**************************
What do I write tonight? Once I write, will I click 'publish'? Once I publish it, how many typos or errors or better way of saying something will I discover? How many edits will I apply?
Since May, 2009, I spend many-a-Wednesday night on the telephone with a few other writers, folks who draw letters on a page to form words that create pictures. Or perhaps, like me, they utilize a keyboard to create digital(?) letters that form words to convey pictures. Scenes of life.
What may seem a mundane bus ride becomes a deep experience of life and connections. Or a simple boat ride in the Gulf while viewing piers and birds, put into words, spawns gratitude for life and simplicity. It could be that one works as a cashier and store owner interacting every day with such a variety of people that adventures seem to present themselves as regular occurrences.
In order to have something to write about, one must be relating with an environment.
That thought causes me pause.
What if one is in solitary confinement in a prison? What is that environment?
Wow. I guess it would mainly be with one's self. And with the walls, the floor, the bed or mat, a toilet, a sink. All inanimate objects. Perhaps food is given by someone whose face can be seen, or perhaps all that is seen is the giver's hands or fingers sliding a tray through a slot.
I doubt one would have a keyboard or a pen and paper. But perhaps pencil and paper would eventually be granted.
I think of prisoners in austere circumstances who have stated that keeping their minds active is what helped them to keep going. I've heard one story of a man, I think a POW, who would play 18 holes of golf in his head. That imaginary 18 holes kept his mind sane. Story goes that he was able to play very well after being released from his hell hole. (Upon writing those sentences I googled prisoner who played 18 holes of golf in his imagination and found a Snopes link about it entitled Legend in His Own Mind.)
This past Wednesday in the writing workshop via phone, Fred Poole shared something along the lines that Alphie McCourt writes with pen and paper (as opposed to a computer keyboard) because it takes much more effort to stop the flow of writing. That is with a computer, editing while composing is much easier and more tempting; thus one can interrupt themselves to their own disadvantage.
That's not to say we should all or always compose with pen and paper. But the point is to allow flow.
With a ballpoint pen the ink doth flow.
With a keyboard, fingers click out rhythms.
My mother's name was Flo. Her last name was Drum.
**************************
October 31, 2010
October 27, 2010
The Rest of My Life
aww: october 27, 2010
non-subject ~ 'the rest of my life'
Last week I picked up my red journal and my black journal to reread some events from 2004 and 2005. To taste where I was at that time in my life.
I wanted to find the exact date that I officially left The Way. The official date is October 28, 2005.
Official because parts of me had been leaving for some eight years prior to that official date. Official because I called my leadership and informed them of my decision. After 28 years of loyalty, and at 46 years old, I was committing the ultimate Judas act in my thinking. I had tried to leave twice, decades previously. This time would be my third attempt; it would be complete. I was turning away from what I had truly believed for decades to be the functioning Body of Christ, the Household of God.
Tomorrow, October 28, 2010, will be five years since I left.
****
At 18 years old I stood in the college classroom, on the second level. I don't recall which building we were in on the Montreat-Anderson Campus, but it seems we were on the second floor. Many of the buildings on campus were built of stone.
We. That is myself, Matt, Judy, Shirley, Phillip, and Scott. We were all fellow students. We were all Christians, though I was the newest to the fold.
Scott was tall and was the first person to tell me that Christians believed that Jesus is God, which stunned me, that people believed a man could be God. Scott told me a few weeks previously, after I had shown him a Way Magazine that I had been given when I had attended a Twig, which was what Way Home Fellowships were called.
Scott and I were sitting in padded metal chairs in the prayer house discussing the return of Jesus Christ. Scott stated, "When God comes back." I responded, "Well, Jesus Christ is the one coming back. God is already here." Scott replied, "Carol, they're the same person." I looked at him totally baffled stating, "I don't understand." He answered, "You will as you grow in Christ."
The prayer house was a small rustic, wooden cabin on campus nestled within laurels, as is much of the Blue Ridge mountains. A small creek with rocks rippled by the back of the cabin where I often sat in solitude on the small wooden back porch writing prayers to God on index cards, begging Him to show me His will for my life. I'd write scripture on the cards, repeating the words over and over to myself in order to memorize the scriptures in order to push out doubt. I thirsted to believe, to know beyond any doubt.
In 1977, Montreat-Anderson College was a two-year private college located in the Blue Ridge Mountains in the heart of Billy Graham country near Black Mountain, North Carolina. I had decided in late July of '77 that I wanted to go to college. I chose Montreat. I'd heard that spirit-filled small gatherings met in close proximity to the campus. They met in homes around Montreat and in coffee houses over in Asheville. Spirit-filled meaning that at these gatherings people spoke in tongues, sang in tongues, perhaps would dance in the spirit and even get slain in the spirit.
I craved to understand these gifts of the holy spirit. I had recently been led into tongues that summer of '77 and wanted to learn all I could about it. Was it really of God like the Lutheran Charmismatic Church where I first spoke in tongues taught? Or was it devilish like the country Baptist Church I had gone to a year previously had taught? But how could something that made me feel so high be bad? Why did congregations speak in tongues out loud all at the same time when I read in scriptures that they weren't supposed to do that?
I thought that once I graduated from Montreat, I'd go to Wheaton College in Illinois, another Bible-based school. I'd get a degree in Christian counseling.
I sat in the college classroom while Matt stood at the blackboard. Matt was over 6 feet tall and lean. He had emerged as the leader of our little prayer group, a group that had come together spontaneously when we would gather at the prayer cabin by the creek. Matt was confident and sure. Phillip stood with Matt at the blackboard. He was shorter and was overweight; yet he was gentler than Matt. Phillip loved the Word. Shirley was Matt's girlfriend, confident like Matt. They would probably be future leaders in something like Campus Crusades for Christ. Judy was Shirley's friend. Judy reminded me of someone raised in the country in a Pentecostal church in West Virginia. Scott was tall like Matt and was the quietest of all.
Judy and Shirley wore make up and dressed neatly, often sleek and business like. I wore no make up and mainly wore jeans or shorts or long hippie skirts. Church had not been a big part of my life, though my parents would say our family was Methodist. I did sometimes go to church on Christmas and Easter. Growing up, I thought God was bigger than the church and wasn't limited to Christianity.
But when I spoke in tongues that summer of 1977, I knew I'd found the way to be one with God. This was it. The Bible had to be true. Jesus Christ was the one true way to the Father. I felt driven to learn more, to prove the scriptures, to know the will of God.
Matt and Phillip stood at the black board in that college classroom and began to write with the white chalk, scripture verses to prove to me that Jesus was God. By that time I had attended a few Way fellowships. The Way taught Jesus was not God. The Way taught I was righteous before God. The Way taught I was worthy because of Jesus Christ and that I was to claim my "sonship rights."
When I couldn't see with my spiritual eyes what Matt and Phillip were trying to make me see, Judy and Shirley chimed in. The consensus was The Way was a cult. The Way was evil. The Way was of the devil.
But my few experiences with The Way had been loving, not evil. At Way fellowships all they did was teach the Word; the Word was the center of everything. The Way was answering my deepest questions. At Twig, people didn't speak in tongues all at one time; that wasn't allowed just like I'd read in the book of Corinthians. When someone in a Way meeting spoke in tongues, that same person then spoke forth the interpretation. All was done decent and in order just like the Word said. At Twig I felt the love of God; it felt real, tangible, authentic. It was gentle yet strong, an enveloped warmth. There was a mystical cohesion that had to be experienced to be understood; mere words couldn't describe it.
The four voices in the classroom rose in volume and became more forceful to convince me of my error, to convince me that my experiences were due to the devil appearing as an angel of light.
But all their voices did was push me deeper into Way fellowships, to where the believers greeted me with a holy kiss and open arms.
****
October 24, 2010
Giving Voice
I wrote a journal piece last night on my private blog which is viewable to my eyes only. I almost posted the piece publicly. The place I almost posted it was on a mental health help discussion forum, so I probably would have been safe to do so. But I decided not to post it; I don't want to get drawn back into internet forums. Instead I ended up taking Xanax - first one pill, then another, then another, then another over a course of about 1-1/2 hours. I finally got to sleep.
I realize I wanted to post the piece so as to give voice to the pain. To not feel alone.
I have been feeling very down again, isolated, alone. I know the signs of depression. I know isolationism can be a killer if one is suicidal; I am no foreigner to it. Last night I wasn't suicidal, but was having ideation. That is having a desire for my life to end.
Depression isn't new to me. However, up until the beginning of August I was doing better. I felt I was on my road to greater wellness. I had (have) come a long way in a few years.
Then some events happened, circumstances that threw me into a maelstrom of anxiety, self-doubt, self-blame, distrust, doubting my reality, and other stuff. The scenario and my subsequent symptoms are quite similar to what happened when I left The Way, to what happened with circumstances at GreaseSpot Cafe a few years back, to what happened when Claire stayed at our home for seven weeks in 2009. One difference in my current bout of challenges, is that I haven't felt rage. But then, really the only time I have felt rage was over what happened at GreaseSpot.
So I know that the circumstances that happened in August, 2010, are a (if not the) catalyst for my dive into the anxiety, depression, and other symptoms.
In September, I wrote some of the circumstances surrounding what happened in July/August and submitted that report to the proper authorities, but I've not heard back yet. Writing and compiling that information was one of the hardest and most agonizing decisions and exercises of my life. Once I got that done, the anxiety and ruminating over and over in my head was quieted. Though it still comes up at times. Yet, the depression continues to be a challenge.
This morning I read from Kristen Skedgell's blog, a piece entitled, More About "Walkaway." It has prompted me to write this blog entry. Perhaps my blog entry is a confession of sorts of my recent challenges and my difficulty at working through them.
I say I want to "get on" with my life. Get my house in order. Be a better wife. Be more social. Explore my interests. Take a couple classes at community college. Perhaps volunteer in some sort of local service.
But, the reality is, I want to be alone. I'm having difficulty feeling joy. I'm having difficulty trusting people and seeing the good in humanity - something I've always endeavored to believe in - the good in humanity.
I seem happiest on the backpacking trail with only my weight to carry, with the necessity of hiking being a must. For one cannot just stop on the trail. There is the next water source to get to, the next food supply. No one is going to come along and pick me up to carry me out.
October is also a month of anniversaries that in the past has brought me down - abortion in 1978 on the WOW field, jimson weed overdose in 1975, AWOLing from The Way Corps two different times on two different interim years in 1980 and 1983, my first asthma attack in 1981, the time of year I got involved in The Way in 1977, my official departure from The Way org in 2010. All happened in or around October. I've done well the past couple Octobers. But this October, 2010, has thrown me - though not as badly as the worst years. I must remember that, remember how far I have come.
One may say, "Most of those things happened 30 or more years ago Carol? What's wrong with you that they still come up?" My answer today is, "I don't know. They just do."
On further thought, perhaps part of the reason they continue to come up is that they were suppressed for so long. Well all except for my Way Corps AWOLs, though I would feign that I was over those 'sins.' The shame of those heinous acts burdened me until 2009; it still comes up from time to time. In fact, it came up with what transpired in August - that I was a failure at commitments. (Which I know logically isn't true, but the feeling is still there.)
I don't like to bother others in regard to my challenges in these areas, though I have a couple close friends and my current psychologist that I can bring them up with.
I've recently wondered if my departure from The Way was the right decision? Yet, I have no temptation to go back; I am no longer a true believer.
Well, if any readers read this, I feel I should issue apologies for its length and even its content. I doubt it is helpful to anyone. But then, I don't really blog to be helpful. I mean, the main reason I write is to give voice to something inside of me. Something I'm not always sure as to what it is.
***********************************
I realize I wanted to post the piece so as to give voice to the pain. To not feel alone.
I have been feeling very down again, isolated, alone. I know the signs of depression. I know isolationism can be a killer if one is suicidal; I am no foreigner to it. Last night I wasn't suicidal, but was having ideation. That is having a desire for my life to end.
Depression isn't new to me. However, up until the beginning of August I was doing better. I felt I was on my road to greater wellness. I had (have) come a long way in a few years.
Then some events happened, circumstances that threw me into a maelstrom of anxiety, self-doubt, self-blame, distrust, doubting my reality, and other stuff. The scenario and my subsequent symptoms are quite similar to what happened when I left The Way, to what happened with circumstances at GreaseSpot Cafe a few years back, to what happened when Claire stayed at our home for seven weeks in 2009. One difference in my current bout of challenges, is that I haven't felt rage. But then, really the only time I have felt rage was over what happened at GreaseSpot.
So I know that the circumstances that happened in August, 2010, are a (if not the) catalyst for my dive into the anxiety, depression, and other symptoms.
In September, I wrote some of the circumstances surrounding what happened in July/August and submitted that report to the proper authorities, but I've not heard back yet. Writing and compiling that information was one of the hardest and most agonizing decisions and exercises of my life. Once I got that done, the anxiety and ruminating over and over in my head was quieted. Though it still comes up at times. Yet, the depression continues to be a challenge.
This morning I read from Kristen Skedgell's blog, a piece entitled, More About "Walkaway." It has prompted me to write this blog entry. Perhaps my blog entry is a confession of sorts of my recent challenges and my difficulty at working through them.
I say I want to "get on" with my life. Get my house in order. Be a better wife. Be more social. Explore my interests. Take a couple classes at community college. Perhaps volunteer in some sort of local service.
But, the reality is, I want to be alone. I'm having difficulty feeling joy. I'm having difficulty trusting people and seeing the good in humanity - something I've always endeavored to believe in - the good in humanity.
I seem happiest on the backpacking trail with only my weight to carry, with the necessity of hiking being a must. For one cannot just stop on the trail. There is the next water source to get to, the next food supply. No one is going to come along and pick me up to carry me out.
October is also a month of anniversaries that in the past has brought me down - abortion in 1978 on the WOW field, jimson weed overdose in 1975, AWOLing from The Way Corps two different times on two different interim years in 1980 and 1983, my first asthma attack in 1981, the time of year I got involved in The Way in 1977, my official departure from The Way org in 2010. All happened in or around October. I've done well the past couple Octobers. But this October, 2010, has thrown me - though not as badly as the worst years. I must remember that, remember how far I have come.
One may say, "Most of those things happened 30 or more years ago Carol? What's wrong with you that they still come up?" My answer today is, "I don't know. They just do."
On further thought, perhaps part of the reason they continue to come up is that they were suppressed for so long. Well all except for my Way Corps AWOLs, though I would feign that I was over those 'sins.' The shame of those heinous acts burdened me until 2009; it still comes up from time to time. In fact, it came up with what transpired in August - that I was a failure at commitments. (Which I know logically isn't true, but the feeling is still there.)
I don't like to bother others in regard to my challenges in these areas, though I have a couple close friends and my current psychologist that I can bring them up with.
I've recently wondered if my departure from The Way was the right decision? Yet, I have no temptation to go back; I am no longer a true believer.
Well, if any readers read this, I feel I should issue apologies for its length and even its content. I doubt it is helpful to anyone. But then, I don't really blog to be helpful. I mean, the main reason I write is to give voice to something inside of me. Something I'm not always sure as to what it is.
***********************************
October 21, 2010
Victor Paul Wierwille: "The Lockbox" (mp3 recording)
I had a previous blog entry on toss & ripple about a common interest group on Facebook. A few weeks ago I decided to put that blog entry into draft, thus taking it off public view on toss & ripple. I made that decision mainly because the blog entry had served its purpose, which was to have a record (at the time) of my dialog with anyone on the Facebook common interest page in case that dialog was deleted by the moderators of that Facebook page.
The common interest Facebook page was(is) entitled "Dr. Victor Paul Wierwille."
One thing I came across via the dialog I had on that page was an mp3 recording of Victor Paul Wierwille teaching about "the lockbox." I am 98% sure the teaching took place at The Way's Advanced Class '79, of which I was an attendee.
When I heard the mp3, I posted it (on my now-deactivated Facebook page) for others to listen to it, including others who had never been with The Way and were not familiar with Way doctrine. I wondered what their responses would be. I got some interesting responses.
Below is a link to the mp3. I'd be interested in any responses that any listeners might have.
The mp3 is just a little over 14 minutes in length.
Click here to listen: "Lockbox" mp3 (no longer accessible)
**************************
The common interest Facebook page was(is) entitled "Dr. Victor Paul Wierwille."
One thing I came across via the dialog I had on that page was an mp3 recording of Victor Paul Wierwille teaching about "the lockbox." I am 98% sure the teaching took place at The Way's Advanced Class '79, of which I was an attendee.
When I heard the mp3, I posted it (on my now-deactivated Facebook page) for others to listen to it, including others who had never been with The Way and were not familiar with Way doctrine. I wondered what their responses would be. I got some interesting responses.
Below is a link to the mp3. I'd be interested in any responses that any listeners might have.
The mp3 is just a little over 14 minutes in length.
**************************
October 17, 2010
Chapter 22: More Journal Entries
The following was originally posted on a different blog as part of a series. The series remains incomplete.
~*~*~*~
At times as I compose these memoir blog entries, I will review sections of my personal journals from that time period to help jog my memory on details of certain events. I find reviewing my journals a revealing exercise - to see my 'logic' and mindset at the time.
Before proceeding with more memoir blog entries, I've thought to post a few more journal entries from the months leading up to September, 2005, even as far back as August, 2004. A few of these are below. My ambivalence regarding The Way is apparent. I think it is also obvious (or will be) that my decision to leave The Way was a long, thought-through, and even planned exit.
I officially left The Way in October, 2005. Upcoming chapters will reveal what prompted that final decision, the proverbial straw on the camel's back. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life.
*****
Friday, July 30, 2004. 2:15 pm at Borders.
As I think about it, cover-up is part of what the Ministry teaches. It is part of that pseudo-wisdom. I'm not stupid. Ministry leadership doesn't publicly admit mistakes, publicly or to its followers. As I grow I may have to confront that. Oh yuck.
Ministry leadership doesn't acknowledge mistakes. I'm not going to keep score, but I am going to be aware of it.
_______________________
Thursday, August 12, 2004. 4:15 pm at Borders.
A paragraph from the book, From Beirut to Jerusalem: "And so [...] the play went on: Palestinians talking to the world about resistance, even resisting individuality, but resigning themselves as a community to the Israeli system; Israeli's talking to the world about their 'enlightened' occupation, and then doing anything they had to do, behind closed doors, to keep the Palestinians quiet."
The above paragraph prompts thoughts of The Way in light of what I read on GreaseSpot.
"Palestinians talking to the world...." is like outties (folks who have left The Way and post on GreaseSpot) talking to the world.
"[...]But resigning themselves as a community to the Israeli system..." is like outties resigning themselves as a community to the world's system of blame.
"Israeli's talking to the world about their 'enlightened' occupation, and then doing anything they had to do, behind closed doors, to keep the Palestinians quiet," is like The Way and us followers talking to the Household and anyone who will listen about our 'enlightenment' in the Promised Land, and then leadership doing anything they have to do to keep the outties' voices quiet from us innies, from the faithful remnant.
I want to believe that The Way has changed, but I am not fully convinced. I don't know if the change is genuine or political. So I am sometimes disturbed that I continue to stand with The Way knowing what I know. Then I observe Sarah's positive response and light-heartedness to being at Headquarters for the Advanced Class, Jeffery's response to living at Headquarters, the Word taught in the Living God's Word as a Family class; and I think, "The Ministry is healthier."
The things I question are:
1) leadership not admitting when they make mistakes
2) the "original" sin teaching of the Adversary posing as a woman having lesbian sexual relations with Eve
3) penalizing Advanced Class graduates that have debt
4) the tithe teaching
5) exclusiveness with Way publications
6) suspicion of people and their motives
7) so-called wisdom and the lockbox.
I think followers should know about The Way's past. I do not agree with how the Ministry handles that aspect.
From the book From Beirut to Jerusalem (in light of how Israel dealt with the Holocaust until it was resurrected in 1961 with the trial of the Nazi war criminal, Adolf Otto Eichmann): "In those days we barely learned about the Holocaust in school. The feeling, the whole atmosphere, was that the future must triumph over the past. All of us, parents and kids, tried to cover up what had happened."
I read those sentences and think of The Way. It is like the past never happened. Something about that doesn't seem healthy to me.
But do I voice my concern? If so, how do I voice it?
Also, I think I no longer believe that The Way is the Household of God. I'm not sure what I believe is the Household.
_________________
Monday, September 27, 2004. 1:00 pm at Borders.
I continue to awake with sadness each morning. I wish it were gone. Janet believes it can be healed, and I do too.
God, You know I want to do what is right. At least I think I do.
I have many doubts about The Way. I think much cover-up has gone on over the years. I sometimes feel that by continuing to attend Household Fellowship, I am participating in the cover-up. Sometimes I wish I had never gone to any anti-Way websites. Yet, that is where I learned about Mrs. Wierwille and about the Peeler case.
I thought the other day that if I were assigned to teach on tithing at Fellowship, that I would have to bypass that assignment because I no longer believe it is accurate. I think Christian Educational Services is putting out more accurate biblical information than is The Way. I really wonder if The Way will still be around in five years. It has been exclusive to its detriment.
I transfer some of my misgivings about The Way onto other organizations, like Reliv. I have to tell myself that I have nothing to hide with Reliv. I can't say that regarding The Way. The Way has a rotten track record.
Hmm, The Way has cleaned up in the past couple years. Except it has never fessed up, never opened its doors. So it's not clean. And if someone checks it out thoroughly, they probably wouldn't touch it.
It saddens my heart. It will take me time to work through this stuff.
I don't want to leave, mainly for my children's sakes. And The Way is clean now, as far as folks not participating in immoral behavior. As far as repentance for the past, I don't know. People's problems are not dealt with at the gut level. I speak in tongues and wonder, "How do I honestly and with integrity deal with these matters?"
It is in my best interests to stay away from anti-Way sites.
~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~
At times as I compose these memoir blog entries, I will review sections of my personal journals from that time period to help jog my memory on details of certain events. I find reviewing my journals a revealing exercise - to see my 'logic' and mindset at the time.
Before proceeding with more memoir blog entries, I've thought to post a few more journal entries from the months leading up to September, 2005, even as far back as August, 2004. A few of these are below. My ambivalence regarding The Way is apparent. I think it is also obvious (or will be) that my decision to leave The Way was a long, thought-through, and even planned exit.
I officially left The Way in October, 2005. Upcoming chapters will reveal what prompted that final decision, the proverbial straw on the camel's back. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life.
*****
Friday, July 30, 2004. 2:15 pm at Borders.
As I think about it, cover-up is part of what the Ministry teaches. It is part of that pseudo-wisdom. I'm not stupid. Ministry leadership doesn't publicly admit mistakes, publicly or to its followers. As I grow I may have to confront that. Oh yuck.
Ministry leadership doesn't acknowledge mistakes. I'm not going to keep score, but I am going to be aware of it.
_______________________
Thursday, August 12, 2004. 4:15 pm at Borders.
A paragraph from the book, From Beirut to Jerusalem: "And so [...] the play went on: Palestinians talking to the world about resistance, even resisting individuality, but resigning themselves as a community to the Israeli system; Israeli's talking to the world about their 'enlightened' occupation, and then doing anything they had to do, behind closed doors, to keep the Palestinians quiet."
The above paragraph prompts thoughts of The Way in light of what I read on GreaseSpot.
"Palestinians talking to the world...." is like outties (folks who have left The Way and post on GreaseSpot) talking to the world.
"[...]But resigning themselves as a community to the Israeli system..." is like outties resigning themselves as a community to the world's system of blame.
"Israeli's talking to the world about their 'enlightened' occupation, and then doing anything they had to do, behind closed doors, to keep the Palestinians quiet," is like The Way and us followers talking to the Household and anyone who will listen about our 'enlightenment' in the Promised Land, and then leadership doing anything they have to do to keep the outties' voices quiet from us innies, from the faithful remnant.
I want to believe that The Way has changed, but I am not fully convinced. I don't know if the change is genuine or political. So I am sometimes disturbed that I continue to stand with The Way knowing what I know. Then I observe Sarah's positive response and light-heartedness to being at Headquarters for the Advanced Class, Jeffery's response to living at Headquarters, the Word taught in the Living God's Word as a Family class; and I think, "The Ministry is healthier."
The things I question are:
1) leadership not admitting when they make mistakes
2) the "original" sin teaching of the Adversary posing as a woman having lesbian sexual relations with Eve
3) penalizing Advanced Class graduates that have debt
4) the tithe teaching
5) exclusiveness with Way publications
6) suspicion of people and their motives
7) so-called wisdom and the lockbox.
I think followers should know about The Way's past. I do not agree with how the Ministry handles that aspect.
From the book From Beirut to Jerusalem (in light of how Israel dealt with the Holocaust until it was resurrected in 1961 with the trial of the Nazi war criminal, Adolf Otto Eichmann): "In those days we barely learned about the Holocaust in school. The feeling, the whole atmosphere, was that the future must triumph over the past. All of us, parents and kids, tried to cover up what had happened."
I read those sentences and think of The Way. It is like the past never happened. Something about that doesn't seem healthy to me.
But do I voice my concern? If so, how do I voice it?
Also, I think I no longer believe that The Way is the Household of God. I'm not sure what I believe is the Household.
_________________
Monday, September 27, 2004. 1:00 pm at Borders.
I continue to awake with sadness each morning. I wish it were gone. Janet believes it can be healed, and I do too.
God, You know I want to do what is right. At least I think I do.
I have many doubts about The Way. I think much cover-up has gone on over the years. I sometimes feel that by continuing to attend Household Fellowship, I am participating in the cover-up. Sometimes I wish I had never gone to any anti-Way websites. Yet, that is where I learned about Mrs. Wierwille and about the Peeler case.
I thought the other day that if I were assigned to teach on tithing at Fellowship, that I would have to bypass that assignment because I no longer believe it is accurate. I think Christian Educational Services is putting out more accurate biblical information than is The Way. I really wonder if The Way will still be around in five years. It has been exclusive to its detriment.
I transfer some of my misgivings about The Way onto other organizations, like Reliv. I have to tell myself that I have nothing to hide with Reliv. I can't say that regarding The Way. The Way has a rotten track record.
Hmm, The Way has cleaned up in the past couple years. Except it has never fessed up, never opened its doors. So it's not clean. And if someone checks it out thoroughly, they probably wouldn't touch it.
It saddens my heart. It will take me time to work through this stuff.
I don't want to leave, mainly for my children's sakes. And The Way is clean now, as far as folks not participating in immoral behavior. As far as repentance for the past, I don't know. People's problems are not dealt with at the gut level. I speak in tongues and wonder, "How do I honestly and with integrity deal with these matters?"
It is in my best interests to stay away from anti-Way sites.
~*~*~*~
October 15, 2010
Some Light Reading....
**************************
I enjoy fall. The leaves whirl in circles as they make their way to the earth. Floating as if cradled by unseen arms as they gently drift. The abundance of falling leaves brings to mind an array of butterflies or a light show from fireflies.
Late spring, 1995ish. I was driving the van from Cades Cove, Tennessee, up the mountain toward Newfound Gap on Highway 441. It was dark, as was our typical day at Cades Cove. We would arrive late morning and drive the Cove's 11-mile loop with the van door open taking in nature's display and stopping as we wished - to visit the historical cabins, to hike, to picnic. We stayed as long as we could, 'til dusk or dark.
Perhaps it was this trip that the bear strolled across the road right in front of our van. I snapped an awesome photograph of that bear. Maybe I'll one day learn how to scan photos onto the computer and even post them on my blog.
We - my two children, myself, and I think my mother-in-law - had taken the trip that late spring day from Bryson City, North Carolina, to Cades Cove, Tennesse, and were on our way back to Bryson. Highway 441 is a fun road with a tunnel of green boughs, mountain view vistas, winding roads, bridge arches.
As we left the Cove that evening and began the climb on 441 in the dark, both my children were in the back seat of the van, peering out the back window. Joshua was around four years old and Sarah around seven.
"Wow Mom! You should see the lightning bugs!" They sounded excited.
"Are there a lot?" I inquired.
"A whole bunch!!"
I spied a pull out ahead beside the pavement, on the left side of the road. I pulled over and turned off the van and all its lights. We stepped outside.
The darkness was thick.
There are no street lights along that road, and there was hardly any traffic at the time. I guess folks hadn't started trekking this way yet. Plus we had probably chosen a weekday as opposed to a weekend for our travel, so as to avoid the crowds.
We stood in the darkness enthralled and mesmerized by what was before our eyes. The display must have been the theatrics of thousands of fireflies. We simply stood there, silently. After a moment or so we just said, "Wow...."
I recall thinking, "This is better than a Disney light show." It was total magic. But of course, at the time I didn't allow myself to use the word "magic" as that was unbiblical. A shame really, because it was like magic to me. I was waiting for fairy dust to fall from the sky and transform life into a place where I could float along with those fireflies.
We gazed at the show for some ten or fifteen minutes before we began the rest of the oneish-hour drive back up over Newfound Gap and down the other side to Bryson.
Joshua soon feel into a deep sleep, sprawled out across the back seat of the van. We couldn't rouse him at all when, about one-half hour later, we saw the giant mama hog with her six piglets on the right side of the road.
Bear. Deer. Fireflies. Hogs. Another day in The Smokies. Another day of gratitude.
**************************
I enjoy fall. The leaves whirl in circles as they make their way to the earth. Floating as if cradled by unseen arms as they gently drift. The abundance of falling leaves brings to mind an array of butterflies or a light show from fireflies.
Late spring, 1995ish. I was driving the van from Cades Cove, Tennessee, up the mountain toward Newfound Gap on Highway 441. It was dark, as was our typical day at Cades Cove. We would arrive late morning and drive the Cove's 11-mile loop with the van door open taking in nature's display and stopping as we wished - to visit the historical cabins, to hike, to picnic. We stayed as long as we could, 'til dusk or dark.
Perhaps it was this trip that the bear strolled across the road right in front of our van. I snapped an awesome photograph of that bear. Maybe I'll one day learn how to scan photos onto the computer and even post them on my blog.
We - my two children, myself, and I think my mother-in-law - had taken the trip that late spring day from Bryson City, North Carolina, to Cades Cove, Tennesse, and were on our way back to Bryson. Highway 441 is a fun road with a tunnel of green boughs, mountain view vistas, winding roads, bridge arches.
As we left the Cove that evening and began the climb on 441 in the dark, both my children were in the back seat of the van, peering out the back window. Joshua was around four years old and Sarah around seven.
"Wow Mom! You should see the lightning bugs!" They sounded excited.
"Are there a lot?" I inquired.
"A whole bunch!!"
I spied a pull out ahead beside the pavement, on the left side of the road. I pulled over and turned off the van and all its lights. We stepped outside.
The darkness was thick.
There are no street lights along that road, and there was hardly any traffic at the time. I guess folks hadn't started trekking this way yet. Plus we had probably chosen a weekday as opposed to a weekend for our travel, so as to avoid the crowds.
We stood in the darkness enthralled and mesmerized by what was before our eyes. The display must have been the theatrics of thousands of fireflies. We simply stood there, silently. After a moment or so we just said, "Wow...."
I recall thinking, "This is better than a Disney light show." It was total magic. But of course, at the time I didn't allow myself to use the word "magic" as that was unbiblical. A shame really, because it was like magic to me. I was waiting for fairy dust to fall from the sky and transform life into a place where I could float along with those fireflies.
We gazed at the show for some ten or fifteen minutes before we began the rest of the oneish-hour drive back up over Newfound Gap and down the other side to Bryson.
Joshua soon feel into a deep sleep, sprawled out across the back seat of the van. We couldn't rouse him at all when, about one-half hour later, we saw the giant mama hog with her six piglets on the right side of the road.
Bear. Deer. Fireflies. Hogs. Another day in The Smokies. Another day of gratitude.
**************************
October 9, 2010
Hope
Not sure what will come forth as I sit down to write. I just know I want to write.
Today is the best day I've had in a couple months. I don't feel so dead inside. I don't feel the intense anxiety and self-blame and self-doubt. I don't feel depressed, though when I awoke I felt the low-level depression I've been met with almost every day for two months.
Perhaps the Paxil I started a couple weeks ago has started to kick in. Perhaps my 7-mile walk yesterday helped more than I realize. Perhaps my appointments with Dr. McColloch are having a cumulative effect. Perhaps the affirmations I began last week are helping. Perhaps the meditative exercises I took up last week are helping. Perhaps the 'heart-soaking' I've been doing is helping.
Last week, I lay on my bed after a helluva weekend.
Last Saturday I experienced dizziness for a couple hours and the feeling I was having a bad acid trip for seven hours, plummeting me into a type of derealization or something. The dizziness came on suddently after I typed a sentence that I wanted a new identity; I wanted to erase my past. I'd been there before - the feeling of having a bad acid trip without ever ingesting the acid, but the dizziness was a first. Yet, I'd experienced the other symptoms enough to recognize that they would pass. To recognize I was still present and to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
The day after those events, I continued to have trouble. As I lay in bed I told myself, "I have to get control of this. I can't go back here again." Here being into the mental illness roller coaster of self-destructive mental habits, of hiding, of closing off myself to me, of becoming paralyzed, of mood swings that can feed on themselves, of self-loathing, of possible suicidal ideation or worse.
My next thought was, "Carol, you have gotten well before. You can get well again. What did you do before to get well?"
My answer to myself was, "You journaled. You read. You applied cognitive exercises. You applied relaxation skills, meditation, and affirmations. You applied HeartMath exercises. You can do that again."
So I did.
I turned on my rainforest CD and lay in bed allowing the sounds and music to soothe me, allowing myself to drift into the forest. I slept that night without having to take a Xanax. Good job Carol! ;-)
Anyway, I've endeavored daily to get back to those fundamentals to help redirect my emotional state. They have helped. I especially like the heart soaking tool I first learned about from the Institute of HeartMath. I focus on my heart area and allow the anxiety to be bathed in compassion that I generate in my heart area. It's like soaking a dirty dish, allowing the anxiety to neutralize. It calms me, allowing more flow within myself.
I know the anxiety (and depression) will raise its head again. Hm, I say "it" as if the anxiety and depression are one thing. Maybe they are?
Regardless, I can keep moving forward and find joy in each breath I take. Writing about breath brings to mind how far I have come in the last 10 years. There were almost two decades where to breathe was a daily struggle.
There is much to live for.
Today is the best day I've had in a couple months. I don't feel so dead inside. I don't feel the intense anxiety and self-blame and self-doubt. I don't feel depressed, though when I awoke I felt the low-level depression I've been met with almost every day for two months.
Perhaps the Paxil I started a couple weeks ago has started to kick in. Perhaps my 7-mile walk yesterday helped more than I realize. Perhaps my appointments with Dr. McColloch are having a cumulative effect. Perhaps the affirmations I began last week are helping. Perhaps the meditative exercises I took up last week are helping. Perhaps the 'heart-soaking' I've been doing is helping.
Last week, I lay on my bed after a helluva weekend.
Last Saturday I experienced dizziness for a couple hours and the feeling I was having a bad acid trip for seven hours, plummeting me into a type of derealization or something. The dizziness came on suddently after I typed a sentence that I wanted a new identity; I wanted to erase my past. I'd been there before - the feeling of having a bad acid trip without ever ingesting the acid, but the dizziness was a first. Yet, I'd experienced the other symptoms enough to recognize that they would pass. To recognize I was still present and to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
The day after those events, I continued to have trouble. As I lay in bed I told myself, "I have to get control of this. I can't go back here again." Here being into the mental illness roller coaster of self-destructive mental habits, of hiding, of closing off myself to me, of becoming paralyzed, of mood swings that can feed on themselves, of self-loathing, of possible suicidal ideation or worse.
My next thought was, "Carol, you have gotten well before. You can get well again. What did you do before to get well?"
My answer to myself was, "You journaled. You read. You applied cognitive exercises. You applied relaxation skills, meditation, and affirmations. You applied HeartMath exercises. You can do that again."
So I did.
I turned on my rainforest CD and lay in bed allowing the sounds and music to soothe me, allowing myself to drift into the forest. I slept that night without having to take a Xanax. Good job Carol! ;-)
Anyway, I've endeavored daily to get back to those fundamentals to help redirect my emotional state. They have helped. I especially like the heart soaking tool I first learned about from the Institute of HeartMath. I focus on my heart area and allow the anxiety to be bathed in compassion that I generate in my heart area. It's like soaking a dirty dish, allowing the anxiety to neutralize. It calms me, allowing more flow within myself.
I know the anxiety (and depression) will raise its head again. Hm, I say "it" as if the anxiety and depression are one thing. Maybe they are?
Regardless, I can keep moving forward and find joy in each breath I take. Writing about breath brings to mind how far I have come in the last 10 years. There were almost two decades where to breathe was a daily struggle.
There is much to live for.
October 3, 2010
journal entry: april, 2010..."rows of weapons"
In the last week, I finally finished reading The Cult That Snapped. It isn't a long book, but still it took me a year(?) to finish. I could only read so much at a time. *shrug*
Anyway, I just ran across the following journal entry.
*****************************
journal entry: april 28, 2010
I am, for the first time, reading "The Cult that Snapped: A Journey into The Way International."
I started it months ago and put it down. I didn't want it influencing my own perceptions of my experiences in The Way.
I picked it up again last week. For some reason, I'm able to read it currently without it having that effect on me. That is, I'm able to read it and still maintain my own perspective, perception, knowledge as I experienced it.
This morning I read "Chapter 10: Rows and Rows of Weapons." I was in the 10th Way Corps with Hannah; we used to run together some. But I don't recall feeling the panic she felt or the constantly being warned about a world/communist take-over while in-residence.
I'm not saying Hannah didn't experience that, but simply that I was there and my recall is different. Could I have blocked certain happenings out? Sure.
I recall the MAL (More Abundant Living) packs. We had to keep our backpacks ready. We were each supposed to have our area of study of how to live off the land if we ever had to disperse. My study was supposed to be how to eat from the wild. Ha. My group would have starved if they had to depend on my knowledge. That is, I didn't study it. I don't think others in our group studied up on their assigned/volunteered studies either.
We didn't truly take the warning to heart. I recall that we kept it light.
The "Hunter Safety Course" was just that. I think I fired a rifle a couple times. It seems someone from the Kansas Hunter Safety staff was there on grounds.
I'm not downplaying what I read in the book. Just that different people's perceptions and experiences can be different, even on the same enclosed campus of 100's of followers.
********************
Anyway, I just ran across the following journal entry.
*****************************
journal entry: april 28, 2010
I am, for the first time, reading "The Cult that Snapped: A Journey into The Way International."
I started it months ago and put it down. I didn't want it influencing my own perceptions of my experiences in The Way.
I picked it up again last week. For some reason, I'm able to read it currently without it having that effect on me. That is, I'm able to read it and still maintain my own perspective, perception, knowledge as I experienced it.
This morning I read "Chapter 10: Rows and Rows of Weapons." I was in the 10th Way Corps with Hannah; we used to run together some. But I don't recall feeling the panic she felt or the constantly being warned about a world/communist take-over while in-residence.
I'm not saying Hannah didn't experience that, but simply that I was there and my recall is different. Could I have blocked certain happenings out? Sure.
I recall the MAL (More Abundant Living) packs. We had to keep our backpacks ready. We were each supposed to have our area of study of how to live off the land if we ever had to disperse. My study was supposed to be how to eat from the wild. Ha. My group would have starved if they had to depend on my knowledge. That is, I didn't study it. I don't think others in our group studied up on their assigned/volunteered studies either.
We didn't truly take the warning to heart. I recall that we kept it light.
The "Hunter Safety Course" was just that. I think I fired a rifle a couple times. It seems someone from the Kansas Hunter Safety staff was there on grounds.
I'm not downplaying what I read in the book. Just that different people's perceptions and experiences can be different, even on the same enclosed campus of 100's of followers.
********************
October 1, 2010
Instincts
I was thinking last night that perhaps I am "done." Perhaps I am done writing.
But what then would I do? I thought I had so much to write about. My doubts are currently high. Not that they were low before. I have continually struggled with the gremlins in my head telling me I make things up and questioning my motives as to why I write what I write.
A friend recently asked me my opinion of someone, someone in the counseling field - what I thought of the counselor's work with the limited reading and contact I had had with the counselor.
My response was, "Right now, I don't trust my judgement. I really can't answer the question."
Then I paused. I can share my experience, my impressions, at least what I thought my impressions were and are. So, that I did with the disclaimer of doubting my judgement.
I find myself again, back at the beginning, of learning to re-trust myself. Back at the beginning; but where is the beginning?
I first think of when I left The Way. Self-distrust is HUGE when leaving any sort of totalistic system. One has programmed themselves that the doctrine is above all, every action and thought must align with the doctrine.
But leaving The Way is not the beginning.
The beginning is from the womb, from the moment that first breath is taken. Another life forges the air, changing the world one more time. At that moment trust begins on many levels.
The babe, only by instinct, trusts that she needs to suck. She is born to trust the hand that holds her head, the arms that cradle her, the bassinet in which she lays. Regardless if those hands and arms and bassinet are worthy of trust, the babe has no choice.
The loving parent, by instinct and knowledge, must learn to trust themselves in making judgments for this new life. They may have a belief in trusting God as well, not to mention trusting the process of life. Then there are other caretakers in the babe's life; who can the parents trust with their most precious gift?
The babe will trust the parents regardless of the parent's care for her, for the babe is born to trust.
I wonder if I can trust the parent in me? Not the parent in me that has nurtured my now young adult children. But the parent in me that can nurture me.
I can choose to trust.
***********************************************
Of Leaves, Squirrels, Dogs, and Dances
Gazing out my kitchen window
Change of seasons landed
Nature again makes her mark
She didn't ask my permission
She didn't scatter her leaves orderly
She allowed them to fall where they may
With great purpose she allowed it
The squirrel
All that matters to him is the next nut...
the next squirrel to chase around the tree.
The dog
All that matters to her is
the next two-legged creature that comes along
to caress and talk with her...
the next meal...
the next intruder.
The animals do not worry or engage in much ado
Aye...I do think the animals
in many ways are wiser than man.
What is their secret?
Simplicity and instinct
Oh humankind
Why have we allowed so much complexity, strife, unease
Where have our instincts gone
Who stole them
Why did we allow it
Perhaps if we jump off the "Jones" wheel
perhaps if we smile and touch again
perhaps if we quiet ourselves long enough to observe the animals,
even in the cities.
Perhaps we can again arrive at simplicity
arrive at instinct
arise each day with thankfulness in our hearts
a skip in our step.
Perhaps then life in all its richness
and oneness can be enjoyed
and we can bask in all the goodness
with which we are surrounded.
Will you join me?
Here...take my hand
Dance with me
Show me your steps
I'll show you mine
Together we can make our lives, our families, our world
A little better place
december, 2004
carol welch
**************************
But what then would I do? I thought I had so much to write about. My doubts are currently high. Not that they were low before. I have continually struggled with the gremlins in my head telling me I make things up and questioning my motives as to why I write what I write.
A friend recently asked me my opinion of someone, someone in the counseling field - what I thought of the counselor's work with the limited reading and contact I had had with the counselor.
My response was, "Right now, I don't trust my judgement. I really can't answer the question."
Then I paused. I can share my experience, my impressions, at least what I thought my impressions were and are. So, that I did with the disclaimer of doubting my judgement.
I find myself again, back at the beginning, of learning to re-trust myself. Back at the beginning; but where is the beginning?
I first think of when I left The Way. Self-distrust is HUGE when leaving any sort of totalistic system. One has programmed themselves that the doctrine is above all, every action and thought must align with the doctrine.
But leaving The Way is not the beginning.
The beginning is from the womb, from the moment that first breath is taken. Another life forges the air, changing the world one more time. At that moment trust begins on many levels.
The babe, only by instinct, trusts that she needs to suck. She is born to trust the hand that holds her head, the arms that cradle her, the bassinet in which she lays. Regardless if those hands and arms and bassinet are worthy of trust, the babe has no choice.
The loving parent, by instinct and knowledge, must learn to trust themselves in making judgments for this new life. They may have a belief in trusting God as well, not to mention trusting the process of life. Then there are other caretakers in the babe's life; who can the parents trust with their most precious gift?
The babe will trust the parents regardless of the parent's care for her, for the babe is born to trust.
I wonder if I can trust the parent in me? Not the parent in me that has nurtured my now young adult children. But the parent in me that can nurture me.
I can choose to trust.
***********************************************
Of Leaves, Squirrels, Dogs, and Dances
Gazing out my kitchen window
Change of seasons landed
Nature again makes her mark
She didn't ask my permission
She didn't scatter her leaves orderly
She allowed them to fall where they may
With great purpose she allowed it
The squirrel
All that matters to him is the next nut...
the next squirrel to chase around the tree.
The dog
All that matters to her is
the next two-legged creature that comes along
to caress and talk with her...
the next meal...
the next intruder.
The animals do not worry or engage in much ado
Aye...I do think the animals
in many ways are wiser than man.
What is their secret?
Simplicity and instinct
Oh humankind
Why have we allowed so much complexity, strife, unease
Where have our instincts gone
Who stole them
Why did we allow it
Perhaps if we jump off the "Jones" wheel
perhaps if we smile and touch again
perhaps if we quiet ourselves long enough to observe the animals,
even in the cities.
Perhaps we can again arrive at simplicity
arrive at instinct
arise each day with thankfulness in our hearts
a skip in our step.
Perhaps then life in all its richness
and oneness can be enjoyed
and we can bask in all the goodness
with which we are surrounded.
Will you join me?
Here...take my hand
Dance with me
Show me your steps
I'll show you mine
Together we can make our lives, our families, our world
A little better place
december, 2004
carol welch
**************************