Talking About It

Talking about it is hard.

Whenever you make new friends there inevitably comes that moment where you have to tell them.

Maybe not right away, maybe its like a few months in.

But eventually you have to say yeah… my childhood wasn’t actually perfect.

“they were really religious… they homeschooled me k-12.” But you seem so normal!

“yeah I have 10 siblings.. no we’re not catholic…” I could never do that! Your mum must be a saint!

“no I will never have that many kids. No I don’t plan to homeschool. No it wasn’t a good experience.”

You sit there feeling like a freak show. Everybody’s gawking because they’ve never even heard of such things. Surely you must be exaggerating?! But in reality you’re dumbing it down, polishing the edges.

And in the back of your mind is the old family mantra hissing “You are so selfish. Telling tales for attention. People are going to think bad things about the family! Where is your loyalty?!”

They all shake their heads in wonderment. Courtship? Isn’t that another word for dating? You are monopolizing the conversation now. But they won’t let you stop. They have so many questions. You’re like a space alien telling stories about your exotic and barbaric planet.

You mentally sweep the years of violence and neglect and manipulation into a neat little dustpan and name it: “It wasn’t really a healthy environment.” And people infer what they want, and you move on. And eventually someone changes the subject and you sit there feeling embarrassed.

You wonder if your cheeks have turned red. Did you say too much? “You always say too much!” You smile and engage in the rest of the conversation. And then you go home and aggressively wash the dishes, fighting back your rising anxiety.

Eventually you find yourself in bed with a pillow over your face.

Trying to slow your breathing. Trying to fall asleep.

Its been ages. It should be so hard to talk about.

Self

I am a member of the family
I am a member of the housework crew
I am my parent’s possession
I am their trophy
I am a representative for Christ
I am a future mother in a future family preparing to serve a future husband

I am not an individual.

Feelings are superfluous, needs are selfishness, I do not know the vocabulary of self.

I am depressed overly dramatic
I am hungry gluttonous
I am tired and overworked lazy
I am sick weak
I have anxiety lack faith
I need affirmation whine too much
I need privacy am selfish
I need to be respected punished

I do not deserve to have needs.

So I take tweezers and tear a blade out of my father’s razor. And I keep the razor in a tiny jewelry box that my grandma gave me, under the cotton, because nobody can see it, because using it is selfish, and I am ashamed. But nothing compares to the relief of sliding the blade across the soft parts of my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my wrists.

Simultaneously punishing myself and expressing my hurt.

People deserve love
people deserve support
people deserve respect
But I don’t know these things

 Because I am not an individual
I am not a person
I do not know the vocabulary of self.



(I wrote this post as an entry for the Homeschoolers Anonymous blog. You can see the Original Post here)

What's A Quivering Girl To Do?

I have been brainwashed.

Up until a few years ago, i was certain that rock music and Harry Potter books were the pathway to hell. I was sure that anyone who really loved their kids would home school them, spank them, and have at least 11 of them. I knew FOR SURE that we hadn't been to the moon, and that Halloween was the devil's birthday. I was positive that getting married meant I would have to get pregnant right away and then stay at home for the rest of my life.

I was always uncomfortable with the idea that only MY family (and others exactly like it) was going to heaven. As a teenager, I mostly avoided thinking about everything and just went through the motions. Eventually i realized i could avoid addressing these issues forever, as long as i never got married. Marriage meant submission, and kids. And kids meant homeschooling, (of which i was terrified) and the responsibility to teach them what i had been taught. If i never got married, i could slip under the radar and avoid all the hard choices.

Well now that I'm married (and finally seeing the errors in my upbringing) I am completely cut adrift.

I want an education, but i am lost in the sheer volume of things I've never learned.

I want children, but probably only 4 or 5, and we're waiting at least 5 years to start our family. How do I overcome the guilt involved with that simple choice?

I don't want to home school my kids, but I know nothing about the alternative.

I want a career, but that will mean day-care for my potential future children, and wont that turn them into mindless spoiled zombies? I have mothers guilt before I'm even a mother.

Even little things bother me:

I want to play on the worship team at church, but doesn't God hate it when we plug guitars into an amp?

I want to ask my husband to do the laundry while I'm at work, but wont it emasculate him to do women's work?

My tomorrow hinges on the choices i make today. Do i have the patience to completely re-educate myself? Do i have the courage to make these decisions? Will I ever be truly free?

So many choices, so much freedom. So many questions, so much fear.

Have you dealt with these questions and fears for yourself? Do you have any tips or advice?