Epiphany

My youngest is interviewing me about my cult-like upbringing, and to a lesser degree, a similar environment in which I raised her and her sibling.  Now, despite the fact that my kids have been *incredibly* gracious and forgiving of the entire fiasco that was being raised in a scary church, I have regret.  So much regret, so much self-loathing, it’s … honestly, it’s a big factor in my depression and anxiety.  I would do so many things differently, if I could.  

But.

I realized several things, tonight, talking to my twenty-year old Homeland Security major who is writing a huge paper on a (fascinating) Japanese cult-turned-terrorist organization.

In no particular order:

1.  No one – NO ONE, and definitely not me – sets out to fall prey to manipulation themselves and/or raise their kids in an unsafe environment.  Cults, and abusive situations, exist because they don’t look scary at the beginning.  “Let me find a church that will take elements of truth and love and twist them into something unhealthy, and let me stay there for decades and raise my children there,” says no one, ever.  Said me, never.  

No. It happens because it starts with a goal – I have faith and want to express it in community, and raise children who will be spiritually healthy and learn to serve others – and a promise – You can do that here.  

There was nothing *wrong* with wanting those things.  Those were good things to want.  The shame is not in wanting those things.  The shame belongs on the people who promised those things and then subtly exchanged the promise for something altogether different.

2.  So many of the things I did – for better or for worse, and regardless of whether I would choose to do them again – I did for all the right reasons.  Homeschooling, for example.  For our family, homeschooling was an act of defiance against a controlling religious organization that alternately ordered us to be “salt and light” in the public school system (which we rejected, because children are not missionaries, and there’s a reason for separation of church and state) and then ordered us to use “religious education” (based on the homophobic assertion that the possibility of having a gay teacher spelled damnation for our children).  In our own fledgling way, homeschooling our kids was a bold act of defiance against both extremes.  It was my way to attempt to raise critical, independent thinkers.  And while in hindsight, I don’t think I would make the same choice … I’m proud of myself for making the best choice I could.

And I’m damn proud of how my kids turned out:  smart, compassionate, accepting.

3.  Maya Angelou taught us that “when you know better, you do better”.  The church I was raised in?  Condemned the actual church that I raised my kids in for being “too liberal”.  It was relative.  It ended up not being an environment that I could affirm, and wow, I wish we’d managed to get out about ten years before we did (or, honestly, better yet, I wish we’d never hooked up – except for the handful of truly amazing friends I made there).

But.  There’s a relativity to it all.  By raising my kids in that church, I honestly thought I was rejecting the worst of my past and doing so much better.  And then when things started to feel familiar … when we realized the extent of the manipulation … we got out.  

So.  Anyway.  That’s my epiphany, courtesy, as usual, of my spawn.  And sure, I’m now a functional agnostic, twice bitten forever shy of organized religion, but yet still pretty convinced that God gets it, and is cool with it.