Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

My conversion process isn't something I look back on with sentimental nostalgia, in fact, I really don't like that memory. At seven years old, I found myself terrified, going face to face with an angry God and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I didn't accept Him as my personal Savior, I'd burn eternally in a literal hell. This being the case, I confessed all the sins of just a child, most importantly the sin of being born a sinner, and became a Christian. I repented fully, accepted the gift of salvation and shortly later was baptized. I did all of this, believing wholeheartedly and entirely convinced in the teachings I learned from babyhood. I knew I was a wretched sinner, deserved hell, but the remedy to my condition was Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. At just seven years old, the problem was solved. The first time I was called to share the good news of my conversion was that very night it was made known. In front of the entire congregation, I was cal...

Living in the world of fundamentalism as a female was a different kind of complicated. There were unique aspects that solely applied to the women and girls within it, and because of that, there are certain negative takeaways that many of us have, even years after leaving our particular Christian Fundamentalism movements. There are some things that we, as women who have lived in that world, only fully understand. From what formers have shared, I believe this is true for males as well and, in my opinion, stems directly from the enforced restrictions and roles all members, regardless of their gender, were made to adhere to. There was always segregation of one form or another under the guise of separation and doing things "decently and in order," as we so often were told.  I think of it as this: There's the large box of Christian Fundamentalism; my particular group, Independent Fundamental Baptists, fits perfectly in it. Then follows the authority roles of pastors, with...

I talk about many of the troubling teachings I took away from Christian Fundamentalism throughout this blog. Well, the teaching of respect was a big one. Often, I've referenced that members and followers answered to their authority figures—the heads of their churches, homes and families. Being disrespectful was not only something that was to be avoided, it was an actual sin. This complicated things for a number of reasons and are places that I still find myself struggling to navigate through. So many areas of my life were impacted by this group rule. Very easily, it could be hijacked and used as a dangerous and manipulative weapon by those with sadistic intents. So deeply was this teaching engrained that it was second nature, so members—men, women and namely, children—were often mistreated by the demand to always be respectful. It started with the conditioning in the home. From childhood, I knew that honoring my parents was vital in order to live a long life. At a young ag...

I had an unlikely ability to arise in the final years leading up to my exit from my past fundamentalist community and that was the ability to actively begin omitting. This was unusual due to the fact that that meant I had something to keep back. Thoughts uniquely mine began to develop, take root and form an argument that would build deep in my gut and reappear to debate while I was alone or at night, unable to go to sleep. Thoughts like wondering why I wasn't enthusiastic about serving in my church, feelings of disillusion with leaders and the cause, and the ever growing isolation that seemed to swallow me up whole while in the midst of a congregation. I began to have doubts and with them came the gnawing feeling to understand why.  You're not to understand why. You're to do or die.  That was a mantra I heard often growing up, demanding that asking why is proof of rebellion. Those final years I didn't fight to hold the doubts at bay anymore; I couldn't ignore...

The ability to claim normalcy probably disappeared the day I came into this world screaming my baby lungs out. I was number ten of an ever-growing family, with older siblings years my senior. It's a safe bet "normal" continued to elude me with my childhood mainly isolated as a homeschooled kid. There were rare encounters with other children my age with the few times I wandered to my small town's park to play with a handful of kids who were either getting their education at home, similar to me, or a few others who played hookie from the public school some miles away. The majority of interaction was due to my connections to my fundamentalist community though. Church was the center of my life; everything revolved around it. You can pretty much kiss "normal" goodbye when something that controlling is what your life mostly consists of. Making things more difficult was the fact I knew how odd I appeared to others. I lost count of how many times I was asked b...

It's been an exciting journey thus far sharing my words here on Blogger! The positive feedback from readers that have faithfully continued to check out each new blog post has meant the world to me. Unboxing many tough memories and revisiting life in my brand of Oceania hasn't been easy, but the introspection has been equally important. In pursuing this idea prompted by those closest  to me, I promised myself my battle plan on tackling a project like this would entail two things: 1) a commitment of at least six months; and 2) inspiration. I'd add one more and that's patience. Patience with my brain as writing block is no joke and patience with myself as life goes on, bringing what life will bring. I feel that I have overall met these three goals. I'm on month seven and life, as the bitch often does, demands my patience needs to be tried. I'm down with this. So, between revisiting and tackling tough subjects, hearing from one or two long ago critics, and emb...

I never encountered something so terrifying than being faced with decision-making. Not only are life changing decisions intimidating, but sometimes, so are even the average, everyday minuscule variety. I can't lie, it can be frustrating and overwhelming, this byproduct of living in a fundamentalist environment where the only "decision" you made was how quickly to obey the top guy. As a child, I recall a children's tune that was quite popular in our group where youngsters would spell out the word obedience in a joyful voice. I still remember it now, "O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E. Obedience is the very best way to show that you believe!" At 10 years old, I finally memorized it properly after my 4th grade teacher was left dumbfounded while I struggled to hack a spelling test using her suggestion of referring back to that commonly sang song. I was left embarrassed because not only could I not spell the word, but my Sunday school class from my primary days was more obs...