Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

I've been working really hard to make a beautiful life for myself. As any trauma survivor knows all too well, rebuilding (or in my case, building from scratch) a life that has seen abuse is super intimidating. In spite of this, many survivors do cross over into thriving territory and look back on how much strength it took to get to the top of a mountain, only to climb one after another in that one's wake. I have certainly climbed a few mountains. Currently, I'm climbing a couple personally. Those that love me cheer me on with each step, and I'm forever grateful and thankful that they are in my corner. Those that have seen this fight in me for healing know just how much harm I had experienced. There are many layers to the harm, which is difficult to even separate when so many aspects contributed to that hurt. There is the childhood abuse that lasted many years, the spiritual abuse that went on until I was a young adult, and the long and tedious part of my journey where...

  When I look back at the beginning of this blog and where I was, in that moment of my healing journey, I’m left in awe of how far I’ve come not only with this blog but as a person. Revisiting the day I started Once Upon a Time in My Oceania, looked like staying up all night to craft the first draft of my blog while crashing on my couch. I had just experienced major burnout and my health was against me. I had spent eight months steadily researching both a personal initiative with my twin sister to see how many crimes were connected to the IFB, along with providing that data to a reporter who I now consider a friend (that series was published late 2018 actually). My inbox was filled with victim after victim sharing their story, and then, also frantic family members who were looking for relatives who had been sucked into the more isolated churches in the Independent Fundamental Baptist movement. I was exhausted adding more abuser names to an ever-growing list and having little to n...