Tag: Spiritual Abuse & Recovery

Adventures in Recovery ~ Sending Out An SOS

December 2, 2010

by Calulu

A few days ago I got an SOS call from work. Rosie called with that most dire of all emergencies, they were out of toilet paper. Where’s Mr. Whipple when you need him?

Since we’re an artsy bunch we’re not the most practical and we tend to run out of things or have massive fail on things practical. During my fundamentalist years I used to beat myself up internally about my lack of domestic ability and interest. Now I realize I’m simply hard wired very differently than the perfect wives and housekeepers I knew at church. And that’s okay.

Took me a long time to realize it didn’t matter a hill of beans to the universe if I was practical or impractical or if my living room was cluttered with art supplies or pristine.

Back to the tale of no tush paper. I laughed when Rosie called, picked up my purse and stopped by the local grocery store before dropping the rolls off at work. I didn’t mind at all. Answering SOS calls is something I’m good at.

But it made me think back to those days at Possum Creek Fellowship, back to my leaving. Before I left you could pick up the phone, put in a yell for help, an SOS, to a dear sister or brother and usually count on someone stepping up to meet your need. I remember once in particular when my husband had to be hospitalized suddenly I called up a friend at church and she took my kids for a few days until the crisis passed. Later people brought meals for us so I didn’t have to care for my husband and worry about cooking at the same time.

After I left I couldn’t escape the judgment and torment those same brothers and sisters felt compelled to heap on me. I knew better than to ever ask for help. And if I didn’t know better I had an encounter right after switching churches that showed me all too well that there would be no more help at all.

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 3 ~ Biblical Chastisement

November 23, 2010

by WanderingOne

At this point, I think it’s necessary to write something about how things changed after my sister was born. It’s hard to know what to say here—I do not want to tell my sister’s story for her, nor could I presume to do so. But it would be disingenuous to attempt to write about my life without explaining how and why things changed. My little sister was, in so many ways, my opposite. Where I was shy, quiet, reserved and even timid, she was outgoing, bold, adventurous, and confident. I went to her Sunday School class rather than my own; I followed her lead in so many things, even though I was the older of the two of us. This didn’t always work very well, given that I was supposed to watch her and keep her out of trouble.

My parents saw that and while they were glad that my sister was drawing me out of my shell a little bit, they were also very concerned. My sister, they decided, was stubborn, compulsive, and strong-willed—and she was going to influence me to be the same way. Whereas I mostly demurred to my parents and obeyed cheerfully, my sister always wanted to know “why”? She was determined to do things her own way sometimes, like any normal child. Looking back, I really don’t think my little sister was particularly strong-willed or stubborn. She was a normal girl, with a bright, vibrant personality—who was, from a very young age remarkably self-assured and comfortable speaking her mind. But my sister’s strong will had disastrous results.

My parents decided that what they had done with me would not work with my sister—a new method was needed. And so, they read James Dobson’s book about the strong-willed child, and then discovered Michael and Debi Pearl’s book To Train up a Child. Pearl advocates what he refers to as “Biblical Chastisement,” that is punishing children through the use of a rod, quoting Proverbs 13: 24 as a prooftext: “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.” (KJV) Pearl encourages parents to “chastise” (not punish—as if there is some enormous difference!) using a “rod.” He suggests using 1/4 inch plumber’s supply line, to administer the chastisement. And suggests that parents discipline children for everything from crying as infants (an attempt to manipulate parents) to grabbing for something placed within their reach without first receiving permission to normal childhood disobediences. My parents had always employed spanking to discipline us, but what the Pearls advocated went far beyond that. But going beyond normal discipline and spanking, they decided, was exactly what my sister needed.

Visionary daughters quiz

November 21, 2010

Over on the NLQ forum, we’ve all been taking Visionary Daughter’s “Are You A Fool?” quiz ~ it’s annoyingly hilarious ~ and I thought No Longer Quivering readers who aren’t on the forum might like the chance to join in on the fun.

Here’s question #1:

How do you respond when criticized/corrected?

1) I hate it! I get angry and defensive.

2) I usually laugh it off. (Sometimes I roll my eyes.)

3) If I get criticized for the same thing enough times, I usually start to take it seriously..

4) I’m thankful for the smallest hint of reproof and take it very seriously.

Take the Quiz!!

What do you think?

Adventures in Recovery ~ The Big Truth

November 21, 2010

by Calulu

Midnight. I’m in my kerchief and the hubby is in his cap when from the lawn across the street there arose such a clatter….

Unfortunately for us it wasn’t jolly old Saint Nick or even The Grinch with his little dog Max, it was merely our neighbors, the Bumpasses. Their name isn’t really ‘Bumpass’ but after they moved in they proved by their behavior that they had to be related to the original Bumpasses in the movie, ‘The Christmas Story’ And yes, they have a pile of hound dogs that would gladly eat your turkey if they could get to it.

The Bumpasses got along with no one in the neighborhood and now they were busy cementing their reputation as the neighborhood jerks by trying to move a travel trailer at midnight. There was just one big problem with the trailer. It was sitting on six flat tires, like it had been since July back when they showed up with it.

This trailer was a complete eyesore, think Cousin Eddie in the movie, ‘Christmas Vacation’. Busted out windows replaced with plywood, rust here and there, peeling paint. I watched for two hours from the safety of my dormer window as the Bumpasses screamed, swore and strained to get the tenement on wheels to move. The only thing that happened is it’s sitting cockeyed where they left it and there are huge gouges in the blacktop from the rims cutting through the flat tires.

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 2 ~ Cousins

November 17, 2010

by WanderingOne

When I was four years old my cousin Aaron was born to my mom’s sister. The next year, my sister, and three other cousins were born on my mom’s side. After that, every year, two or three or sometimes all four of my mom’s sisters were pregnant.  By the time I was eight, I had thirteen cousins on that side of my family. When my sister and I were added in, that meant there were there were fifteen of us, and I was the only one not the age of five.   More often than not (we lived relatively near one another), my mother would take my sister and I over to one of her sisters’ houses to do our schoolwork, or to help out with housework.  And we might not be the only cousins over that day; other times, our cousins would come to our house and we’d all do homeschooling together. So, despite the fact that I only had one younger sister,  I was frequently charged with several of the younger children.

I watched them play, kept them out of trouble, helped them pick up their toys, nursed their wounds, settled their arguments, and, when they got old enough to start school, helped them with their homework. I had to make sure they obeyed—when they didn’t, I bore partial responsibility for their errors. But I had to be patient with them and not bossy when they didn’t do what I had asked. If someone did something wrong, I got in trouble for tattling if I told. If I didn’t tell, I was in trouble for helping conceal their sin. I loved my family and wanted to help take care of my cousins and to please my mother and aunts, but I wasn’t sure that I could do it. Some things were easy enough to handle. I could fix scrapes and bruises, wash faces and hands, explain schoolwork, and take care of a sick child. But other things—like settling arguments and disputes and keeping everyone out of trouble—seemed like an impossible task. There was only one of me, and I was only a child.

Adventures in Recovery ~ Pearl Clutching

November 16, 2010

by Calulu

The other day I had to attend a meeting at work. One of the big subjects was a new dress code. Now, instead of our usual jeans or casual skirts with tees, we’d have to wear business attire. The boss was insistent that if you couldn’t wear pearls with your ensemble and look appropriate then you were under dressed for work. My jaw dropped when she suggested pearls and a twin set. Most everyone else in the room started clutching their pearls by voicing negative opinions. No one on the work team felt happy about the new rules.

Bosslady was especially concerned with the fact that there we were at a team meeting and three of us were wearing flip flops in late October. For added giggles our own very old team member was busily violating that Letitia Baldrige rule of no whites after Labor Day with her white leather flats. Oh heaven forfend! Polite society is affronted!

I bit my tongue and didn’t point out that at a 7 am business meeting she’s lucky we’re not all rolling in wearing pajamas and slippers with our hair standing straight up like Don King troll dolls.

I feel especially bad for 24 year old Erica as all she owns are jeans, tees and sneakers.

There’s nothing wrong with trying to appear civil in an uncivil world but who decides what is civil and what isn’t?

Adventures in Recovery ~ Rolling A Big Doughnut With A Snake In A Vest

November 5, 2010

by Calulu

Authors note: I realize not all fundamentalist, Quiverful or patriarchal churches believe in signs or dreams. I’ve seen a number of them that are strictly Bible-based but just as many that do believe God is talking to them through their dreams and a million other things.

From the movie “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure”

Simone: Do you have any dreams?

Pee Wee: Yeah, I’m all alone. I’m rolling a big doughnut and this snake wearing a vest..

During my years at Possum Creek Christian Fellowship there was a great deal of emphasis put on dreams and other totems being key to knowing the mind of God. They were always looking for deeper meanings in the natural and in the everyday. As a result I got to witness a number of very foolish choices during the years, wrapped in the language of “God did it!‘ instead of taking responsibility, manning up and admitting, “I’m an idiot that cannot make a real decision so I’m going to use a lot of silly gobblety-gook instead.”

Adventures in Recovery ~ Your Momma Can’t Dance & This Church Don’t Rock & Roll

October 26, 2010

by Calulu

Early this summer I decided that perhaps I needed to find another church. It wasn’t that I was unhappy with the big mainline denomination that my family had landed at post fundamentalism. I just felt that something essential was missing. Most people there were content to sit in the pews and play church. I was missing that passion I’d experienced in my old church and had seen in many other congregations. Passion and excitement for the things of God. Just not mixed with hateful theology of ‘Can’ts’ ‘Don’ts’ or ‘Submit’

Even during my years at Possum Creek Christian Fellowship* I’d loved worship with all my heart. I’d been part of worship team and I’d spearheaded creative worship there. As I’ve moved along from Quiverful to Main Street I still loved worship, still led worship from the new church. As I left our new church this summer to visit many of the churches in our community worship was one of the big things in my mind. I wanted to land somewhere with not just passion and excitement but also with alive worship that would be open to allowing me to join. Worshiping is like breathing to me.

Every place I went was welcoming, but I wasn’t really seeing what I was searching for. I visited old friends, made new friends and tested the waters. Heard interesting sermons but sensed none of these places was really right for me. Once Possum Creekers heard I was church-hopping one of them called me and begged me to return (and drink the Koolaid again) She also explained that they were believing it was Last Days and everyone had bought hand guns to practice killing off attacking heathen hordes. Seriously, now they are arming up for the end of the world. Which really made me think that the mainstream church wasn’t so bad after all.