Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

The damage I see everywhere, all around me, the stuff I left behind. It's in the call for help, that young person wading through the darkness on their own, because Mom and Dad preach love, but refuse to love the real them.  I see it in the broken pieces of the hallowed eyed wife, married for a decade to a "godly" man who she gave babies to and works herself broken, tip-toeing to avoid his temper and who can't get his words degrading her self worth to zero out of her head. I see it in young girls and boys who in order to find some safety, leave their past communities with no education, no practice and no idea what it takes to survive in the real world or how to go after it.  I see the girl who is self conscious and nervous, never having been able to speak up and disagree with a man or anyone in an authority position. Her hands tremble, heart pounds, but she forces out that timid disagreement to a crowd of silent cheers. I recognize that suspicious ...

When you grow up in the world I grew up in, feeling emotions, let alone negative emotions, was a tricky process. Concentrating solely on the positive was something that was deeply engrained into us from the beginning. Things like feeling discontent were considered sin and needed to be repentented of as such. That being the case, common was the ability to stop negative emotions in their tracks, forcing ourselves as Saints to think on "things from above." I strongly remember the scripture verse about "laying up treasure in heaven" as a way to say that dwelling on earthly problems was wrong and should be avoided. Sometimes, too, was the teachings that this also applied to mental health struggles such as anxiety and depression, suggesting that they in fact did not exsist and were a spiritual falling away. Of the many teachings in the Independent Fundamental Baptist world, the teaching of bitterness was one that I and other survivors of the movement have found, for...

I still recall my smile stretching from ear to ear on my then freckled six year old face. I'm proud and honored, enjoying this rare emotion of feeling special. It's Sunday morning and towering next to me on my left is the man I would continue to look up to for fifteen years, my pastor. This was a honor, being chosen to sit in the front pew next to him until it was his time to take to the pulpit and the sermon laid upon his heart. The congregation is singing one of their favorites, Power in The Blood or Amazing Grace , maybe, and I'm struggling to find the page to the old hymn so my pastor steps in, hands me his song book and takes mine. Next to him waiting expectantly is my twin sister and he repeats the process, exchanging hymnals with a patient smile and low chuckle. We sing, join in with the familiar aspects of each service—offering, more congregational singing, greeting other worshipers, sitting quietly through any special music—and then, the preaching hour. My twin...

In the years following my exit out of Christian Fundamentalism many conversations have accompanied my time trying to come to terms with the years spent in it. Numerous things I struggled to understand, and making my best effort at putting into words the complexities of that period and how it had changed me forever was not easy. Some, like those who also experienced the group I came out of or others similar, most likely understand the confusion and frustrations us formers encounter. More often than not, it is simpler to just cut it up to "crazy" and try to let bygones be bygones, move on and leave the past in the past. But sometimes, that's not always possible and hashing it out is your best bet at finding closure. I call it "feeling your feels" and it's something that I do allow myself to do when it's warranted. I guess you could say at times that is why this very blog partly exists—to find a way to talk about all those many different things fundament...

No one ever warned me about this part of my life. With everything I read on the subject, very rarely did the conversation come with a "heads up" on what to expect when you begin to wade through the waters of deconstructing from your past faith. As a former fundamentalist, I was not prepared for the sheer ability to ask questions. My existence in my community, especially as a female, meant I was silent and constantly fell into line when told to. As a follower my leader dictated the emotions I was to feel and thinking outside of the box was foreign to me. Leaving meant searching for a new identity entirely. I had no clue who I was to be without my fundamentalist past self or without the pastor leading me each week on what I was to believe spiritually. I wasn't ready to watch friends turn into enemies or hearing past members refer to me as a stranger, instead of the little girl who grew up in their midst for the past fifteen years. I wasn't expecting that some w...

Little girl, living in a box of a world,  Question everything. Scream when they say to sing. You deserve so much more than what they say;  Your existence allows you the option to walk away. Break the mold; find your way. Don't blend in, you stand out with the words you say. Be the night when they're the day. Be the red when they're nothing but the pale. Pick up that book, the one with the forbidden pages.  Read it, breathe it, take it in and wage it. It may be the answer to that burning question and if not, still search on.  Don't give in, don't give up.  These days can be put behind you, they can be gone. ☆ They cut you when it was you they said they loved.  But, little girl, love don't draw blood. Words and rules shouldn't hurt; make you doubt who you are or your self worth.  Leave it alone, let it go. Turn your back on them; put the past down. Sacred Book it may be, but that speaker never ...

Trigger Warning: for the sake of authenticity certain insensitive words towards the LGBTQ Community, including the possibility of referencing particular homophobic slurs are to follow. The author in no way supports the terminology used, but chooses to do so in order to, as accurately and closely as possible, depict the following piece true to memory's sake. Many areas of my life were shaped by fundamentalism. Being born and raised, a cradle to a pew, Independent Fundamental Baptist translated into controversial beliefs and opinions that not only were sometimes unhealthy, but also hurtful to others. I've talked a bit already about some of those things, particularly different forms of hate within Christian Fundamentalism . It's not uncommon that something or someone catches my attention, reminding me of those former beliefs I shamefully embraced for a time in my life. I can recall the uncomfortable cognitive dissonance that occurred when those teachings were chall...