written 29 May 2018
A Tentative Explanation of My Childhood
Present-day: This is from the archives. It was written back when I was just starting to explore what exactly might have happened to me, and was thinking about putting my story online. I first researched “sheltered upbringing”. A lot of the effects are similar between being exposed to a group like that one and having overprotective parents. I've edited this, mostly to remove the group-language because I refuse to use the jargon. Notes follow. The point of posting this is to give insight into some of the thoughts I had as I was figuring the reason for my brain patterns out, and in case anyone else has experienced the bewilderment I describe when asked "What do you want?"
So I came from this lovely, indescribable, complicated background. It was centered around an interpretation of GOD which is profound and special and wonderful feeling. The people are, I still believe, basically very good, high quality people, who have rejected most of the world's ways of religion. They see through the hypocrisy of churches whose leaders constantly ask for money and which can't run without it1. The leadership members were extra special noble folk to me2, and I still have that feeling, a little bit3. They really are just people, I know. When I was a leadership member, I was so against being put on a pedestal because it kind of happens naturally for them – more on how it happens in another article. I resisted it because I didn't believe that was part of what GOD intended.
There's more to that side trip, but I want to talk about how I experienced childhood. A basic premise of the culture I grew up in and adopted for my own is that no human can please GOD as they are. Your basic, run of the mill human nature is not sufficiently powerful to produce anything godly. You have to get a revelation of Jesus Christ as the Son of the one true GOD, and you must be born again of the Holy Spirit to have any kind of righteous behavior. I absolutely accepted this doctrine as a child. I don't know what I really understood of this, but I accepted it to be so. And I seemed to prove it in my own child-life: no matter how much I tried to choose "right" actions and thoughts, or "make wise choices", I couldn't quite do it. So I thought I proved Paul's writing which says something similar to that. The good I would do, or some such4. The law in my members5.
I accepted this as a matter of fact and “this is the way the world is.” In our culture, human effort had nothing to do with getting on GOD's good side. We believed if you have the Spirit living in you, you will instinctively produce a GOD-pleasing life.
It was all wonderful and safe, and I felt secure and thankful in the knowledge that I didn't have to search for the “right” way. I'd been born to parents who'd already found and chosen it.
But along with all this amazing security and safety came guilt and fear. Not all of this was necessarily a result of the culture of faith I was raised in; my parents' personalities and backgrounds of course had a huge effect on me. They were loving parents in many wonderful ways, and wonderful people in general. But I did know tension inside me, and fear. Fear of the outside, unbelieving world, and fear of being contaminated by the worldly kids who didn't have parents with the same hope and love and revelation as mine. Home was a welcome safe haven from days away at school, where not fitting in was just the way it was and would always be when you were a true child of GOD. I felt it was harder because I was a girl and my dresses and long hair were obvious markers of my different-ness.
Later, as I grew into adolescence, I was often miserable, and bewildered by trying to understand life and myself. (Later I believed I experienced seasonal affective disorder and depression in childhood.) I hated the social aspect of school, and it only becomes more about that instead of less, as you get older. I despised cliques, and how other girls behaved, but I had very little in common with even the less girly girls. I tried hard not to be girly. (That's a whole other topic, too.) I had no relationships with classmates outside of school hours that I recall. I wouldn't have known how to act or what to do, anyway. And when I caved and did things everybody else was doing (like go to the Friday afternoon middle school dance instead of going to the game room and “being true to my convictions”) I felt the most intense guilt – because A) I believed my folks and others wouldn't ever expect that I'd do something worldly or shameful and B) I really did sincerely believe that it wasn't a godly thing to do, and GOD himself was displeased with me. And this was at the age of 11 or 12!
I think what happened was this: the culture I grew up in had the effect of an overprotective parenting approach on me. I basically did not get to experience childhood as a child. I didn't get to explore myself. I was told what to learn about the world and about myself, and I accepted that. I suspect that I didn't develop a true individuality. I have an extremely hard time making the simplest of choices for myself. One of the most consternation-producing things you can ask me is “What do you want?” I almost go completely blank. I usually have next to no idea. My internal dialogue goes something like “Well, what should I want? I had X last time. Maybe I want Y for a change.” I mean! And that's just at McDonald's.
I believe my folks made their parenting decisions in good faith. I know, because I witnessed it, that they prayed for help to do this crazy parenting thing they had no idea how to go about. I know they did the best they could. I know they made decisions with serious consideration of their responsibility and accountability to God for raising us. I know they didn't take it lightly. And so many things were good and even wonderful in my life for those exact reasons. But... there's this big other aspect of it all, and I'm trying to get the two aspects of reality to jive.6
See, now I know the culture I grew up in is not GOD's one true way according to the Bible. There are too many discrepancies and too many gray areas where it doesn't quite line up. And it got so I couldn't forgive them all or excuse them all and still be a part of it.
So I left. Those three words took about two years to experience. It was a very messy break up, if you can imagine. In some ways, I'm still leaving. (That's another story too: my process of transition and how my relationship with my family has changed.)
In my opinion, many people who have left seem to carry some bitterness with them toward the whole organization7. They point out with what I read as a kind of “I told you so” attitude when something goes wrong in the group. They seem to convey negative attitudes toward the group leaders. I don't really identify with that viewpoint. For one thing, I can't afford to hold on to bitterness and unforgiveness. I think perhaps I have some feelings to work through, I will admit. They have more to do with not being and feeling free to be a child (whether the bondage was self- or other-imposed), to experience growing up as a normal kid. And I don't direct that toward any certain person or people. I can't change the past. I can only go on from here.
Getting free of what people must think of me is an amazing battle. I had a taste of that freedom last summer. I felt amazingly free. Recently, that fear has come back more. I have let it in, I suppose is the truth of it. We've had a few hectic or kind of stressful months, and I feel a little bit worn down, like I've gotten away from the basics, or I've “backslid.”
Oh, life! I have more to write on this subject and many others.
Present-day Notes:
- They do see through that hypocrisy, but they're blind to their own. I was aware of some; as a leadership member I became increasingly discontent with the fact that we lived so well (better than some of our own members), AND ignored the needs of the world's poor and needy. Also, I think the tone of this sentence (and really much of the piece) shows clearly how I was still reluctant to objectively view the failings of the group and its effects on me. I think I was still trying to defend it so I could assuage the deep-seated guilt over acknowledging its imperfections and dangers, and thus, betraying those who'd got me into it in good faith.
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I felt this way as a child in my teens. Their lifestyle was esteemed by the members as a great self-sacrifice for a higher calling. I could see what they gave up and later I lived it for years as a leadership member myself. The goals were lofty, probably unattainable in a practical sense. Those of us with the least leadership responsibility might have been able to get the closest to the ideal.
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I think this feeling was rooted in the fact that abandoning the idea of the "rightness" of the ministry method meant abandoning your moral okayness. That concept runs deep. If (as according to group doctrine) no one else is doing ministry right, rejecting this ministry is about the same as closing the door to your one hope of salvation. That concept is inextricably woven into groupthink, whether it's intentional or not.
Also I was naive enough to want to believe leadership members were incorruptible, even though I knew better (even as a pre-teen and teen, having heard group gossip and having witnessed some things myself). Reality is, as with anybody in a highly visible position of responsibility or leadership, these people are humans with their own foibles and struggles and unhealed emotional hurts. Those foibles were coped with or conquered or completely out of control to varying degrees, just as with any group of humans. Noble? No. Sincere, trying their hardest, having good intentions and making sacrifices for something they deeply believe in which is sadly flawed? Yes.
I know now they aren't noble people. The group administration is just as susceptible to corruption and political manipulation as other leadership positions are.
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Romans 7:18-19 For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. (19) For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.
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Romans 7:23 But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.
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My brain has had LOTS of practice thinking about what was good about my childhood experience. We were told, as many kids are, how good we had it. I know we had a better upbringing, with more love and family togetherness, than either of my parents did. They made sure our existence was better than theirs, even from an emotional standpoint, and it was, probably 100% better than theirs. We were told we were loved. We were told we were wanted in their lives. That's amazing.
I was SO good at knowing this that I felt terrible guilt any time I tried to give myself permission to think there might be some not-so-great aspects of my childhood. It's taken a long time to be okay with that, to know I'm not a bad person for accepting the bad with good. To known that I can STILL love and appreciate and respect my parents and their vision and intentions for me at the same time I accept the whole reality: I was left with some serious hurts and insecurities because of the group culture.
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I got this idea from A) the group – because we're taught that people who leave are often bitter, and B) reading one particular online forum of both members and ex-members who are free to talk about their feelings and experiences with each other (and who fairly often get off-topic or devolve into bickering amongst themselves. Yay, the internet. Not all communities of ex-members are like that). Recently I have found other records of email lists and have realized that disgruntledness is not the only theme among ex-members. So is thankfulness, relief, grief, anger, praise to GOD, joy, and peace. Yes, there are folks who sound resentfully angry. But there are many who don't. Common themes among those who still believe in GOD are 1) frustration with the dishonesty and lack of accountability, transparency, and integrity in group leadership and their decisions; 2) sorrow for those still believing lies who are thus subject to the group conditioning; and 3) joy and thankfulness at being free.