Or, at least it was fiction.
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Breathe, Live – A Repost
- Breathe, Live.
So from my post yesterday I’ve decided to consider my words here:
“When I left the church I literally became an introvert, not my natural inclination. I literally went underground. If anyone thinks that spiritual abuse ends when you finally get up and walk out you are mistaken. It can get even uglier (depending on circumstances) after you walk away, even when you still call yourself a Christian. It can be brutal. I think this also can depend on one’s personality. I’m sad in so many ways for the days and weeks and years that I wasted grieving a world that never gave me a second thought after I left, while I sat on the computer looking desperately for help in Christian forums for the spiritually abused and hurting Christians which often can lead to further abuse. Ironic. I poured through books. Christian books, Christian authors who wrote about abuse, about legalism, about literalism, about denominations, about who is right and who is wrong, who is righteous and who is carnal.”
I’d like to climb back into this space to expand on this a bit. Yesterday’s post was a rant. I’ve blogged about all that stuff years ago. As the years go by though I often find myself shocked by the commitment of time and money that went into trying to sort it all out both intellectually and emotionally. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to put words into the physical despair. I always want to go there. Always. I likely will, probably have and can’t remember it and am too tired to bother looking through my archives for it. Some of it will come out in my stories I will try to tell.
This post I think will be about the highlighted part above.
I noticed I typed the word “sad” in my above quote. I’ve had a lot of sad in my life. I remember when I wrote that word I wondered if I should change it to “regret.” I chose sad. After pondering it maybe the correct phrasing would be, “sad regret.” Though I think most of us who regret are sad about it. I want to paint a picture of who I am during those years in my 30’s & 40’s as a result of spiritual abuse. I was devastated and wasted. I was a stay at home mom with chronic illness and emotional stuff that was being poked day after day night after night year after year. In hindsight, bleak. Our children were in school, Biker Dude at work, and I was alone for hours wandering in a house, a library full of books, Christian books, authors from various denominations and theological positions, and a dinosaur computer (though not at the time) that I turned to after reading the book The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse. I found the forum that Jeff (co-author of the book) started many years ago. This isn’t easy to admit. I don’t like how I feel remembering it. Tears well up in my eyes. There were many years that I feel were wasted searching. I was very much alone.
I developed social anxiety and a panic disorder. I was suffering with *PTSD-like symptoms. There’s more to all of this but will leave it at that for now. One of my former friends use to say that God never gives us more than we can bear. I use to think to myself, ‘Yes He does!’ I’d look around at my friends and think they’ve got their own burdens to bear that God allows. I’m not adding to God’s load by sharing mine.
So what do I mean by “very much alone” . . . good question? I think I mean I had too much time on my hands. I wasn’t working out of the home (had my reasons) and what happened in the church paralyzed me with fear. There I was, stuck. How did I spend my time alone? I was a profuse reader and writer. I took copious notes and studied. It’s like I was getting ready to teach a university class or something. It’s like I was trying to heal myself and heal the world all at the same time. I was desperately looking for the one Christian truth that was true. I didn’t know it was elusive. I didn’t know squat. Though I thought all these authors of books from then and now knew. Then I realized they all knew differently. Then I tried to make the differences insignificant. All the while there I am with my various Bibles at hand along with Strong’s and Unger’s and note books and note paper galore. Ink, ink and more ink. Copious piles of ink and paper in this drawer, in that drawer, in the closet, in the library, in the desk, in the china cabinet, in the kitchen buffet drawers, in my Bibles, in my books, in my purse. The bookmarked websites, here, there, everywhere. The underlining in my Bibles. The notes in the margins. The prayers. Oh the prayers. Without ceasing. The prayers. Prostrate on the floor, tears shampooing the carpet. On my knees, sore as the knee caps bore the weight of this thin but often frail frame.
If Jesus can die by crucifixion I can damn well kneel to pray.
Sitting on the bed gazing as the seasons passed by and sometimes not seeing anything but winter. Page after page in my journal of poetry, things written meant for books, prayers wondering if this season, winter, would ever end. The nights, in the dark, laying in bed, sitting on the couch, in the lazy-boy, searching the sky, the moon, the stars . . . grasping for Him. His truth. The many spiritual baptisms in the tub and the shower. Every moment, every cell, all Jesus all the time. I never felt He left me. I knew I had to keep praying, keep searching . . . the truth would come. I’d find the right denomination, the correct exegesis, the true Biblical interpretation. I’d find the people who were waiting for me, for our family. God would lead.
In a very odd way the people who died at Jonestown just came to mind.
I’m not churchless during this time. Though we left the one church after years and walked away from our lay youth ministry, we remained. I remained in church for many more years. At that time, I’m still surrounded by people, by activity, by shared beliefs and the hope that this church will work. Thing is, it was more of the same. When I realized it, I walked. But I still searched. I, alone in the house spent hours everyday pouring through resources and praying. The topic of spiritual abuse came out into the open. Books were written. I read them all.
Picture me then.
I’m alone, curled up in the black computer desk chair in the computer room. I read on the screen. I glance at my Bible, I look outside, what season is it? The clock ticks away the seconds, minutes, hours. The kids will be home soon. Didn’t they just leave for school? You need to stop, to pull yourself away from this search, this place of pain. You are alone here. No one knows you do this. God knows. Yes. Is there more to life than this? Yes. Did I miss it? Yes. There’s so much I missed by sitting there every day, my pacing the floor, praying, reading, studying, crying dehydrated tears, aching, sleepless, tormented, afraid, isolated and torn. That’s what I regret with sadness. I stopped living. I beat myself up for not being able to figure it out. Everything became hyper-spiritualized. Everything was a spiritual war. When I say I beat myself up I mean mentally and physically. I felt like shit. Listen, if you feel like that you are not living. I use to be a fun loving person.
Suddenly I found myself in an abyss I couldn’t climb out of but I didn’t know it at the time. Part of me wonders if I’m still here in this blogging world for those who don’t know they are in an abyss. Don’t hurt yourself. Don’t do it. You are not shit. You are not trash. You are not stupid. You aren’t. Breathe. Take a walk. Pick up your camera. Change the dialogue in your head. I know it’s a huge task. Take 10 seconds and change the dialogue. It’s a start. Find something that is creative. I don’t care if your crocheting is crooked, nor should you. Garden. Paint. Start a blog. Breathe. Live.
- *I was eventually diagnosed with PTSD and later with C-PTSD which is complex trauma. Not just one event, but several, one on top of another. Many layers, having their primary roots in the first 20 years of my life. I’ve resurrected this post since it’s resurrection time in the Christian community and though my profile here is low, I am reminded of those who are still hurting and it’s my way of saying that I’ve been there and I understand from my own personal experience.
I have added a new category on the blog, mostly for quick reference for me, titled: Zoe’s favourites.
This blog was first posted a few years back HERE.
Northrup’s Latest
Can’t comment at the moment. If you don’t want to watch/listen to it, my tags will tip you off as to some of the content.
My Benediction
The grift never ends. Those who go after Big Pharma are themselves Big Pharma. They sell their wares, especially in regards to detoxing the stupid people who got a Covid “V” (using Northrup’s preferred vocabulary. When you’ve got the audience hooked, you have to keep them hooked. And so she does and will and there is no end to it, until she dies herself and the next one steps up to continue the work . . . all in the name of the spiritual place humanity is headed to. When she dies, and she will, as the rest of us will too, her flock will have to figure out why. Naturally, the “why” will add to the list of conspiracies. The thing is, her death will mean nothing in regards to her purpose these past two years. Oh for sure, the vulnerable, the hurting, the confused and the fearful will always remember her so called benevolent and loving harp. They will always remember how she “ministered” to their souls as she tried to be a spiritual leader to them all, appearing both humble and chosen. They will always praise her for giving of herself so unselfishly for the benefit of humankind. All her prophecies that never came to fruition will fall prey to yet more conspiratorial stories. Maybe even a whole new religion based on a cracked foundation of zero evidence for her claims will form. However, countless individuals like my mother, will be left totally depressed (she is because nothing Northrup says has happened as she said it would) if she in fact outlives Northrup. And though I have concentrated here on Northrup, there are others out there that are far worse than her if you can believe it. Mom ingests all of them.
I’m looking for my off-ramp where Northrup is concerned. The amount of material to focus on is abundant. It is never-ending. It has been enough for me to delve into for very personal reasons. Like all the years I studied to understand my former Christian belief system. At some point, I moved on from that, though I can engage, I often choose not too. Or, I limit my input. There comes a time when the sorrow attached to it all weighs heavily on the heart. The exercise has been beneficial for understanding me, mom and a lot of humanity throughout history. I don’t have the energy anymore to go point by point to try and warn and or educate. My therapist shared something, with a caveat that at first this sounds terrible to say, but: Some people are just terminal.
Without going into more personal detail, this wasn’t about suicide or suicidal ideation. This was more about, if I understand it correctly, accepting that some people can’t be moved. And it’s more than a sense of them not wanting to move, they just can’t. They are in their own world and regardless of the reasons, some people can’t reason other than where they are at.
Over the years of recovery for me, I have read, I have studied, I have prayed my knees raw (in those years), I have listened, I have contemplated, I have educated myself and I have played devil’s advocate. If you’re going to try to educate others than you have to spend time studying the other side. Until of course, it’s time to stop. It doesn’t matter about their new tricks. There aren’t any new tricks. Actually, nothing has changed. I look at Christianity. What has really changed? Maybe that there are more denominations/sects now then when I joined up . . . but they’re still Christianity. I look at Northrup. What has really changed since she went full-on anti-everything and full-on conspiracy-everything? Nothing really. She’s still evangelizing her spirituality. Yes they move the goal posts all over the place but to no advantage really, other than keeping the minnows trapped in the minnow trap and putting food on her own table.
Just Because
*Memoir-type posts.
*When I write these memoir-type posts, I am reflecting on the past. These are not current exchanges. I just remembered I have a category for memoir-type posts so I’ll get back to including that in some of these posts.
“It’s the Jews” she said. I internally hit a wall, or wait, is that my heart stopping?
I stare at her. Again she waits for a response. I refrain.
She repeats herself. Then drops names.
We are in a restaurant.
I do not respond but I am learning that not responding is an open door for her to keep going. Still, I wonder . . . does she even hear herself?
I know my mother has a lot of trauma in her review mirror, but I also know she’s tried to run from it her whole life. Though I am aware of most of it, there is something **yet unspoken. My siblings all asked me what it was. I’ve always said: It is something but we may never know.
I sit and listen to her. I hear every single word. I wonder where the woman who took on the gay ordination debate in our church went. The woman who spoke up in favour of gay ordination. The woman who told the then preacher, to take a hike. (And many more trail-blazing paths she took on.)
When she finally stopped, she looked at me waiting for a response. I stayed calm and said: Mom. I hear every single word you say. I hear you. But, just because I hear you doesn’t mean I agree with you. I don’t. I don’t believe any of that. And just because you keep on about it doesn’t mean I will in the future. Just because you say it doesn’t mean I believe you.
She looked at me and said, “I know.”
It was the end of that conversation.
** I am now aware of the “unspoken.”
Hodge-Podge
THIS is who my mother follows. I have been listening to her videos on Instagram for about 5 months. I was actually caught by surprise to note that “she is my mom.” Now, she’s not my actual mother, but mom mimic’s her in every way. Especially in the hands and some facial expressions. I wasn’t so much surprised as startled really. I realized that mom had been mimicking her for years.
There are times I must take breaks from listening to her. If you are looking for a hodge-podge of explanations for our existence, for our galactic/planetary history, for the present and for the future . . . well it’s all here.
If you want to go down the rabbit-hole of understanding conspiracy (remember it’s not to them) and reality (remember, it is to them) and good vs evil (remember that’s the core of their mission).
If you want to understand the cult of personality (remember, to them it is not a cult.) It is following higher-beings tasked with absolute knowledge and “they” are here to help us, the lower-plane humans.)
If you want to understand what’s going on politically (remember, they know what’s going on.)
If you want, click on the link. Her most recent video (if Facebook didn’t remove it) is at the top of the right hand margin. She starts off basically mentioning Jan. 20/21.
If you think taking notes will help you get a grip on their logic . . . good luck.
In following it over a period of time I notice the unfinished sentences, the jumping from one topic to another and maybe back again. Saying “the evidence shows” and never providing the evidence, though sometimes she waves a sheet up and rattles of a url on different things like transhumanism, mRNA vaccines that change our DNA as well as personal opinions (that seem to cover her ass or deflect the fact that she’s literally coming across as literal.) She’ll sometimes follow up by saying: But I don’t know. I’m thinking, then why do you present yourself as an authority that does know?
She uses the *C* letter as a word to denote Covid and she uses her fingers to form a *V* when referring to “the virus.” It has become a way of trying to avoid detection on Facebook and Instagram. She’s been flagged here and there and when she was a little more obvious I think from what she’s said that her videos were taken down at some point. She talked at one time of going underground. Places like Parlor and MeWe. I don’t think she went there. She may also be on YouTube. I haven’t checked.
I’ve noticed over a period of time that the goal posts shift. It’s over a period of time that one notices those things and dates where stuff was suppose to happen . . . actually didn’t and oddly, no one seems to notice, or a very quick flitting confusing explanation is given. The odd person shows up to ask ‘why what happened didn’t happen’ only to be labelled trolls, narcissists, reptiles, dark ones, sleeping lions (good people, just not awake yet and unenlightened.) Don’t worry about the good sleeping lions though. They’ll soon see and it is then they’ll realize that we’ve been right all long. Hold on, The Awakening is happening.
She reminds me of my former belief-system. Born-again Christianity.
She has a following. And, for the most part she has followed a ton of other people herself (the hierarchy). I will say that my first impression was Insanity. But you know, if that is the case, there are a lot of insane people. I tend to wonder, if traumatized isn’t a more apt term. People who are traumatized. After all, we all have a story and life if anything is deadly. Existential threats abide. Beliefs are formed. People are not so much insane as traumatized. Perhaps it is a lazy word I use to try to cope with the moment at hand.
Awhile ago she brought up a start up group called Make America Free Again. It was promoting like-minded people to get together in homes with the intent of basing their coming together first as a caring community (people are so lonely due to the hand gesture *V* and need a mask-less hug to feel human again), secondly to slowly start to bring up their agenda (government conspiracies, the virus, the masks, personal autonomy, sovereign lives, historical conspiracies, galactic/planetary/alien beliefs and more in order to educate, and thirdly to slowly promote (the agenda because overwhelming them isn’t productive) and have them join the movement as individual as well as collective activists for their now common cause. All of it as a benevolent way to prepare for the New Earth.
Ah I said to myself, Friendship Evangelism.
I couldn’t escape the premise of hope given by her and to a number of people who appear to be vulnerable and scared to death. Her role appears to be to give them insider information that will ease their angst. It’s like a hodge-podge spiritual ideas warehouse rehab centre presented as authentic. Just believe, have faith and trust the message coming down from the higher-beings via the light-workers and channelers. Not that different than Christianity &/or other religious promises. Hope, peace, fear, follow, believe, faith, higher-beings, light-workers (pastors), channelers (evangelists.) It’s not hard to see why some Christians would be absorbed into this miasmic balm of community and defend themselves progressives as they did so.
One of the highlighted admonitions/warnings is: stay away from mainstream media. Stay away. It’s all a lie. It’s all false. It looks one way but it is really another way. Don’t trust anything you see on T.V. Don’t trust the footage of the violence at the capital on Jan. 6/21. Nope. Fake. Actors. Didn’t happen. Just hold on. We’re almost there. Trump won. Whatever you see re: Jan. 20/21 isn’t really factual.
Yes, the Qanon stuff is woven inside and out through all of this too. Her approach to the dialogue to her parishioners is to develop sort of her own insider language. Sort of like Christianese (for those who know what I mean.)
When we attended church, we were expected to be there morning, noon and night. Some of you will get that. Twice on Sundays, including Sunday School, meetings and choir practice. Wednesday, be there or be square. Choir, youth meeting, prayer meeting. Phone calls in the middle of the night? Take them. Fit in the rest of the week with family, try to snuggle with your partner, be the Jesus others will never see in the community, in the schools and at work. Try to remember to eat well, pee and poop when you get the urge, instead of thinking you have to put everyone else first and hold on to the shit. Pardon moi.
You know the phrase, separation of church and state?
Church was about separation of church and family and scripture was used to back it up or Christianese (a sprinkle of scripture with a dash of mission statement and a pinch of church constitution along with the wooden-spoon look that left you knowing you’ve forgotten you are saved Christian and reminded you are a Christian but still a sinner and don’t you forget it!) Your family is important but not as important as the church.
You need to be here.
But what about our unsaved family. Shouldn’t we be with them? They think we are wrong. How can we reach them if we are not with them?
Let God take care of them. Let your belief and your lifestyle and your work be your testimony to them and the world.
In these videos I began to realize why it is that mom appears not to give a shit about me and is comfortable being disconnected from me. She is being preached at constantly about separation from those who don’t agree with them/her. Don’t worry about your loved ones who disagree. They just don’t know yet. And remember, they are reincarnated souls who chose “this” life so you can’t change the agreement they made before they came here. It’s okay to let them go. Some may still be on the earth at The Great Awakening and come around because they’ll then see it, others may not. It’s not your job.
So families are further divided. And people like my mom, (and young mother’s who turn away from their parents, and men who abandon peaceful friendships for violent alliances built on lies,) ignore reality and lose touch with their family because she believes she’s not going to die because this guru for years has talked about surviving death and new earth and countless other promises and mom is believing (along with the many others) that she will not die and everything is going to be okay, including her relationship with her children and family . . . and it’s all because of the hodge-podge belief system. Mom’s favourite saying with a cheshire cat grin and an air of arrogance and mystical knowing (because she’s on a higher plane) proclaims: You’ll see. Just remember what I said. You’ll see that I’m right.
I often think of the people who followed their simple preacher to Jonestown. It’s okay mom. He’s right and I believe him. You’ll see. It will be a new earth, and new beginning, a paradise. When you see it’s true, I’ll send for you and together we’ll live peacefully forever and over . . . okay? Hug. Kiss. Talk soon.
Secular Wings 