I was groomed. (TW: Pastoral Abuse)

I was groomed.  By a pastor.  Specifically, a Calvary Chapel pastor. 

I knew you were trouble

Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago

I was in your sights, you got me alone

You found me, you found me, you found me

I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that

And when I fell hard you took a step back

Without me, without me, without me

And he's long gone when he's next to me

And I realize the blame is on me

And the saddest fear comes creeping in

That you never loved me or her, or anyone, or anything, yeah

So, I set out this week to write a blog about my dealings with imposter syndrome and I shall do thus in the very near future.  But, something else kept pressing hard on my heart, something which was brought into my clear focus after reading my friend, Amy Nordhues book, "Preyed Upon: Breaking Free From Therapist Abuse", which she details her account of being groomed, taken advantage of, controlled, and sexually molested by a spiritual elder and her therapist.  

Personally, as I read Amy's accounts of the tactics used by her therapist, I suddenly was brought close and personal with the truth that I had been chosen by a pastor in his attempts to groom me, control me, for his own pleasure.  Fortunately, I was able to release myself from under his sway in that it never went beyond the initial stages of manipulation and grooming, never became physical in any regard, but nevertheless the mind control tactics he utilized to silence and shame me have had longlasting effects.  Even now, as I sit in a place fully deconstructed from the fundamentalist worldview I fell prey to, it stings to admit to myself that I was a victim of pastoral abuse, and that a huge part of my religious trauma stems from that yet unexamined or healed from fully.  

Perhaps because it never went beyond the initial 'flirting' and special treatment he placed upon me, perhaps out of my own guilt from behaviors I fell into while in the midst of my early recovery, perhaps ultimately it is because I have utmost respect and love for his family, it is an issue that I have yet to fully comprehend, admit and release.  

But it occured.  And, I have no evidence to accuse nor do I want to, ultimately I want to move on from my life further and further into healthier relationships where I find peace, trust, and am fully valued, not used.  But, there comes a time when that layer of pain needs to be peeled off, examined, understood, and healed.  Many would say that I need to be able to forgive him for his behaviors, but first I need to forgive myself and in so doing come to understand how I became fodder for his ploys.  

Many friends and acquaintances, even family members, that knew me during that time of life could point to my struggles with my mental health and actions of abuse that I perpetrated occured because of that as my fault alone and that this pastor was the caretaker who went above and beyond in assisting me towards health, longsuffering he seemed, while I was the abuser, he the victim of my manipulation.  In all honesty, I admit my wrongdoings and as long as I live will strive to live in a way that redeems and seeks forgiveness for those I have wronged, as sure as I continue to move myself forward.  As I continue in my healing journey in understanding and forgiving myself, I am fully able to release the anchors that weigh me down by past transgressions and move forward into making a more positive life for myself and those around me.  

But, what I have come to realize is that all my life I have been traumatized by a variety of abusers and the more I realize this and separate myself from, the better my life becomes and the more I do not victimize or abuse others.  Furthermore, the grooming and specialness this pastor poured upon started before ever I attributed signs of extreme mental illness.  Rather, when he met me, he had yet to see any signs of dysfunction, even though I have experienced all of my life symptoms of bipolar mood disorder as well as have suffered life long with the effects of abuse.  But, as I had been so aptly taught, I was fairly decent at masking and hiding my darknesses, until extreme stress brought the struggles to the forefront.  

It is important for me to note that of the four pastors I had a friendship with of the three Calvary Chapels I once called home, only one victimized me in this regard.  It is of extreme import that I impress that the manipulative tactics of this said pastor was ramped up during my early days of diagnosis, coming to my aid as prayer warrior, counselor, spiritual advisor, attempts to enable my reliance on him, through special allowances at times, as well as isolation from others, and as I derailed further into madness seemingly he looking like the victim aligning himself with others' in the church family who actually were, while still stirring my emotional pot to victimize me separately.  

He did what he did to isolate me from others.

Once again, I must confess and openly admit that I was wrong in my behaviors, that at this point, I had suffered all of my life with emotional outbursts that had largely been either placated or, worse, ignored.  So, it was in this time, that due to these emotional outbursts and irregularities, they were finally called to the carpet, whereas due to them I lost my teaching job, close friendships, church family, and boyfriend, as should be the consequences for toxic behavior, mine own or of another.  

Yet, as I have mentioned above, my issues with anger and abuse were greatly magnetized by being the victim and abuse of another, however, that may be.  It was only when marrying my husband and realizing that I was quickly heading into battered wife syndrome, then separating and divorcing him, that I began to see how far back the abuse and types of abusers had plagued me throughout my life, causing such harm within and without, nearly causing me to become incompetent to survival yet alone to truly thrive.  

So, yes, he groomed me, out of his own desires.  It hurts to say, I want to believe he is good at heart and has the best intentions, a loyal husband to his wife and a pious individual intent on leading others to the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Perhaps part of him is such, but in the nuance of all people he is not alone in such.  Furthermore, Calvary Chapel, as well as other fundamentalist churches of its ilk, do not condone mental health healing, rather any irregularity is attached to sin, being out of God's will, the attacks of satan himself, and thus all of these matters should be dealt in the confines of the church and through christian counseling.  In addition, education beyond the simplest elementary training is looked down upon as satanic and a detraction from God's design for one's life.  Thus, further education is discouraged and for the most part pastors, spiritual leaders, or christians in general rarely seek higher education or they are home-schooled with material that suits the purposes of their worldview.  Then, a young man, at the tender age of 18, is told they are chosen by God, anointed by the most high, to lead a church of all ages, and all must submit to the authority of the senior pastor.  No matter the good intentions, most men without any formal training or critical thinking skills would fall prey to abuse of power, cult of personality, or, yes, sexual misconduct.  Pastors declare from the pulpit, "don't worship me, don't worship me, but worship God" to no avail.   In addition, the purity culture mindset is firmly rooted upon and all are encouraged not to commit any sexual act before marriage, resulting in short term 'courtships' and then marriages to those they do not fully know or may not be fully compatible.  Divorce, as well, is never an option. 

In addition, one of the main teachings within Calvary Chapel christianity as well as others is that the root of evil and sin was brought about by Eve's discretion and disobedience.  Thus, the woman is the cause and the stumbling block for men.  So much of that is reinforced in purity conferences where young girls and women are separated from men and lectured on how we need to dress to conceal in order not to cause the men of the church to detract.  A quick google or youtube search on "Calvary Chapel" and many articles and videos will emerge discussing this form of abuse of power from a variety of pastors.  In this regard, Calvary Chapel is not the only victimizer, the Catholic Church has also been found at fault, as well as other mainstream christian churches, and perhaps other faiths, have perpetrated this abuse.  Whenever a person is in a position of power and authority of another, there is probability that abuse can occur if the personality style and perhaps their own unhealed trauma abuse history is at play.  

I reacted to this stance by diving deeper into my life-long struggle with body dysmorphia and developing anorexia nervosa.  Perhaps, if I could lose my natural body features, become more child-like in frame, I would be less likely to cause a male church member to stumble.  After all, I was like Eve, a female, and, furthermore, was I also a Jezebel? 

So, yes, I was victimized and groomed by a Calvary Chapel pastor.  His name I will not state because I have no evidence, but I will admit the denomination.  This grooming and special treatment occured when he first met me, during my mental breakdown, and then the early stages of my recovery.  He isolated me from the church family, which was yes, needed, due to my abusive actions, but these actions were perpetrated by his intentions.  Once I was separated from them, he began to play 'serotonin games', or rather 'come alittle closer, no go away', whereas in private settings or even if we met at a cafe, he was all smiles and we had a close conversation, while other times when others were around, he would seem almost cold to me, telling me how he couldn't be my friend, I was becoming too involved with his life and needed to stop.  Yet, later on he would once again, reinforce the interaction by pulling me towards him.  

During a particular stressful time of my life and early recovery, after dealing with the loss of my favorite grandfather as well as breaking up with my boyfriend, and having not ever been able to feel any sort of intense 'negative' emotions all of my life, I came to the pastor who had groomed me to rely upon him solely, crying uncontrollably, he insisted that my tears were 'crocodile ploys of manipulation' (at times they were, but in this instance not), and later after heavy targetted prayers to reassure, encourage, and control, when I felt less weepy, and when walking out the door, I made a joke, he smiled sardonically, and said, "Lots of women I have ministered to have fallen in love with me'. *** Too shocked to say anything, I did not express, I was dumbfounded yet internalized that in wonders, was I in love with him? Yet, I kept coming back to the truth that I was not and after years of talking to other post fundies, of sharing this story, and deconstructing, I can attest this was a tactic of his to confuse and confound me, to get me to further need him, and once he got what he desired, if he ever did, to make it seem as if I was the Eve that had seduced.

***(Note: this pastor confided in myself and my boyfriend at the time that he had been molested by a youth counselor in junior high.  In addition, when I was attending a christian based 12 step recovery program, Celebrate Recovery, this pastor had also been going through a similar accountability group with one man at his church, however, he jokingly laughed at how he had stopped halfway through, sighting "bad at his recovery".  I strongly suspect it had something to do with not wanting to openly admit something that would not only lose him favor and sway over the parishner he was counseling but possibility cause him to lose his position and possibly face legal action.  However, that is strongly conjecture.  Furthermore, similar to that of, say, the Catholic church scandal, it is becoming increasingly widely known that many Calvary Chapels have dealt with a myriad of pastoral abuse regarding sexual mis-conduct whether with another adult or even towards a child.  All too often, like the Catholic Church, the pastor is quietly moved to another part of the country or world without explanation, as a form of cover-up.  The pastor that wounded me specifically had recently moved from serving first at one church, then moved to another, before moving to start his own church in another city.  The three cities weren't that far apart from each other and I do not want to convict of something I know not with certainty, but upon looking at my experience as well as reading other materials of predatory behavior from religious leaders, a deeper look into the reasoning for those moves might be warranted. )

For the majority of my life, I have looked for a warm father figure to make me feel whole, whether it be through the television show, Night Court, in the person of Harry Anderson, from my favorite high school teacher, Fernando Nugent (the strongest and warmest father figure I ever have had), or even from romantic partners.  Just a few years before attending this church and meeting this pastor, I had lost that favorite high school teacher and yet had not fully had grieved.  Thus, I was in search of another to fill that role and being a newly minted believer I could look no further than a strong spiritual leader as this pastor, who was also seemingly a strong and deeply committed family man.  That alone was what I was seeking and what I desired.  

As I write this, it pains me to admit that I was not alone in his desires or attentions in this regard, that there were most likely others before me, as he seemed to admit, and most likely have been others after me.  It both pains me to think that he could have gotten away with more in his attempts to groom, seduce, control but also there is some hold out on hope that whoever she or he is they could call him out and press charges.  For me, I cannot do such as I have no actual proof of any misconduct, it never went that far.  Even in my early stages of recovery, I was able to start breaking free from his grasp as I became increasingly aware of my own abilities discovering my own strength and was able to once again use my critical thinking skills to begin to see the flaws within Calvary Chapel, at first, being the emptiness and fakeness of the human interactions on a surface level.  This caused me to walk out the door one Sunday after church, not knowing at the time that I would never return, yet once done, the Pandora's Box was open and out came all that I was seemingly condoning or making allowances for, that is what you call deconstruction, my friends, and it is not an easy process, although so very necessary and freeing. 

Thus, my admitting of this pastor's abuse, seemingly mild, is one of the deepest faults to be revealed about Calvary Chapel.  Yet, at this moment, it is for my own benefit and healing that I admit.  In earlier years after initially leaving Calvary Chapel, I wondered why he was the first ever person I blocked on all my social media accounts, why I felt fear whenever I thought I could see him or did run into him, why I felt guilt where there was none even after I had worked through and absolved my own, but now I am realizing the reasons why and am proud of my younger self for taking those steps to break free, even though I didn't understand then.

No, I cannot call the cavalry to take down this Calvary pastor, however, I will share my story and work towards my own healing for my own good as well as the good of others who may have fallen prey to such type as pastoral or spiritual abuse, or who may be targetted in the future.  By bringing light to such offense in my own past, I can help to raise awareness as a whole and begin to help others in their healing, deconstruction, and to truly, break free.

Breakaway

Trying hard to reach out

But when I tried to speak out

Felt like no one could hear me

Wanted to belong here

But something felt so wrong here

So I prayed (I would pray)

I could breakaway

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky

And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change

And breakaway

Out of the darkness and into the sun

But I won't forget all the ones that I love

I'll take a risk, take a chance, make a change

And breakaway

I used this article as reference when writing this blog entry: The Grooming Behavior of Pastoral Predators

 If you have experienced any form of this, feel free to contact me: cafegirlproductions@gmail.com

9/11/01 18 years later

And here we are, 18 years since 9/11/2001.  I honestly never imagined that we would be here.  Not in some apocalyptic way like the church used to teach me, but just in the very nature in pondering the actual reality of that day in 2001.

When I awoke this morning, my Twitter feed was filled with "where were you when" posts.  I did not answer, I could say from the busyness of life, but really it was just that I wanted to internally reflect on the day.

So much has occurred since that fateful day, 9/11/01, that it has almost become just another day, wherein in the city adorns the streets with flags, social media is filled with "we shall never forget" hash tags and memes.

But truly have we not forgot?

18 years is a very long time, after all.

As I drove around today, I noticed an occurrence today that was not present on that day in 2001.  People going about their lives as business as usual, doing their jobs and daily routines almost as if it was any other day.

Growing up as a kid and teenager in the 1980s and 1990s, I was told often by my parents and other adults about their day of infamy, December 7th, 1941, when Pearl Harbour was bombed by the Japanese or even the assassination of JFK on November 22, 1963.  Before 9/11/01, these were merely dates in history that had little to no significance to me on a personal level.

Then, 9/11/01 happened.  I was heading into my senior year of college and was finishing up my last summer visiting the parents' as an undergrad.  I awoke to my father bellowing to come downstairs and so I did.  There I was, standing in my pajamas, hair a mess from the night's sleep, the night's sweat still on my face, watching as a major airline crashed into the world trade center....

It was surreal.

I had only just begun my journey into fundamental Christianity and already the study of eschatology, or the end times, had gotten a hold of me.  I stood there, trembling, had the rapture happened, was my first thought?  After calling my then, sorta boyfriend, who professed outwardly to be a Christian but was basically a big creep, the rapture had not occurred.  (And would never, but that's a story for another time.)

The next thing I did was make a phone call that is now infamous to my soul.

The previous day I had visited my old high school. I had spent time with my favorite high school teacher and mentor, Fernando Nugent.  We had laughed and talked.  He had hugged me close and wiped the excessive eye shadow from my eyes.  He was a true fatherly spirit to me.

So, on 9/11, I called him.  He was at school, of course.  The secretary transferred me without thought.

"How are you?" I remember asking him.  I heard the TV on in the background.

"Not so good," came his reply.  Without thinking, I said,

"I love you."

"I love you too," came his immediate response.

A few weeks later, I flew up to Oregon to finish my final year of college, a wash with the aftermath of September 11th, 2001, that was that year.

Seven months later, April 2002, I got a call that was my personal day of infamy, my mentor and spiritual father, Fernando Nugent, had died tragically in a car accident due to a heart attack.  It was earth shattering for me, the first real death of a loved one I had ever experienced at that time.

We spend so much of our lives focused on the daily grind, the business and busyness of life, that it often takes a tragedy like 9/11 or even a car accident to reflect on what life is all about.  I can look back on 9/11/01 and recall it as the last day I heard his voice, the voice of the man that mentored and guided me through my teenage and early twenty years, that would visit me in my dreams during the dark years of depression, his spirit attentive to my soul in the purity of purpose of a true teacher.

I told him I loved him and he answered that with his confirmation.  In the wake of such epic tragedy, I am thankful for that knowledge, that I told him, that I know he knew, and that he loved me.

Today, 18 years later, what would he think, of the world as it is today? No doubt there would be a fascination, a hunger to enact and bring forth change, a disgust of the current state of our union, and would inspire that need for action among all those he came into contact.

But on a personal level, what would he think of me? Would he be proud of me? I want to believe truly that the answer is yes.  I have fully taken on the lessons he gave me, not just those of sociological, educational, or political, as a woman embracing her power and worth, but also on a personal level.  "No guy is worth it," he would say to me as I sobbed in his arms after a break up.  I see now its more that what is said after a devastating heart break, but a true anthem.  I see now that I am capable of standing on my own two feet, able to love myself, and worthy of love.  He showed me that.  I fully appreciate when he stopped me in the hallway that day in my sophomore year, busy with the other students passing by, looked deep within my eyes, and professed, "you are magical."

Its true, I am, and not only because of his influence.

Since that time, I try my hardest to not fail to tell those I love that truth, that I love them.  Regardless of what may come in our relationship, how long or short our mutual story will transpire, my love for them is pure and true, and I will show it, make them aware.  Life is short, fleeting, and the beauty of it can be taken at the slightest of moments.

https://www.facebook.com/takenotessaysnugent/

To Sir With Love

I Choose Love.

There are always ideas circling through my mind as I prepare to write this weekly blog for you, my readers.  However, I think the most essential idea pressing on me to write is that of the most important necessity for all living creatures.  That of, the four letter L-word, Love.   How fitting that I would write such an entry on the day of love itself, Valentine's Day, the day when Cupid's arrow finds his match, candy hearts are shared, middle school dances become the dream of all romantic 12 year olds with hopeful wishes in their newly hormone-ridden bodies that their crush will finally ask them out. 

So, love.  It is a word seemingly undefinable but purely and completely felt when it arrives.  Yet, love is never far from us, always present, whether we choose to be aware of it at all. 

See, that's the thing.  In a world increasingly falling apart with racism, pollution, the big guy over-powering the little guy, the only real solution is sometimes the last place we often look.  If we are truly to be honest with ourselves, we have to admit that all to often our go-to reaction is to become defensive and retaliate with like-minded slings of abusive arrows in response to those cast at us.  Do we realize that in situations like this there are at least two choices available to us, either to lash out or to love out?

Now, I am in no way suggesting that we allow ourselves to continuously be in the pathway of complete abuse and manipulation.  Coming from a past flooded with a myriad of abusive forms, I highly advocate for escaping and leaving the torturous life-style behind.  All humans have a capacity for emotional changes, from happy feelings of warmth and love, sad feelings, and then those of erupting anger.  Those momentary feeling states do not reflect an overall abusive pattern necessarily.  Being in an abusive relationship, as I know from experience, the anger is an ever-present silent force ready to explode and erupt, nullify and control its victim, at any notice.  This anger can take many forms, that of slews of verbal angry words, the cold silent treatment meant to punish the victim for no such cause, manipulation meant to control and dominate, or even worse, physical abuse.  All leave their own forms of bruises, some visible and others invisible, yet all leave the emotional markings that although freed from the abuser leaves the victim forever scarred.

But, I am not talking about abuse.  I am talking about the moment by moment life occurrences where we are always faced with the opportunity to choose love or to choose hate.  Becoming defensive and retaliating in like fashion is a choice.  Stopping, pulling away, choosing love over hate, is in a sense a moment where we truly stand for ourselves, fully present in mindful awareness. 

And, love is multi-faceted, a woven tapestry of many a color.  In CS Lewis's book, Four Loves, Lewis describes four aspects of love, Agape (Divine Love), Storge (empathy bond), Phileo (Brotherly/friend love), and Eros (Romantic love).  In that, there are many phases one goes through in each of these relational aspects of love.  For infatuation, the early stages of falling for someone, full of its passionate excitement and exhilaration is just as much love as a long-term committed relationship, just as letting go of a lover or a friend, for a variety of reasons, is an aspect of love.  Its all love if done from a pure and honest place.

Just over a week ago, my beautiful Grandma Margaret passed onwards from this world, hopefully to the heaven of which she always professed to believe.  True to fashion, I've been attempting to be still, listen, for guidance from her spirit.  I truly believe that I am surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, spirit guides that have chosen to lead me, give me wise answers and teachings as I journey through life.  These guides I truly believe to be that of my favorite high school teacher, Fernando Nugent, Gilda Radner, Harry Anderson, Evita Peron, Frida Kahlo, Mary Tamm, my Grandpa Walt, and now his wife, my Grandma Margaret.  Along the way, I still feel a kinship to others that have passed on, such as my grandparents on my father's side, but there are certain individuals who have truly joined alongside of me as personal friends across the veil of eternity.

So, what is the message I am receiving from Grandma? Simply this: Always, always choose love. 

So, when I am faced with the darkness of the depravity of an angry, lonely soul and my empath self seeks to flee into the safety of my own protective realm, I choose love, making the active choice to not engage with the negative but embrace the positive, those that are choosing love themselves.  When I am faced with the daily setbacks of life, the financial strain, the driver that cuts me off, not getting called back on an audition...I choose to acquaint myself with love.  I choose to dwell in the state of mind that 'We all have not figured it out quite yet', as Alanis Morrisette croons.  Knowing that we are not all perfect, helps to give perspective in a world vanishing amidst the confusion of too much, too fast, and not enough relational focus on unity and love. 

If we truly want to be the change that infects the world for the better, we need to actively choose to seek out the positive, to choose love and in a sense, be love.

Yes, Grandma, I hear you.  I choose love.

Satisfied