Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

  Here I share what it's like to survive a cult. I talk about my journey and everything it consists of, including my time in-group to when I left, and the steps after where I've had to build my life from scratch. I'm honest, I'm raw and I share the conflicting emotions I often feel. It's not always a pretty picture, but it's a real one. I hope that at the very least it helps someone else out there feel less alone. That's why I share my story, speak words that sometimes I have to choke out because I remember the old fear of daring to breathe a word contrary to authority. I write here because I once wasn't allowed to even think the words.  Here's speaking my truth again... I grew up the tenth child of twelve. Being closer to the youngest in age, I had a ton of older siblings. Some abused me. Some protected me. Some said they loved me, but I was on the receiving end of their hate. Some truly loved me and those are the ones that have had my back even thr...

  I've been right where you are. I've had the same things said to me and about me, too.  It sucks.  People don't get it and that's frustrating.  It hurts. It's damaging.  It's a negative reminder.  It's a reminder of the harm done. No, they don't get it. No, they don't want to either. They'd rather suggest you are bitter, vindective, seeking revenge.  But for what?  For finally voicing a secret not of your own making. A secret that seared your heart, mind, and soul. A secret your body unfortunately can remember all too well. "I'd think you'd want to forget about it..."  How do you know that us girls don't wish for the ability to not remember the time(s) our innocence was stolen? Instead, we are forced to relive every, single and agonizing moment. We continue to pay even years later.  You would think they'd not ask the impossible.  But they do, because the possible–the seeking of justice–would also reveal their own ugly t...

Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence I can't say I ever witnessed a happy marriage in my time in fundamentalism. Not one couple comes to mind over those twenty-one years where I feel were a relationship to look up to, to use as an example of what to look for in a future partner. The relationships I witnessed were often replicas of each other, with the power dynamics of each one appearing very much the same. The first thing I automatically think of is the fact men called the shots, even for their own wives. Very rarely (if ever) did I witness a woman making a decision without the greenlight by their husband. I knew wives who couldn't even go on a grocery run without their husband's permission. Every step had to be approved by their husband or else it was a step out of line. The inability to make decisions for themselves like where to go, what to wear, how to style their hair or how to apply their make-up are just a few examples. Women were admonished for simple things...

Trigger Warning: this article contains adult content and references to sexual abuse and domestic violence Her eyes are tired, her gaze locked on the gray tile below, and silence is stretched out between us while we stand there. It's Sunday morning and in the crowded space of our church's ladies restroom there's two other young girls quickly checking their hair in the only mirror in the building. One sixteen year old is raving over the pale pink nail polish she convinced her parents to allow her to paint her nails the day before. The other disappointingly remarking that she's not allowed to indulge in the luxury but is sporting a rich perfume that is not only turning my stomach, but also choking me to death. I recognize the scent since I have an aunt who wears it. Letting out a discrete cough, I rest the back of my head against the floral wallpaper behind me, my only thought on finishing up as soon as possible with my own primping once my turn comes before the worship ...