Category Archives: Traits of Christian Fundamentalism

Why I Don’t Believe in Sin

If you read here often, you know Anne Rice is one of my favorite women. She recently posted this question to her Facebook fans:

What do you think about the word, sin? I think it’s a bad word, a confusing word. It doesn’t help us to meet the challenges we face. What do you think? Do you believe in “sin?” What is it? Can you define it for me and others?

My reply was quite simple: “I don’t believe in sin. I think what people really mean when they talk about sin is becoming a better person. Growing and working on yourself is something we should all aspire to do, but to call our shortcomings “sin” is damaging. Some of the “sin” I used to think I had in the past was actually my personality and some of it was depression.”

Quite simply, the idea of sin is made up by preachers and people who want to perpetuate religion. Is the idea of sin really necessary as a driving force to be a better person? Is guilt necessary to cause us to “confess” our shortcomings? I don’t think so. Before you disagree and point out the Boston bombers or some other example, of course, I agree with you: there are people who do bad things, who hurt other people, etc. But the complexity surrounding these people is much greater than just “He’s a monster,” or “She’s evil.” Rarely is there a moment where things are so simple.

All dark deeds aside, many of us have had religious-induced guilt pounded into our psyche for far too long. So much that we find it easy to “admit we’re a sinner” and ask for forgiveness. Look, I’m fine asking someone for forgiveness that I’ve hurt, but I don’t believe that I should admit I’m a sinner. I’m not a sinner. I’m a good person, but I have emotions. I get angry, sad, glad, upset, depressed, and on occasion I have a moment of rage. I think that makes me human, not a sinner.

If you want to sell the “sinner” path, great. I hope someone buys your bullshit. As for me, I’ll be over here in “enjoying life” land.

Interested in hearing more of why I left Christianity? Read this piece of work (I say that sarcastically) by John Piper talking about sin: http://www.worldmag.com/2013/04/we_re_all_broken_what_then What complete and total bullshit. I can’t be a part of a religion that teaches this nonsense.

[Thanks to my friend Suzi for the John Piper article link.]

Antimodernism: The Demonization of Dating

What is antimodernism?

There’s a phrase in the religious studies community: “antimodernism” that can help us describe some of what goes on in the fundamentalists mind. Antimodernism can be defined as the rejection of modern technology, ideals, etc. for a “purer” historical or pre-historical way of life. Antimodernism doesn’t just describe religious fundamentalists, but the term does apply in many ways.

In my experience, Master’s Commission held many antimodernist ideals:

The rejection of technology.
The rejection of dating.
The rejection of classical or “secular” education.
The rejection of the women’s movement.

I’ll explain each of these further.

The rejection of dating occurs in many Master’s Commission groups. Just google “Master’s Commission rules.” You’ll get a return search of several MC groups Information Packets that include amongst their rules “no secular music, no rated R movies, limited cell phone and internet usage.”

In my own Master’s Commission experience, we weren’t allowed to date as a first-year student. As a second-year or third-year “intern” or “support staff,” dating was rare and often forbidden, depending on a person’s choice of dating partner.

Eventually, dating was demonized and courtship was the appropriate way of meeting a partner.

What is courtship? Courtship is a way of meeting a marriage partner. Two people only enter into a courtship when and if they feel ready for marriage and they have “prayed” about their partner being the “one” who matches their “destiny” in life. The two must be sexually pure during the time of courtship, and often are mentored by pastors or church elders who hold them accountable to their purity.

Courtship usually entails rules of no kissing and even no hand-holding. Courtship can also mean group dates or dates that are with family or accountability partners only.

Alone time in a courtship relationship is strongly forbidden, as the couple may “stumble” and “submit to sexual temptation.”

For more information on courtship, see I Kissed Dating Good-bye by Joshua Harris and Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot.

Antimodernism: The Demonization of Technology

What is antimodernism?

In my experience, Master’s Commission held many antimodernist ideals:

The rejection of technology.
The rejection of dating.
The rejection of classical or “secular” education.
The rejection of the women’s movement.

I’ll explain each of these further.

The rejection of technology occurs in many Master’s Commission groups. Just google “Master’s Commission rules.” You’ll get a return search of several MC groups Information Packets that include amongst their rules “no secular music, no rated R movies, limited cell phone and internet usage.”

In my own Master’s Commission experience, we weren’t allowed to watch rated R movies. Even PG-13 movies were criticized. Anything that had sex, violence, cussing, etc. or suggested the like was criticized and banned.

Secular music was forbidden. If you were caught with such music, or even Christian music that was too violent, or had a lot of “anger” in it, it was subject to being destroyed or burned.

Mercy Ministries Anti-Gay Message; Archaic “Treatment”

Mercy Ministries runs a supposedly very successful “group home” or “treatment center” in various cities around the country and the world. They are an international success among some Christian believers which is why hundreds of women are on the waiting list (according to a Mercy insider).

However, just like many fundamentalist Christian groups Mercy has a very hateful message to lesbian young women who attend the program:

Being gay is a sin and could be a “root cause” of your mental disorder.

As their website states:

The root cause, in a Christian program like Mercy is typically a manufactured sin that the program leaders and related ministers have concocted.

What exactly is a manufactured sin? Evangelical fringe leaders often teach ideologies that are damaging: like “purity” and “abstinence” programs, anti-gay messages which are similar to the 1950′s messages that being gay was a mental disorder.

I own a book that I picked up from a used bookstore in North Hollywood, CA called The Problem with Homosexuality by Charles Berg, M.D. and Clifford Allen, M.D. These were actual professionals in the late 50′s who literally believed homosexuality was a problem–much like Mercy Ministries does. Mercy doesn’t just believe being gay is a sin; but that it’s a “root cause” of something much deeper and much more problematic.

Mercy Ministries is part of the Evangelical movement that Joyce Meyer and Dave Ramsey are part of. If those ties don’t phase you, we’ve got to look a bit closer. A few weeks ago, I noticed the Healing Place Church and Dino Rizzo on Nancy’s list of recommended ministries. There was also mention of (and a link to) Steve and Jennifer Robinson’s church and ministry. Interestingly enough, my own cult has ties to both of these pastors: Steve Robinson and Dino Rizzo. My former pastor, Alex Jones, who I write about here is an abusive pastor. When I was beginning to find how to report the abuse, I reached out to Dino Rizzo hoping that he’d act as a liason and support the victims.

He did not.

After finding that correlation, I now know where Mercy stands in the Evangelical circle. I know the ideology, the teachings, the messages behind the sermons Nancy preaches. (Does anyone find it ODD that a “treatment center” would have preacher for it’s founder, president and leader? No medical, organizational, or psychological qualifications here. She is not a social worker or even an activist for young women contrary to her “Christian” image.)

Mercy Ministries is just a sermon, it’s not help. Mercy brainwashes young women into “loving Jesus” and “bearing good fruit.” This is their coercive way of theologically “fighting” mental illness and eating disorders.

Anyone can tell you that eating disorders and mental illness do not get treated or solved by Jesus or a sermon. They require professional medical help. In fact, some professionals would argue that bringing young women into a center to claim treatment and denying them medical attention could be much more potent than just “wrong” or unethical.

However, if you operate on 1950′s medical and psychological ideas, which Mercy does, it’s understandable why girls would be taught that their disorders are their problem and they are to blame. This is unethical and even if Mercy claims they are not a medical facility, they are lying. According to survivors of this program, Mercy represented otherwise.

In the book The Problem of Homosexuality, the authors begin their argument by saying this:

homosexuality [is] an abomintion in the eyes of the Lord…

Now that statement isn’t what you would expect from a doctor is it? Nor is it what you’d expect from a “treatment center” like Mercy Ministries which promises young women that they will be cured.

Mercy’s residents weren’t all gay. In fact, many of the girls were straight and were reaching out to the program because they thought they would be getting legitimate care. However, those girls who were troubled with mental disorders or eating disorders and were gay, were accused of harboring “sin” which was the cause of their illness. Mercy was regurgitating the ideas about homosexuality from the 1950′s. Perhaps their “medical” treatment was just as outdated.

What I’m saying is that however archaic and hate-filled Mercy’s message is to young women, it’s completely abusive and psychologically destructive. This program needs to be shut down before a young woman dies from their maltreatment.

What It Feels Like to Be Depressed

I’m borrowing the title of this post from my friend Marcella who is writing a memoir about her life with her father who was born a man and transitioned into being a woman. Her memoir in progress is called What it Feels Like and you can join her conversation on Facebook here.)

***

Years ago, I made an appointment with a weight-loss doctor in Century City. Over the course of three or four years my body had grown disproportionate and my weight gain had spiraled out of control. I examined my lifestyle, my eating habits and could assess that most of my weight gain occurred from two medications I took at two different periods of time.

No one cares why you gain weight, though. To society, you are fat. To my own self, I was fat and my weight kept rising. It was a scary confirmation that my depression was out of control, a fact that I knew all too well. My ability to eat, though, meant that I was alive. I wasn’t suicidal and I didn’t kill myself. I often felt I should be dead. The pain was unbearable.

The weight loss doctor greeted me in his office and we had an instant connection, something deeper than I’d ever had with any other doctor. We spent over an hour talking about writing, religion and politics. We barely discussed my weight during the first visit. Then he remembered the meaning of my visit and we got back to business. I started developing feelings for my doctor, but I was sure he didn’t reciprocate them. Certainly not. I was his fat patient. He was helping me lose weight. It reminded me of a quote a girl I knew kept on her refrigerator, “Hot guys don’t like fat girls.” This self-hatred deterred her from eating and it helped me keep my feelings in check.

Throughout the next few months, I visited him and called him as often as was prescribed. We became very close, partly because I can be a very vulnerable person emotionally and partly because he was so compassionate. His first set of blood tests brought back something he noted. My thyroid hormones were not regulating normally causing me to have a condition called hypothyroidism. But he needed to know more about my symptoms. He asked me a series of questions: Did I suffer from constipation, hair loss, brittle nails, dry skin? My answers were yes. Sleeping problems? Yes. Depression? Yes. Fatigue? Yes. On what levels were all of these? About a ten each, I answered. I suffered from horrible fatigue and could never get out of bed. I’d had this as long as I could remember. Weight gain was also a condition of hypothyroidism. Depression could be caused by hypothyroidism and could also cause weight gain.

***

My doctor knew I suffered from depression. I was in college at the time and I may have started crying at some points during our talks as was my typical m.o. It wasn’t how I tried to score dates. In those days it was a result of having a conversation with someone who cared. At all.

We’d discussed the history my family had with depression and suicide. Just about everyone in my mother’s family had been depressed and one had a successful venture with suicide. I had reason to be worried about myself.

He diagnosed me with anxiety, which surprised me. I’d always concluded that depression was the cause of all my problems but he’d handed me another issue–something that complicated my feelings about my experience with religion even more. Religion, more accurately fundamentalism and seven years in a coercive group, caused me to develop anxiety.

I knew I suffered high-levels of anxiety but I’d never thought much about it. I stressed often and greatly. I often felt unloved, like I was detestable to people. I still feel this way.

In part, religious guilt took that adolescent, anxious feeling I’d learned to deal with and complicated it. If I were a “sinner” then of course I could never be good enough for a god that wanted retribution on sinners. It made sense to me that I wasn’t good enough for god because I never felt good enough for those around me.

***

I’ve learned to cope with depression and anxiety. Not perfectly, but I’m too hard on myself or so my mom says.

My mother and I have conversations several times weekly. She assures me I’m normal and strong and in a way it’s like she’s telling herself this. At eighteen, she attempted suicide. When she calls me and tells me she’s concerned about me, I know there’s more than just motherly concern. She can feel the change in me. The dive into darkness. The feelings of being overwhelmed with loneliness.

The past two weeks been dark and lonely. Regardless of who surrounds me, how busy I am, or how active I am, I feel it. I feel the plunge and I can’t escape.

Depression, some people argue, is something you CAN prevent. You can control your feelings and make your way out of it. It’s a choice and you’re lazy or weak if you can’t fix yourself.

To me, depression is something I don’t understand and something I can’t often can’t tell I’m suffering from when it attacks. Thoughts of driving my car into another car seem normal. Desiring physical pain to match my emotional pain feels healthy. Pushing away loving, caring people is normal. It’s what I do because I depend on some people so much that I’m often hurt when they don’t notice I’m down or when they don’t know how to fix me.

***

Years ago my friend Jordan was frustrated with me. I often cried on the phone with him. I was deeply depressed some days and I was hoping he could save me from myself.

It was my pre-Effexor (an anxiety medicine that also serves as an anti-depressant) days. He knew my pain all too well; his mother suffered from the same thing. He was busy saving his mom from herself and didn’t have time to save me.

“Lisa, you need to get help for this. No one, not even your mom, is going to be able to force you to live or try to get better.”

I didn’t think I needed medication at the time and Jordan was trying to convince me otherwise.

I followed his advice and I accepted the medication from my weight loss doctor. I decided to try to get help for myself so my dark days would seem a little brighter.

For years it helped, nearly flawlessly. Until about a month ago, I often thought, “This is what it feels like to be NORMAL.”

About a month ago, I took birth control pills and the suicidal thoughts started again. It’s normal for some patients to feel this way, the package said. So I stopped the pills.

My emotions regulated. I was almost normal again.

A week ago, I got in the first big fight with my boyfriend. We argued about something I felt justified in feeling. Everyone said so. He was less than compassionate. We made up. We fought again. I pushed him away and put my foot down. After pushing him away, I loved him more than ever. Our argument finally reached a breaking point, we both compromised. Everything was fine, or would’ve been.

And then yesterday I felt it again. The feeling of possibly nothing at all to be upset about but I was distraught, anxious, nervous. He didn’t love me, I was sure of it. He hadn’t texted me all day, or returned my texts. He had plans after work related to another job he has and I was let down. He was rejecting me, I was sure of it. He was leaving me like they all do.

For two hours I lay in bed crying. I wanted to do things that might get him to respond, to show emotion, to care. The normal things came to mind, all including death. For hours I contemplated what to do and thought pills would be most effective. What kind, though? How many? Couldn’t I just check myself in somewhere? Do I call my mom? No, it’s almost midnight. I have a work deadline tomorrow. I can’t breakdown.

And then he called me. He wasn’t aware of my meltdown because he’d been working all day, as usual. And as usual, he can’t answer his phone at work because he’s teaching people. Nothing was wrong. He didn’t hate me. In fact, he was joking with me and sharing stories of his day with me, as he usually did.

It helped tremendously. I knew and know that he loves me, possibly more than any man ever has.

Even in relationships, my loneliness has always existed. Regardless of how much someone shows me they love me, I don’t always believe it. I don’t feel worthy or good enough. I feel unlovable.

This is what it feels like to be depressed.

Breaking My Silence: My Story of Religious Abuse

For the past year and a half, I’ve written a blog about escaping what my therapist and I have called a cult; the tedious and emotional recovery; and then the admittance of the diagnosis my therapist gave me: depression, anxiety, posttraumatic stress disorder (all from my cult experience). Yesterday, Robin Morgan wrote a wonderful piece of satire on the Women’s Media Center blog called Exclusive: Faith-healing: A Modest Proposal on Religious Fundamentalism where she proceeded to examine fudmantalists against the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). What’s funny is that this piece of satire struck home with me, a recovering fundamentalist, who has been diagnosed with mental conditions based on my seven year long participation in a fundamentalist cult. Morgan’s joke was more serious to me than I wanted to admit. Upon further studying, though, I began speaking with college professors who were cult experts (some of whom were involved in very prominent cases and in communication with well-known, but now dead, cult leaders over the years) and talking to hundreds of people on the web asking them to share their personal stories. I’ve now started to consider this: perhaps my group and many others are so difficult to categorize (as cult, or new religious group) because they are so similar to the modern fundamentalist church. Maybe the modern-day cult is just your neighborhood fundamentalist church. And maybe that cult, or destructive group, or new religious group (pick a term, whatever term) with abusive teachings, public humilation, and totalitarian hierachical power structures has long been invading our politics, our schools and our doctors offices. Fundamentalist churches, often known as evangelical churches, are very common in America and globally. The only trouble? They look absolutely normal. They’re often not easy to spot from the outside, at least for people looking for an upbeat, contemporary place of worship with solid family values. Fundamentalist churches typically are very vague about their system of beliefs and sometimes they have very little accountability structure. They may be led by a preacher or pastor who has almost no one he has to report in to or be held responsible to for his words, teachings and his finances. Worse yet, sometimes this preacher or pastor has very little academic training and little understanding about historical and cultural norms in Biblical days (thus the homophobic rage that comes from those pulpits). Read more here…

Leaving Was the Hardest Part

When I was seventeen, I graduated high school and packed up to move to Phoenix, Arizona. I was joining Master’s Commission, a discipleship training program for college aged students. I was elated–it was my first time moving away from home and I loved the idea of dorm life and beginning my path into adulthood.

Master’s Commission wasn’t what I expected it to be, though. Instead of traveling around the world, acting at high school assemblies, and getting to know God better through studying the Bible, I spent several years in Master’s Commission as near slavery. You think I’m exaggerating? I know. I get that all the time. Seriously, though. I was forbidden to go off campus without permission from a discipleship leader, couldn’t date without the permission of my pastor, scrubbed toilets, washed dishes, did laundry (for the pastor), and home schooled the pastors children.

I was quickly branded the “good girl” and was put to work in the pastor’s home taking care of their children and often writing sermons for the pastors. I was a “pastors wife in training.” My senior pastor called me that, actually. He would walk in the house and call, “Woman of God! Did you go running today? We don’t want you to pack on the pounds like my wife here.” (His wife was a size two.)

They snatched me up to groom me into looking like them, teach me ministry etiquette, and give me face time with the pastor so I could “counsel” with him and make sure my decisions were ran through him before I did anything major in life. I raised their children, in part, because they wanted me to be a good mother when their chosen pastor came along to propose to me, and the other part of the plan was that they wouldn’t have to pay a nanny since I worked nearly for free. I planned the holiday church staff parties, decorated the pastors tables, and learned to cook the favorite cajun meals, so I could be the absolute hostess when my time came. I was encouraged to run every morning, and not to eat fried foods, because no one likes a fat pastors wife. My hair was to be grown out long, and blonde was the choice hair color. I was taught walk in stiletto heels, with a puffy chest, raised chin, and eye-brow just enough so I’d look sexy and mysterious.

It worked. The men wanted to be near me.

However, the pastor had his own set of ideas when it came to what men were suitable and unsuitable for me.

His dream was to plant 100 churches in 100 years. I was to be on the next shipment out of the church, with my groom-to-be, so that we could plant a church in X City in Louisiana.

The pastors dream was tripped up for a second when I told him that I’d like to do missions work, with or without a husband. I’d also like to get a college education. And while I was at it, I really liked this one guy, T, not this other guy, J.

All of this was a terrible shock to the pastor.

Why?

I don’t think any woman in his life had stood up to him. Ever.

From that point, I knew that I couldn’t live in Louisiana anymore, and I couldn’t attend that church. I’d have to do the hardest thing I’d ever done until that point: leave the friends I’d grown to love for years.

I knew what happened to those who left the group. They were never spoken to, and they were whispered about quietly (mostly about the “sin” they were partaking in, and how they’d “backslid” into temptation).

My group was a cult, you see. I had no idea I’d been doing ministry in a cult for several years. I thought I was serving God.

***

In retrospect, everything that I was taught in this group was either extreme or destructive to my personal well-being. Not only is it unbiblical; it’s unrepresentative of the idea and teachings of Christianity. The way the Bible was twisted into oppressing us was horribly abusive. We were given the idea that we were not only sinful in nature, but we were rebellious, and couldn’t trust our own hearts because they’d lead us astray from what the leader taught us. And what our leader taught us, was God’s voice of authority in our lives. If we departed from it, we were in sin.

It took years for me to figure out that this group was a cult. It took tears and many therapy sessions until I could admit that those pastors whom I loved so deeply, were harmful to me. I also realized that I didn’t have to be a pastors wife, if I didn’t want to. I wasn’t limited by what someone chose for my life.

Many of my readers ask if it was so bad there, why didn’t you just leave? That’s not a simple answer, for me.

In some ways, this group gave me a life I wouldn’t have had without it. I had “favor” with pastors who were nearly worshipped by tens of thousands of people. I got to act in small productions, and co-write sermons for young adult conferences that thousands of teens would see. I could spend some precious moments in the morning journaling and soaking in nature. And most importantly, I was surrounded by peers and leaders who loved me and supported me while I was in “God’s will.” They became like family as I obeyed my pastors dictates. Actually, they considered themselves my only family and kept me away from my real family.

After a few years, the dark side began to emerge. I was surrounded by friends who acted like clones of each other. Every woman started preparing herself for motherhood and life as a full-time ministry “support” to her future husband. We’d spend hours grooming, and playing dress up, so that we could parade out before the chosen young men who may be our future husbands. We snatched up babies in church, so we could be seen cradling, coddling, and cooing–hoping our future husband may see us and approve.

My ministry family began to dictate my every move. “Where’d you go?” was a seemingly innocent question posed by a pastors wife. When we answered, we were rebuked with a sinister, “You know you’re supposed to ask permission. What if something happened while you were gone and we needed you?”

Worse than that, was when I decided I wanted to go to college, travel as a missionary, and write. “I really see you as a pastors wife,” my pastor said one muggy Louisiana afternoon when I told him my future goals. “What do you think about Joshua or Tavares?” he casually asked when I told him I didn’t want to be a pastors wife. “I’ve been grooming them for you.”

My parents played a big role in me leaving. They were discouraged to visit due to our busy schedules and the fact that my pastors always kept me dizzyingly busy, but they came to visit me one weekend. After lunch with the pastor, my parents told me that they didn’t like the way he was speaking to me and for me, and they felt it was an unhealthy place for me to be. They wanted me to leave.

But, to me the leaving this group was the hardest thing I’d had to face.

You’re shocked, I know.

To leave on your own, meant three things.

1. If you were leaving without a church or ministry appointment, you were considered to be rebellious, disobedient, and otherwise a castaway.

2. If you left on your own, many of your peers and fellow leaders would ostracize you and drop their loyalty to you as a friend.

3. You’d be alone without the support of the hundreds of friends you’d made.

After being in this group for several years, I’d seen hundreds of people come and go. The ones who weren’t “blessed” were quickly forgotten. We were discouraged from talking to them and encouraged to talk badly about them. We were not to model ourselves after them, but to take note of the “wrong” they’d done, and discuss how they’d fallen “out of God’s will.”

I’ve come to find out that leaving meant I’d feel sense a feeling of being alone and an “outsider” so deeply, and sincerely. It meant I’d cry for days on end, wouldn’t be able to hold a steady job for years, and would develop social anxiety from living in the real world after being in a “bubble” for so many years. It would mean I’d need therapy; would have “issues”; and begin taking an anti-anxiety medication which certainly meant I “wasn’t trusting in Jesus” enough.

It meant I’d be crushed by having people I knew and loved reject me and leave me. I’d be grieving for the loss of so many relationships I’d spent years cultivating. It also meant I’d develop anger when they’d try to add me on www.myspace.com or www.facebook.com accounts, because they wouldn’t speak to me, but they’d follow my every move. They’d report back what I’d done, said, or pictures I’d posted and would judge me critically behind my back.

They’d be condescending with, “I’ll pray for you’s” and “I hope you’re doing well,” which began to mean that they thought I couldn’t succeed in life without them, and that they strongly disapproved of every decision I’d made without them.

It’d eventually mean that I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. I was no longer accepted by those in the cult, but I was peculiar and odd to those who were in the normal world. For years, I felt misplaced. I felt misunderstood and troubled.

I began my Bachelor’s degree in 2005, after leaving Master’s Commission and Our Savior’s Church. I lived near my parents, and slowly developed a new set of friends. I entered a relationship with a therapist, who advised I cut out anyone from my life who was related to the Master’s Commission or Our Savior’s Church for my own mental and emotional well-being. I partially listened. I took classes on Christian fundamentalism, and I read everything I had time for–classic literature, holocaust literature, essays on evolution, philosophy books, etc.

I started a new path to self-discovery. I went back to my childhood dreams of becoming a writer. I took up drawing, as I did when I was 10. I taught myself to paint, photography, and to make new friends.

I opened up to my parents and friends. I cried when I needed to. I wrote painful stories.

When I chose to pre-write for a memoir (in the form of a blog) of my days in the cult, I faced the fear, the anger and the hate from them. They were outraged. They said I was spiritually attacking their pastor, that I was acting un-Christian, that I was lying. They did everything they could to silence me. To take away my voice.

What I found by continuing to write was that I was helping people. I had no idea how many broken, hurt people were out there who felt alone like I had. Hundreds have come forward and emailed me in the past five months.

How to get rid of toxic people

For the most part, I really enjoy xoJane.com. The articles that really catch my eye are written by bigger girls about issues fat women face. Then there were the Cervical Cancer Diaries which I loved because I was diagnosed with the same thing as the author a few years ago and it was terrifying. Yet, women rarely talk about it. Oh, and if you click those links, you’ll see photos that the authors take of themselves without photoshopping, and sometimes with no makeup. Or without a stylist. I feel like I’m talking to my friend when I read certain articles. Even the ads on the side have fat girls on them.

So what I’m about to say is in no way malicious or picking on Jane Pratt. I like what she does and her article titled How To Be Calm, Happy, Healthy and Keep Yucky People Away caught my eye. That’s like the theme of my life the past few years. I have a ton of anxiety, and grief and I’m struggling at times to manage personal relationships. It’s all hard shit and everyone has their own path to getting their life together.

So Jane keeps calm by wearing a new agey necklace. She jokes about it, though, so you can tell she’s not uptight about it, which is cool.

But I can’t do that kind of shit.

I used to be very spiritual and religious. Sometimes that’s the same thing, sometimes it’s not. What I’ve realized in retrospect is that it’s harder to sort of shave away all those crutches and short cuts because dealing with life is fucking hard. Like being calm? Fuck that. Not on my own. I take medication for that. And that’s not a crutch, that’s actually harder to do because then you have to come face to face with your genetic pre-disposition to certain disorders and then you have to realize that religious trauma and abuse may have caused you to have the anxiety you live with. Oh, and remembering your childhood? Medication please!

How do you keep “yucky people” away, though? Doesn’t everyone want to know this one? Toxic people suck and let’s be real…we’re all capable of spreading some ill-will now and then. But there are truly terrible people out there, and it’s tough to know that until you give the situation and person some time. My best advice to myself is practice knowing when to quit someone and to exercise your right to cut off communication with someone you think is toxic. If you have to practice, because like me it’s unnatural to be mean or confrontational, then practice. You’ll get better at it.

I’m so trusting and caring that I often seem vulnerable to people. I’m not vulnerable, though. I’m capable of taking care of myself. It’s hard to be fess up to yourself that you’re being used or being taken advantage of by someone you care so much about. But after you cry a little bit, it’s time to deal with it and get some space from them.

As far as being in relationships with people who used me? Been there. Done that. Had to break it off. It’s tough being faced with the decision to end it, but it’s nice to get that good feeling of pride in taking care of yourself later.

And then there’s the question of how? Do you end it peacefully and just ignore them? Do you tell them off? Do you have an open-dialogue and expect them to understand? It all depends on the person and the relationship. There’s no right or wrong answer and again, practice makes perfect. And don’t beat yourself up if you’re not diplomatic or perfect.

It sucks to admit when someone isn’t interested in caring about you back. Maybe some people aren’t capable of caring. Maybe they have issues. Or maybe they are just rude. If you’re like me, you take their lack of interest or care personally and it makes you feel like something is wrong with YOU. It’s their issue, love. Not yours.

I had a friend a few years ago that I got incredibly close to. As time went on, though, I noticed that I wasn’t that comfortable with our friendship’s direction. I also felt like she wasn’t that open with me, which is important to me in a friendship. If I tell you my secrets, you sure as hell better open up about yours.

Then she started showing that she was unhappy with her husband. She invited guys over to dinner when I was there (who she said she’d invited over for me since I was single) and then flirted with them and all but made out with them in front of her husband and me. I was never interested in the men she liked, but I found it annoying that she’d bring them over and use me as a cover-up with her husband.

One night there was some fondling and her and the dude started dancing. I left before the making out or fucking began. We didn’t speak after that for a long time. She was mad at me because I’d taken her car keys away so she wouldn’t drive off drunk (since her 3 children were inside sleeping) and I was mad at her that I had to fucking parent a grown woman. Not to mention the whole “I’m going to cheat on my husband in front of you” party.

That’s not a friendship. That’s being used.

Whatever issues I’d overlooked in the past with her finally came to a boiling point. I was too angry that night for having to parent her and for being invited over and then lied to. And then I started recalling all I’d done for her: planned and hosted a baby shower for her third child, took phots of her vag while the baby was born, and brought her magazines and laughter pre-birth. I’m a damn good friend.

When I started to break it off with her eventually, the typical blame game started. I was blamed for always pushing people away. This was all my issue, not something she took partial responsibility for.

Witchcraft

For years the stories of the witchcraft have intrigued me. Specifically the stories of colonial New England, because that’s what I’m most familiar with historically.

Why are these stories important to me?

I was accused of witchcraft when I was in Master’s Commission in Austin, TX.

Pastor Nathan asked one of his best friends and colleagues to come “fix” our Master’s Commission group. The man’s name was John Bates and he was from That Church in a very small town outside of Texas.

John Bates stood in front of our Master’s Commission group of staff and students telling us that he felt impressed that this was a really important problem–so important that he missed his son’s soccer game to be here.

Bates was asked to resolve a spiritual problem. The problem was vague–there weren’t any tangible issues I remember being pointed out. But one thing was certain, it was a problem of witchcraft and it was a problem of women rising up to emasculate the men in our group and take away their role of “leader” and “head of the ministry.”

We, the women of the group, were responsible for the problem.

We were responsible for “walking with the Devil.”

Many of us women were accused of being a Jezebel spirit, lending our ears to the Devil and listening to his commands which told us to overpower the men of the ministry.

This sounds creepy and Puritanical, but it’s all true and it all happened in the early 2000′s in South Texas.

Bates was convinced that there were certain women leaders amongst us who were practicing this rebellious witchcraft, so he admonished us to go to the front of the group and confess to Pastor Nathan our sins.

There were about 4 or 5 women who went forward. I was one of them.

I didn’t feel I was a witch or a Jezebel, but I was convinced that I was evil beyond repair from Bates’ sermon.

When I confessed to Nathan , he said I wasn’t the one that God had spoken to him. God had given him names and he was waiting for those women to listen to God and come forward. I had nothing to do with the problem and I should go sit down.

So I sat. I watched Heather and Laurie and Mary come forward and I’m not sure if they were the “ones” that Nathan ‘s God had spoken to him about. Each of these women were normal women but the problem lied in Nathan ‘s idea of rebellion. Any rebellion was arbitrarily decided, based on a revolving set of rules. For each of these women, it could’ve been something as simple as them being quiet and just not talking about things as often as he wanted. Nathan wanted us to confess our sins on a regular basis. If these women didn’t do so, they were suspect. If any woman showed a disagreeable attitude, it was assumed she was walking with the Devil. Our Master’s Commission group was like a military boot camp and most of us complained about the rules on a regular basis.

In Puritanical New England, witchcraft was an accusation that was primarily given to women. In some literature, these women were portrayed as “disagreeable women, at best aggressive and abrasive, at worst ill-tempered, quarrelsome and spiteful.” (Karlsen 118) In most cases, they had two main trespasses: “Challenges to the supremacy of God and challenges to prescribed gender arrangements.” (Karlsen 119)

Women in the mid-1600′s were demonized for their behavior, when it varied from the norm, coupled with a challenge to the religious leadership’s ideas of God and gender roles. Women were imprisoned, burned at the stake and publicly tried for these traits.

Yet, in my Christian experience, the demonization of women still goes on. It’s no surprise to anyone that gender roles are most strictly enforced in Christian society, particularly fundamentalist Christian society, which is rampant in the United States.

We’ve entered the twenty-first century, yet we can find associations in modern religious society’s treatment of women and colonial New England’s treatment of women. Isn’t this odd?

Mary Daly’s discussion of going beyond God the Father is an essential one, in order to change these violent ideals religions push onto women. Daly says that if “God is male, then male is God” presenting a patriarchal society that’s led by males, making women inferior.

If we can reconsider this idea of God, we might be able to rid the world of the religious violence toward women.