On the Sofa Beside Me

****
Non-subject: "overlooked"
Suicide. Not a pleasant word. A scary place to visit.
****

~*~
1994ish.

I sat on the blue, tan, and cream-colored tweed upholstered sleeper sofa. Behind me the drapes were drawn across the large bay-type window that looked into the backyard. It was a pleasant backyard with a clothesline, homemade sand box, small garden, cherry tree, dogwoods, redbuds, green grass, all surrounded by tall white pines that produced beautiful large pine cones.

The pine trees were like a fence border providing privacy from the neighbors. I liked to watch them sway when the wind blew. I enjoyed the natural pine needle ground cover underneath the large branches. Old Well South was the name of the development where we lived.

But today I hid the backyard with the drapes.

My young children were gone for the day.

~*~*~

~the pistol lay beside me on the sofa~

I felt like a piece of putrid mucous, my body tired and worn down from over a decade of struggling to breathe.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm a sorry excuse for a believer; I can't even believe to breathe. My sinuses full of polyps and my lungs drowning in their own fluids. Why don't medications and surgeries help me? Why don't the natural approaches help me? Why is my skin constantly breaking out in hives? I feel grotesque, a blight on humanity.  A wart on the Body of Christ. What good is my life to anyone? Why should I keep trying to receive wholeness?

~the pistol lay beside me on the sofa~

At certain Way functions I would sometimes end up in a room away from the main teaching but where I could hear the teachings through speakers or doors. I understood; my sinuses and breathing problems could be a distraction, especially if I had to use my nebulizer.

It was embarrassing.

My illnesses were a chronic condition. I must be doing something wrong in my life that opened the doors for the adversary and his devil spirit realm. Was I possessed? I was always told, "no," and then the Way believer would minister or pray for me.

~the pistol lay beside me on the sofa~

I would often cry in private. I felt such deep, deep shame and self-hatred. Sometimes I'd be doubled over in grief, feeling like someone had died. But no one had. Why was I grieving?

I had to put the Word on in my mind, build my believing to get well. Job never blamed God; I wouldn't either. My illnesses were due to my faulty believing and maybe something genetic. Sickness is death in part.

~the pistol lay beside me on the sofa~

Tears covered my face. Anguish twisted my gut.

If I give in and pull the trigger, I'll be succumbing to devil spirit possession. I don't care.

~the pistol lay beside me on the sofa~

If I gave in, my children would have to live with the legacy that their mother had committed suicide. That thought cut like a knife through my heart.

I can't do that to my kids. I can't. I can't. I can't.


~*~*~

I picked up the phone and called Dottie.

I had been seeing Dottie on a professional level; she had her masters in psychology. She also was a leader in The Way, well-respected and looked up to. She and her husband had overseen the Way College at the Indiana Campus for awhile. They had been Way Region leaders overseeing a few states. Now they oversaw The Way of North Carolina.

Dottie talked to me and kept me on the phone. After about 20 minutes or so, my doorbell rang. Through the receiver Dottie told me it was Jane at my door. While on the phone with me, Dottie had written her husband a note to call our Area and Fellowship leaders where I lived to see if he or his wife, Jane, could come to my house. Dottie lived about a two-hour drive from me.

I hung up the phone to let Jane into the house.

Jane sat with me. We talked a bit and then went on the back porch. It was nice to sit outside, in the light. Jane sat with me until I was doing better and we felt the danger had passed. She prayed for me. I was prayed for a lot.

Jane then took the pistol home with her, giving it back at some later date. I agreed with that arrangement; I didn't trust myself. I didn't reveal the episode to anyone except my husband.

~*~

A few months later my mother called me one morning with a cry for help. She was going to kill herself. I got my neighbor to watch my two children and then drove the twelve minutes to Mom's house. I found her passed out on the kitchen floor. She was still breathing. I called 911. Her life was spared.

The devil spirits had gone from me to my Mom, but she had given in. That's how spirits function; they look for a host.

Mom nor I ever discussed her suicide attempt, nor her hospitalization afterward.

~*~

Trust and the "Assertive Bill of Rights"

*****

Trust is a huge issue when leaving any type of abusive relationship, including spiritual and/or cultic abuse. One of the biggies is trust in oneself. I know that has been the case for me.

From indoctrination, I believed my heart was evil and in me dwelled no good thing, other than the Christ in me. My identity had been replaced with a doctrine. Even as I write that last sentence my mind gets a bit foggy and I think, Well, isn't that true of everyone? That's a similar response I had when my psychologist stated to me, "Carol, do you see that you are an abuse victim, of neglect?" One of my responses was, "Isn't everyone?" He said, "No."

Anyway, back to trust. When I was in process of developing a plan to exit The Way one of my big questions and fears was, Who can I trust? Who do I trust? It took time for me to know where to step next; I would often step gingerly testing whether or not the coals were hot. I still do this. It's not a bad approach; in fact, in my opinion it's good. I am less fearful about it now; I endeavor to take people at face value without being naive.

I read recently about building the "trust muscle." ("This is one of their greatest needs, to have their "trust muscle" healed at the deepest level.") That takes risks. It will also mean mistakes. It will also mean endeavoring to trust oneself, to open up, to learn boundaries, and all sorts of other things.

I utilize bibliotherapy often. One of the books on my classics list is "Take Back Your Life" by Janja Lalich and Madeline Tobias.

Chapter 10 is entitled "Building a Life." At different times with various challenges, I'll refer to that chapter. Perhaps the hints and helps in that chapter would seem like common sense to most people. For folks who have been immersed in totalistic, black/white, follow-the-leader thinking the suggestions can be crucial to recovery and connecting with their identity. Some of the suggestions, I soak up like a sponge.

The chapter, and other parts of the book, address the trust issue as well. One of the helps shared in Chapter 10 is the following.

"Assertive Bill of Rights 

[.....] The following is a list of rights each person is entitled to in relation to self-expression:
*I have the right to evaluate my own behavior, thoughts, emotions, and to take responsibility for their initiation and consequences upon myself 

 

* I have the right to decide whether I am responsible for solving other people's problems
* I have the right to change my mind
* I have the right to make mistakes -- and be responsible for them
* I have the right to be illogical in making decisions
* I have the right to say I don't know
* I have the right to say I don't understand
* I have the right to say I don't care
* I have the right to set my own priorities
* I have the right to say no without feeling guilty 

 

*note: Adapted from A Bill of Assertive Rights, in When I Say No I Feel Guilty by Manuel Smith (New York, Bantam Books, 1975). "

[end quote from Chapter 10]


To sum it up...I have the right to my humanness. So does every one else.

To life and humanity!

*****

March, 2006: A letter to Rosalie Rivenbark

The letter below was written by my husband when he was still involved with The Way. Please keep in mind that, at the time, he had been involved for over two decades and very much wanted The Way to be able to "come back to The Word." He exited The Way within a couple weeks after this letter.

Following the letter is something my husband wrote shortly after sending the letter, noting the verbal feedback and response from Way leadership.

~*~

[Begin letter]

March 13, 2006

Dear Rev. Rivenbark,

God bless you abundantly in the name of Jesus Christ. I remember part of the prophecy from your installation as Vice-President was "..to heal the stripes of the adversary...". You have taken positive steps since becoming President to begin the healing process, including: (1) stopping the abuse of the "mark and avoid" practice, (2) redirecting the STS teachings to be positive and absent from verbal attacks on any who don't buy into the teaching 100%, and (3) beginning the recognition certificates for faithfulness to the Way International (TWI for short) for both HFC's and believers. The atmosphere within TWI has changed from "you're either with me or against me; there is no middle ground" to a much more tender and welcoming "good to see you and how are you?"

However there are some major issues left over from Rev. Martindale's administration that need to be corrected. The practices (or doctrines) below are at least some of the most significant obstacles to growth and outreach within TWI.

I. Money. The love of it is the root of all evil. However, the management of an individual's money is only between him, God, his/her family, and whomever payments for goods or services are due. The "no debt doctrine" absolutely cannot be documented from the rightly divided Word, and the proof of the error is in the financial hurt caused to most who adhere to it. In the 10 plus years since it became the standard for the Corps, HFC's, and AC students, those who sold homes and began renting have lost both the equity increase from mortgage reductions and property value appreciation. Some folks have suffered losses in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. This is not a senses-based argument, but a factual-based observation of the impact of practicing wrong doctrine. It is pouring water into a "broken cistern that can hold no water." It is absolutely the individual's responsibility to mange their affairs and not become caught up in the "keeping up with the Jones'" or obtaining more things than they need and can steward. Continuing this no debt standard will lead to more people deciding the cost of compliance is greater than the benefit associated with it.

The second point in this topic is tithing and abundant sharing. The tithe was a Law Adminstration law. In the Patriarchal Administration sacrifices were offered, but the only tithe record is of the singular event of Abraham AFTER the king of Salem (or mayor in our day) gave food and drink to him and his men. The tithe was to support the tribe of Levi. There are no records of tithing in Acts. Absolutely, we are instructed to give to the movement of the Word and support ministers who are worthy of double honor. Those examples are recorded in Acts and the Epistles. In the Old Testament, Levi would have made up about 1/12 of the population; therefore a 10th from the remaining 11 tribes would have provided the priests with equal financial status as their brethren and provided enough for the sacrifices as well.

Tithing is an involved topic, but to teach it is a necessary part of operating the revelation and impartation manifestations is to deny the accomplishments of Jesus Christ and to replace them with the works of the flesh to please God. Tithing is a work of the flesh, while revelation and impartation manifestations are spiritual. God does instruct us to give as we purpose in our hearts to move the Word, but He does not require the tithe to bless us, protect us, or give us access to revelation and operation of the impartation manifestations.

II. Management. In the expansion days of TWI, the household fellowships were to be self-supporting, self-propagating, and self-governing. The self-governing has been replaced by management from Ways Corps following Board of Directors' plans. Local fellowships must submit a calendar to their branch coordinator for approval. (I have no idea what happens once the branch coordinators receive them.) The teaching topics are managed by the overemphasis on the STS and Way Magazine articles. Didn't the teachers do a good enough job the first time? Are the HFC's (who are debt free AC grads) incapable of planning a simple fellowship calendar and knowing what their people need to hear? This calendar and topic managment is absolutely no different than the Southern Baptist Sunday Schools using "quarterlies" to teach their followers. It is an insult to the capabilities of any HFC. If they cannot plan and don't know what needs to be taught, they aren't spiritual enough to oversee a fellowship.

III. Ministering. Since the last Rock of Ages there has not been a summer event open to anyone and everyone to come see the big-picture perspective of TWI. Since the last Word in Business there has not been a national or international conference for anyone other than AC students and grads. Since before the last Rock of Ages no one from the Board of Directors has taught an open fellowship on the field (other than Gunnison) - at least to the best of my knowledge. This isolation of leadership at HQ is: (1) contrary to the pattern established in Acts by Peter and Paul and the other apostles and noted in The New Dynamic Church, and (2) sets up the region visits to HQ as a pilgrimage; something not noted nor established in Acts or Epistles. "Come and see" is not a command for us, but "Go, tell" is a command for us. You and others should travel to teach. Otherwise coupled with the larger issues, TWI will become pockets of followers isolated from their leaders and incapable of sustaining outreach or having any greater impact or meaning than has already been achieved.

My HFC is _________. _______ are the branch coordinators and _________the limb and region coordinators. These people are bright, motivated, love God, and are committed to TWI. I love and respect each of them. They need your help by breaking the bonds that thwart their outreach efforts. They plan events and witness to folks and get some to attend fellowships for a while, but none seem to stick. The question is why. The answer is not them; they are kind and loving. But the answer is what they have to offer is limited. The issues mentioned above are a few of the limitations place on them and other field leadership within TWI. Other ministries are growing, but TWI is shrinking (or if its "membership" is staying about level, it is due to children of Way believers coming of "class" age and not because others are being "won to the ministry").

Other ministries offer Biblical research and classes comparable to (do I dare say better than?) TWI and do not put bonds onto their followers and leaders. Perhaps unbeknownst to you, few followers of TWI are blessed with it. Most tolerate it thinking "there is nothing else better available," all the while hoping things within TWI will change. I do not know how many, if any, such letters have been sent to you. My goal is to offer an outsider's perspective to dramatically improve the funcitoning of TWI "on the field."

Whether you decide to act on this letter is your business. My conscious is now clear. My sufficiency is of God, (not through or by TWI), and I eagerly anticipate His blessings for taking a stand against religion that has crept into and paralyzed the ministry that taught me the Word and how to live it. You are in a unique position to affect change immediately. Due to your position your only boss is God, but your responsibility is to all of TWI. The masses are looking to you for further healing and freedom from the stripes and bondage of the devil brought into TWI by the ego of Craig Martindale. You are the only one today who can bring it to TWI by changing standards that are contrary to the Word.

You have honorably served TWI corporately. Please serve it as honorably spiritually by throwing out the damnable doctrines that have crept in.

Love in Christ,
[signature]

[End letter]

~*~

When my husband mailed the letter to Rivenbark, he also mailed copies to our Region Coordinator (who was also the State Limb Coordinator), our Branch Coordinator, and Household Fellowship Coordinator. He received verbal response/feedback only from the Limb/Region Coordinator. My husband wrote down those verbal responses to have for his personal notes.

His notes state the following:

• 1. The BoD stands by its "no debt" doctrine
• 2. Coordinators have great latitude in planning and teaching. (Well, maybe; I have not been an HFC for three years. Sure seems to be a locked-in situation, though).
• 3. As for giving $ to manifest spiritual power, LC/RC said he's never taught $10 of ABS = $10 of revelation.
• (From him [the Region Coordinator] that is true, but the new foundational class syllabus includes LCM's articles on "The Tithe Doth Still Supply" and "The Spiritual Abundance of Abundant Sharing". So TWI standard doctrine hasn't changed though the LC/RC doesn't seem to agree with it).
• 4. The last RoA was physically dangerous as gang members and other "threats" were admitted to HQ grounds without any screeening or supervision.
• 5. TWI is expanding. Its growth is not dynamic because of splinter groups who attract folks who once would have come to TWI.

I do want to emphasize my treatment from TWI since this letter has been cordial. However, there has been no communication from anyone other than the LC/RC since March 19th. I have not attended a meeting since then. Never a word directly from Rev. Rivenbark.

~*~

Embracing Change

*********************************************************************************
Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
*********************************************************************************
Non-subject: "confronting change"

I'll take that as a leap.

Colors of a room. Junky closet unjunked. Caterpillar to butterfly. Dusk to dawn. Puzzle pieces to picture.

"Confront" makes me tense. I'd rather "embrace" change.

It's like when I embrace it, I can own it. By owning it I can touch it, examine it, love it or hate it. I can know it and then let it go.

When has there been a time that I changed?
*********************************************************************************

My 15-year old son stood in our kitchen, listening to (or rather enduring) my words. I so badly wanted him to embrace what I was learning, this new Ministry. I wanted him to feel, to know, to see that Christian Family Fellowship was a way out. I wanted him to be in the same mindset with me, to experience the excitement.

I wanted him, I wanted my family, to leave The Way. I wanted them to see through my eyes; there were greater vistas beyond the so-called 'walls of Zion.' How could I make them see!!!??!!

"Mom," my son said, "you are becoming the very thing that you have left, that you wanted to leave. Back off, please."

Inside I was stunned, a jolt to my neurons.

I only responded, "You're right."

To force my family to change would be going against what every fiber of my being was screaming for, what every scream was painstakingly grasping for.

I had to wait.

****************************************************************
Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
****************************************************************

Witch Doctors and Roller Coasters

***
This memoir is a sequel to A Green Hornet and Blackbirds.
I also wrote a poem about my experience: Datura Stramonium: To Dance with the Devil.
Jimson weed can be dangerous and deadly, not only to the one who ingests it, but to those around that person while that person is under the influence. The (mostly) horrific hallucinations are as real as life. It does have a medicinal use in small doses.
***

I opened my eyes. It was Saturday. My arms were strapped to the rails of the hospital bed. An I.V. bag hung on its pole beside the bed, near my head, on the right. I took a deep breath and peered around the room. It was an open room, like a ward. On the right wall were linens stacked on steel shelves that almost reached the ceiling.

A young man dressed in a white uniform walked in carrying towels to place on the linen shelf. I recognized him as the guy from the outside world who had been bringing in supplies hidden in the towels. I recall, in the last few days, verbally drilling him and demanding to know where my money was. Was it hidden in the towels?

But today was different; I was in my right mind. He looked at me and paused, like he was waiting for an onslaught. I smiled and just said, "Hi." I recall thinking and slightly chuckling to myself that he probably thought I was crazy.

In the bed to my left, lay a man who appeared to be in his 30's. He had been as loony as me. I learned later that he, as a pedestrian, had been hit by a truck. When the witch doctors had come to dance around our beds, the man beside me was hollering and carrying on. I had just wanted the witch doctors in their colorful masks to dance for us. After all we were both in this aquarium which was also a sanitorium for the insane; I had walked the curved sidewalks.

Yet, in reality, it was simply an ICU ward with a large room and people continually milling about.

The IV pole with the bag had been my Aunt Flossie. I had talked to her on and off the past 3 days, since Tuesday when I had eaten the jimson seeds with Ron. I looked at the trash can over beside the curtain that could be slid back and forth for privacy. There was a black liner rippled and folded in the black can; that had been where the multitude of roaches had come from that had covered my body.

My arms were strapped to the hospital bed rails with a wooden or plastic support between the steel and my forearms; one of the supports had been my cast. I had broken my arm at the castle while riding horses. A hallucination stemming from when I broke my arm riding a horse 5 years ago.

I'm not sure where the hallucinations of the rape came from; all I know is that it was in an open stadium with an audience. Perhaps when the nurses had to catheterize me, I had fought them off. Nor could I identify how I had died and on my way to heaven Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young had played music for me.

I was told later that I had been awake until Friday night. Gosh, almost 4 days lying awake. That alone was enough to cause hallucinations.

Tuesday, after Ron walked out the door at my house, he had somehow driven home. His brother, Skeet, took him to Hickory Memorial Hospital. I don't know how he got Ron there; Skeet was much smaller than Ron. The staff at Hickory Memorial had to put Ron in a straight jacket; he kept going after the nurses. The medical team there decided to pump Ron's stomach. He hadn't hallucinated for over 3 days like I had.

Apparently, after Ron had left my house, my father got me to Catawba Memorial Hospital. My mom later brought the leftover jimson plants from my bedroom to the hospital. The medical team was concerned about pumping my stomach. I don't know why they didn't converse with the staff at the other hospital. Perhaps Mom or Dad didn't mention Ron to the medical staff. I was later told that a lab in Chicago where Mom had connections produced an antidote for the datura. The medical staff administered it to me on Friday evening.

I recall when I started to come down off the trip after the antidote was administered, I told the nurse, who I had grown to trust and to whom I had revealed secrets, that I felt like I was on a gentle roller coaster. I then fell into a long sleep, to wake up now...sometime on Saturday.

I felt perfectly normal.

A Green Hornet and Blackbirds

***
Non-subject: "a certain time"

I've been thinking of writing something about my dance with jimson weed. Now would be a good time. Carol, not many people have experienced jimson weed. You aren't trying to be special. You are special; so is the next person beside you. Each person has a story. This is yours.
***

October, 1974. The Tuesday before the high school homecoming game on Friday. I was supposed to work at the hospital, my job in food services. There was a banquet for some doctors and I was assigned to help wait tables. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I swallowed the seeds. I mean, I had to be a work in a few hours. Maybe I thought I'd get just a little high, a small trip, and trip around waiting on tables. After all, I wasn't a novice tripper. I'd have something funny to tell my friends later.

Ron, my boyfriend, sat behind the driver's wheel of his green Hornet. I was in the passenger's seat beside him. We cracked open about 6 pods. We each ate around 3 podfuls of seeds; I think it was around that many. One of the pods contained some black seeds. Ron swallowed the black ones, in case they were a bit more potent. He figured they may have gotten frost bite before I harvested the pods. Ron was much larger than I. I weighed in around 90 pounds; Ron at 200. His nickname was Fatman. I was 15 and Ron was 17, or almost 17.

Ron was a dealer and we were never in short supply of mind-altering substances. I was a willing guinea pig to expand my consciousness. This time was different though; I had supplied the potion. I must have collected the plants about a week or 2 before that Tuesday. After picking them I displayed them in a vase in my bedroom, on my dresser. Stems, standing about 10 inches tall and on the ends of the stems drooped spiky pods. Jimson weed or devil's weed. The Latin name is datura stramonium. They grew in the pasture behind my family's house.

Ron and I were parked in the woods off of a dirt road. A regular spot we frequented to get high. I don't recall how long it was after swallowing the seeds that I began to feel some effect. I looked over at Ron. He had that look on his face whenever we were experimenting with hallucinogens. It was almost childlike, a little boy waiting in line for the Ferris wheel with great anticipation, excitement, and just enough fear to make the ride fun.

I had to pee. I looked at Ron and with slurred speech said, "I got ta go ...to ... thu...baath.. room." He just kept staring at that Ferris wheel.

I opened the car door and got out.

"I don't .... have any kneeeess..." I giggled. I grabbed hold of the top of the car door to catch my balance. Once I was stable, I staggered off into the woods. As I squat down I looked around me. There were 100's if not 1000's of blackbirds. They were everywhere, everywhere. I'd never seen that many blackbirds. I recall thinking, "How ...ooodd. Hm. Black....birds." I began to sing in a hushed whisper, "Black bird singing in the dead of night..take these broken wings and learn to fly...." I seemed to be able to sing more easily than speak.

I stumbled back to the car.

I'm not sure how he did it, but somehow Ron drove the 30 minutes to my house. Somehow through those winding country North Carolina foothill roads. I have no remembrance of the ride home. We got to my house around 4:30 in the afternoon.

Dad was home. That was strange; usually he was still at work this time of day. Ron and I staggered inside and sat on the living room couch. Dad must not have heard us; he was in the back of the house.

Ron and I just sat there, stupored. I slurred, "I'm slee..py. I'm gon..na go lay down." I made my way to the hardwood stairs to go up to my bedroom. Ron watched me from the couch, probably still with his boyhood stare.

I made it partway up the steps and then tumbled backwards. Ron later told me that my father came running from the back of the house to see what the commotion was. My father looked at me crumpled in a heap on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. His gaze then turned to Ron on the couch. Dad glared at Ron like he was going to kill him.

Ron got up and walked out the front door.

***
The sequel to this piece is Witch Doctors and Roller Coasters.

***

Prissy Prudes and Gremlins

****
Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
****
Following is a memoir piece about something very recent. I highly recommend reading the short memoir piece Prissy Prudes by author, Fred Poole.
****

I was in quandary and was perhaps beginning the slippery slope down episode lane. I had been here before. O.K. Time to pull out the tool box.

"STOP!" I firmly told myself.

They were here again, the gremlins of self-accusation, doubt, but not quite loathing. I didn't want to go that far...into the loathing. *sigh*

"You're not important. You have nothing of value to say. None of what you do really matters." They snickered and whispered, like gossipy town chatter in secret corners.

I was able to hold them at bay and get to sleep that night. I awoke the next day, still having trouble. I challenged the thoughts, talking myself through the day.

"STOP!"
"My life is my life. My experiences are my experiences. They are valid. On them, I am an authority."
"A million decisions and circumstances have led to this moment."

I began to type a blog, challenging my various thoughts. Putting the accusations into questions that I could counter. I was tripping over my words; the doubting continued. I clicked "save now" to perhaps publish the draft later.

I emailed my therapist whom I had emailed the night before with an upcoming disturbing excerpt from the journal I'm transcribing. It's not unusual for me to email him with how I handle certain issues/triggers as they come up, mainly for notes for our next session. If I need him, we are usually able to work out a time on the phone.

In the email I wrote:
"Thinking about the [upcoming journal] entry I sent: on the positive side it shows my creativity with the pen. ... I mean, it is quite descript.

On another note, I feel myself drifting into self-judging/doubting which can lead to dissociation, which could lead to a reaction. So I'm using radical acceptance and I'm challenging the gremlins. I'm writing. It's not a thought record, but is similar, in that I'm dialoging with the accuser gremlins countering the thoughts. I'm staying away from my journal for the day..I think. I have my writing workshop tonight which always, always empowers and validates me."

I was the first person on the phone line for the workshop. Fred, the director, was there second. I had some questions about writing some stuff online; some things I was uncomfortable about. Since it was just Fred and I, I mentioned them. Oh good. He would be able to talk to me about it later.

I had written my assignment piece for the workshop that evening; it was about when I ODed on jimson seed when I was 15. I'd thought about writing about that for some time. I had written a poem about it a couple years ago, but never a memoir or even a narrative. I thought my memoir piece for the evening sounded stupid. Who would believe this stuff anyway? I laid my fears aside and read it aloud for the workshop, as we do every week. The responses were motivating and empowering. Wow. Maybe it didn't sound so stipud after all.

My doubts were fading.

The workshop continued with the participants reading the pieces they'd written. We took our break to write some more. After 30 minutes we were back on the phone to read the pieces we had just written.

More validation. Deep breath. This felt good. I love to write real stuff.

Fred shared his piece last. As he read, most all my burden of the previous self-doubt lifted. The participants chuckled as Fred read some of his memoir piece, his gentle voice putting the right inflections just where they were needed.

"Boy, did I need to hear that!" I responded. I wasn't the only one that felt that way.

I sat down at my computer and pulled up that draft. Conversing with Gremlins, the delivery was complete! I was able to counter those little debils and click "publish now." Yay!

Prissy Prudes and Gremlins. That might make a funny Pixar movie.

*****

Conversing with Gremlins

****
One of my inspirations that has led to blogging my story is Marta Szabo, author of "The Guru Looked Good." I read Marta's critics before I ever ordered Marta's book. I wonder if the critics even read the book? The criticism seems off subject in that the criticism sounds as if the content of the book wasn't read. At least that is the way it seems to me. I thought the same when I read critics of Kristin Skedgell's memoir, "Losing the Way."

Why is it that people want to suppress others' stories? What are people afraid of?

Those are somewhat rhetorical questions. But really, think about it. This is life. Life is filled with torture, horror, joy, exuberance, miracles, mundane, relationships, affairs, childbirths, deaths, tenderness, intimacy, abuse, sunshine, tornadoes. The list goes on and on. It's real. For all I know this life on earth might be all I have.

Sometimes I want to shout with all my lungs can muster, "Don't hold me down!" And then quietly state, "Let me be me."

What I write may not be popular. What I write may sound unreal. What I write may bore someone to tears. It doesn't matter. It's my story. For me to write is part of my life. I cannot hide it in my journals and in secret places anymore.

I have taken on a project of transcribing one of my journals. I decided to transcribe this particular journal online in public view. Of course I have doubts about that. As my manner is, I doubt and question my motives. I'm been well trained to do that, to question my motives.

So what have been some of the questions/accusations from the gremlins that sometimes visit the dark spaces in my mind? Often times these gremlins take on the voices of people who have, over the years, offered unsolicited advice as these people were much "wiser" than I. Usually when I followed that kind of advice, it ended up to my detriment.

Read on to meet a few gremlins. (My gremlins look like tiny shreks except they are multi-colored with polk-a-dots. What color are yours? ;-)

****
Gremlin: "You are doing this just to draw attention to yourself. It's a selfish, prideful act."

My answer: My life is my life. My past is my past. My experiences are my experiences. On those I am an authority.

It seems if I really wanted to draw attention to myself, I'd broadcast in a different way...like send an announcement out to all my email contacts or buy an advertisement with google. But even if I do that, so what?!? Why does it matter?

Besides, maybe I need a little more selfishness and pride in my life. Ha!

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Gremlin: "So why are you doing it? Huh? Is it really wise to broadcast your life on the web?!? Anyone can take what you say and use it against you. What about your kids? What about your job? What about your family?"

My answer: I'm doing it for at least a few reasons:

1) To neutralize the events for me. I can write and write and write in my own little world. But when I make it public, I face a larger reality. Yes, I do make myself more vulnerable. Yet, for me, I also take away some of the power my shame holds over me.

2) For others who can perhaps relate to what the experiences were and/or are like. I've read many people's stories that are 'far worse' than what I'm putting out there. Their stories inspire me, motivate me, cause my heart to weep and to rejoice. I've corresponded one on one with some of the authors of those stories. Our lives are our stories. Everyone has one. Every story is worthy.

3) Because I want to. Like a painter wants to paint and show her work; I want to write my story. Will I ever put it in a book. I don't know. At this point that isn't a concern for me.

Besides, I'm not broadcasting my life on the web, just parts of it. My husband knows everything I am posting. My children know most of it. My boss thinks it's great I'm putting stuff on the web in regard to cult life and recovery and other stuff. On another note, not that many people will probably ever read it. So just calm down there, Gremlin.

As far as using it against me? Yes, that can happen. In fact, my past has been used against me before ever posting anything on the web. Another side of the coin is, I am the one telling it; not someone else. I'm not hiding it. Screw the secret so-called sins of my life. Everyone has them. Hmm I wrote a poem along those lines, Open Hands.

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Gremlin: "What about people that were involved in the situations and read your stuff? What if it hurts them, brings up bad memories or emotions? Do you really want to cause that pain?"

My answer: This is one of the hardest for me; it really is. I don't want to cause pain. But am I the one causing it? Or is it that our society doesn't honor the grieving process, but rather wants to 'be strong' and go on with life as normal? Is it from stigma and labels that humans use against one another causing fear of various kinds, mainly of rejection, disapproval, not belonging? All the while, in the background, is buried pain and hurt that hasn't been dealt with.

Life is a series of losses. Losses can be a bridge to loving and living life even more.

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Here Gremlins, have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some dark chocolate. It will make you feel better. Wash it all down with milk and then sit here and watch Mowgli and Baloo. :-)



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Click here to read: Prissy Prudes and Gremlins, a memoir piece.

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16 Steps vs 12 Steps // Victimhood

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Recently I read the journal entries (from July, 2004) posted below. I asked the author, Reg Borrow, for permission to copy and paste them here. I had never heard of the 16 Steps until reading about them in Reg's posts.

Reg gives a great analysis/summary that resonated deeply with me and is another helpful tool in the recovery tool box. Reg continues with Christianity, and thus has adapted the 16 steps for a Christian to utilize based on scripture. Though I don't subscribe to some of the same beliefs as Reg, I still find his sharings important and applicable to my own recovery.

For discussions on a forum where Reg posted these journal entries, click here: "16 Steps vs 12 Steps" and here: "Victimhood"

Click here for Reg's adaption of the 16 steps: "16 Steps - Modified with Scriptures"

Thanks Reg! :-)
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By Reg Borrow:

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July 27/04 - 16 Steps vs 12 Steps (Part 1)

In reading the book "Many Roads - One Journey" I read on page 48 where it talks about a new group that uses the 16 Steps I gave to two leaders in our church. After nearly a year I have received NO FEEDBACK! even though I asked for some. The 16 Steps help move people who have moved to [Stage 4: Late Adolescence and Early Adulthood, The Critic: Ages sixteen - twenties and thirties] of their faithing (journey of faith) and are no longer dependent on a traditional 12 Step program. They have moved past a dependency level of a Program to one of personal empowerment and one that honours their own wisdom & internal strength. Dependency on an external set of rules or dogma needs to be replaced thusly if one is going to grow & mature into someone with a healthy ego that has an autonomy balanced with interdependency. Such a program of 16 Steps that moves beyond the rigid 12 Step program is necessary to develop a person's God-given potential here and now. Through such a program, people will be empowered to find their own unique place in the Universe. Instead of rigidity to a traditional 12 Step mantra, they will be encouraged to think for themselves and question those things that don't "feel" right.

We cannot slide into a dangerous one-size-fits-all mode that is sure to be wrong for many people. If we remember the overall goals are to alleviate people's suffering, we can put our rigid egos aside and ask, "What works? What doesn't work?" Are there ways support groups could be more effective, possibly for different groups of people such as those who have been spiritually abused? Because of my two years in Celebrate Recovery as the Assimilator Coach, CR is NOT the place for the spiritually abused. A program embracing the 16 Steps that is more flexible and doesn't insist on rigid conformity is what is needed to help them move past the pain and trauma they suffered from the last group they left. Only such a program can give them the support they need to help them begin to "Trust" again. This is one of their greatest needs, to have their "trust muscle" healed at the deepest level of their being. They need an Authentic, caring place based on LOVE! Love creates TRUST! It helps move us beyond our fears. Love leads to a state of openness grounded in faith. A faith that acknowledges that the life we have is a miracle of God and we are His children. This FAITH & LOVE leads to the knowledge that despite our many differences, we share a common heritage and a desire for LOVE, PURPOSE AND COMMUNITY that connects us to our fellow man. If we fear, it blocks love. We have to express our fears in a knowledgeable "SAFE" and I mean "REALLY SAFE" group(s) to move past those blockages of love in order to feel the healing POWER OF CHRIST'S LOVE enter as a healing balm. A balm that one feels deeply within to the point of tears at the wonderment of it. It is this experience of abuse that Jesus understands deeply and is closely and intimately sensitive to the Spiritually Abused because He paid the ultimate price confronting the established religious system of His day. He was the most abused of us all to the point of the Cross and His crucifiction.

We need to find ways to create SAFETY in these 16 Step recovery (uncover/discover) groups so there are fewer instances of CONTROL, ALIENATION & EXPLOITATION. All of these are areas the spiritually abused understand completely. We need to instill in people a sense of internal power that they lack in their "POWERLESSNESS". It is this attitude that fosters a new dependency on their recovery groups. Recovery grounded on fear does not lead to the development of a healthy aware ego (self-image).

We will remain as children tied to a 12 Step program because we have not internalized our own belief systems and have given this power to another person or program. We need to be mature people who live by their own internal morals and authority. The 16 Steps will focus on being HEALTHY, spent with/where people are supportive,. flexible & caring. It will help a person fill in some missing pieces from their childhood and move forward in their relationship with God and their fellow man. It cannot be rigid and dogmatic which will only reinforce the rigid, authoritarian faith/group/church/cult they left or rather escaped from that was full of legalism.

To lock them into a similar 12 Step program will present too many triggers that will make them withdraw. While initially it may seem to help them, they will eventually leave because they realize they have to stuff too much to stay connected to the group at the cost of their human development. By staying locked in a rigid box/set of rules and authority like the controlling group/church/cult they left, they will continue to stuff and not advance in their healing. Eventually they will leave when it becomes too unbearable.

The need to heal and form trusting bonds again is PARAMOUNT to their recovery. This occurs at a very deep spiritual level. They need to learn what LOVE is, all over again. They need to have people who are willing to listen to them without interruption. This will demonstrate to them love in action when they sense real compassion, humility, kindness and most of all a validity and understanding of the trauma and pain they experienced. They need to find a place where they can be free to express their feelings. What they really feel without stuffing. Feelings by themselves are not wrong. They are real. They need to be felt. However, what we do about them can be quite another thing. Expressed in an understanding group can defuse much of the negative downside of that problem.

Solutions have to "feel" right for each individual if they are truly going to last. They need to be more than "bandage" therapy solutions. If there is little room for questioning, then a certain fear sets in that leads on to believe that the program is unchangeable or the leader/facilitator is too controlling. This is very triggering for the spiritually abused. Conformity has been a standard way we have sidestepped confrontation. It has been what has caused us our pain initially when we got out of step with our former groups and made us "one of them" so we will avoid confrontation at all costs. We do not want to take a backward step in our journey and enter a program at a more mature level of our faithing by being asked to go back to a more childlike state of faith in order to get well. We understand that our attitude needs to be childlike yet that trust is what has been violated and to have others insist we have to trust them and what they say has to be earned. To do so would mean to trade in our personal identity and attach to "The Program". If there isn't room for shades of gray, then there isn't room for the Spiritually Abused. Instead of giving people "pat" answers, it can be healing & strengthening to ask some questions such as "What seems to help you the most? What do you think? and then REALLY LISTEN! This will take a long time and can be frustrating for those in leadership positions.

We cannot allow dependency to go too far that leads to conformity, harmony & agreement. This leads to group symbiosis & dependency. Instead of "growing" within a Community of like believers, a person's identity becomes dependent on belonging to a group and they fail to honour their own wisdom and internal strength. This leads us back to fear.

Although small groups have an immense capacity for healing, it is important that we not attribute this healing capacity solely to a 12 Step program. In these programs, people in recovery from their many and several addictions & dysfunctions have replaced their dependency on them to that of a healthy dependency on their group. But this dependency can go too far. We need to have our own internal sense of power and realize, in the end, we are responsible for our own recovery (uncover and discover). We need to honour our own internal compass and respect our own wisdom & internal strength. If it doesn't "feel" right, it probably isn't for us. Our "gut" feelings have often been right in the past and we ignored them only to our own hurt. We cannot afford to do so in the future. The cliche' "Be true to thine own self" is what we ignored in the past and lead us or allowed ourselves to be abused. We were subtly deceived to abandon our "critical thinking process". To do that is dangerous. Victimization is the result and there are too many out there who will take advantage of this for their own purposes.


July 27/04 - 16 Steps vs 12 Steps (Part 2)

The questions we, the spiritually abused, have and pose, need to be heard and a reasonable attempt to answer them has to be put forward. If we are dissed in any way, shape or form we will withdraw. We will be gone and lost to the influence of those who lead recovery groups for good. To restore a trust we believe has been violated will be virtually impossible for someone who has suffered from spiritual abuse. We need to be FREE THINKERS and any attempt to "control" us will trigger us and bring anger and resentment within us. It will close down lines of communication. It seems, only those who have been spiritually abused and understand this sacred trust should be in positions of leadership in a 16 Step program. If not, we will eventually lose interest in the people who cannot understand our inner yearning, confusion and disillusionment!

The 16 Step program needs to lead people to a level of transformation and maturity where they no longer need a 12 Step group identity. They will arrive at the point where they see their own unique place in God's creation and the purpose for their lives. They then will move forcibly forward empowered by this passion and sense of mission to fulfill their God-given destinies to become part of the solution ushering in God's Kingdom on earth. They can't go back to a program of dependency because they know too much. One more thing. In this awareness, they also discover, unfortunately, many people are content to settle for the "status quo" who don't want to confront the system and move forward. This has been frustrating for us as we are often looked upon as a special elite who are perceived as having special knowledge with big egos. Although because of our experiences and trauma, there may be some justification for that kind of thinking by others, we don't feel better or superior with inflated egos. We just feel "DIFFERENT"! A unique, one-of-a-kind creation of God.


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"Star Mangled Banner?" ~Jimi Hendrix

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Over the past weekend the radio played songs commemorating the Fourth of July.

Of course one song was Jimi Hendrix's famous Star Spangled Banner. As a teen I thought the song was cool. During my 'believer' years, I wasn't so sure; I thought perhaps the song was a mockery of the "greatest country on earth." (Which I now think is an arrogant statement; yet, I still love my country.)

This past weekend I thought the song was one of the most brilliant versions of the Star Spangled Banner I've ever heard.

Regardless of what musician plays or sings it, each time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, I picture the lawyer, Francis Scott Key, with the physician for whom Keys was sent to negotiate rescue. Both waiting and unable to help peering over the side from the boat in which they waited, harbored in the waters. I imagine both men in deep prayer, hoping with all their hearts that the country and people they love would make it through the night. I imagine them feeling a desperation to help, to treat the wounded, and wanting the incessant madness to cease. Yet they were anchored elsewhere, unable to reach their brothers and sisters. Thus a poem was born in Key's heart, with a burning vision that the tattered flag would stay anchored ashore.

Hendrixs' piece is one of the best pieces to portray that image: the tumultuous and overwhelming emotions, the sounds and lights of cannon fire and war echoing in the dark, laced with heartfelt inner cries of prayer - Key's poem of hope.

War is ugly. War is loud. War maims, destroys, chars, devours. As the saying goes, "there are no atheist in foxholes." (A saying of which I have read is a myth, not a literal. I have to wonder though, who really knows about those last few seconds?)

How can one ever define war and its repercussions? I think Hendrix's version brilliantly portrays that.

I don't know Hendrix's motive for his song; maybe he didn't either. Vietnam was very real at the time of his performance during Woodstock. I imagine his motive was a political statement of the times, regarding war, regarding war's disrespect for life, regarding dirty politics, regarding the controversy of the late 60's.






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note: I realize war also 'frees.' Yet the price is so high. (Just google ptsd and the soldier.) I hope for other ways to negotiate this human dilemma.

War is a Racket by Major General Smedley D. Butler

When PTSD Comes Marching Home by William Rivers Pitt via the radman

costofwar.com by National Priorities Project

Eventually by Carole King: Eventually lyrics

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"How did you get in the Word?"

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Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
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A bustle of believers had arrived at Headquarters. Mealtimes were always fun with visitors. The tables in the dining room were filled with chatter. There would be songs, announcements, sharings, prayer.

One of the visitors at my table had lived in North Carolina, my home state. I enjoyed meeting folks with whom I could share about aspects of our lives that included commonalities, points of interest or experience, outside the Word. Though, in reality, all of life was about the Word; everything pointed back to that Word. "The Word, the Word, the Word, and nothing but the Word!" as Doctor regularly proclaimed.

I don't recall the young man's name. He was in my age range, early twenties. I'll call him Luke.

"Where in North Carolina are you from?" I inquired.

"Charlotte," Luke replied.

"That's where I first spoke in tongues, in Charlotte," I stated warmly. "At a church, Resurrection Lutheran."

I had warm memories of Pastor Mirly from Resurrection Lutheran. He had led me into tongues before I had ever even heard of The Way. Even though the Word taught at Resurrection hadn't been rightly divided, even though they didn't practice the manifestations correctly; Pastor Mirly leading me into tongues was genuine. God had his hand on my life leading me to this point where I was in The Way Corps.

I was thankful for Pastor Mirly. Funny, he also had warned me about deceptive cults. One of them was a group called "The Way." Ha! That name, The Way, had stuck in my mind and culminated when I met some Way believers. But I understood that Pastor Mirly just didn't have the rightly divided Word; the adversary was always trying to water down and distort the Word to keep people from the truth. Yet I was confident Pastor Mirly was born again, an "unbelieving believer" as we referred to born-again folks outside the Ministry. We. in the Ministry, were the "believers."

"That's where I first spoke in tongues too!" Luke responded with excitement. "A man named Pastor Mirly led me into tongues. And then later I got in the Word with the Ministry."

"Wow! Pastor Mirly led me into tongues too. That is soooooooo cool! Both of us here, at this table, in podunk New Knoxville, Ohio, in the Ministry. And Pastor Mirly first led us both into tongues! He's got some rewards coming, even if he never comes to the truth of the Word." I responded back, just as excited as Luke.

It was unusual. All Way believers spoke in tongues, but most didn't do that until after they got involved with the Ministry, usually at the end of the Foundational Class. It had to be God that Luke ended up at my table. We exchanged stories of how we "got in the Word."

So often that was the conversation starter with believers, "How did you get in the Word?"

Whenever I answered that question, my story culminated at 18 years old when I first sat through the Power for Abundant Living class. After all, that is how I got in the Word. The rest was somewhat irrelevant and anti-climatic.

Over the following decades I would ask that question of others countless times, and I would answer that question countless times. I had 3 parts to my answer, though I seldom got to the last two parts:
1) How I came to the Ministry. That was the most important after all.
2) How I ended up in the Way Corps.
3) That I left the Way Corps, but that I was still faithful to the Word. When I left the Corps the second time, Craig had written me that I had a lot to offer and that there weren't enough of us for any to sit on the sidelines. He had encouraged me to stay involved and to use my Corps training.

But after so many years I would find myself wondering, Why does my story stop with the Ministry? It seems I am missing something somewhere.

I'd push the thought aside. Besides it wasn't that important.

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Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
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