shaken, not stirred.

The other day, one of my daughters asked when we were going to finish shopping for school clothes. I began calculating paydays in my head as I tried to come up with something definitive.  

"Soon," I told her.

She responded by saying this was "stressing her out" and then went on to say, "Well, at dad's I'm used to..."

The words were like nails on a chalkboard. Tin foil on a filling. I'm sure my knee-jerk reaction that followed defied all parenting books. All the stuff I thought I had taken out to the trash had suddenly resurfaced. I yelled. And I said all the stuff that I was used to - like not having to say good-bye to them every other week, sitting down to dinner at the table now shared by her dad and stepmom, and holidays unmarred by "parenting time".  

It was frustration meant for a friend, not my daughter. She has her own wounds and to pile mine on top is unfair. But I was upset. I felt insecure and defensive about not providing at the same level as her father, as petty as that might be.

And, I wasn't really mad at her as she was just being a teen-ager. I was mad at the situation. Mad at my ex. Mad at The Sat with it's broken window and squealing serpentine belt. Mad that I couldn't provide better. Mad at society for all of its materialistic definitions of success and value. Mad that after all the loving and giving and trusting - to a church, to a god, to a man - I got screwed over.  

My daughter got angry. I cried. The next day we went out, just the two of us. We talked it out without all the heated emotions and bought her some mint jeans.

I've since delved into the recesses of my mind reflecting on the details. Why did I get so angry?  Why couldn't I have just been that pragmatic parent that responds with, "Too bad. This isn't dad's house. Stop manipulating," and go about my merry way? It's not like she is wearing shreds. Do I still have the picture in my mind of how life is supposed to be?  Of the mom I am supposed to be?  And, how my daughters are supposed to act?  I only know what I know - what I've seen and how I was raised, all of which have conditioned my instincts. And in an effort to reprogram my instincts, I tried to imagine best case scenarios of how I might handle future situations like this and how to better react, because let's face it, this is life with teen-agers, whether married or divorced. 

And, I thought about being screwed over. Sometimes I feel like I can't say that because it makes me look bad. An unattractive victim. A martyr. In the big picture, my life is so much better.  But, it is what it is and frankly, I did get screwed over. And, I laugh about it and give failing speeches about my car and such, but for whatever reason, it was just one of those days when I felt screwed over. I felt injustice and I couldn't brush it off - and, all the positivity in the world would not have helped. And, in these feelings, I ventured into the past, not to blame and discard responsibility, but to keep sorting, keep making sense of the pain. Because I believe the power does lie within our grasp - to shape our lives into whatever we wish to be, regardless of our pasts. But, at the same time, we are naive to think our environment, heredity, and life's changes do not affect us. Sometimes, shaping our lives requires us to return to the scene of the crime, face the pain, and deal with our issues in order to end up with a self we are happy with tomorrow. 

I read a great blog post today by a guy I follow on Facebook - John Shore. He is an author who writes a lot about toxic Christianity and abuse. In this piece for HuffPost, he is speaking in particular, to Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) survivors, but this stuff exists beyond the IFB denomination. Spending much of my adolescent years in a cult with similar expectations (as well as consequences for not following) and then running into a dysfunctional marriage (within the church) at eighteen, I sometimes fight feeling...duped. Gypped. And, frustrated at my naiveté - especially when certain circumstances of the present are a direct result of that naiveté. I feel dumb that I didn't know any better and wonder why it took me so long to see clearly. But, when you're in the vortex and it is done in the name of God or love - when bits of truth are mixed in with the lies - it is easy to get lost. Anyway, I found the following excerpt to be especially validating and comforting during my contemplation. (Though I have a hard time believing that buying into the doctrines and submitting to the abuse is a "sign of strength", and I'm still confused about the lines of self-sacrifice. As far as reasons for one's allegiance to the doctrines being "nothing more than that you love" - not so sure. I don't argue that these victims are, in fact, deeply loving individuals, but I know from experience that codependency also plays a huge part in such loyalty. Other than that, it's good.)

disclaimer: not here to discredit any positive church experiences or healthy relationships. If yours is among them, count your blessings. Bask in the normalcy. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about closed systems. The absence of checks and balances. Control. Misuse of power. Because I am guessing there are many more who have been there - or, are there. Or maybe church had nothing to do with it. Maybe it was your marriage. Or your own family. Perhaps you trusted. Perhaps your innocence was taken advantage of. You believed they were good, because you're good, because you didn't know such narcissism existed, let alone what the word even meant.

So, without further ado, John Shore...

(for purposes of universality, I've changed Shore's IFB acronym in order to relate beyond survivors of the IFB denomination. My words will be in gray.)

"The one thing I do want to say for anyone just making their way out of the darkness of (IFB) abuse is this: that you once so thoroughly bought into fundamentalism (IFB) is a sign of your strength, not your weakness. Beside the fact that you were likely born into fundamentalism (IFB) and so never chose to believe anything about it one way or another, your allegiance to it (IFB) means nothing more than that you love. You love passionately, deeply and inexorably. And like everyone else in the world you want that love to mean something, to be incorporated into and desired by something worthy of it. And what can possibly be more worthy of a person's love than God and family?

You brought the goods to the table. You showed up, ready to play. You brought the best of yourself. You brought all of yourself.

You gave. You trusted. You loved, and loved, and loved some more. You loved when you had no more love to give.

You loved when the cost of that love was to negate the best parts of yourself.

You did what you were supposed to do: you sacrificed yourself.

It was they who didn't truly commit to the truths upon which they claimed to be basing their lives. It was they who lied -- first to themselves, and then to you.

They didn't sink deep enough. They didn't give over their will [to God]. They didn't sacrifice who they were.

They kept what they wanted. They kept what they needed. They kept what worked for them.

They pretended to be something they weren't. They insisted upon that ignoble facade despite the too-clear harm it was causing. For their own dark reasons they kept that wicked dance going.

They lied.

They lied, they lied, they lied.

And they used the best of who you are, and the best of what you have to give, to feed those lies.

They used you as fodder in the war between themselves and everything they fear.

And because of your trusting love for them, you let them. You served them that way. You loved them in that (and a million other) ways. And in a real and important sense you will always love them. And out of that love you gave them the best of who you are to do with whatever they felt they needed to. And if they failed to treat that greatest of gifts with the sacrosanct respect it deserves, then shame on them.

If they really loved [God] they would have loved you and everyone else in a manner befitting that love: properly, carefully, consistently. It really is that simple.

Here's the best part...

And despite all you've been through, here you are now! Dented, maybe, a little -- but definitely not broken.

Slightly wobbly, but still on your feet.

Shaken, not stirred.

You were right; they were wrong; and no sane person in the world would say otherwise. And screw 'em if they do.

You have left them now to themselves, and stepped into your own world. A world where you say what is and isn't good. Where you write the rules. Where you claim what's true.

Finally, now, it's time for you to dance to your own song.

And how marvelous will be your dance.

How you will soar."

for the complete article, click here.