Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

  Accepting that life is not a puzzle I can solve, a code I can crack, that it doesn’t come with a roadmap has been one of the biggest obstacles I’ve encountered. I’ve encountered a lot of change in my life. For years, it felt like things would never turn out my way. I was stuck in this cycle of just hanging on and settling in–true survival mode at its finest. I lost years to crippling anxiety and depression, and so many moments curled up on the floor in flashbacks.  I remember one of the first flashbacks I had ever encountered. I couldn’t make myself get in the car to go to my IFB church. I was about 20, and I could not make my body get ready– no brushing my hair, no putting on my limited makeup, not being able to iron my long skirts. I just couldn’t do it. I watched as my family left without me and I curled up on the floor of my bedroom and sobbed in the fetal position on my green scratchy yet soft rug. I was a failure! I knew I would once again hear from the church people t...

  Part of recovering from a cult is healing the parts of you that the cult hurt. In my case, a cult controlled, and its fear ruled my entire childhood. There are only photographs of my childhood days in cult clothes and doing most activities connected to the church. It’s very hard for me to even look at these photos without feeling a deep-rooted sorrow for my child self. I know now what I had missed, but mostly am aware of what was taken. I’ve been out closer to a decade after spending my first adult years as well inside. There is no secret key to healing from a cult experience. But there are strategies through things like professional counseling and connecting to survivor communities and such that can prove helpful. I’m not simply healing from a cult (although there is nothing “simple” about surviving a cult), I’m also healing from emotional, verbal, mental, physical and sexual abuse and overall neglect. It impacted my everyday life, has touched even my future in ways like diffi...

  Much of my life has operated around this broken and problematic thing called black-and-white thinking. It’s how my beliefs were ingrained into me, how I made my decisions and the lens through which my emotions were translated. One thing was either one way or the other, and there was never any middle ground. It was either wrong or right, black or white, good or bad. There was never an in between, no place for doubts or unanswered questions. Everyone around me displayed this mentality, and because children often mimic the adults in their lives, I, too, grew up with much of that mindset. Even after leaving fundamentalism that thrives off such thinking, those thought patterns have unfortunately followed me. While trying to find my views, my values, and my own way, I’ve found that the mindset I grew up with still finds ways to seep into my subconsciousness. For example, humans make mistakes, and a good person can do bad things, but still be a good person. That is just a part of being...