I just finished reading another blogger’s post about being a female in an abusive Christian household. It was so painful, so damned raw. So me.
I left a long message and gave an e-hug. Then I began to think about how the Christian faith I was brought into demanded that I forgave and moved on. The term I’d always hear was “forgive and forget”. And I tried so blooming hard to forgive and forget, even swallowing my own anger instead of lashing out. But it would never work the way I planned. It would blow back in my face and just erupt at the wrong people at times.
So I’d applogize and beg for forgiveness from them and God, only to start the cycle again. I honestly thought at times that I was either possessed or at least influenced by a demon. At least that is what they(pastors) told me. So I’d focus on those things and just try my hardest to not be angry. Which led me to becoming numb emotionally. I would smile all the time, or at least make it seem like I was. I lied to myself so many times. I told myself that my anger(often justified) was of the devil. Same thing when I’d be depressed and ask for God to kill me. I deeply desired to be one of the Elect. So I would turn against the paranoid thoughts, fears, bits of my shadow, and worry; calling it a demon or something that wasn’t me. Good Monica loved people, gave her tithe, and always helped at church. She is a natural protector and would defend anyone. Good monica goes with the flow and doesn’t get angry. good monica always helped, even if it would cause an injury.
Shadow Monica would get angry at her mother for no reason and wish she or her would die. She’d go without doing dishes, cleaning, showering, or combing her hair. She’d lay in bed for hours at a time wishing to fall asleep and never wake up. She’d pray and pray and pray only to wonder why her prayers weren’t being answered. She’d wish awful things on people, then feel guilty. She wants to be noticed, to be adored and loved, not rejected. She wanted to do the rejecting for once. This Monica would cut, beat herself with belt buckles, or slap herself in order to keep “everything in check”. She felt like she was cracking into tiny little pieces and no one would be able to love pieces, so she made plaster and covered up the cracks.She hurt so much that being numb was desired. Living was just too hard feeling things that were just too intense. She wanted to be a respected writer, singer, and minister so that she could feel like a real human instead of just some mangled piece of plastic which changes color and shape daily. She wanted to be WHOLE, and would eat just to feel alive. She thinks that it is best to die, since she is only a bother and a weight. She took everything her family and friends say to her to heart, so she must be awful. She doesn’t see herself as beautiful, and is easily manipulated. She’s lonely, always lonely. She found someone awesome and tried for months to break it up out of fear that he’d hurt her like the others. She’s afraid of her own shadow, of being abandoned, of being violated again. Sex scares her because it is the one thing that she MUST be present for. She was taught that sex was dirty and awful. The adults never said it, but the people who molested her showed her that. They showed her how awful it can be. So she pulls away because sex alternates between unwanted pain and numbness. She wants to pounce him in bed, yet is afraid to take the lead. She’s afraid that she’ll dominate and hurt him. She’s afraid that she’ll doing it all wrong. She hates getting anything wrong, because it shows she isn’t perfect or good or anything nice. She’s afraid of failure, of screwing up. She tries to remove the ability to fail out of her nature, only to fail miserably. She wanted help as a child, yet was rejected. She’s always crying. The pain was just too much. She fears people being angry, but expects people to put up with her angry moments. The reasoning? She wouldn’t hurt anyone. which is true, but she takes the fear of being abused again into overdrive. She tries to make it seem less than how horrific it was.
I was taught to put these two parts of me in seperate boxes and to contiually purge the shadow of myself in order to get to heaven. It left me more fragmented and depressed than just admitting it was there and getting help for it. I felt more alienated from my church family and real family when I tried to own my issues and ask for help. No one wanted to GIVE help outside of scriptures or verbal abuse.No one pointed me to a therapist or even a coloring book. I was my family’s scapegoat and my churches slave. I was willing, I was zealous, I was dying by the day.
But not anymore. I’m learning to stand up for myself, which is hard compared to the years of indoctrination I recieved. I am also learning to say no, which really hurts. It hurts because I want to help, but I can’t help someone if I can barely feed myself, right? So I do what I can, and attempt to take care of myself. All these “I” phrases feel more “real” to me now that I can type and not feel as if I would explode if I “feel” while I write. This pain, this hurt is a part of me. And it won’t get better in a day or year. But it will get better.
This person is who my family and chuch(es) created.