Chapter 1: The Birth of an SRB

In my younger years, I often felt as though my best friend and I had coined the term “SRB,” which stands for “self-righteous bitch.” As of today, a quick Google search shows no trace of it, confirming its originality. We encountered many individuals fitting this description, though thankfully, they seem to be dwindling in number, perhaps due to evolving social circles.

Unbeknownst to me, I was an SRB for the first half of my life. Growing up in a tightly-knit religious community, these individuals were my entire universe until I reached adulthood at 18, and they continued to play a significant role in my life for the next twenty years. Our community was where we worshipped, shopped, educated our children, and socialized.

I won't delve deeply into the specifics of my faith, but it was often viewed as peculiar by those outside our group, a perception I remained blissfully unaware of during my youth. I was unwittingly conditioned to believe that those within our community held more worth than anyone beyond its confines.

We distanced ourselves from various groups, including anyone who engaged in drinking, smoking, medication, or any behaviors deemed sinful—like gambling, premarital sex, or even discussing sex openly. If your eyebrows aren't joined at your hairline, you might recognize this upbringing.

Now, at 47, I can acknowledge that my earlier perspective was an exaggeration, yet at 12, it felt entirely real. Over time, I grew increasingly aware of our different way of living and began to appreciate the insulation it provided. Engaging with outsiders meant explaining the intricacies of my community, often leading to a barrage of questions that left me uncomfortable.

The most distressing aspect was the attempts to challenge my beliefs. No matter how they approached me, my mental defenses kicked in—arms spread, knees bent, ready to defend my stance like a basketball player blocking a shot. My self-righteousness made me feel invincible, but I was still prepared to retreat whenever my beliefs were questioned.

Chapter 2: Confronting the Fear of Change

This overwhelming defensiveness stemmed from two core beliefs: first, that every other religion was misguided, while mine held the exclusive truth; second, that any religion trying to emulate mine was merely a diluted version. I feared mingling with those I deemed “lesser” would tarnish my reputation, like unwanted head lice.

To evade contrasting opinions that could provoke reconsideration, I shut down conversations. The anxiety of new ideas clashing with my long-held beliefs terrified me. What if everything I believed was flawed? The thought of discovering that years of my life had been based on deception was paralyzing. I believed that stepping outside my faith would lead to disastrous consequences, including a loss of my ability to heal others.

However, upon reaching my 40s—the time when many of us realize the freedom to think, speak, and be who we wish—I found the courage to engage with those holding differing viewpoints. This period of exploration felt like a midlife crisis, albeit one that became a catalyst for growth.

In these discussions, my mind swirled with new concepts that sounded appealing and correct. It felt as if I had been deprived of sugar and was finally indulging in a Krispy Kreme donut. I found myself agreeing with ideas that contradicted my previously held beliefs. My capacity for discernment had vanished, as I had been conditioned to adhere to a singular viewpoint.

I struggled to embrace discomfort and determine which ideas resonated with me, all while my internal voice berated me for even considering this shift. It was a harsh critic, insisting that I abandon any notion of exploration.

Yet, mental fatigue eventually led me to a transformative decision. I chose to relinquish my conditioning, let go of judgment, and disarm my defensiveness. I confronted the fear of appearing weak or incorrect, leaning into a newfound sense of freedom.

As a result, I discovered acceptance, curiosity, and deeper connections with others. My empathy expanded, and the weight of shame lifted. I found healing not only for myself but also for those in need. My life did indeed crumble but ultimately reassembled in a beautiful, unforeseen way.

Anything that confines you deserves a second look. You might be closing yourself off from those you need most. I can spot an SRB from a distance, but I am learning to soften my stance towards them. We are all on our own journeys of growth and liberation. Bless their hearts...

The first video, "Chris Tavener - I'm Better Than You," captures themes of self-perception and personal growth, reflecting on the often humorous but serious nature of self-righteousness.

In the second video, "Mickey Guyton - Better Than You Left Me / Fly Higher Version," the narrative explores the complexities of self-worth and the journey towards empathy and understanding.

For another story about an unconventional childhood…

Raised by the Blind

How my brother and I got away with…everything