“Hangman we played double dutch with a hand grenade
Behind the church, hiding place. Apathetic to the devil’s
Face. Wear the sheriff’s badge put your toys away
They let us go saying let us pray!“
Time passes at an individual pace but offers us–the individuals–absolutely no negotiation. We do not get a say, nor can we decide how much or how little time we might take to recover from our wounds. Sure, we may have the ability to try to take on a more positive outlook. We may make choices to support our healing process through therapy or taking a stronger interest in our personal needs, but we ultimately live with bound hands at the mercy of an invisible force. Waiting for the day when our triggers fade into some tolerable distance. Hoping to smile once again without that nagging pressure poking at our souls and telling us something isn’t right. Or calling us damaged goods. We live with the hope that one day, other people won’t notice something is off about us, or that people will quit accusing us of being bitter, negative and slanderous. We long for the day when we will quit hearing: “Let it go. Forget about it and move on.”
This is the nature of the beast. Spiritual abuse leaves a visible mark on the psyche, on the soul, and it is damned near impossible to explain this to someone who is unable or unwilling to hear it. Three years ago, Mica posted about the aftermath of spiritual abuse and post-cult trauma. Less than two years ago, I read her words and finally realized that Yes, Teen Mania Is A Cult.
Since then, I’ve shared much of my personal story on the blog–my failures, experience with depression and small recovery wins. I’ve shared my hope and vision for healing in the RA community, along with my belief that Love is the point and Love is stronger than any of the crap cards we’ve been dealt. I’ve written a bit about my recovery. It seems to be an appropriate time, with the news that former Honor Academy director Dave Hasz has accepted a position in my neck of the woods, to talk about recovery once again.
The hard truth is that at least a pretty big chunk of recovery from spiritual abuse sucks. There’s no way around it. Sometimes it just seems that I’m constantly taking two baby steps forward and eight giant leaps back. My age–being 30–is constantly at the front of my mind while wasting my 20s–or having been stunted at 18 and 19–is constantly at the back of it.
Sometimes (read most days), I look at all the work ahead of me for the day and I cry. No, I literally cry. I get so overwhelmed with the fact that there are nowhere near enough hours in the day to go to work, nurture relationships, get my basic chores done, get my blogs written, work on my book, exercise, do what I want to do, and eat or sleep. It’s impossible and I think to myself that something has got to give because a life lived in frustration really is not living. Or maybe not worth living? I never make up my mind, but I think about it for a few hours and stress myself out some more. Or attempt to ignore the deadlines hanging above my shoulders and pretend that I think everything is fine.Then I look at my life and see so many improvements. In a sense I know I’m a million years ahead of where I was even one year ago. But I don’t know if that’s good enough. I still want to talk about spiritual abuse everyday. I think about the fact that I have friends who are parents and I just don’t believe I will have my own children and I wonder if that’s alright. Or more like, will I ever actually grow up and quit feeling (as well as behaving) like a child?
The truth about my healing is that I spent my 20s with my brain steeped in religious, abusive Teen Mania jargon. To the point where I was unable to sail my own ship. I allowed guilt, obligation and fear dictate my life until I was so far away from myself that I didn’t know how I would make a return. The good news is that I did return. But I know… I had to sort of pick up where I left off. In my own way I had to make up for lost time.
I touched upon this in my Filmspiration post. Regularly now, I test the boundaries of my freedom in pursuit of joy. What I didn’t add was that I’m a full decade (at least) behind most of my peers. Emotionally, mentally, financially, perhaps even spiritually… I am very childish. “Child-like heart” has come up several times in my friendships and relationships–and not always in a positive way. But frankly at this point I’m resigned to this idea that I need to be a child for at least a little longer. Though I suspect I may always live with one foot in the clouds of Never Never Land.
At this point, I believe this is a natural response. When I was 18 I had very adult responsibilities for a ministry that was saving the world. Minus the paycheck and affirmation of a job well-done. I was gritting my teeth to get through the physical challenges and pain.. not to mention the terror of Gauntlet and various other retreats. In beating my body and making it my slave, I learned to disassociate my mind from my body so effectively that I am still struggling to quit living inside my head. My personal soundtrack–though immensely improved since beginning therapy–still upon occasion plays from Dave or Ron’s Greatest Hits: “You can sleep when you’re dead. Embrace adversity. God hates liars and those who break their commitments. This is okay sexually when you’re married and this is NEVER okay even when you are married…” And I still have nightmares where I’m being confronted for doing something wrong but no one believes me that I didn’t do it. Or I get hit with “fight or flight” terrors when I go to church or have to speak to new people. I had flashbacks to the internship and panic attacks when I read The Hunger Games trilogy. Everything that happened in the red dirt of Texas still affects me to this day. Though I wish it didn’t. And I wish it didn’t affect you, though I know it’s rather unlikely. A trigger can lie dormant for years and then flare up without warning. I don’t say this to scare anyone or be a negative Nancy. I say it to be honest and to call attention to the fact that we all need some room to grow and mend. Let’s be gentle with each other here and gentle with our own selves. We may all be at different places in our healing and faiths/non-faith, but we are still unique in that we know what happened and we know how it affects us now.
If you’re up to sharing with the group, let’s discuss some of the triggers or symptoms of spiritual abuse that have gotten in the way of simply enjoying your life.