That Time I Was A Fundie

Friends Are Friends Forever

I look at this photo of a photo from an old scrapbook, and warm memories flood back, of friendship, family, commune, a new spiritual identity, fresh faced with innocence of expectations of the years spreading beyond.  Then, in a flash, I'm flooded with the reminders of, the reality, of what did come about in those years after, now also a part of my fading past.

In the time of life reflected of my photo, it was a charmed time of innocence, the earlier years of being a church goer.  As a born-again Christian, I was drawn to the promises of unconditional love from God, from my family within the walls of the church, a sense of hope and belonging, at last.  But as the years stretched forward the times of warm bible studies filled with too much delicious coffee, worship songs, bible scriptures, long-winding unending prayers turned into restrictions enforced by nonfluctuating condemnation from the leadership and other members.  (Full transparency: the latter was not the former, the former being the ones in the photograph above.)

Where was the unconditional love and familial commune I had once sought and thought I had found?  Gone with the realization that I had fallen prey to the manipulations of spiritual leadership abuse, corrupted by the influences of absolute power, that I had never truly believe existed or wanted to believe existed until then.

As I have said in previous blogs, within the church, it was increasingly taught to flee the trappings of the world, this was enforced by insisting that we abstain from certain aspects of popular culture, read only the books approved and sanctioned by the church, and fully and only immerse ourselves in the ways of the church.  At first, recalling the younger days (see: the photo), I happily agreed to these standards, as if wanting to perpetuate the great love I felt in the beginning, hoping to restore the dying fragments of those happy times, but to no avail.

Perhaps my mental illness truly saved me from being saved.

Having been given the diagnosis of Bipolar in 2006, I was forced into the world of mental health therapy, psychology, forced to examine and look at myself through a variety of in depth therapeutic practises.  I could no longer run and allow various external sources to be a false salve, a drug, to hide from my pain.  The notion of psychology was a no-no in the Christian Fundamentalist worldview.  I was ostracized, silenced, and in short unable to show my new findings of self throughout my journey through recovery.  This led to a disconnect within what I believed to be my church family.  I could not be honest with them without fear of some sort of reparation, condemnation, loss of the friendship.  The cracks in the system that was the church were beginning to show for me, as I started to see the truth of the words "hypocrisy" and "legalism" written loudly on the walls of my mind.

So, in 2010, timidly and without truly knowing that I was, I left the church, one Sunday morning, clutching my bible and coffee mug to my chest, I let the back gate of the church building fall behind me with a crash as I stepped into the big world I had been taught hated me, hated Jesus.  This I would discover as I went forth was a blatant lie.

The reason that I am sharing the above is because all of this has been on my heart for awhile now.  As I believe recovery is lifelong in that as we are shaped by the influences of our past, healing is an ongoing process.  However, more so, is the fact that a dear young friend of mine recently entered the fundamentalist world last summer.  She accepted, became a believer, and was baptized into the same fundamentalist church world I used to attend.  The same place she was dunked and raised again, thus was I once upon a time.  Somewhere I have that snapshot of myself being prayed over by the hot young male pastor standing knee deep, in the warm pool made to look like a pond, water, before he dunked me backwards, only to re-emerge into a fresh new world...or so I had hoped.

As I watch her share her new views and photos across Facebook, they take me back to my early days, such as the photograph at the top details.  It was a rosy, shiny happy time.  I look at my friend's posts and silently hope that that her new found joy and connection will remain, that it won't become what it did for me, that the truth of what I experienced will not be part of her life's journey.  But, with a element of despair, I feel that may not be the case.

As I am unable to see into the future, I can only remain in hope that perhaps she and her friends will be the change, the evolutionary force, that the church needs to transform to relevancy and compassion, turning away from the hateful condemnation the Christian Conservatives dwell in all too  much, veering off from the teachings of Christ. 

Come what may, whatever happens, her journey is her journey and happens for a reason, as mine did.  As she is my friend, I am here for her, no matter what the next turn around the bend may be, as I also remain for my other friends of my past still a part of the fundamentalist world.

You've Got A Friend

Fair is Foul, Foul is Fair

So, what about Tulsi?

Are you as excited for the 2020 election as me? Not just because we finally have the opportunity to oust the intruder from the White House, but because of the upheaval caused these last three or so years in our country, political candidates of all sorts and diversities are stepping up to the plate to take their swing at the highest office in the land, a good deal of them women too.

That said, I was very excited and intrigued when Tulsi Gabbard of Hawaii announced her bid for office.  Excited to see the competition throwing in their hat, the likes of her, Elizabeth Warren, Kamala Harris, in that their political views align more with the social revolution over-taking this country with the hopes of regaining the land for we the people.

But, in the midst of her announcement, Gabbard, who aligns herself as a progressive and more of a socialist democrat, controversy arose.  It turns out in her past Gabbard held viewpoints quite contrary to what she believes today, anti-lgbtq, for one.  In the wake of these revelations, Rep. Gabbard came forward apologizing for her past beliefs and expressing deeply how she changed. 

How the general public will react to that and whether they will overlook, re-focusing on the issues she values today, remains to be seen.  But, perhaps I can assist.

Ashamed and as hard as this is to admit, I am one that at one point practiced a similar belief as Gabbard once held.  I spent several years, from about 2003-2010, in a very conservative minded, fundamentalist yet mainstream church that believed like all people, including homosexuals, were sinners.  This church may not have been as vocal in their viewpoints as say, the Westboro Baptist Church was, but they did hold the same viewpoints.  Everything the WBC espoused loudly and vehemently on the street corners across the nation, my church, Calvary Chapel, expressed the same sentiments, just quieter and more insidiously. 

So, how could I, educated with critical thinking skills, raised in a community that valued love and acceptance, fall prey to this?  Me, a girl whose college best friend had been the first to come out to? 

It happened slowly.  The church had to draw me in with promises of unconditional love, the family I had never truly held.  Slowly, slowly, the control grew, with sugary sweet words of condemnation and shame when I didn't tow the line. At those times, I was in peril of losing not only my friends, but possibly my salvation, my good standing with God.  I'd repent, fall into line, try to do better, read the bible more, pray more, come to church more.  All the while, the control deepened and the loss of myself, my ability to think for myself, make my own decisions without fear of reprisal became a thicker weight around my neck. 

The weight thickened, held me down more, until all I could feel was the heaviness of it and the unconditional love and joyous laughter from earlier church days was a mere memory.  In my discomfort, my  heart was longing for, crying out for freedom.  Breaking free felt not like an option, wasn't walking with Jesus true freedom? And, wasn't I doing just that?

Of course the answer to this is no, I see that clearly now, but at the time I was a damaged and emotional shell of my once bright existence.  I left the church one sunny early summer day, coffee cup and bible bound in hand, letting the back gate clang behind me.  Inwardly, I knew I wouldn't set foot in again and outwardly, I felt terror, shame, a loneliness like I had never felt before.

But, through the years of my deconstruction and now reconstruction, I have been able to rebuild and find myself once again, now whole despite the years of being broken.  Outside of the church and away from its confining ways, I am a new creation, which is odd because that is what the church had once promised me, "a new creation in Christ".  It was only when I left and through years of restoration that that became a reality.

And, the family I thought I had found in the church have all faded back into the safety of their own confinement, shutting me out by slamming their metaphorical and sometimes physical door in my face, on my heart, on our relationship.  Ouch, but its true.  I can only pray for them and extend my gratitude for our time together, the memories shared, the lessons learned whatever they may be.

Today, I hold more enlightened beliefs and an open perspective.  I look back, laugh, and shake my head at some of the craziness that I used to believe, from the rapture to anti-abortion.  My beautiful LGBTQ+ friends smile at me, welcoming me back with open hearts.  As I look in their eyes with shame and words of forgiveness falling from my lips, they shake off the past and hug me,  holding me close, looking forward to a brighter future, together making the world better.  Whether they are better people than me or they merely always saw the good in me even when I was deceived and delusional, I know not but it is no longer a concern.

So, I will give Rep. Tulsi Gabbard a fair chance because none of us our perfect and frankly all can be led astray, taken captive by the deceptive promises of unconditional love.  But, like me, Tulsi can and has changed her viewpoints.  We all can change, adapt, learn more how to be better humans, better stewards of our planet. 

Waiting On The World To Change

Deconstruct/Reconstruct

Deconstruct/Reconstruct: The Story of My Personal Spiritual Transformation

It has come to this at last.  A place I would never thought I would be when I started the journey to deconstruct, freedom from the entrapment of mind control that at one time held me captive within the confines of mainstream Christianity.  For years after, as I have documented and shared openly in many ways, including this blog, I sought to understand, to explain, to find connection, to heal.  At last, I did.  The process was tiring, at times I felt more lonely than I had ever been in my life previous, but finally I can say that all that travail was worth it because I have found connection, understanding that I am not alone in the mind control and repression that occurred, and throughout that healing that came forth, I have been able to forgive my captors, as it were.

So, I do not want to focus on that, rehash all of that.  For the most part, its in the past.  

Today, I want to focus on this new phase of my journey into my spiritual identity.  At present, I am defining my own belief structure, one based on a myriad of other practises and personal studies.  Like the meme above says, I have read many a book that stimulates and soothes my soul, helping to release the painful bondage from my past captivity, and bringing fresh insight to who I am.  These studies range from a vast repertoire of spiritual religions and practises,to books on psychology and self-growth, all which have slowly helped to regain my sense of self and more so healed me to become better, to become truly whole.  My skin is a place I feel increasingly comfortable and at last my heart is truly where I am home.  

The journey has led me to a deeper understanding of myself, helping to describe outwardly what I have been carrying with me inwardly for all of my life.  Empath, is one external term that explains myself and with gratitude I bear that title.  Through an abundance of new found faith not found in the confines of the church, I have cast off my the restrictions of social norms of work and life and moved fully into self-employment guiding me towards creative and financial freedoms.  

What is this spiritual walk I now follow? It is difficult to say nor do I seek to convert and conform others to my way of life.  There is no need to define or seek any sort of teacher to lead, guide.  Perhaps its my own sense of the divine that is all I need, I'm not sure, I'm still reconstructing inwardly what I believe that divine is,  male, female, nature, myself.  

But, as I take this journey, I realize now that I do not need to define or explain myself.  I walk quietly with focus in the ways I am being led.  And, being led, I am.  That is all I truly know, that I am being led, something within or without, perhaps both, is guiding me, is showing me that I have a purpose and a place in the Universe, that I am loved and that I matter.

I am glad that I am here and am thankful for what came before, even the fundie years.  All of it shaped my understanding of the divine, of spirituality, what it is and what it isn't, for me personally.  In the end, our spiritual reality is unique to every one of us and we are the only ones that can define our path.  I believe now the journey to wholeness and peace is life-long, to accept ourselves fully and find ultimate peace within.  

For now, that's all I really need as I journey through reconstruction. 

Brave

Donald Trump may be the best "president" we've ever had!

What the f**k, you say, looking at me with horror.  Have I gone to the dark side of extreme conservative ideals, the Far Right, or rather have I fallen back into my old ways of believing in conservative Christian craziness.

A resounding NO!!!!!!!

Now, that we got that out of the way, let me explain. I'll start with when I was a very young impressionable, naive, hopeful girl in the nineties.  Bill Clinton was president at the time and I was smitten with him, head over heels in my belief that he could do no wrong, trusting that he would lead the country in a way so that I did not have to concern myself or think about it at all.

Now, the nineties was a very sexually repressed by today's standards, yet also a time of sexual revolution. A character on a popular TV show couldn't use the word, Vagina, that's right, not even a slang for the body part.  She couldn't say "vagina" without blushing or possibly without horrifying the network and risking the show being canned.  So, they teased the viewer by bringing the character close to saying the word.

Meanwhile, women such as Lorena Bobbitt and Amy Fisher walked into courthouses to attest their reasoning for supposed sex crimes, inspiring multiple made for TV movies.  Ellen DeGeneres announced her sexual preferences on TV with the now famous, "Yep, I'm gay" line.  And, later down the line, towards the end of the decade, poor little Monica Lewitsky went down in history, like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, except for instead of the red nose she was looking at another reddish body part attached to...none other than the man who was the paramount of my idealistic youth, President Bill Clinton. 

And, he didn't admit to this affair right away.  But, there it was all over the news.  You have to remember that in the 90's, we didn't have the access to information that we do today.  The Internet was still pretty novel, you logged on through such things as America Online and were greeted with, "You've Got Mail" and then from there you ventured onto this thing called the Internet.  Websites were clunky, there were things called 'web-boards', and you spent much of your time chatting to people in foreign countries on specifically designed chat rooms.  It was a charmed time where the government could still successfully distract us with shiny things such as celebrity breakdowns, sexual scandals, and the like. 

Since then, I have had access to more information and have learned much more about the behind the scenes detailed accounts of the Clintons' rise to power, at the expense of many.  I have learned that Monica herself was just a distraction, a cover-up, for the real case against Bill Clinton, real estate scam and possible sexual assault.  Yeah, that's right.

1998: The Sex Scandal: : U.S. president Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky

But, then I didn't know that.  I believed his words during his presidential addresses as gospel truth, believed in the core of my being that he had my best interest at heart.  My superhero, knight in shining armour, blah blah blah.  (I just want to add that this blog isn't to bash the Clintons or be all that political.  There is a time and place for that and it isn't really here, all that much.  Especially towards the Clintons.)  My focus is more on 'we the people' and how I discovered that that is really what America is all about. 

So, when MY president, Bill Clinton, went on national TV and announced, "I did have sexual relations with that woman", my jaw dropped, my idealism shattered, and my heart broke.  The next day, at my junior college on my lunch break, I sat in the sunshine, journal in my lap, writing my shocked thoughts about how he had let me down.  This was the first time that my naive self had been threatened, my innocent belief in the good of people, was vanishing. 

But, that day in the sunlit grass, I learned a valuable life lesson, that of, my life and the goings-on of the world around me, is truly up to me.  A few years later, I would laughingly tell my friends, "Viva La Revolution" while taking photos of my current crush's beret in various locations and sometimes on perfect strangers.  "The Revolution will not be televised, but it has been photographed," my best friend and I quipped jokingly.  But, despite the laughter, it was not a mockery of the need for the country to wake up, to stop coasting along allowing the government to lead them by the hand, to distract with the latest shiny gadgets and celebrity gossip.  No, America, don't be deceived any longer by this year's version of 'Monica Lewitsky'. 

One Girl Revolution

So, after the revelation of MY president's indiscretions and the subsequent realization of his other misgivings and faults, I slowly began to examine myself, my viewpoints, my ability to enact change and how to do that, and to allow my disillusionment to be the fuel to light the fire for my own revolution. 

So, when Trump went into office, I knew it would be hard, but I had already suffered the heartbreak of losing my country on that sunlit lunch break in the grass in the late nineties.  Added to that, I am Caucasian, yes, a woman with a mental health condition, who has suffered her own small version of marginalization, but being that I am "white", I have it a whole lot easier than some dear friends of mine, persons of color, or who consider themselves part of the LBGTQ+ community.  So, I was ready, willing, able to fight the good fight when I watched Trump take office, to participate in the marches, vote every chance that I could, donate as much as possible, and to be a light of love and encouragement, a support for my 'fellow citizens'. 

Since that time, almost four years ago (can you freaking believe that, we are almost done with him, America!), I have witnessed with wonder, great admiration, respect, and excitement as others have stood up to take back their country, their power, through political activism, protests, marches, discussions, and the like. 

It's what I have known needed to happen for many years.  In order for change to happen, discomfort is necessary to wake us up.  Now, that we are awake, stay alert. 

And, always, always, remember to love.  Because love truly changes everything!

Love Changes Everything

Viva La Revolution, my dear friends,  and make the world a better place!

Waiting On The World To Change

I never said I was perfect.

I'm an analytic, soul-searcher type.  Years of therapy, self-help groups and books, coupled with being a deeply emotional empath has given me that emphasis. Its been a life long ability and sometimes a disability, as in the past I have spent too much time over-analyzing my thoughts, feelings, conversations with others to the point of too much anxiety, worry, leading to emotional upset of a variety of means, depression, anger, the whole gamut.

So, once again, perhaps it is with the dawn of the New Year (as self-reflection is a practice of many during this time), I have been contemplating my own reactions, life choices of how to behave, react, and have come to a variety of conclusions that arise questions in my mind, perhaps you, the reader, can assist in some fashion.

For starters, as mentioned above, I am an empath, a definition that I only discovered in recent years.  I see an empath similar to a telepath, yet instead of hearing the thoughts of others, I sense the emotional feeling states of all those around me.  Can you imagine how overwhelming walking into a location with many people can be for me? No wonder I suffer from an anxiety disorder.  The character, Sookie Stackhouse, from the books based on the TV show, True Blood, was a beloved character of mine.  Even though her character is a telepath, I found such connection to her as I watched her deal with the onset of being able to hear the inner thoughts and monologues of all those around her, some with negative connotations towards her.  Yes, I have experienced that sort of thing as an empath, whether its a form of inward reflection or abuse on their part or a blatant dislike, distrust towards me, its an influx of emotions flooded over me producing a distracting effect on my ability to engage in the situation and event itself.

This ability, or curse, of being an empath is been a journey of my life.  Being able to 'feel', to 'sense', is a unique gift and one that I has colored many a relationship and experience of my life.  This is not scientifically provable, that I can imagine, nor is it a widely accepted in certain religious circles, or even in the polite social structures of our lives.  Mostly, people have different aspects of themselves they want to demonstrate to the outside world and others that they want to bury, to hide, to not be seen.  My ability is one that can see deep into the parts that others don't want to be seen, to be looked at.  In past years, I would become overburdened with these revelations and understandings, reaching out to these individuals, expressing this knowledge.  Most of the time, it was dealt with opposition, disbelief, I was slandered, insulted, and pushed away.  Like I said, most people do not want to look at their pain, their inner wounds, and do not want to truly 'be seen'.  Coupled with feeling their pain, I now feel the pain of losing their love and friendship.

Being an empath is not the rosy notion of being able to feel feelings.  Most of the time, I am aware of the darkness of someone's soul, usually multiple darknesses at once. Through years of therapy and self-healing, plus leaving the fundamentalist church, I have developed the belief that others' life choices are not up to me, that I do not and cannot save others.  I can only be responsible for myself, my own healing, choices, and be accountable to that.  In the end, I can hope by living this honestly and healthily I can be a conduit of change for those I encounter and have connection. 

I believe it has become increasingly worse in the political and social climate of which we are now present.  Distrust, fear is rampant, as well as anger and I see this on both sides of the spectrum, liberal, conservative, whatever it may be.  We all, including myself, have a need to help, to enact change, but sometimes, and I feel most of the time, with the propensity to not listen and yet to want to force our beliefs on others.  We want to be seen as right, believe ourselves to be right, and others wrong.  The result, change is not truly enacted, lives are not touched, hearts are left broken. 

My guilt in all of this as an empath is related to my astrological sun sign of a Taurus.  Taurus's are known for being both fiercely loyal and equally stubborn.  Not only am I able to see someone's pain and darkness weighting on them, if I see their unresolved issues negatively affecting those I deeply care about, I will be quick on the defense and resolve to stand against them in an act of both protection of my loved one as well as an enact of defiance intent on teaching them a lesson, of sorts.

This is a frequent occurrence of my life even though I remind myself that I do not truly know the reasons behind someone's outward actions.  In truth, when I do address my empathic revelations with others, I do take into account their reactions, if they give them, and usually can understand if they are truthful, even partially so, or completely false.  To be honest, this is something I can tell even through social media interactions.  So, in a sense, I can foresee honesty and dishonesty and in that the stubbornness builds, the distrust, the armor arises, and the fight to destroy can begin, in some situations, usually when I sense that the dishonesty is so apparent as to be venomously destructive to my loved ones and society in general.  Yeah, I'll admit that. 

My question for the reader, then, is, what is the limit to this on a positive sense and when does it become a detriment to my soul?  I am now seeing that people are not generally good or evil, there is no black and white but shades of grey.  In that, the negative abusive reactions are all caused by some inward and unresolved pain, layers upon layers, deeply buried, perhaps truly unknown by the individual.  Thus, there is a root cause of all abuse.  I do not want anymore to willing accept, lay down passively, in the face of any abuse or injustice.  I believe standing up for the right and the good is beneficial not just for society but for the individual.  But, this stubbornness of mine can become unresolved unforgiving focus producing the effect of tension in myself and expressed outwards.  The question than remains for myself, how do I release this?  I know from past experiences with this notion it takes time to truly forgive, healing is a process.  But, what of when the relationship is superficial, when the other individual doesn't want to be seen or looked at, and pushes away from me, causing heart break to arise in me leading to hardness, resentment, anger, fear, jealousy? What of when I see a person openly or secretly destroying the health, safety, security of a loved one close to me? Is it right for me to forgive that person? And, how do I do that, especially when the abuser of my friend is prevalent in my social circles and I have to 'play nice' according to the constructs dictated by the unspoken social and political rules in the industry of which I work?

Perhaps I should take the advice of Maggie from my original play, One Of Us, who said, "Live your life and be happy, no matter what be that" and to focus on 'not being a dick' in my own interactions, because I can only truly understand and control myself.  Truth be told, this is hard to do as an empath with a mood disorder and anxiety disorder constantly inundated with the emotional reactions and inward honest feelings of those around me when I engage socially.

However, like the inner lining of the uterus during menses, life is a continual shedding of the hardness developed on the heart through the journey of life, one digs ever deeper into understanding the self, recovery is life long in the pursuit of healing and wholeness.  Perhaps that is a spiritual reason for a women's monthly cycle, a continuous cleansing, until she reaches the final stages and menopause, a complete, free, clean soul and body emerges.  Who can tell?

Life is a continual self discovery and journey to find ourselves.