Round One took place this morning via voicemail. I was working out when the phone rang. Although I couldn't really hear for sure who the caller was, I immediately felt on edge. Within seconds I found myself praying in my prayer language and at times I felt very threatened and my praying increased. When the caller was done (actually she was cut off due to limited space on the answering machine), the praying subsided. However, I felt very drained of energy and had to cut that portion of my workout short. I checked caller id and sure enough, it was good ole' mom. I knew it was essential to prepare myself spiritually, mentally, and emotionally before listening to the message, so I went through the second part of my workout and even took a shower.
During that time I examined the emotional responses I had in just suspecting that it was my mother calling. I realized that the most overwhelming emotion was fear. That, in and of itself, told me something. They were terrified just to hear her voice. Insiders felt very afraid that "they" would come and get them, and that they would get into trouble because they were telling and talking about this stuff.
I expected anger. I expected something from my father. What I should have been prepared for, but wasn't, was what I've been getting all along - my weepy mother. I tried to listen from a position of emotional distance to pick up on inconsistencies and ideas that sounded good, but when picked apart, masked something else. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job. I kept feeling myself getting sucked in, but then would come to my senses and pull back.
The jist of what she said was this:
1. My letter was an answer to prayer. (How in the world could accusations of the type I made be an answer to prayer?)
2. She defended her phone call to my pastor's wife as having been looking for my pastor because she was soooo worried about me and didn't understand why I had pulled away. (This is actually a twist on what I had been told by my pastor's wife.)
3. She explained every conversation and visit with my mother-in-law has having legitimate reasons having absolutely nothing to do with me. She went on to blame my mother-in-law for continually bringing me up in conversation. (In some ways, I can certainly see my mother-in-law wanting to try to fix things, even though she has no idea what has gone on, but my mother was certainly not innocent in this. The last note she sent me stated that she intended to call my mother-in-law to find out our daughter's graduation date and future plans. When our house was being built, my mother was supposedly invited by my mother-and brother-in-law to see it. While I was initially angry with my in-laws, my mother should have respected my request to leave my family alone and realized that it would be a huge invasion of our privacy.)
4. It was apparent from what she said that she has been talking with my younger sister. This sister said that she took ONE psychology class in college (15 years ago) and said that the words I had used in my letter were exactly the words used in her textbook. There's only one place that this could go - that I've been changed through secular psychology. (Oh my gosh!!!! Of course I'm going to use the proper terminology! How else would you phrase "satanic ritual abuse" and "mind control programming?" And ONE class? Sure - she's the expert now. Sorry to burst that bubble, but the memories started coming while I was still in core classes like English and Science. In fact, I can't really recall, even though I'm now in my master's, any discussion in any book or class about ritual abuse.)
5. My mother said that they would like to meet with me. They want my pastor there because they know that he's my friend and they want my oldest brother there because they don't want any misunderstanding. (Interesting that they would demand what THEY want when I clearly stated in my letter that I would meet with them on MY terms.)
What is glaringly missing from all of this is my father's response. Although my letter does not allocate blame to one or the other specifically, wouldn't he be the likely candidate who sexually abused me? So why is it that he, thoughout these last five years, has kept silent, with the exception one short letter (which was so insignificant that I don't even recall what it said)? And why has he not weighed in on this last, most obvious indictment of his character?
I admit that after listening to the message, I was temporarily thrown into confusion. What had I done? I had made a terrible mistake and was now going to be shown up as a fool. Not only that, but I would have to spend the rest of my days making amends for the horrible accusations I had made and the years of torture I had put my family through. I was undeserving of such a patient and loving family. I got far away from the phone and sat at the top of the stairs and let all the voices inside have their say. It became apparent that many younger parts were picturing themselves going back to the family and willingly becoming "yes" people again. "Yes, mommy. Yes, daddy. You're right and we're wrong." Along with that came another picture of not having a life independent of them. I would not finish school. I would not work. I would simply live for my family (and I don't mean my husband and daughter). Other parts saw the flaws in my mother's words, but their influence was not as strong as the younger ones. So I prayed. And I believe that God said, "Hold firm. Do not waver. I will show you if and where you are wrong." The last sentence did not seem to be about the abuse itself, but more about specifics of memories and understanding that are yet to come.
The fact that I'm dissociative and have all these different parts is, in and of itself, a telling sign that the ritual abuse did, in fact, take place. Go figure. If there is nothing else to hold onto, that is still apparent. My insiders have not gone away.
And to all my insiders: GREAT, GREAT JOB! YOU HAVE DONE A PHENOMENAL JOB OF WORKING THROUGH EVERYTHING TODAY! I AM IMMENSELY PROUD OF EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FOR TALKING AND LISTENING TO EACH OTHER AND SHARING HERE AND NOT LETTING "THEM" GET THE UPPER HAND. WAY TO GO!
Monday, May 15, 2006
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Mother's Day
What the f*#@ is Mother's Day, anyway? Every year it brings up the same feelings and I'm reminded of how much it sucks. I'm raising this kid who more often than not can't stand me and so much time has passed that I really can't stand her, either. I feel like the worst mother on earth. All my thoughts of her, all the time, are negative. In no way do I present the perfect or even good picture of what it means to be a mother. I'm not the one that she runs to in times of trouble. I'm not nurturing. She doesn't confide in me - even a little. No. I'm the disciplinarian. I'm the realist who bursts her bubbles. I'm the one who tries to get her to think beyond the end of her nose. I'm the one who is overly critical. I'm the one who is unforgiving. I continue to hit my head against the proverbial brick wall by wanting a relationship with a person who has made it clear time and time again that she doesn't give a shit about me.
Our family attends church together every Sunday. It's not like we're a traditional family by any means. We all drive separate vehicles and get there at different times. But it's something we do almost every Sunday. Today, she and I were supposed to be there early for worship team practice. She was still sleeping when I left. She never showed at all. I felt like a complete idiot sitting through this service where the message was about mothers and I don't even know where the heck my kid is at. She obviously didn't consider it important enough to be there with me on Mother's Day. When I arrive home her car is there but I have no idea if she is. It's been an hour and I still haven't seen her. There's a card on the table for me that's would be funny if we had a good relationship. But since we don't, it just hurts. Inside are two photos that she's taken for her photography class. She's pretty talented and I'm immensely impressed with some of the pics she's taken. But c'mon. How much thought, time, or money went into them? None. It's not like I expect her to spend money on me to make a gift good. But when I see her spend money on everyone and everything else and I don't get shit, I'm just a tiny bit upset. The least she could have done was to get a cute frame - wouldn't have cost more than five bucks. She works two jobs, for pete's sake. This, of course, is on top of the fact that my b-day was last month and all I got was a card. Not even an attempt at a gift. While back in September, she spend quite a bit on my husband's birthday. She always seems to be so thoughtful with him, but for me, her attitude seems to be "whatever."
And something else that bothers me is that no one ever seems to remember that my motherhood was stolen from me by the "group." Margaret was a real, flesh and blood baby who was mine. No one ever takes into consideration that I had a child so many years ago. Her existence goes completely unacknowledged today, as does the fact that I still have not been able to conceive. The idea of having a baby now brings with it mixed feelings, but not a single soul even thinks about the fact that a struggle exists.
And how about my own mother? The woman I thought gave birth to me, the woman I have called mom my entire life, isn't really my mom. My oldest sister is the one who actually gave birth to me. She died in 1999 from breast cancer and I decided to visit her grave today. I told no one. Simply brought a single rose (which all the women in church received today) and spent a few minutes there. She had two miscarriages during her marriage so she was never called mother. I was suddenly struck by how her motherhood was ripped from her not only through those two miscarriages, but also because our true relationship was never acknowledged while she was alive. So we've both been robbed of the privilege of being called, "mom." Her headstone reads, "Beloved wife, daughter, sister." I made a promise today that there would come a day when somehow she would publicly be known as my mother.
I had a moment of horror this week when I realized that I was sending my letter (see my One Step at a Time posting) so close to and it would probably be received before Mother's Day. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" What a kick in the teeth! At first I felt tremendous guilt and almost postponed mailing it. Then insiders pointed out that they took my motherhood from me. They went on to remind me that my real mom was lying in a cemetery 45 minutes away. Therefore, we owe this imposter nothing.
As I kneeled by my mother's graveside, I began to wonder what a mother really is. What is my definition? How would I describe one? I have never really taken the time to operationally define the word, but I have had absolutely no difficulty in berating myself for not being a good one. So the challenge before me is to think about and concretely describe for myself what a good mother is and come to a place of both forgiving myself for my shortcomings and congratulating myself in the areas in which I've excelled. I suspect that I've been guaging my success at parenting by how this child I've been raising is turning out and by how much she loves (or doesn't love) me. So it is now time for me to turn my attention to this matter before I allow anymore misplaced guilt to illegally take hold.
Our family attends church together every Sunday. It's not like we're a traditional family by any means. We all drive separate vehicles and get there at different times. But it's something we do almost every Sunday. Today, she and I were supposed to be there early for worship team practice. She was still sleeping when I left. She never showed at all. I felt like a complete idiot sitting through this service where the message was about mothers and I don't even know where the heck my kid is at. She obviously didn't consider it important enough to be there with me on Mother's Day. When I arrive home her car is there but I have no idea if she is. It's been an hour and I still haven't seen her. There's a card on the table for me that's would be funny if we had a good relationship. But since we don't, it just hurts. Inside are two photos that she's taken for her photography class. She's pretty talented and I'm immensely impressed with some of the pics she's taken. But c'mon. How much thought, time, or money went into them? None. It's not like I expect her to spend money on me to make a gift good. But when I see her spend money on everyone and everything else and I don't get shit, I'm just a tiny bit upset. The least she could have done was to get a cute frame - wouldn't have cost more than five bucks. She works two jobs, for pete's sake. This, of course, is on top of the fact that my b-day was last month and all I got was a card. Not even an attempt at a gift. While back in September, she spend quite a bit on my husband's birthday. She always seems to be so thoughtful with him, but for me, her attitude seems to be "whatever."
And something else that bothers me is that no one ever seems to remember that my motherhood was stolen from me by the "group." Margaret was a real, flesh and blood baby who was mine. No one ever takes into consideration that I had a child so many years ago. Her existence goes completely unacknowledged today, as does the fact that I still have not been able to conceive. The idea of having a baby now brings with it mixed feelings, but not a single soul even thinks about the fact that a struggle exists.
And how about my own mother? The woman I thought gave birth to me, the woman I have called mom my entire life, isn't really my mom. My oldest sister is the one who actually gave birth to me. She died in 1999 from breast cancer and I decided to visit her grave today. I told no one. Simply brought a single rose (which all the women in church received today) and spent a few minutes there. She had two miscarriages during her marriage so she was never called mother. I was suddenly struck by how her motherhood was ripped from her not only through those two miscarriages, but also because our true relationship was never acknowledged while she was alive. So we've both been robbed of the privilege of being called, "mom." Her headstone reads, "Beloved wife, daughter, sister." I made a promise today that there would come a day when somehow she would publicly be known as my mother.
I had a moment of horror this week when I realized that I was sending my letter (see my One Step at a Time posting) so close to and it would probably be received before Mother's Day. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" What a kick in the teeth! At first I felt tremendous guilt and almost postponed mailing it. Then insiders pointed out that they took my motherhood from me. They went on to remind me that my real mom was lying in a cemetery 45 minutes away. Therefore, we owe this imposter nothing.
As I kneeled by my mother's graveside, I began to wonder what a mother really is. What is my definition? How would I describe one? I have never really taken the time to operationally define the word, but I have had absolutely no difficulty in berating myself for not being a good one. So the challenge before me is to think about and concretely describe for myself what a good mother is and come to a place of both forgiving myself for my shortcomings and congratulating myself in the areas in which I've excelled. I suspect that I've been guaging my success at parenting by how this child I've been raising is turning out and by how much she loves (or doesn't love) me. So it is now time for me to turn my attention to this matter before I allow anymore misplaced guilt to illegally take hold.
Friday, May 12, 2006
One Step at a Time
In 2001, I took a first step towards extricating myself from the hold my family had on me. I sent a letter, stating essentially that God had been doing a healing work in my life and that in order for Him to go even deeper, I needed to separate myself from them for a time. I respectfully requested that they honor my request for space and time by not contacting me, my husband, or daughter. About a month later, shortly after Christmas, my mother arrived at my workplace, bearing the gifts bought with oh-so-much love for me and mine, even though we had not spent the holidays with them. After declining a niece's wedding invitation, I received an irate phone call from a brother (not the niece's father) berating me for being so selfish as to turn my back on the family in such an insensitive way. Through God's grace I was able to stand my ground.
Three years later, a second step was taken - I met with my mother and father in a public restaurant, simply to break the ice. I had no intention of discussing anything of importance at that time. I only wanted to open up communication so that I could prepare myself to talk with them at a later time about what I knew. (Little did I know it would be another two years.) True to form, my father tried to forcibly take control of the conversation. Again, the Holy Spirit enabled me to respond in such a way that empowered all parts of myself and not allow the enemy an inch.
Here, now, is the third step. After much deliberation and several rough drafts, I have finally composed and mailed a letter to my parents and siblings. The act of simply deciding to do so has freed me just a little bit more. I anticipate much backlash. However, no matter how I try to anticipate the form it will take, I'm sure to be wrong. Will it be an angry phone call? Or perhaps a placating one with tears, trying to understand how I could think such horrible things about them? Or maybe an angry mob with torches at my front door. It is quite possible they will attempt to play my husband and I against each other, yet again. Some inside secretly fear that they will garner his support and attempt to have me committed.
As you will read, the letter states that I am willing to discuss this further "on my terms." The trouble is, I don't know what those terms are at this point. It also indicates that there is the possibility of yet a fourth step that I must take. Will there then be a fifth or sixth? Will it ever end? And should they want to talk about it, what will be their aim? To tear apart whatever I say? To confess and ask forgiveness? To seek reconciliation? To demand an apology?
While there is so much unknown, this I know: I have done the right thing for me at this moment in time. Regardless of the fall out, I do not regret having done this. My life is forever changed.
Here, then, for your consideration, is The Letter:
May 9, 2006
Dear Mom and Dad,
Every month you send me your church newsletter and sometimes include personal notes. You always remember birthdays and special occasions. Outwardly, these things appear so nice and sincere, but they belie the truth of what has gone on behind closed doors.
First of all, there has been a consistent dishonoring of my boundaries. Despite my request for space and time to work through some things, you continued to contact me, both by mail and in person. In addition, at times you have circumvented me completely by contacting my mother-in-law to gather information. Not only that, but you have contacted my pastor’s wife to glean information, as well. To some it would communicate a deep love and longing for your daughter and be completely justified. However, true love respects another’s requests, regardless of whether they are understood or the hardship they place on you. Your behavior indicates that you have been more concerned with how this has affected you than with what I have been going through.
Second, our family has been built on lies, deception, and manipulation. My childhood was littered with physical and emotional abuse, coupled with an extremely controlling parenting style which allowed for no deviation from your ways of thinking and living.
It was so important to present a perfect exterior to the world, but underneath was another reality – that of sexual and satanic ritual abuse. I know that through you I was involved in rituals done in the context of satanic worship and had mind-control programming forced upon me.
Attending a Christian church as well as a Christian school and being indoctrinated with the Bible at home were all designed to train me to take my place within the cult while maintaining a cover of being a good Christian, above reproach and suspicion. I praise God that what was intended for evil has been redeemed and used by Him to rescue me from the kingdom of darkness and bring me into eternal fellowship with Him.
I cannot imagine that this letter brings too many surprises. Instead, it is finally vocalizing what’s likely been suspected (the sexual abuse) on some level. My desire in writing to you now is two-fold. I recognize that time is growing short and I feel an obligation to stop perpetuating the secrecy that has been a part of our lives. Also, I’m hoping that given the opportunity, you will confess and renounce your misplaced allegiance and align yourself fully with the true Lord Jesus Christ.
It is natural for a daughter to want to have relationship with her parents. However, I see no way for this to happen without acknowledgement of what has taken place. My prayer is that God will make a way for you to see Him for who He really is. While I choose to forgive you, I will not place myself or my family in harm’s way.
I am willing to meet with you in person, on my terms, to discuss this further. Please do not contact either Randy or Victoria, Randy’s family, or anyone else who is a part of my life. I am sending a copy of this letter to my brothers and sisters so that they will have an accurate account of what I have brought to you, and to minimize any twisting or misunderstanding that may occur.
Praying for God to break through,
Three years later, a second step was taken - I met with my mother and father in a public restaurant, simply to break the ice. I had no intention of discussing anything of importance at that time. I only wanted to open up communication so that I could prepare myself to talk with them at a later time about what I knew. (Little did I know it would be another two years.) True to form, my father tried to forcibly take control of the conversation. Again, the Holy Spirit enabled me to respond in such a way that empowered all parts of myself and not allow the enemy an inch.
Here, now, is the third step. After much deliberation and several rough drafts, I have finally composed and mailed a letter to my parents and siblings. The act of simply deciding to do so has freed me just a little bit more. I anticipate much backlash. However, no matter how I try to anticipate the form it will take, I'm sure to be wrong. Will it be an angry phone call? Or perhaps a placating one with tears, trying to understand how I could think such horrible things about them? Or maybe an angry mob with torches at my front door. It is quite possible they will attempt to play my husband and I against each other, yet again. Some inside secretly fear that they will garner his support and attempt to have me committed.
As you will read, the letter states that I am willing to discuss this further "on my terms." The trouble is, I don't know what those terms are at this point. It also indicates that there is the possibility of yet a fourth step that I must take. Will there then be a fifth or sixth? Will it ever end? And should they want to talk about it, what will be their aim? To tear apart whatever I say? To confess and ask forgiveness? To seek reconciliation? To demand an apology?
While there is so much unknown, this I know: I have done the right thing for me at this moment in time. Regardless of the fall out, I do not regret having done this. My life is forever changed.
Here, then, for your consideration, is The Letter:
May 9, 2006
Dear Mom and Dad,
Every month you send me your church newsletter and sometimes include personal notes. You always remember birthdays and special occasions. Outwardly, these things appear so nice and sincere, but they belie the truth of what has gone on behind closed doors.
First of all, there has been a consistent dishonoring of my boundaries. Despite my request for space and time to work through some things, you continued to contact me, both by mail and in person. In addition, at times you have circumvented me completely by contacting my mother-in-law to gather information. Not only that, but you have contacted my pastor’s wife to glean information, as well. To some it would communicate a deep love and longing for your daughter and be completely justified. However, true love respects another’s requests, regardless of whether they are understood or the hardship they place on you. Your behavior indicates that you have been more concerned with how this has affected you than with what I have been going through.
Second, our family has been built on lies, deception, and manipulation. My childhood was littered with physical and emotional abuse, coupled with an extremely controlling parenting style which allowed for no deviation from your ways of thinking and living.
It was so important to present a perfect exterior to the world, but underneath was another reality – that of sexual and satanic ritual abuse. I know that through you I was involved in rituals done in the context of satanic worship and had mind-control programming forced upon me.
Attending a Christian church as well as a Christian school and being indoctrinated with the Bible at home were all designed to train me to take my place within the cult while maintaining a cover of being a good Christian, above reproach and suspicion. I praise God that what was intended for evil has been redeemed and used by Him to rescue me from the kingdom of darkness and bring me into eternal fellowship with Him.
I cannot imagine that this letter brings too many surprises. Instead, it is finally vocalizing what’s likely been suspected (the sexual abuse) on some level. My desire in writing to you now is two-fold. I recognize that time is growing short and I feel an obligation to stop perpetuating the secrecy that has been a part of our lives. Also, I’m hoping that given the opportunity, you will confess and renounce your misplaced allegiance and align yourself fully with the true Lord Jesus Christ.
It is natural for a daughter to want to have relationship with her parents. However, I see no way for this to happen without acknowledgement of what has taken place. My prayer is that God will make a way for you to see Him for who He really is. While I choose to forgive you, I will not place myself or my family in harm’s way.
I am willing to meet with you in person, on my terms, to discuss this further. Please do not contact either Randy or Victoria, Randy’s family, or anyone else who is a part of my life. I am sending a copy of this letter to my brothers and sisters so that they will have an accurate account of what I have brought to you, and to minimize any twisting or misunderstanding that may occur.
Praying for God to break through,
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