Tag: outside

  • Not our Time to Connect.

    In the past 6 months, I have been in contact with former members of the FALC, and at first glance, it seemed that we would all be on the same page, but that is not so.  

    The common ground ends at the exit.

    Some have left under their own power, while others were forced out or voted out.  Some have left in search of a new religion, to hear a new voice of God or in rebellion.  I am not sure many left like me.

    I left due to the fact that I discovered abuse was sanctioned by the church…in subtle and not so subtle ways.  I left with the discovery of abuse…and not in search of a new God or religion.  My main exit point was abuse. 

    I somehow misjudged the ex-members, believing that they, like me, sought the truth.  That they were reaching for a deeper meaning in their life, in search of walking with integrity or healing from abuse.

    But that is not always the case.

    It isn't as clear cut as splitting or dividing it into the ex-members and the members…it is much more involved than that.

    Just because you exit the church, doesn't mean you are 'better' as in healed.  Your journey then has just begun.  I assumed many had awakened to their own inner truth, but come to find out there are many more reasons for leaving.

    I failed to recognize the walking wounded and assumed many things about them and their journey and granted them a higher level of understanding then they actually had.

    On the surface the scene appeared to be much more healthy than it actually appeared. Their storyline convincing…and I guess I was eager to greet other ex-members, especially those who too had been sexually abused…to learn, share and find a friendship.

    It seemed to be a perfect match. They knew where I was coming from and how it felt, yet I was too quick in trusting and misunderstood our common ground for equal healing.

    Our similar childhoods made the 'getting to know you' stage much shorter, for we all knew the players.  I dropped my guard and level of discernment and calculations of truth, simply because they came from the church…I assumed many things.

    And I of all people should have known better.  I should have recognized the work it takes to undo the years of being brainwashed and what it does to the human Spirit.

    But I didn't.  I somehow elevated them to my level, without the proof or feedback from them.  

    Perhaps this is all part of the journey, learning how to read people and knowing when to walk away.

    Some have come close to me and backed away and I have done the same.  I have supported blogs, to then no longer support them. I have friended folks on facebook and then unfriended them and have had the same done to me.

    I get it.  It isn't as simple as we all belong together outside of the church…we don't, for we are out here for different reasons.

    There is a huge difference depending upon whether you were forced out or you simply couldn't stay there a minute longer.  

    Some left because their families were not treated well, they leave with resentment and anger.  

    I left knowing the breakdown of the system or that it didn't work on big sins.  I left with a complete inner conviction that the FALC was a key player in keeping abuse in my home.  I felt the failings of the church, personally.  I wasn't kicked out, I ran out.

    It is good to know that I can walk down the friendship path and know when to get off.  That I am free to get to know you and when you show me bits and pieces of yourself that don't ring true, I can back away.

    Just because you walk away from a cult or a dysfunctional family doesn't mean you are automatically healed. You then have to learn how to walk functionally.  The exit is that start of healing, but the healing is a long ways down the road.

    As this blog has evolved, as I have evolved, I have openly supported other blogs…and yet I didn't openly unsupport them.  I believe they are on their journey, just not to the point of which I can fully support. There just seems to be more dysfunction than function.

    I can't knowingly support folks who are unknowingly still abusing…still lost even unto themselves.  

    I would like to warn other newly exiting members to be careful as you make contact with other past members. We all have been subjected to years of brainwashing and not all are striving to gain inner control and are left in a very confused state.

    There really is no difference between being lost in the FALC or lost outside of its doors. Each will have to find their way back to their own inner truth and integrity…and some will remain lose cannons without a connection deep within themselves. 

    I am betting the percentage that make it out, completely out and free of the entanglements of mind control etc are few…most will be lost souls, damaged but free…especially those who were also sexually abused as well as religiously abused, a double twist.

    It is not an easy road to untangle those ties that bound us within the church, and just because we shared similar childhoods are we a good match.

    For some the matching time is not right. We are at different places on our own personal journeys…our level of healing is off.  It is not our time to connect.

      IMG_0402

    Photograph by Hannah Jukuri

  • Felt Its Worth

    Before beginning yoga today, I cleaned the mirror I stand in front of, it was layered with weeks of dust, and I appeared fog like behind it. Today I felt the need to wipe it free, as I did so the line from a song arose in my head, “I can see clearly now the pain is gone…”

    Then into yoga I went.

    I was on the third part of the Awkward pose, where I go from standing up to squatting down, and Bikram asks us to descend slowly, and I lost my control and fell into a squat and smiled as I did so.

    This smile took up my whole face, my cheeks, my eyes and my mouth rose into a delightful bend, and inside I felt its wonderful wave of joy.

    I smiled at my rendition of his yoga; I smiled at me and the transformation of my face and received fully my smile about me.

    A smile about me isn’t something I have any memory of ever receiving.

    I was shocked first at the way this smile changed my look, and even more stunned to receive its full value inside.

    To feel myself worthy of a full-blown smile.

    I froze for a half of second to feel such sheer delight inside myself.

    My smile quickly disappeared and I struggled to smile while tears of sorrow dampened my face.

    Imprinted in my minds eye is my smiling feeling being over swept by sadness as memories flung themselves upon me, one on top of the other.

    A 50 year long life review flashed before my eyes, all the places where I mistook myself for being bad, wrong, and despicable, how I had not seen my own worth or how I had lost sight of myself inside myself.

    The simple fact that I was unworthy of a smile from me about me is so harsh and tragic; yet it was never my smile I sought. I didn’t even know I was missing my smile for me.

    The mouth I tried to change was my mother’s.

    Before putting my words to paper, I spoke to my brother and then did some mindless cleaning, and it came to me what love I had for my mother.

    I literally gave my soul, my insides away in order to bring a smile to her face and to keep it there.

    How tragic that she wanted my smile more than she wanted my tears and my sorrows, and even more dreadful for a little girl to be left with such sorrow inside, such darkness.

    In denying my abuse, she left me in the dark.

    It is funny in a sad way, how I wanted her to have a smile, more than me.

    I could cry a river of tears for the little girl who wasn’t allowed to feel her sorrow out loud, to be heard and valued as abused.

    Valued as abused and not having to hide this fact.

    I can see I took up my mother’s view of me.

    My mouth and facial images reflected hers in my mirror and even more tragically inside.

    Inside I knew my mother blamed me.

    I took away her sunshine, I stole her lovely story, I was darker than the darkness that abused me.

    I changed her smiling face to anger.

    And it was my job now to put her smile back.

    And I tried and danced, and pranced and worked and slaved and toiled to bring it back, and to keep it in place.

    When I was tired of holding up those cheeks, when I simply didn’t have anymore to give, or when I tried to tend to myself, I heard her angry response, “How dare you Beth Ann…” and up I got and began dancing again.

    Six years ago all my dancing for her was over, done, finished, the end.

    I stopped where I stood and in the middle of the darkness began to see what I did for me and what I did for others.

    Life offered up to me a million situations for me to choose again, their pleasure or mine, their smile or mine, their feelings or mine.

    Each and every time I found the strength to disappoint my mother and chose me; I opened up inside, made room for that smile.

    Today, I feel that I have made it to the other side, to the side of worthiness, or at least I have felt the wave of joy lap at my feet, I feel that I am worthy to now frolic in the ocean and swim to its depths.

    I look forward to seeing another one come out of me and shine upon me and for me to welcome it in!

    I have been waiting in vain for her to arrive and tell me that I am a good girl, that I am of value, and that the abuse didn’t change who I am, in her eyes.

    I wanted her to smile that it was okay that I was abused, it didn’t matter to her, and she loved me any way.

    Again, the smile I sought was hers and the one I found was mine.

    What I love is that the first smile I was able to receive was mine!

    A smile in full acceptance of all of me, the darkest dark and the brightest bright.

    I smiled at me and felt Its worth.