Category Archives: Life After the Cult

The most important skill you will ever learn

Everyone needs to know how to open their own bottle of wine, because honey…trust me, some days you NEED it. This is kind of a weird post, I know, but the first thing I needed to learn when I got out of the cult and moved out on my own was how to open a bottle of wine. When you throw a party or have a friend over, you should be able to open your own wine. That’s rule number one for being a lady.

I fell in love with Stella Rosa a few years ago when my friend Lydia took me to Palermo Ristrorante (it’s Italian, duh). For the longest time, Palermo was the only place I could buy Stella but then I started seeing billboards that said “Stella gets around.” YOU WHORE!

Stella Rosa is now available widely (this is not a sponsored post, unfortunately…but it’s good shit).

 

Get a bottle.

 

Italian Wine

 

Step 1: Use a corkscrew (duh)

 

DSC_0314

 

DSC_0316

 

Step 2: Start screwing, baby

 

DSC_0318

 

Step 3: Brace the corkscrew on the lid of the bottle

 

DSC_0329

Step 4: Hold the corkscrew down against the lid of the bottle and pull straight UP one fluid motion. If you’re having issues, readjust your grip and hold the corkscrew down against the lid again, then pull.

 

DSC_0335

 

Voila! Cork free!

DSC_0337

Sip it. Chug it. Drink it like you mean it.

 

DSC_0355

*Obviously you should drink responsibly, don't  drink and drive, don't turn into an alcoholic, and always use a condom.

 

Bitter and Unhappy

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not bitter and unhappy. I’m the opposite. So much so that I’m even jealous of my own-self.

I have the most amazing boyfriend in the world. I mean, this is the kind of amazing human being I could only hope for back in the day when I used to be a Christian and used to “pray for the perfect man” and bullshit like that.

The thing is, there’s a little truth to this one Christian “courtship” belief: the fact that you should be the best version of yourself and you should be open to self-improvement and self-growth. I think we can always be happier, more ethical beings; although that isn’t just a Christian ideal. It’s also Buddhist and a belief many mystics take part in.

But besides that, the “thing” I wanted to be when I “grew up” was a writer. Of course as a child, I wanted to be an actress, a waitress, and a zoologist. But I started reading on my own and fell in love The Baby Sitter’s Club by Ann M. Martin. All of a sudden I felt what some writers call a “calling.” And it feels like the Universe did pluck me down in a central California, in a desert oilfield town ripe for an artist to live in. Top it off with a serious memoir-esque life, the perfect seasoning of anger and passion.

And then somehow in High School, in my small desert town, I was just hanging out enjoying life and a cult rolled in like the circus.

I Wish

I wish I had one of those mommy blogs where everyone talks about their kids all day and I gave away My Little Pony apps. But I don’t.

Instead, I have one of those blogs where the weirdo fundamentalists come out of hiding every once in awhile and act all bat shit crazy, misspelling their grievances about me and wasting my time.

I’m not gonna lie, it sometimes makes me want to quit. I have a great sense of humor and can think of a hundred ways to cuss them out, but sometimes I just don’t understand them. And who wants to spend all day cussing them out? I have a life. Remember yesterdays post about enjoying life? My life is filled with days at the beach and I like to keep it that way.

They want me to quit, though, right? They want to silence me, because I’ve left my “pastor’s covering” where I was silenced for years. So they tell me I’m narcissistic and “just like the church I’m writing about” and that I’m stupid.

But the thing is, I’m not stupid and I’m far more ethical than any church and I might be a tad narcissistic and I might even be angry or bitter or hurt but I admit all that to you. So that’s not news to anyone, and if it’s news to them and they think they’re making a huge claim that’s going to “out me” then they’re dumb.

And then there’s the “you won’t post my comment” bullshit. Hey, mother f*cker, I pay for this website, so I essentially can do whatever I want with it. But to be fair, read the comment policy because I have one and I follow it. Or check back later, because I do approve nearly all of the comments posted here (even the hateful ones). It just takes time to get through them–especially because I don’t get cell phone service on the beach.

 

Home Again: My Mom’s Return from Alaska

My mom has been hiding from real responsibility all Summer by living in Alaska in a house with ocean views and ample wildlife outside her door. She’s been like the runaway young adult living her dreams somewhere beautiful.
I’m actually happy for her, but I had Empty Nest syndrome all summer while she was gone. I’d go visit her house and take care of my Grandpa and I’d miss her. It’s like the roles are reversed and I’m the mom with the runaway daughter.

She’s home now and I picked her up from the airport on Friday night. It was nice to have my mom back. Since she isn’t living in Alaska, her phone will work. I’ll get her text messages and when I call her she’ll be able to answer.

I know she misses gorgeous Alaska and our boring desert town isn’t much to look at but I’m glad she’s home again. :)

Lukewarm Christians and Infidels

The other day an old friend of mine posted a scripture on his Facebook wall about not being lukewarm or God will spit you out. It got me thinking quite a bit.

For starters, I was always a very “passionate” Christian. I’d hear a verse like that and do whatever I could in my power to be “hot” for Jesus (sounds kinky, right?). I didn’t like the idea of being cold for anything. That’s one of the reasons I decided to attend a year of Master’s Commission (which turned into 7). I thought it would make me a better Christian.

But, now that I’m not a Christian, what am I? Am I “hot” (read: passionate) about something else? Am I “cold”? Will God spit me out of his mouth?

How I always looked at that verse was a way to claim my superiority over another Christian. I was judgmental. Very. I was pious and perfect and looked down on anyone who failed to get it right. When I decided to follow the rules of Christianity, I excelled in following them and attending Master’s Commission only made me more cocky.

Some people call that legalistic. Some people call it fundamentalism. What’s interesting though, is that was preached to me, so I wasn’t just becoming legalistic on my own terms. I was being taught to have moral superiority over those who weren’t as passionate about God as I was.

That moral superiority carries over into other religions. Osama Bin Laden wrote a letter to the Jihadists saying that the Western world (and those who were not passionate enough as Muslims) were infidels. An infidel means one without faith. Bin Laden encouraged attacks on people who were without faith, or who didn’t have strong enough faith.

Christianity and Islam are very similar. Their holy texts call for extremism in cases like this. Yes, you can interpret the Bible or the Koran more liberally, but it’s no surprise why people interpret verses in either to claim a moral superiority over those who aren’t religious enough.

As for me, I’m not hot or cold, or lukewarm. I just no longer believe in Christianity as a powerful, righteous force.

My Date with an Agnostic

I had an interesting date with an Agnostic last night. I self identify as somewhere between Agnosticism and Atheism. I’m not a huge fan of Richard Dawkins and am okay with people celebrating different traditions and myths, as long as they don’t proselytize me.

My date asked me if I was agnostic, though, and I explained the above. Then, he asked if I thought God could be proven or disproven. “God doesn’t exist,” I said.

“Then you’re atheist.” He told me.

“I think the question of whether god exists or doesn’t is irrelevant. To me, god is a myth–something people believe in because they need to verify their sense of self, make meaning and develop a sense of community.” I explained.

“You’re definitely an atheist.”

So, maybe I’m an atheist. I’m okay with that.

We then went on to talk about how I took a turn from being a reverend to being “so extreme” on the opposite spectrum, as he put it. I told him I ask myself that all the time. I ask myself, Do I just have a capacity for extreme beliefs? Am I a zealot, no matter what my beliefs are? often.

I’m not above questioning myself and my lack of beliefs, or where they stem from. As a child, I was a member of PETA, because I love animals and they started sending me literature about the cosmetic industry testing on rabbits. The pictures were disturbing and I would tear up seeing the torture the bunnies went through just so we could wear eye shadow, or use a certain face cream. I was a member of the World Wildlife Fund first, and had a desire to be a Dian Fossey, Jr. saving mountain gorillas.

Essentially, I was an activist as a child. I was always fighting for the underdog, the abused. It’s probably normal that I went into ministry, because from the outside it seemed to line itself up with humanitarian work quite nicely and I felt I could help those who were disadvantaged and misfortunate by working with a charity group, like a church. Now that I’m not a Christian, this blog is sort of my service to those who were abused (by the Church).

In my opinion, atheism wasn’t a random choice. It’s sort of a natural progression of who I was a child, a learning from my own experiences. Trusting myself to make the best decision for myself.

The End of Summertime

Summertime is ending (or has ended) for most of us. I’m looking forward to going back to school next week, because it’s generally a lot less stressful than most jobs. I’m also looking forward to continuing what I’ve started this week–a really heavy workout schedule. I’m starting to love it. It reminds me of high school (a whole 10 years ago!), when I used to play soccer and run cross country. Some summers our cross country team would drive up to the mountains, where the weather was cooler and our coach would drop us off 10-15 miles away from our destination–a German restaurant on top of the hill. From there, we’d do our best to run up and down hills in a higher elevation than we were used to. I was usually the slowest runner on the team, it being my first season, and that ended up being kind of cool because my coach, Mr. Dennis, would run to meet the last runner and coach us back.

Mr. Dennis was a world-class coach. He was very positive and made me feel like an Olympian just for finishing the 10 mile run without stopping. It was there that I started to love running–in those moments when Mr. Dennis would coach me, telling me how strong I was getting physically and mentally. He wasn’t in it for him, he was looking out for me. Pushing me to become stronger.

I miss those 10 mile runs, not because they’re easy but because I miss the coaching. My mind would be fighting me, telling me to stop because I was exhausted and all of a sudden, I’d see Mr. Dennis coming down the hill running to meet me. And then I was able to push through that mental block and finish pushing myself.

My summer was also filled with 5k’s and a long run from our desert town to the beach. Our team members each took turns running a few miles, for about 12 hours. When we were finished, we all took showers and grabbed dinner. I was exhausted, but it was that kind of training that made our team champions in many of our races. Being around great runners and great athletes made me cognizant of a mental fortitude we all have and we can all tap into. We all have it inside of us, and sometimes we just need to push ourselves and find what works.