Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

  I grew up convinced I wasn’t going to be able to make anything of myself. I was taught I was unworthy, worthless, and that I wasn’t even ordinary. I wanted nothing more than to make my parents proud, carve out my own path and convince myself I was a somebody. I realized I wasn’t just a somebody, I’m me. And that’s a good thing. If you would have asked me ten years ago where I would see myself today, you’d get an answer of a Baptist wife, mother and hopefully using my love for piano to make music or even teach a Sunday school class. I remember when that last one became impossible after I made waves in my past church. I wanted so much to be considered as a candidate to teach young teens and specifically wanted to focus on their self-worth, but that never happened. Now, I look back and am glad, because I would’ve encouraged rebellion in the ranks (you can laugh here; I am). Teaching others while my journey was just beginning and heading in a different direction, nonetheless, wou...

Yesterday, I nearly ran into a person who was a key figure in my life for the last fifteen of the twenty-one years I was in the IFB movement. I was shopping and instantly turned the other direction out of shock, out of years of hurt, and because I wasn't sure I could hold my tongue. I remained in years of abuse as a child because of these people, have chronic PTSD and long-term and incurable health issues that my doctors have clearly stated came from the constant trauma I experienced. It's been seven years since I last saw them. I'm still the same person, but I've also grown significantly as a human being, too. The discomfort didn't trigger a panic attack, something I always thought would be a given when I've imagined that moment over the years though. I moved on and went about my day. I don't even know if they noticed me and didn't lose sleep over it wondering. I ended up feeling peace just from knowing I'll never be in that prison of a church again...

  It's been some time since I wrote about songs that helped me leave my IFB church of fifteen years and the entire movement as a whole. During that difficult time, where such a heavy decision weighed on me, music was a friend. That music was banned only served as just one more proof that that environment was controlling. I'll never understand, even years later, why such rules have to apply (learning and understanding cults does provide some insight). The experience of leaving a religious cult is difficult to put into words, although you see me try my darndest on this blog. With this post though, I'm going to share ten songs that express, for me, what it was like to leave a cult and that journey afterwards. Dear God - Dax This artist asks the tough questions for many of us trying to figure out what to believe, especially when spirituality was used as a weapon against us. I love his honesty and I relate so much.  Cost of Doin' Business - FIFTH When I stumble upon other ...

  The search for personal identity isn't reserved solely for those that leave a cult-ish group. Many of us are actively looking for our unique selfs, that one thing that separates us from others, all while bringing us together with our "tribe." To identify with others and find community.  This very thing is often exploited by abusive groups and cults use it to their advantage while recruiting new members. They offer all the answers, the community, that sense of belonging and purpose many search for. They exploit the very humanist of experiences–the ability to be a part of a family not created by blood. To know who you are. Because of this particular exploitation, they separate a new member from their very self, manipulating them into taking on their new cult identity, convincing them in the process that it's the "true" them. Much like trauma, there is the you before a cult, and if you leave, the you after it. Some of us only have the cult identity and nothin...