come. When I asked him why, he couldn't give an explanation, other than he should have, but didn't. I can count on one hand the number of people from that church who came to the visitation. Thinking back, I know that the majority of the people felt uncomfortable with me because of my differences, and didn't want to bother with me. I found out much later that someone else in the same church had died the same day, but that is no excuse. Someone should have still came by. I stayed in that church almost 20 years, only to discover I had no real friends. I went to a grief support group for a few weeks, but it didn't help. For almost seven years now, I have been grieving alone and it honestly hasn't gotten any better.
If the church and/or psychiatry doesn't help, where do you turn? Anyone been there?