I’m sorry I’ve been absent. I’ve been under the weather, but now I’m doing much better. Today, I want to share some thoughts about crafting and how it has helped me regulate my nervous system. I enjoy all kinds of crafts and have been creating art my whole life. It is one of the best gifts my mother gave me. We always had art supplies around the house. Pens, pencils, clay, and yarn created an avenue for me to connect to my mother when reaching her felt impossible.

As I’ve been healing my trauma, I’ve learned that the bilateral stimulation I achieve while creating helps to calm my nerves and give my trauma brain a rest. Here is a good article about bilateral stimulation. Bilateral Stimulation

I think anything that requires you to move both hands will work. Knitting is wonderful, but I also crochet and do needlepoint. I find that the project has to be hard enough to keep my focus, but not so hard that I become frustrated. Usually, within minutes of starting, I can feel my breath slow, and my body relax. I find that it works best if I’m alone; when others are around, I’m too easily distracted and can’t get into a gentle flow state. If crafting isn’t your thing, you could try jigsaw puzzles. I find sorting the border pieces, and then pieces by color, helps me get to the same calm place. Finding a place for each piece seems to help me solve other problems floating around in the background of my mind. Gentle answers rise to the surface without sending my nervous system into a stress response.

Growing up in the church, it always seemed to me that hobbies were frowned upon. What mattered was God and the church. I didn’t really have hobbies as a teen unless you count something like Bible Quizzing. The closest thing I had to anything like this was riding my bike, and maybe that is why I did it so much. Bike riding and just plain old walking can provide bilateral stimulation. I just like crafting more.:)

When I was a little girl, my mother always ran my baths and showers too hot. When I told her it hurt to be in the water, she would get angry, saying something like,

“Hell will be hotter if you disobey me. Remember, Jesus is always watching.”

Whenever she took a shower, she’d emerge from behind the shower curtain looking more lobster than human. She and my grandmother would always say,

“It has to be hot to get you clean.”

Now I look back on my mother and wonder if she also cried when she was a little girl because the water was too hot. Once I became an adult, I followed in her and my grandmother’s footsteps. I learned to love a flaming hot shower. A hot bath was even better. I would stay in the steaming tub till the water grew cool.

As I grew older and the effects of my trauma became clearer and louder, I began to dislike the hot water. I noticed how it dried my skin, and I wondered if I was abusing my body by making it endure the heat. Afterall warm water was good enough for my babies and dogs. So I turned the water down to a more comfortable temperature. Then, much to my surprise, I could tell that my anxiety went down during and after my showers. Showers and baths were no longer something to be endured but a place of rest for my body. I experience the same thing when I use the hot tub at the gym or a warm pool. Even washing my hands in warm, not hot, water can help to regulate my nervous system.

This ties into my last post because it all goes back to avoiding extremes. I don’t exercise to extreme and I stay away from water that is too hot or too cold. Yep, too cold is not great either, especially if you’re a woman. There has been research done that seems to indicate that cold plunges disrupt women’s reproductive systems and raise cortisol. Of course, first and foremost, you have to listen to your own nervous system. I like to quiet my mind and take some deep breaths. It helps me to close my eyes, then I check in with my body and see how the experience is making me feel. If I really don’t want to do the deep breathing, that usually means I’m dysregulated.

As always, if you’re a survivor of a high-control group, please feel free to reach out to me anytime. Nervous system regulation is something so many of us struggle with. I want to help if I can.

A little less than a week ago, I posted about how some of us survivors struggle with our nervous systems. With everything going on in the world, mine feels especially challenged right now. I never learned in childhood how to soothe my nervous system, but instead, like many Gen Xers, I was taught to muscle through and push anxiety down inside. The church had no answers but to tell me to pray harder, sing louder, be more grateful; none of that worked. For this series, I intend to start nice and easy, so if today’s recommendations don’t work for you, don’t worry, more will be coming.

Common wisdom is always telling us to move our bodies. For most of my adult life, I chased the endorphin high I felt from high energy work outs. It helped me to forget my trauma for a little while, but the cost of those moments of peace was high. I developed orthorexia from over-exercising and trying to eat as clean as possible. Later, I was informed by my doctor that I’d probably just added to the stress my overly taxed nervous system was experiencing due to my C-ptsd. This caused me to rethink how I move my body, and now I lean into gentle movements over high-energy workouts. This doesn’t mean I never do the high-energy stuff; I love dance too much to quit that, but it means high-energy fitness is no longer at the center of my workout life.

Yoga and tai chi are what are bringing me the most calm right now. When I’m on the mat, I can breathe deep and forget everything for a little bit. For a long time, I was doing yoga at home and that was okay, not great. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to return to in-person classes, and it was a real life-changer. First off, it got me out of the house, which is always a plus. I tend to get depressed this time of the year, and that often leads to self-isolation. Secondly, it kept me free from distractions. My phone was off, and no one knew where to find me. I set an intention to focus on nothing but breathing and moving my body gently. At the end of that first group class, while in child’s pose, I realized this is exactly what I’ve been needing. My heart rate was slower, I was breathing deeper, and my nerves felt calm.

I know money is tight for many people right now, and having the funds to attend a yoga class is a privilege. You can find classes on YouTube for free. If you decide to go this way, I suggest dimming the lights and turning off your phone. Make sure the temperature of your room is not going to be distracting. When I do tai chi movements, I like to do them outside, when it’s warm, but this time of year, I do them in front of a window. Comfort is key. Warm but not too warm, stretching but not too far, gentleness is key.

Here are some things I say to myself while I’m focusing on relaxing my nervous system:

“My nervous system is only trying to keep me safe.”

“You are safe, you can rest.”

“My body is a good body.”

“Moving my body is not a contest.”

“I know what is best for me and my body.”

The granddaddy of all my trauma is rapture anxiety. My problems with sleep began in early childhood because I was so concerned with being left behind. The church’s doctrine about the rapture instilled fear in me, and that led to hypervigilance. What began as sleep disturbances leaked out into my waking hours. I was always worried about what sin might keep me from making the rapture. Thus began my practice of constantly asking for forgiveness and always being worried about a missed sin that might damn me for all eternity. I became neurotic and anxious even though I was only a small child.

Whenever my family had a problem, the church’s answer was to pray and wait for God to answer. When I look back on it, now it feels like they were saying, " Shut up about your problems, push it down, and put on a happy face.” They would never say that outright, but if you’re a survivor, you probably know what I mean. So my mother and I would wait for help from above that never arrived, and the whole time, anxiety was growing within us, causing our nervous systems to feel like a ball of raw nerves. If you are a survivor of a high-control group, you probably know what I’m talking about. Your experiences might be different on the surface, but underneath, they are similar to mine.

Now I’m free from the church that gifted me with all this nervous system dysfunction. You might be asking why I’m still struggling. Well, trauma doesn’t just go away, and things that happened to us during our formative years can last a lifetime. I could list a million ways my early experiences created my current problems, but I’ve only listed a couple, so you get the general idea. I wish I had a cure for this problem. What I can offer are some tips that sometimes work for me.

This week, I will be posting some of the ways I cope with my jacked-up nervous system. I’d love to hear from you in the comments if you have any suggestions of your own. If you’re a survivor of a high-control group like The United Pentecostal Church, you might not even know that your nervous system needs help.

You can ask yourself:

Do you worry a lot?

Do you have trouble sleeping?

Are you suffering from anxiety?

Is it hard to sit still? Do you feel like you always need to be doing something?

Do you tend to be very self-critical?

Do you still suffer from things like worries about hell and the rapture?

If you are a subscriber, join us over in the chat!

While wrestling with my broken brain, I’m taking in all the news. Epstein and the lack of accountability are in my feed daily. Then I read about the scores of ministers, pastors, and youth leaders, abusers stacking up like cords of wood, the pile grows taller and taller. All of my activism and advocacy seems to have done nothing. If I’m being honest, it is overwhelming, and at times it feels hopeless. It’s a never-ending cycle of fighting off despair, calming my frazzled nervous system, getting back on the horse, cultivating hope, and then falling into despair again.

In times like these, I try to remind myself why I’m doing it. I didn’t write this book for sympathy, pity, or for five minutes of fame. I wrote it for all the women I know who have been abused while attending a United Pentecostal Church. When the #churchtoo movement hit Twitter, I combed through the stories looking for someone from the denomination I grew up in. I never found anyone, and so I decided I had to tell my story, even if it only ever helped one person to feel less alone. I don’t have any grand answers for how to solve the problems of the United Pentecostal Church. What I can provide is proof that it can get better, you can escape, and you can remake your world. I’ve spent hours speaking with The United Pentecostal Church’s head of Safe Church. I’ve given my perspective and made recommendations that they will never take. I’ve also spent a ton of time speaking with David Bernard, the head of the church. He’s a nice man without much power. That being said, I did what I could. All the work and time I’ve put into making change will never wipe away the trauma I live with every day. C-ptsd changes your brain, and all you can do is the best you can do.

Right now, the struggle is real. I avoid my desk because my buzzing brain keeps intruding, saying, What’s the point? It’s never gonna happen. You’re wasting your time. Giving up would be easier. Part of me knows this is my trauma brain, and I have to resist it. If I listened, it would lead me to my bed, and I’d never get out. The more I try to fight off the intrusive thoughts, the louder and meaner they get. You’re never gonna drag him to justice. No one wants to represent your book. You’ve failed.

Part of the problem right now is that I need to grow my platform, and I fear I’m not very good at it. Memoir writers in particular need to have a platform in order to gain representation. I have followers here, but I fear most of them are bots or trolls. It is hard to get people to like and, better yet, comment. It all comes down to whether the agent thinks you have enough of an audience to sell books. You’re required to sell yourself, write a great book, and, if you’re like me, cope with the trauma at the same time. It’s a lot.

While I’m writing this, I am reminded of those whom I love. The survivors. The ones who know my story because they’ve lived their own version of it. All the fear of the rapture, going to hell, and being violated. By sharing my story, I’m also sort of sharing theirs. When I can keep them in mind, it helps me to keep going.

Then I think of my kids. I want them to be proud of me, and I want a better world for them. A more just world, a safer world. Now that I have almost four grandkids, it grieves me to know the way things are. I want them to know Grandma fought for a better world.

Lastly, and most importantly, I keep striving and writing for my younger self.

For those of you who have stuck around till the end, thank you. I feel better for having written this, and I’m gonna keep going. Today will be spent cooking in prep for tomorrow, when my house will be filled with my family. If you’ve struggled with trauma like mine or if you’re just sending out queries, I’d love to hear from you. How do you cope? What works, and can we be friends? :) Let’s chat in the comments!

“When are you coming back to church?” will be heard over and over again between now and New Year’s. Questions like this can bring old doubts and fears to the surface. Before my grandma passed, she’d sent me a holiday card every year. It always ended with, “Please get your heart right with God so you don’t miss the rapture, love grandma.” My kids thought it was funny, but when I read it, it just made me sad. I thought about her and her worries about me. There was no way I could ever explain to her my choices in a way that she would understand. Her words took all the joy out of receiving the card. It just called to mind how she and the rest of the family rejected me for having different beliefs. Their love was dependent upon which church I attended.

My hope is that these journal prompts will help you be more mentally and emotionally prepared for the coming season.

1. Do you feel your relationship with your UPC family members is in a good place? If it isn’t in a healthy place, do you want to see them or sit this holiday out?

2. If you don’t feel safe or comfortable being around that part of your family, can you tell them no? What kind of support would you need to be able to advocate for yourself? What steps can you take today to secure that support?

3. If you are going to see them, are you concerned they will ask you to attend church?

4. If you don’t feel safe or comfortable attending church with them, can you say no? If not, why not?

5. Are you concerned they will bring up unpleasant spiritual or political topics of conversation? What tools can you use to avoid these conversations or shut them down?

6. Have you created new traditions since leaving the high-control church? If not, what could you do to create some new memories? Maybe volunteer somewhere in your community or have a friends-giving with people who understand why you’re not spending time with family.

7. If things typically go badly when you visit your UPC relatives, take some time to remind yourself of what has happened before. This will assist in decision-making and may help you to ask for specific things from your family. You may want to ask them not to pressure you to attend church, or not to bring up certain conversations around the Thanksgiving table.

I hope these prompts were helpful! Please feel free to reach out if you need any support while on your journey.

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Feeling unworthy is one of the worst gifts given to me by the church and my parents. It is probably true that I would feel this way even if I had not been sexually violated when I was a child. The church frequently reminded me that I would never be worthy for many reasons, but those are for another time.

After I was abused, I never felt clean. No matter how much I prayed and asked God for forgiveness, I always felt like I was moving through the world with a scarlet letter pinned to my chest. I suspect that much of that feeling came from how I was shunned by the adults around me after my abuse happened, and because of how my mother responded when she found out. Grace seemed like it belonged to other people and was always just out of my reach. I was well into my adulthood when I began to understand the intrinsic worth of all people. Even now, I believe that wholeheartedly, but it can be hard on some days to apply it to myself.

Journal Prompts:

1. If you were abused while attending the UPC church or other high-control group, did you experience feelings of unworthiness?

2. Do you still carry those feelings with you? This question may require some reflection because those feelings can masquerade as other things and may be hard to pin down.

3. How would it feel to feel worthy? Would feeling more worthy change how you move through your life? How would feeling more worthy impact your relationships?

Mantras For Worthiness:

1. All humans are worthy.

2. Being abused as a child doesn’t mean I am unworthy.

3. Being a woman doesn’t mean I’m unworthy.

4. I am worthy of love, respect, and grace.

Now I’m gonna take a moment to speak to the injured child inside of me and maybe inside of you. You are not unworthy because of what was done to you. You are not unworthy because of how the adults around you responded to you. You deserve love and happiness.

There is an unacceptable amount of child abuse happening within high-control groups. It seems like almost every day I read about another abuser who took advantage of his leadership position to gain access to a vulnerable child. Often, the punishment given to these people seems less than adequate. Especially in light of the lifetime of suffering that can follow the survivor. I’ve heard from countless people, mostly women, who not only suffered abuse (Childhood SA) at the hands of people they should’ve been able to trust, but then suffered abuse again after reporting. When a young person reports to their pastor or other authority figure from within the group, because let’s be honest, that is who usually finds out first, the church becomes a courtroom, and the young person is now on trial. The congregation is the jury, and the questions come fast and furious, as well as the judgments. “Where were her parents?” or “Was she dressed immodestly?” These questions usually lead to the child being blamed in some way for what happened to them, causing shame and self-blame. Today’s prompts will focus on this.

1. Were you abused by someone from within the high-control group you attended during your childhood? If so, were you treated with compassion?

2. Did you experience shaming by the adults around you? If so, did that shaming cause you to shame yourself?

3. Would you shame or blame another young person who is going through something similar to what you experienced? If not, why?

4. How has shame and self-blame impacted your life? Can you imagine a world where the blame and shame could rest on the abuser’s shoulders?

5. What small actions can you take right now to begin to shift that over to where it belongs? Maybe consider writing a letter to your abuser (you don’t need to ever let them see it) where you tell them you’re no longer going to carry the blame and shame that belongs to them.

As always, I’m here if you need support. If you can, please subscribe and like this post. It helps others find me.

It is my intention to move onto a topic that is a bit more sensitive. It has to do with those of us who were abused and then not believed when we were children. This topic could be very triggering for some of you and so I want to give you fair warning. I do not normally use trigger warnings in my posts but when these go up I will. You can expect the first prompt later on this week. Hope the remaining part of your weekend is wonderful!

Remember you can reach me at survivingchurchandchildhood@gmail.com

Since then, I haven’t spoken to him again, and I really don’t expect much from the church, so this clip brought just a little hope my way. His only real power may be to speak out, but at least he did that when he had the chance. I’m proud of him, and I hope this is a new beginning and that change will follow. Follow the link below to watch him speak.

David Bernard Speaks

If you’re struggling with this right now, I want you to know you’re not alone. I’ve seen countless religious trauma survivors speaking out about their anxiety and how hard it is to live free of these worries after years of indoctrination. Now I’m speaking out to say it’s okay. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, and I encourage you to take care of that little one inside you. Remind your inner child of your current beliefs, the research you’ve done, and hopefully, through this act, your adult self will feel less worried, too. Be gentle with yourself and try to surround yourself with those who bring you comfort. The 24th will come and go, and we will all still be here.

I count myself as lucky not to be feeling triggered right now. EMDR helped me to overcome this piece of my trauma, and if you ever want to talk to me about it, feel free to reach out.

I’ve posted a video below for you to watch if you’re feeling anxious.

The Rapture is made up

I’m so thrilled that September is finally here. I’ve accomplished so much over the summer, and I’m grateful for each small victory. That being said, this year has come with its share of struggles. Some of them have been health-related, and others have been the price we pay for living in this country. Once again, I find myself wanting to step away from digital life and find some mental quiet within a more analogue existence. Over the summer, I’ve posted many happy photos like the one above. In those moments, I am happy, but there is something else there. I’ve been frozen. When I set the intention to be present for my family, I can for short bursts of time. This frozen state is one of the byproducts of suffering from trauma. I’m always fighting the dissociation and frozen states. It doesn’t help that I watch the news too much and never seem to be able to sleep.

In the winter, I have to manage SAD. It has been my habit for over a decade to fill my cup to the brim over the autumn season, so I enter winter from the best place possible. Autumn is my favorite season, and that makes this work easier. Re-entering life from a frozen state can be hard. I’m starting by practicing being more present. This means really listening to loved ones, tasting every bite, and leaning into experience. One thing that makes this hard for me is all the issues going on in the political landscape. When I’m not frozen, I feel more vulnerable, and things get to my heart. This causes my anxiety to spike. So I guess I’m going to have to dial back my social media and YouTube news intake. Bleh…

I know I’m not alone. Do you ever struggle to stay present and mindful? Do you get stuck in a frozen state? What works for you to get out of it? I’d love to hear your comments.

PS: Please stay on topic. I’m not looking for a date or to join your latest scam.

I’ve been struggling to come up with journal prompts this week because I’m just not feeling well. Then suddenly I thought maybe I should create some dealing with the lasting effects of trauma.

1. This one could work for anyone, but women do tend to be more impacted by chronic illness, so…Since leaving the UPC or other high-control group, have you been diagnosed with a chronic stress or trauma-related illness? This could be a mental illness or something like fibromyalgia. Have you disclosed to your doctor that you’re suffering from religious trauma?

2. Did you have this illness while in the group you’ve left? Have you journaled about what it felt like to not be healed? Have you taken on responsibility for your illness that isn’t yours to take on? Were you blamed for your illness and lack of healing?

3. Have you explored how a chronic illness can be the body’s expression of the emotional trauma you may have been exposed to? How does that make you feel?

4. How does it feel to not be able to just get over it? I am reminded every day about the trauma the church and my abusers inflicted on me because of how my body suffers as a result. What can you say in response to the, don’t be bitter comment?

I will be honest, I usually don’t respond to people from my old church when they say uninformed things. That being said, I have responded a handful of times when I’ve felt pushed to the edge. My response is usually something along these lines…I have been working my whole life to let all of this go. Then I learned that I have C-PTSD, which makes it hard for my brain to forget what happened to me. This is something I have no control over except to do my best every day to heal. My body is wrecked, and I will have to be careful with it for the rest of my life; this is a part of my trauma as well. I do my best to be fair, but you will have to excuse me if I come across as bitter. It is easy to move on when you’re not the survivor. It is easy to move on when you’re the perpetrator and you’ve been forgiven, and you have not suffered any consequences. It’s not a perfect response, and I am not a perfect person, and that is okay.

Let me know how these prompts worked out for you!

Had I been older, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised by how all that played out. By age 13, I’d heard many sermons about gossip and how evil it was, so I assumed the adults around me would not want to drag my name through the mud the way they did. As I moved forward into my teens, I became aware of how gossip was kind of like entertainment in the church, almost like a sport. It was used as a control tool to draw people in while shutting others out. If a person were seen as a serious threat, a smear campaign might be employed against them. Gossip is like an insidious virus that runs through groups. It categorizes people as in or outside of what is considered acceptable. A smear campaign is more deliberate and calculated. It comes from the top or close to the top, and the point is usually annihilation. My ex-pastor tried to whip up a smear campaign against me when I came forward as an adult. I wasn’t surprised at that point, but it still hurt.

Journal Prompts:

1. Were you hurt by church gossip?

2. If gossip happened in your group, was it used to control people?

3. Did you participate in church gossip? If so, how do you feel about having been a part of that activity?

4. While you were attending church, was something you told in confidence revealed? If so, how did that make you feel? Do you feel you need to do any healing work around that issue?

One topic that is rarely discussed in survivor groups is tithing. I’ve heard people claim that it isn’t really abusive because the people who gave the money were adults. This stance leaves out the coercive control being used against the congregants. Plus, it is never just 10%; they keep coming back asking for more and more. Give above and beyond for the pastor’s new car, missionaries, and a new building. After all, the money isn’t yours; it belongs to God.

When I was a very little girl, my family taught me the importance of giving to the church. My mother and grandmother would fill my tiny hands with coins to drop in the offering basket. I can even remember my mother digging in the sofa cushions for any change she could find, not wanting to send me to Sunday School empty-handed. Even when there was no money for essentials, there was always money for God. Around age 9, I began to become concerned about not just giving an offering to God but giving a real tithe. At this point in my life, I was worried about doing things right because my family was always suffering, and I was afraid maybe God was punishing us. I began the habit of tithing 10% of any monetary gift I received. This included birthday, Christmas, and when I was a bit older, babysitting money. I loved putting my small contributions into the tithing envelope and writing my name on it. I felt so grown-up dropping it into the basket like all the adults around me. With my tithe came the belief that God would multiply my gift and maybe even help my family out of poverty.

An untold story about tithing is the harm it can do to families who do not have the 10% to give. The church I grew up in taught that God doesn’t make exceptions. If you had money issues, health issues, or really anything going wrong in your life, it could be blamed on a lack of tithing. How can God bless you when you’re robbing him? These ideas can place a tremendous amount of stress on people who have very little to begin with. It’s always been funny to me how much importance the church places on tithing, but then they place very little focus on taking care of those who need it. The message is given that whatever is happening to you financially is probably tied to how much you have or haven’t given. They are not going to step in to help you because they might spoil whatever lesson God to trying to teach you. So they watch families twist in the wind while never having to worry about where their next meal will come from.

1. Do you have regrets about money you gave to the church?

2. Did your family suffer needlessly in order to give and give above and beyond?

3. Can you reframe your giving? You were most likely trying to do the godly thing. You were trying to be generous and give whatever you could.

4. Do you have resentment about pastors or others in leadership standing in judgment of your giving?

5. If you had your money back, would you donate it somewhere else? Maybe make a plan to give a small amount to a worthy cause.

Growing up in the church, I was given many reasons not to like myself. I came from Eve and through her sin entered the world. I asked too many questions and sought knowledge in a way that made the men around me uncomfortable. I excelled at things and had ambition, and instead of hiding my talents, I let them show. The worst of my sins was being pretty and young. I liked to dress nicely and style my stringy hair to look as good as possible. More than once, a man, usually an authority figure like a quiz master or youth leader, warned me about pride. Whenever I won a trophy involving school or quizzing, I was reminded not to become proud, and in those moments, all my joy was diminished. The undercurrent of my church experience was that I was trash and should remember that.

“But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags…” Isaiah 64:6

I wasn’t a boastful kid, but I did seek adult approval. At the time, it felt like that approval was almost impossible to come by. Everything should be done for the glory of God, and I shouldn’t want or need any credit or acknowledgment for my hard work.

All this brings us to this week’s journal prompts:

1. How easy was it for you to maintain self-esteem during your time in the church or other high-control group?

2. Did you ever feel guilty when you felt too good about yourself and your accomplishments?

3. If you’re a woman, did you feel more sinful than the men around you simply for being female?

4. When you look back, did you make yourself smaller to gain acceptance?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these! Let me know how they worked out.

This week’s prompt is inspired by the Diddy trial. While reading about the trial, my heart ached for all the people who were abused and then not believed. It must’ve been so scary for them to come forward and stand against the power of money and celebrity. I was reminded of when I came forward with my abuse story both as a child and then as an adult. I was afraid I wouldn’t be believed, but more than that, I was afraid I would be blamed. When I reported as a child, I was believed in a sense. No one doubted that the sexual acts happened. They doubted that it was abuse, that I was groomed, and that I was too young to consent. I was blamed. Decades later, when I came forward with my story as an adult, it was more of the same. I was accused of being a “loose child” among other things. The underlying message always seemed to be that I somehow knew what I was doing and that the man was powerless in the face of my wily daughter of Eve ways.

High-control groups can abuse people in many ways. Your abuse doesn’t have to look like mine. The prompt for today is about the fear of not being believed and then being blamed for whatever abusive situation you found yourself in.

1. Were you abused while in the UPC? It could be emotional, physical, mental, or financial?

2. When the abuse happened, were you afraid to disclose to your pastor or other authority figure?

3. What were you afraid of? Fear of not being believed, being blamed, or punished?

4. If you did report, how was it handled?

5. Now that you have some distance, how do you feel about how your abuse was handled? If you didn’t report, how do you feel about that? Do you have healing work to do in this area?

I know these are tough questions, and I’m here if you ever need support or a sounding board.

In the earlier set of prompts, I wrote about trying new things. I’m hoping we can go a bit deeper today. I hope you made a list of what you’ve always wanted to try or experience but didn’t because of the UPC or other high-control groups. I’d be lying if I said there was nothing about the church that I enjoyed. The one good thing that comes to mind is singing in the choir at church camp. There was real joy there. Winning Bible quizzing trophies also brought a sense of accomplishment. Other than those things, so much was off limits in terms of sports, hobbies, and ambitions. Along with things you are not allowed to participate in are the modes of self-expression that are cut off. How you dress, hair, makeup, and even speaking your mind without fear of rebuke. Today, I’m going to challenge you to write about one thing you’d like to try that you were afraid of trying before.

1. If you were not afraid of the church judging you, what would you try? What is one thing you can do today to move toward trying that new thing?

2. Once you’ve tried your new thing, how did it go? Will you continue or did you decide it wasn’t for you?

3. What emotions came up? Fear or exhilaration? Freedom or worry? Write it all down! Your journal is a great way to work through feelings.