Jennifer Lambert

A Sacred Balance

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Gifting with Gratitude

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Way back when (in the early 2000s,) I loved Freecycle. It was fun and I felt so good not adding to waste. Then, we moved to Germany and I lost touch with it. Like Craig’s List, Freecycle forum doesn’t seem as popular anymore.

The “Buy Nothing Project” began in 2013 and local groups have gained popularity recently around the globe. People struggling financially or for lack of community have flocked to assist others in a gift economy. Not everything has to be a transactional relationship.

If we all bought less and shared more, we would save money and reduce the amount of waste going to landfills or washing up on our shores. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle…and Refuse.

Liesl Clark, Buy Nothing Project

Since the original creators of the Buy Nothing movement recently have created an app with lots of paywalls and tricks to find a local group, my geographic group has split from them and renamed our Facebook group. Because the truth is, most of us are on Facebook and it’s just easier for us to comment, tag, and send messages through that program than to fight with an app that is less than user-friendly. And of course they wrote a book and have a podcast. But I get it. Everything grows and sometimes gets out of hand, too big for two people to maintain. The app is surely progress, but we have chosen to be unaffiliated.

The founders created some rules:

  1. No buying or selling.
  2. No trading or bartering.
  3. No strings attached.
  4. No hate speech.
  5. Nothing illegal. So no firearms, drugs, prescription medications, or expired goods, including car seats or cribs not up to current standards.
  6. No judgment. Every gift has equal value. Every giver and asker have equal value.
  7. No penalties. If you loan something, you have to be OK with the possibility that it might get damaged.
  8. No double-dipping. You can only join one group. To be admitted, you have to live in that community.

I love to see it. It’s beautiful. It’s not even a barter system. It’s just donating, lending, and sharing with neighbors. Gratitude in action.

I love how different the Buy Nothing concept is than Buy/Sell/Trade pages and groups.

I feel fortunate to be able to donate generously than having to sell items to make ends meet. Because I have certainly been there and it was stressful.

I respect anyone who needs to sell items, but we also can specify if items we are gifting can be resold or not. I do get irritated by resellers who jack up prices on secondhand items as their job or hobby. I don’t care much for Marketplace and all the scammers who prey on people selling and seeking.

Subgroups are awesome too! We also have a Community Chat group for our greater area that encompasses a much larger geographic area. This ensures we can reach a larger audience if we have attempted a gift or ask with no response or if we have a question or concern for the larger community. Sometimes, members post challenges to help us declutter or do something fun for each other. It’s endearing to see how the community comes together to help people whose homes are devastated by fire or offering to outfit a new mother whose partner suddenly left her. It’s so lovely to see people helping others.

What can you expect to find in a gift economy group?

Everything.

I have seen incredible items gifted and asked for. I am constantly amazed and surprised by what people so generously gift. And I never thought to ask for things that I know I might use once and never look at again.

BOOKS!

Home décor.

Pantry cleanouts.

Closet cleanouts.

Bathroom cleanouts.

Baking pans to borrow for a single occasion.

Crafting supplies.

Kids hand-me-downs. These are so expensive and I love to see them used and reused and loved!

SHOES!

Vitamins and supplements tried and disliked.

Foods opened and used for a single recipe. It’s lovely to offer to someone instead of throwing out or letting it sit in the fridge or pantry for months until it is indeed thrown away.

Sports paraphernalia.

Lawn equipment to borrow or keep.

FURNITURE!

Winter gear to borrow or keep.

Barn cleanouts.

Regifting gifts received that didn’t work or were received from holidays.

Incorrect orders of really nice brand new items that are a hassle to return.

Broken electronics or lawn equipment for fixing up or taking apart and learning about. This was so neat to see!

Pet items.

Homemade items.

Leftover alcohol from a party or a flavor they didn’t like. For safety and legal reasons, these are always handed to a person who shows ID.

Coupons and gift cards!

Last minute supplies for a school project.

Gardening items – even live plants! I have scored a ton of houseplants and hostas and lilies this way.

Our group does Round Robins for puzzles, books, purses, seeds, and more!

Gifting with Gratitude

Gifting

Take a clear photo of an item and post it.

Facebook algorithms cannot handle multiple photos in a post, so additional photos can be placed as comments to the original post.

Honest descriptions are important. I try to post the true description and how old an item is. I post that we have cats in case someone has an allergy. Posting sizes for clothing or an item beside a common thing like a water bottle is nice.

Some people make it fun and ask for a favorite recipe or funny story in the comments or what is the person going to use the item for?

Once choosing a recipient, only then may the chosen person private message about it. If the person doesn’t respond within 24 hours, then choosing another recipient is reasonable.

I’ve seen gifts of time or people offering to pickup items for neighbors, friends, and family members. I love the people who offer to take things off your hands if you want to gift it but don’t have time or energy to sort and post it.

It really is a community.

Receiving

If I see an item I want up for a gift, I comment that I would like the item for me, or one of my kids, or my husband, sometimes why, and when I might be able to pick up the item.

There is no guarantee that commenting first or being able to pickup anytime will get me the item.

Some very popular and generous gifts are raffled off randomly either with a spinner app or names/numbers in a hat.

We do tend to see the same names come up a lot. We’re a fairly small group and I love to recognize people whom I may not really know in real life. Because we homeschool, my kids don’t participate in anything and we stay home a lot.

Certain people seem to get a reputation as being the plant lover or dog rehabber or foster parent. Some people are pickers and gather items off the roadside to regift so as to keep things out of the landfill.

Once chosen for an item, only then may a recipient private message about it, and in a timely manner, or it might go to another recipient.

Asking

I love how people ask for help or for an item to try or borrow, or something specific they realize they want or need. I’m not comfortable with doing that, but I love that others are! It truly shows how we are growing in community and helping each other when we can feel safe to ask and receive help.

Tip Tuesdays

Each week, one of the moderators of our group posts a tip to help us be kind or informed, based on the original rules or issues that have arisen in our group or community.

Wishful Wednesdays

Each week, one of the moderators of our group posts an image for a thread of asks that we can look over and see if we can meet anyone’s requests. It’s lovely to see these needs being met every week!

Thankful Thursdays

Each week, one of the moderators of our group posts an image for a thread where we can express gratitude over a specific gift or situation that has helped us in any way. It’s just gorgeous to see all the blessings!

Helpful

Archiving chats: in Facebook Messenger, instead of deleting chats after gifting or receiving, ARCHIVING is a great way to maintain the communication without clogging up my Messenger app. I can go back into the chat window history for addresses and gifts/receipts. Super helpful for when I find the charging cord that went with the thing or the 3rd book in the series I gifted last week.

Including the item in a message is helpful. Sometimes I gift or ask for several items in a week, so it helps for everyone to keep things straight. Something simple, like “Thanks for the blue shirt, I can come anytime tomorrow.”

Communication is great! Things happen. Let people know if you are running late or have some conflict with pickup. Letting people know you got the item is helpful too.

We are still in a pandemic, and lots of people are trying very hard to stay well, so please be kind and let people know if you or someone in your household is sick or has been exposed to someone is sick.

When gifting items, I usually leave them in grocery bags on my front porch. If there’s wind or precipitation, I place them inside a Rubbermaid bin. I attach sticky notes or cards to the bags with the recipient’s name. For larger items, it’s easier to set up a time window or even interact and help them load it into their car.

I love our local gift economy group.

I have enjoyed being generous in donating some of our items we no longer need, want, or use – clothes, books, décor, plant starts, craft supplies, our old TV and surround sound system, a water dispenser when we got a whole house system.

I have been gifted some amazing things! Homemade afghan and pot holders, vintage décor, holiday items, Indiana glass bowl, clothes, plants, furniture. I even scored a treadmill!

It’s such a great way to keep things out of landfills and into the hands of members of our community who really want or need it.

Linking up: Eclectic Red Barn, Pinch of Joy, House on Silverado, Suburbia, Random Musings, April Harris, Ridge Haven, Pam’s Party, Mostly Blogging, Create with Joy, Grammy’s Grid, Growing Garden, Jenerally Informed, InstaEncouragements, LouLou Girls, Fluster Buster, Life Abundant, Penny’s Passion, Try it Like it, Soaring with Him, Slices of Life, Artful Mom, Modern on Monticello, Pam’s Party, Answer is Chocolate, Momfessionals, Lisa Notes, CWJ, Imparting Grace,

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Best Books of 2022

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I read a lot…like a lot a lot.

We do read alouds for our homeschool every morning and some evenings.

I always have several books on my Kindle app or nightstand or side table, throughout the house, really.

I love exploring new concepts in history or self-help and reading fiction with my kids.

I try to intersperse fun and quick fiction reads. There are no fluffy, bad, or wrong books. There are just preferences.

I read lots of books. It tends to go in waves depending on what’s going on in my life, how busy we are, my moods and availability of library eBooks. I think I notice themes each year that help me grow and become a better person, wife, mom.

I don’t like quitting, but if I really loathe the book, the characters, and story, then I can’t find any reason to finish. Some books I read in a single evening. Others take a few days or even weeks.

I love, love, love historical fiction. My faves are Edward Rutherfurd, Ken Follett, Philippa Gregory. I’m also obsessed with cult memoirs, not sure what that says about me.

My Favorite Books I Read in 2022

The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness, and Healing in a Toxic Culture by Gabor Maté

A culmination of everything we need to address and change in our society.

In this revolutionary book, renowned physician Gabor Maté eloquently dissects how in Western countries that pride themselves on their healthcare systems, chronic illness and general ill health are on the rise. Nearly 70 percent of Americans are on at least one prescription drug; more than half take two. In Canada, every fifth person has high blood pressure. In Europe, hypertension is diagnosed in more than 30 percent of the population. And everywhere, adolescent mental illness is on the rise. So what is really “normal” when it comes to health?

Over four decades of clinical experience, Maté has come to recognize the prevailing understanding of “normal” as false, neglecting the roles that trauma and stress, and the pressures of modern-day living, exert on our bodies and our minds at the expense of good health. For all our expertise and technological sophistication, Western medicine often fails to treat the whole person, ignoring how today’s culture stresses the body, burdens the immune system, and undermines emotional balance. Now Maté brings his perspective to the great untangling of common myths about what makes us sick, connects the dots between the maladies of individuals and the declining soundness of society—and offers a compassionate guide for health and healing. Cowritten with his son Daniel, The Myth Of Normal is Maté’s most ambitious and urgent book yet.

Vita Nostra: A Novel by Marina & Sergey Dyachenko

This book is so unique and I cannot stop thinking about it. I preordered the sequel and read their other novel translated into English.

Our life is brief . . .

Sasha Samokhina has been accepted to the Institute of Special Technologies.

Or, more precisely, she’s been chosen.

Situated in a tiny village, she finds the students are bizarre, and the curriculum even more so. The books are impossible to read, the lessons obscure to the point of maddening, and the work refuses memorization. Using terror and coercion to keep the students in line, the school does not punish them for their transgressions and failures; instead, it is their families that pay a terrible price. Yet despite her fear, Sasha undergoes changes that defy the dictates of matter and time; experiences which are nothing she has ever dreamed of . . . and suddenly all she could ever want.

The School for Good Mothers: A Novel by Jessamine Chan

This book is not pleasant. It sure made me think and fear and wonder. What could our society turn out to be like if we stop trusting mothers, anyone? Do we really need a carceral state at all?

Frida Liu is struggling. She doesn’t have a career worthy of her Chinese immigrant parents’ sacrifices. She can’t persuade her husband, Gust, to give up his wellness-obsessed younger mistress. Only with Harriet, their cherubic daughter, does Frida finally attain the perfection expected of her. Harriet may be all she has, but she is just enough.

Until Frida has a very bad day.

The state has its eye on mothers like Frida. The ones who check their phones, letting their children get injured on the playground; who let their children walk home alone. Because of one moment of poor judgement, a host of government officials will now determine if Frida is a candidate for a Big Brother-like institution that measures the success or failure of a mother’s devotion.

Faced with the possibility of losing Harriet, Frida must prove that a bad mother can be redeemed. That she can learn to be good.

Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May

A lovely reminder to rest. It’s not a reward; we need to practice more rest. A snuggly reminder any time of year.

Sometimes you slip through the cracks: unforeseen circumstances like an abrupt illness, the death of a loved one, a break up, or a job loss can derail a life. These periods of dislocation can be lonely and unexpected. For May, her husband fell ill, her son stopped attending school, and her own medical issues led her to leave a demanding job. Wintering explores how she not only endured this painful time, but embraced the singular opportunities it offered.

Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole by Susan Cain

A great example of why positivity is toxic. Just let me be melancholy and feels all the feels. If we are content, we are not changing.

Bittersweetness is a tendency to states of long­ing, poignancy, and sorrow; an acute aware­ness of passing time; and a curiously piercing joy at the beauty of the world. It recognizes that light and dark, birth and death—bitter and sweet—are forever paired. 
 
If you’ve ever wondered why you like sad music . . . 
If you find comfort or inspiration in a rainy day . . . 
If you react intensely to music, art, nature, and beauty . . .
 
Then you probably identify with the bitter­sweet state of mind.

The Maid: A Novel by Nita Prose 

I’m not normally a fan of mysteries. This one surprised me and I can’t wait to see the film. I was shocked by the ending since I really didn’t expect that.

Molly Gray is not like everyone else. She struggles with social skills and misreads the intentions of others. Her gran used to interpret the world for her, codifying it into simple rules that Molly could live by.

Since Gran died a few months ago, twenty-five-year-old Molly has been navigating life’s complexities all by herself. No matter—she throws herself with gusto into her work as a hotel maid. Her unique character, along with her obsessive love of cleaning and proper etiquette, make her an ideal fit for the job. She delights in donning her crisp uniform each morning, stocking her cart with miniature soaps and bottles, and returning guest rooms at the Regency Grand Hotel to a state of perfection.

But Molly’s orderly life is upended the day she enters the suite of the infamous and wealthy Charles Black, only to find it in a state of disarray and Mr. Black himself dead in his bed. Before she knows what’s happening, Molly’s unusual demeanor has the police targeting her as their lead suspect. She quickly finds herself caught in a web of deception, one she has no idea how to untangle. Fortunately for Molly, friends she never knew she had unite with her in a search for clues to what really happened to Mr. Black—but will they be able to find the real killer before it’s too late?

The Sparrow: A Novel by Mary Doria Russell 

I also read the sequel. It made me think about what makes us human. It made me question history, capitalism, caste and class. So much philosophy and religion examined.

A visionary work that combines speculative fiction with deep philosophical inquiry, The Sparrow tells the story of a charismatic Jesuit priest and linguist, Emilio Sandoz, who leads a scientific mission entrusted with a profound task: to make first contact with intelligent extraterrestrial life. The mission begins in faith, hope, and beauty, but a series of small misunderstandings brings it to a catastrophic end.

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What did you read this year?

Linking up: Eclectic Red Barn, God’s Growing Garden, Grammy’s Grid, April Harris, Silverado, Pinch of Joy, Suburbia, Jenerally Informed, Anita Ojeda, Homestead, Mostly Blogging, InstaEncouragements, Simply Coffee, Joanne Viola, Ridge Haven, Ducks in a Row, Fluster Buster, Imparting Grace, Slices of Life, Artful Mom, Try it Like it, Penny’s Passion, Shelbee on the Edge, Answer is Chocolate, Monticello, Momfessionals, Lisa Notes, LouLou Girls,

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Hospitality

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I used to stress out over having dinner parties, birthday parties, gatherings in our home.

Now, I refuse to sponsor events in my home.

I protect our home as a sanctuary.

For years, the church told me that I must be ever ready for hospitality. I believed that – a little too much perhaps.

I wanted to be a good wife and mother. I thought that included planning and having parties.

I remember my mother having my birthday parties in our home. I’m an only child. My aunts and cousins and some school and neighborhood friends would come. My father was always on a business trip. My mom planned it every year while he was away.

I remember going to my aunt’s house for every holiday. It was festive and exciting. The decorations made it special – because my aunt went all out and it was just gorgeous. The foods and punch were only available those wonderful moments each year so I looked forward to them even more. My father stayed home alone every single year. My mom and his mother and I would go.

As a military family, we never got to experience holidays with family. We’ve always lived hours – or even oceans away.

When we planned our own little family holiday dinners, I was so stressed about making everything perfect that I would make myself physically ill. Every holiday, I would burst into tears because something wasn’t just right at dinner. The wine was spilled. The meat wasn’t cooked just right. I would forget something important, like cranberry sauce. But, I had no help. My kids were babies. My husband stayed out of the way while I worked myself into a frenzy. My mother had my two grandmothers for help and I just don’t think they really cared all that much about the details.

My kids are teens now and we cook together like a symphony.

I feel like a really horrible mom about not having birthday parties for my kids, but we bought all the themed decorations and I baked cupcakes and planned games…and no one showed up. Like, no one showed up for an entire year for my kids. No one RSVP’ed and no one came at all. We sat around as a family, staring at the cupcakes and snacks, until I went to the bathroom and cried because I realized what was happening. Then we turned on music and had our little family party.

I stopped planning my kids’ birthday parties about ten years ago.

After that year, we did everything almost the same for birthdays, but we invited no one. It’s not about getting lots of presents. It’s about celebrating my people.

My kids don’t get invited anywhere either because we homeschool and don’t go to church anymore and we just don’t have any one.

The people we thought were our friends promptly forgot about us the moment we moved away. We were even unfriended on social media. This was before I even knew what ghosting was. I’m still hurt by the lack of closure. Did I say or do something to offend? Did my kids hurt the other kids’ feelings? Did my husband upset someone? We will never know.

It was hard to socialize with my husband’s coworkers because we were often admonished for intermingling with different ranks. Even now that he’s retired and working at a local hospital, work events take place at work, so families aren’t involved.

The quarantine with COVID thankfully didn’t affect us all that much, but we’re even more isolated now. There is a gap in my son’s experiences since he has aged out of most the homeschool classes his siblings got to take. All the extracurricular activities were closed during COVID and now it’s too late for him at almost age thirteen.

My kids used to play in the neighborhood with a couple kids, but no one was ever allowed inside houses, and that’s so strange to me who grew up in the 1980’s and we were everywhere all at once. My kids lost the few acquaintances they had in the neighborhood the last year because they’re from ultra conservative families who were antivax and told us my trans kid is going to hell. My kids chose not to compromise.

I used to dream of being that house all the kids congregated at – with cookies and snacks and safety. No one over the age of ten is outside anymore. Kids are kept in classes, planned activities, rec sports, school-related extracurriculars. They have no time anymore. They have no freedom.

In Utah and Ohio, we invited people from church for celebrations and a few times it even turned out ok. I’ve been criticized by not having my kids more involved or cutting corners with store-bought cookie dough. But even when people brought a side dish, it was so very expensive hosting. I even learned how to make fun and delicious vegan dishes for the vegan pastor’s family.

It’s amazing how quickly turn against you when you begin questioning sexism and racism and capitalism in the church. We were only as valuable as we were available to work harder and spend our own money on entertaining the church. I was told to have a nice life as a dismissal. So, that chapter is closed in our book.

“Don’t leave the church because of the people who hurt you. Nobody is perfect, only God.” I’ll explain why this comment is not only not helpful at all, but also very harmful.

Jo Leuhmann

I tried to be kind to my eldest child’s friends. I invited her people over for dinner a couple times, but it’s stressful on my younger kids to feel they have to perform.

Now it’s about keeping us safe from antivaxxers.

Yes, I realize I sound whiny. But to constantly beat my head against brick walls eventually gets tiresome. We’ve been hurt and ignored and abused for so many years that it’s really hard to keep trying. I refuse to stay where I am not appreciated or celebrated. I would rather be alone. I would rather save my energy.

We desperately tried to be hospitable over the years.

My home is safe and a sanctuary from the world. I want my kids to feel safe inside our home and not hypervigilant against someone who might pose a health danger.

My introverted self is safer and happier alone in my home with my cats and my kids.

We don’t need Bible verses spouted in hate admonishing us to try harder.

Books That Have Helped Me:

You might also like:

Linking up: Pinch of Joy, Create with Joy, Suburbia, Random Musings, Homestead, Eclectic Red Barn, God’s Growing Garden, Jenerally Informed, InstaEncouragements, OMHG, Artful Mom, Life Beyond Kitchen, Slices of Life, Joanne Viola, Soaring with Him, Fluster Buster, Ridge Haven, Answer is Choco, Lisa Notes, Pieced Pastimes, Being a Wordsmith, LouLou Girls,

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Adult Daughter

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My parents turned 80 last April.

They were married for about thirteen years before they finally had me.

I am an only child.

I really wish I could write a feel-good memoir about how my mom and I have always been great friends. I wish I could say that I was daddy’s girl. But, alas, that is not the case.

I am a disappointment to my parents because I never could meet their expectations in any way.

My kids don’t know their grandparents.

My Timeline as an Adult Daughter

I remember dreaming as a teenager how there must be some magical moment when I had freedom and trust and could do the cool things I saw others doing with their friends, peers, family members.

That magical moment never happened.

I was told to leave home at 18 when my father found a condom in my purse. They didn’t want me living in their home anymore – even though I was a good person, no drugs or problems. My boyfriend was a good man. We were both on a good trajectory in college and planning our lives and futures. My parents gave me the ultimatum that I could live at home or leave my boyfriend. It was such a difficult decision since I had no savings or any way to live on my own while continuing with college. I only worked part time at a drug store. Edward worked part time at Costco while living at home and attending college too. I often wonder if I could have managed and left, and what my life might have turned out like if I had rebelled then.

I eloped when I was almost 21. Then I was disowned for my first marriage. They mailed me a torn-up copy of their will.

Wade Mullen

They were angry when I got pregnant and I didn’t get a nice baby shower, just tiny token gifts from my aunt and cousins and co-workers. My parents came to the hospital to see us, but they got very upset and jealous that my first husband’s parents were there, and my mother-in-law was helping me, so they left in a huff. My mother arrived at my home the next week and I had to make her dinner while exhausted.

They weren’t much help with my first child and constantly complained about her, but they were relieved when I got divorced.

My parents adore adore my current husband.

The best thing I did was leave Georgia so it put some distance between my parents and me. I literally went through withdrawal for several years from all the abusive expectations and I didn’t know how to be alone or how to be an adult or wife or mother.

Very unfortunately, my husband’s parents both passed the first year we were married, so they never even got to meet their son’s kids. His mother did throw me a lovely baby shower and gifted us a lot of stuff that last Christmas.

My parents traveled to Texas for the births of my middle two kids. They stayed in a hotel. They were no help and I was more stressed out knowing I had to entertain them and keep peace. I was very sick after my second child was born and my father was just furious. After a Caesarean section birth of my third child, they wanted to go out to dinner, so I had to drag myself and a newborn with my toddler and young child to a restaurant or have no dinner. My husband was lost during all these games and didn’t know what to say or do.

My mother traveled to Hawaii for the birth of my last child, but my father couldn’t be bothered. She stayed in a hotel on Pearl Harbor naval base. They had both just come out for Christmas the previous year and it was too much for him to sit in an airplane from Georgia to Hawaii again. My mother was unkind to my three kids and I couldn’t really trust her or rely on her to help at all. She accused them of stealing her bracelet! It had fallen off the nightstand. My husband didn’t know any of this. It was very stressful when I should have been enjoying my newborn son.

During my husband’s first deployment in 2011, my parents decided that was a great time to visit me and the kids in Utah. They chose to come in May – not in March for my birthday, not the first week in April for their birthdays or my son’s first birthday, not around my third child’s birthday or on Mother’s Day, but just a random time in mid-May. They refused to stay at my house (even though I offered them my bed) and instead opted for a nearby hotel. They sauntered over midday, about lunchtime and naptime for my son. It disrupted our whole schedule and they kept telling my kids to go away and play outside or in the basement. I was super stressed and confused. My mom made my second child cry about something irrelevant and then lied about it. They didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything except sit on my sofa and they were very upset my TV was in the basement because they didn’t want to walk down a flight of stairs. Then, they got really mad and left early and I later received an actual letter in the mail – hate mail! – outlining everything that’s wrong about me, my children, and my lack of good mothering skills. Also, that I should hit my children to make them never cry and behave perfectly.

We didn’t see my parents again until May 2014.

Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle

Before we PCSed to Germany, I felt we needed to visit my parents…in case something happened while we were on another continent for three years.

It was a very stressful couple weeks.

My kids were banished to other rooms, constantly told to be quiet. The wildflowers they picked for their only grandmother were thrown away. We didn’t go anywhere except to the veteran’s park in their town.

I was told not to cook anymore since it was too messy, made too many dishes, was more food than they were used to having.

My father promised my son to take him to his barber to get haircuts, but the day arrived and my father took off on his own for the entire day and no one knew where he was. My son was devastated.

My father was also going to take my eldest child on a special trip to Andersonville since we had been studying the Civil War. He told her she didn’t deserve the trip with her bad attitude.

They were apprehensive when we went to Stone Mountain Park and Stately Oaks. They didn’t feel comfortable with us borrowing one of their three SUVs to go to the Atlanta aquarium. But they didn’t want to go anywhere with us.

Then, we visited them again June 2017, upon our return to the States, and it was again miserable.

My parents had promised my eldest their 2010 VW Beetle and money to help pay for college, but they swore they never promised any college money and told us all she didn’t deserve the car. They then handed over the car last minute, but made it clear they didn’t want to and that it shouldn’t go to her.

We left earlier than we had planned.

So, I haven’t even seen my parents since 2018.

They drove up to Ohio from Georgia, to surprise my husband for his promotion in February 2018.

They then drove up again for Christmas 2018 while he was deployed, but vowed they couldn’t travel anymore after that.

It was a little bit easier on my own turf with older kids who have learned to stay away from their grandparents and monitor their moods, which is sad.

I invited my parents a few times – to be told they couldn’t make it. It’s a lot more difficult for us to travel with four busy kids and two cats. My parents are retired, wealthy, no responsibilities. They could go anywhere, anytime…they do own three SUVs!

My father has had at least two tantrums when he gave me the silent treatment the last couple years – no phone calls, no emails, nothing. My mother is almost amused by this instead of disturbed. She feels superior, I guess.

We’re punished by no birthday cards – no gifts, no money, no phone calls. It’s like we’re erased, forgotten. How do I explain this to my kids?

My mom broke her sternum in a random fall and I didn’t find out for days.

My father fell and bruised his rib over the July 4th weekend and I didn’t find out until later that week.

My mom was rushed by ambulance to the hospital due to severe back pain and she had to demand he call us. She has a broken vertebra. It’s been a long time healing and she can’t drive, can barely walk with a walker. How about those three SUVs now?

I called them on Thanksgiving and that wasn’t the most pleasant conversation when I risked asking what their plans are for their future. They got mad that I brought up the forbidden questions and didn’t talk to me for two more weeks. My mother is never great with communication and my father emails me weather and football reports every few days like everything is just fine.

It’s hard being their daughter.

My children don’t have grandparents.

We’re jealous when we see families with grandparents. Most people assume this is the norm, and I’m sure it is – families who live nearby and enjoy each other, rooting for victories and sorrow with mistakes. We don’t have any family. I keep trying. It’s like banging my head into a brick wall.

I long for more. I yearn for my kids to launch into the world and fly back frequently to the nest. I wait with open arms because of the bitter memories I harbor of my own parents. I don’t want my kids to ever feel unwanted or unloved.

It’s a deep pain. It’s hard to swallow, even as an adult, that a parent simply isn’t interested in their child and never has been. Some parents will only approve of their children as long as the children follow the narrative those parents have chosen for them instead or embracing honoring who each child IS as determined by the children themselves!

The Wellness Point

Well Said:

Resources:

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Overconfidence

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What is it about men and overconfidence?

It seems our society encourages men to brag, lie, deceive, exaggerate their abilities.

It’s way beyond just saying, “The fish was THIS BIG.”

It’s not cute. It’s not endearing.

I dated a boy in high school who bragged constantly and I really didn’t know any better then. He claimed he owned a 64 1/2 Mustang. He claimed he did yard work for the Monticello subdivision, and he led people to believe it was the highly affluent neighborhood on the far side of town. He made a lot of claims that I never could actually refute because I didn’t ever really confront him. The car was in storage (apparently it belonged to his uncle) and the subdivision turned out to be just some duplexes.

I’ve met lots of men who feel a need to brag and exaggerate and flat-out lie to appear better than they really are. Many just allow us to believe whatever we assume without any correction, as long as they look good.

Many men want constantly to relive their “glory days,” whenever they feel that was – high school, college, early adulthood. Whenever they felt biggest and baddest, strongest and most in control.

The really sad thing is that people who brag the most just can’t accept who they really are, so they have to portray themselves as somehow more than they really are.

Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre straight white man.

Lily Tomlin

When women believe men, they suffer.

As much as I despise about my father and all his faults, this is one area where he doesn’t fall short. I can’t remember him ever misrepresenting himself. He is 80 and still thinks he can do things he could do at age 50, but that’s a little bit different.

My first husband’s father told everyone he was retired. I believed him. Who wouldn’t? But, he didn’t pull a pension from anywhere. He never retired. He just quit working. He claimed when he became a Christian, he just couldn’t manage to work in secular jobs anymore. There has to be more to the story, but that’s all I ever got. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. His wife worked herself to death and they lived on credit until they filed for bankruptcy.

My second husband used his religion to manipulate me and others. The final straw was when he was fired from his job and deceived me for over three weeks. He just pretended to go to work still. When I saw through his vast façade and tried to leave, he destroyed me in every way he could with outrageous lies. I lost my job. I lost my friends. I lost my church.

My current husband bragged for years about what a great gift giver he is, also how he could build a deck and fence. He is not really a good gift giver, some because I am not a good receiver, and I have purchased and wrapped all gifts for everyone for every holiday for almost two decades, but who brags about that? What is it about men who buy gifts for their wives that they themselves want or are the traditional no-no’s – electronics, foods, housewares? When we bought our house and I called him out on his stories of building decks and fences, he balked and we had to hire someone to replace the fence – who did a rather shabby job anyway. He helped his brothers-in-law build a deck over twenty years ago, but he didn’t singlehandedly design, plan, or implement anything. At least he can actually do basic plumbing and electrical chores.

My kids have known people, adults and children, who feel the need to puff up and brag about who they know, what they do, what they have, what their family and friends have or do. It’s rather distasteful and very disappointing when my kids find out the truth behind the lies.

The funny thing is that men are allowed and encouraged to brag, but women can’t even be honest about our accomplishments without being told to be more humble. Women are supposed to be modest or humblebrag to downplay ourselves and our accomplishments, our victories…especially when in the presence of men and their fragile egos. Women can’t appear to be efficient or capable or not needing a man to guide and protect us. Women are supposed to pretend to be helpless, less than we are, dumber than we are, powerless…so as to not emasculate men.

I was actively taught to exhibit this behavior by my own parents and teachers and adults. I have seen it in my kids and it disgusts me that I have actively tried to teach them to be confident and assertive.

We are living in dangerous times when men continue to grasp power and fight to keep power away from women, children, LGBTQIA+, and other marginalized groups.

Travis Akers

Resources:

Linking up: Eclectic Red Barn, Pam’s Party, Random Musings, Ridge Haven, Mostly Blogging, God’s Growing Garden, LouLou Girls, Anita Ojeda, Jeanne Takenaka, Jenerally Informed, April Harris, InstaEncouragements, Simply Coffee, Joanne Viola, Soaring with Him, Homestead, Life Abundant, Create with Joy, Fluster Buster, Penny’s Passion, Artful Mom, Imparting Grace, Slices of Life, Beyond the Kitchen, Modern Monticello, Momfessionals, Answer is Chocolate, Lisa Notes, Being a Wordsmith,

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Ruined

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It’s been about eight years.

And I know I should probably get over it.

But it’s symbolic of my entire relationship with my mother.

It doesn’t matter that I bought this shirt at a thrift store. It was my favorite shirt. I felt good when I wore it.

We visited my parents near Atlanta, in May 2014, before we PCSed from Utah to Germany. My parents are getting old and I didn’t know what could transpire during our three years on another continent. We hadn’t seen my family since 2011.

It was a stressful time for the kids and me, staying with my parents, whom my kids don’t even really know. This was just one incident in a series of problems.

During the ten days we stayed with my parents, I had to do laundry since we had been living out of suitcases for many weeks between our TLF stay in Utah, the road trip from Utah to Georgia, and anticipating a month in TLF once we arrived in Germany.

My mother has a weird obsession with bleach.

I bought and used organic laundry detergent that our family is used to using and I washed and dried our clothes. I hung up my pink ruffled shirt on the drying rack in the little laundry room off the kitchen.

My mother washed her towels and laundry, I guess, like she normally does, and somehow, oh my ever-loving god, the bleach splashed across three feet from the washing machine onto one of the ruffles on my pink shirt that was hanging to dry. I wish I had a picture of the bleached shirt. It was a huge bleached patch. Like, how does that even happen? Most bottles of bleach say they’re non-splash or something. It’s concentrated and easy to pour. Was she slinging the bleach around like the gas station scene from Zoolander?

And then, she wasn’t even really sorry. My shirt was ruined! I couldn’t color-match the bleach stain. I didn’t want to bleach wash the shirt to be something creative and different. I couldn’t find a replacement.

She just shrugged it off, like it was my fault. Like everything in my entire life is my fault. I shouldn’t have hung my shirt there. I should’ve been more careful. Maybe I shouldn’t have done my laundry at all.

Which is her attitude about everything in our entire lives! She refuses to apologize or admit she ever did anything inappropriate or wrong.

She recently told me I was not to blame them anymore and to keep the emails and conversation light or not at all.

There will be people that would rather lose you, than be honest about what they’ve done to you. Let them go.

Nate Postlethwait

I found this shirt on Poshmark, which I don’t think existed back then, and we were moving to Germany anyway, so… I know eBay has been around a long time, but I couldn’t find this shirt anywhere, anytime I looked. I couldn’t even really find the proper key words to search…until last month.

It was just a little something that grated in the back of my mind and broke my heart over and over. I know it’s just a shirt, but it hurt that my mother just didn’t care about ruining it. Just like she doesn’t care about me or my kids.

I now have my replacement shirt. I feel a little bit triumphant. I know my mother doesn’t even remember this episode, like she doesn’t remember anything very important that ever happened to me, good or bad.

I wish it were as easy to repair our relationship as it was to get a new shirt.

If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family.

Ram Dass

Resources:

Linking up: Eclectic Red Barn, Silverado, Random Musings, Ridge Haven, Pinch of Joy, Create with Joy, Suburbia, LouLou Girls, InstaEncouragements, Jeanne Takenaka, Jenerally Informed, God’s Growing Garden, OMHG, Blue Cotton Memory, Life Abundant, Fluster Buster, Joanne Viola, Soaring with Him, Homestead, Penny’s Passion, Try it Like it, Artful Mom, Imparting Grace, Lisa Notes, CWJ, Coffee and Jesus, Answer is Choco, Momfessionals, Being a Wordsmith, Slices of Life, Modern Monticello, Pam’s Party, Mostly Blogging,

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Outgrown

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My eldest had a favorite pair of boots when she was about ten to eleven years old.

She wore those boots way longer than she should have and scrunched up her toes when they became too small.

The first photo evidence I have of the boots is November 2010, and the last evidence I can find is January 2012. Her feet definitely grew a lot during that time, and more than outgrew those boots. She had other shoes, but refused to give up those boots.

I always assumed I would be informed when clothes, shoes, styles were outgrown.

I have four kids and they’re usually really vocal about anything that isn’t just right for them. We’ve had tantrums over socks and tags and soap and hair.

I trusted my kids to tell me they needed new shoes. I asked if the boots were ok, but I should have checked and verified. It was a difficult time for our family, with moving across the country and deployment.

I could make a thousand excuses, but I failed to understand there was a problem in time.

Having too small shoes for about two years gave her hammer toes and affected the tendons and ligaments in her legs. She complained about the leg pain, but never about her toes or feet, or having too-small shoes. I purchased the kids all new shoes, but failed to fully inspect those boots, though I do remember checking at least once and I think she purposely scrunched her toes…and I just believed her.

When we went to the doctor, they were too quick to refer to a specialist – who recommended surgery! Then, we got another referral for physical therapy. We got new shoes, threw out the boots. The PT helped a lot. I also massaged her feet, legs, and back with essential oils. She was at the cusp of puberty and it was almost too late for healing, but we were all very diligent to help her heal and remind her to do her stretches.

She had to stop running track since the pain was too much. She never did pick it back up. Luckily, she was able to participate in Civil Air Patrol and did well in all the physical activities for the few years she was in it.

It’s so hard to watch a child suffer. It’s even worse when I know I should’ve been on top of it and prevented it.

There were too many years when I was in survival mode.

There were too many times I was neglectful and relied too much on my eldest to be older and more mature than she was.

Since I had no village, no family, no friends, no help…I relied on my kids to help…for us all to work together, especially when their dad was deployed. While this sounds great on the surface, it was not feasible long-term and it was really, really hard for all of us. I certainly learned self-reliance because no one else was reliable.

I had her babysit and told myself that she enjoyed the responsibility. She still brags that she potty-trained her siblings. I know she’s proud of that, but I am ashamed that it’s mostly true. She did too much, too soon, and lost much of her childhood too early. She didn’t deserve parentification.

I tried so hard to maintain balance and push her to play and experience fun things, but many of those things she had to do alone while I kept her siblings from interfering or disrupting. I know she is still resentful that I wasn’t always able to be there and give her my undivided attention all the time.

I projected my overly mature childhood onto my daughter and I enmeshed my emotions with hers. I expected her to be like me. And I wasn’t even fully aware that I wasn’t healthy then. So much damage was done.

And the church encouraged all this and told me that I was doing a great job in spite of everything I felt deep down inside that I was doing everything so wrong and I felt so lost and alone. I had no one, no help.

The church and military communities failed us.

I was supposed to be training up a mother’s little helper and raising my daughters to be good wives and mothers. Thankfully, we all balked at those proscribed gender roles and we are better now in our spiritual pursuits. But there is so much healing still taking place.

The boots are just a metaphor for all the times I missed the mark for about ten or more years with my daughter.

It’s not like we couldn’t afford new boots.

A tween girl often isn’t in a place to express herself safely or even know what’s wrong when that’s all she knows. There were some very bad times for several years and I was not always at my best in dealing with issues I had no reference or guidance for, and my kids are “good kids.” I was a “good kid.”

But I want more than just appearances.

This episode further pushed me in a different direction as a parent. I knew something had to change. I’m sad that this catalyst was necessary, but the outcome has been good. The trajectory has continued in a healthier, gentler direction for years.

My eldest child has taught me so much as a person, as a mom, as a daughter.

She taught me what it’s like to speak up for injustice. She’s always been vocal. As a baby, it was colic. As a wee girl, she was bossy and argumentative. As a teen, she was defiant. As a young woman, she is a leader.

She taught me compassion. She always looks to help ease others’ pain. I am proud of her for taking soup to a sick classmate and offering rides to friends. She has helped others to her own detriment at times. Yes, she’s been taken advantage of, and that’s the risk. She continues to have a huge heart.

She taught me a lot about mistakes and regrets and how to make amends, how to truly apologize and forgive. We will never get closure from her abusive father and his family. His parents have passed, so there is no one to ask about events anymore. My parents have no relationship with us and I have confronted them multiple times to no avail. We are really all alone, but she just shrugs away that pain and finds comfort in her friends who are her chosen family.

It seems like I have spent almost my entire life fighting. Fighting to be seen and heard, fighting for my daughter, fighting with my daughter, fighting society to be better for her and my other kids.

She sets boundaries and doesn’t stay in relationships that become toxic. I am proud of her for recognizing when friends and lovers are mean, unhealthy, or not right for her.

She knows when to quit. I always pushed through and maybe that wasn’t the best thing for me, but I saw few alternatives. I had different choices then, and certainly couldn’t envision the future that I am living now. She resents that I pushed her into early college and a part-time job, and I do regret that, but I still don’t know what else I could have done. I’m sad that her young adulthood is so hard and she doesn’t get to enjoy much, is struggling financially, trying to find her place. Outside circumstances with COVID and the university going on strike affected events beyond our control.

We are healing together.

While I wish she had never had to suffer the trauma of being the “guinea pig first child” and had to help to raise me as a parent, I am so pleased we are still close now that she’s an independent adult.

Here’s to more growing closer together.

Resources:

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IC drug linked to blindness and eye problems

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If you’re one of the 1 million men or 3 million women suffering from IC, or interstitial cystitis, you’re probably all too familiar with the bladder pain, frequency and urgency that make this condition so debilitating. While there are many treatments available to help ease IC symptoms, one drug commonly used to treat IC – Elmiron – may be doing more harm than good. This IC drug linked to blindness and eye problems, and can pose a threat to your quality of life.

Why is Elmiron so dangerous?

Elmiron is the only FDA-approved oral medication for IC, and it’s been on the market for over 20 years. While it’s generally considered safe, there have been mounting reports and studies that show of serious eye problems associated with Elmiron use, including vision loss, retinal pigmentary changes, and maculopathy. In fact, a rare disorder known as Pigmentary Maculopathy has been linked to Elmiron.

Pigmentary maculopathy is a degenerative eye disease that leads to vision loss, and it’s thought to be caused by the accumulation of Elmiron in the retina. This build-up of Elmiron can lead to vision problems, and in some cases, blindness.

Other symptoms to look out for include:

  • Blurry vision
  • Difficulty reading
  • Eye fatigue
  • Central vision loss
  • Difficulty adjusting to light

If you’re currently taking Elmiron or have taken it in the past, it’s important to be aware of these potential side effects. If you experience any vision changes, be sure to see an eye doctor right away for a comprehensive eye exam. While there is no cure for pigmentary maculopathy, early diagnosis and treatment can help slow the progression of the disease and preserve your vision.

What to Do If You’ve Been Affected

If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with pigmentary maculopathy or another eye condition after taking Elmiron, you may be eligible for compensation. Many patients have already filed lawsuits against the drug’s manufacturer, Janssen Pharmaceuticals, alleging that the company failed to warn patients of the risks associated with Elmiron.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until 2020 that the FDA issued a warning about the potential risks of Elmiron. By then, it was too late for many patients who had already been affected.

If you’ve been diagnosed with an eye condition after taking Elmiron, you may be able to join ongoing litigation or file your own individual lawsuit. An experienced attorney can help you understand your legal options and get compensation.

Will I Be Compensated for My Injuries?

If you or a loved one has suffered from vision loss, retinal changes, or another eye condition after taking Elmiron, you may be able to get compensation for your injuries. Financial compensation can help cover the cost of medical bills, lost wages, and pain and suffering.

There are other factors that will determine if you’re eligible for compensation, such as:

  • Length of time you took Elmiron
  • When you took Elmiron (Before 2010)
  • Dosage of Elmiron you were taking
  • Whether you experienced symptoms while taking Elmiron
  • Whether you continued to take Elmiron after experiencing symptoms
  • Whether you’ve been diagnosed with an eye condition

Should I Join a Class Action Lawsuit or File My Own Individual Lawsuit?

If you’ve been affected by Elmiron, you may be wondering if you should join an ongoing class action lawsuit or file your own individual lawsuit. The answer depends on your unique situation.

An experienced attorney can help you understand your legal options and what’s best for you. To date, thousands of people have already filed and are awaiting further action. You can be updated on the lawsuit’s status by registering your information with a personal injury lawyer.

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Toxic Positivity

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I’m tired of everyone needing good vibes only, all the time.

It’s irrational and unhealthy to think that everything has to be positive and up, high, cheerful.

We are a culture obsessed with happiness at all costs.

Toxic positivity is the belief that no matter how dire or difficult a situation is, people should maintain a positive mindset. Toxic positivity can be defined as the excessive and ineffective overgeneralization of a happy, optimistic state across all situations. The process of toxic positivity results in the denial, minimization, and invalidation of the authentic human emotional experience.

Common expressions of toxic positivity:

  1. Hiding/Masking your true feelings.
  2. Trying to “just get on with it” by stuffing or dismissing an emotion.
  3. Feeling guilty for feeling what you feel.
  4. Minimizing other people’s experiences with “feel good” quotes or statements.
  5. Trying to give someone perspective instead of validating their emotional experience (“It could be worse”).
  6. Shaming or chastising others for expressing frustration or anything other than positivity.
  7. Brushing off things that are bothering you with “It is what it is.”

My parents cannot handle any negativity.

My husband cannot handle any negativity.

I’ve been told multiple times that I am not to complain or blame for anything. So what they’re telling me is to suck it up, that they refuse to apologize, admit any wrongs, or make any amends or changes.

For my parents, this means that they found a therapist to confirm they were ideal parents, did no wrong, and that I am the problem, an ungrateful child. I was never abused. I am delusional. They’re so sorry they didn’t love me the way I wanted. They refuse to make amends. They have no relationship with my kids, their only grandchildren.

For my husband, he just sighs whenever I lodge any complaint whatsoever, whether it’s about a dirty counter or coffee cup left in the living room or something more important. He is in absolute denial that he was ever abused by anyone, ever, and maybe he did have an idyllic childhood, but he can’t express himself as an adult. He has severe alexithymia. He bottles up everything and cannot have a conversation about really anything. He has no friends and no interests. He would rather take prescription meds for depression and live in denial that he has ADHD or anxiety symptoms nor will he admit he needs to make any attempt to improvements in his relationships with me and the kids.

I am not a pessimistic person. I am a realist. I have spent years trying to heal and be emotionally healthy. Often, I feel like I am beating my head against a brick wall because my parents and husband just cruise along, oblivious to almost everything in the world, and certainly oblivious to relationship struggles.

I am utterly alone.

I am trying to raise four children with healthy emotions.

This means that we feel all the feels. Sometimes, that is triggering for adults who can’t relate to their own inner turmoil. We have to sit with our feelings and name them and understand them. We can’t just push them down or lash out at others.

I’m so tired of feeling angry or sad all the time because my needs aren’t met.

I’m exhausted from the toll my emotional labor takes when I have to remember all the things and I can never, ever drop one ball for even a moment.

Don’t wish me happiness
I don’t expect to be happy all the time…
It’s gotten beyond that somehow.
Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor.
I will need them all.

 Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea

Too many of us have been taught that we can’t show any “negative” emotions. Our society loves positivity. There are books and blogs and shows about how to be happy. We are conditioned by school and church and work environments always to look on the bright side and paste on a smile, especially women.

What can we say instead of “negative” emotions?

We can use words like “painful, unpleasant, and difficult” to describe emotions that express frustration, anger, or sorrow.

Or we can use:

  • Uncomfortable emotions
  • Emotions we like to avoid
  • Less preferred emotions

Feelings are just…feelings. Emotions are generally neutral and we as a society define them to a spectrum of good or bad, positive or negative.

I understand that constant complaining is hard to be around. It sucks the energy out of you. That’s a whole other issue to work through, but being told to think more positively isn’t helpful.

I’m not saying we should give in to depression, but neither should we always look on the bright side of things to our detriment.

We need to talk more about our feelings. We need to teach our children what feelings are so they can name them, feel them, process them, and move on. We can’t continue to be scared of anger or sadness.

So many of us were abused as children and we just thought this was normal. And it was just so normalized that we didn’t know to question it. Everyone was humiliated at school and at home. Our peers modeled what they learned from the adults in our lives.

We have generations of people who grew up and weren’t allowed or taught to feel their emotions. Now, they’re adults with alexithymia or other inabilities to process their emotions and this affects all their relationships and creates issues at work and in their families and friendships.

You can’t appreciate the highs without the lows.

We need societal healing with all our feelings.

This article sure hit home: 10 Things You Won’t Remember Experiencing If You Had Toxic Parents

What is it to be hopeful and not optimistic? The American novelist Barbara Kingsolver explains it this way: “I have been thinking a lot lately about the difference between being optimistic and being hopeful. I would say that I’m a hopeful person, although not necessarily optimistic. Here’s how I would describe it. The pessimist would say, ‘It’s going to be a terrible winter; we’re all going to die.’ The optimist would say, ‘Oh, it’ll be all right; I don’t think it’ll be that bad. The hopeful person would say, ‘Maybe someone will still be alive in February, so I’m going to put some potatoes in the root cellar just in case.’ … Hope is ….a mode of resistance…. a gift I can try to cultivate.”

Joan Halifax

Resources:

from Seeds Planted in Concrete by Bianca Sparacino 

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Exvangelical

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I didn’t grow up in church.

I do feel that my parents failed me in this way, not having a church community or knowledge of religion while living in the Bible belt.

I was taught to recite a simple children’s dinner blessing and bedtime prayer. I attended church with school acquaintances occasionally and my paternal grandma twice a year.

I remember being invited to and attending AWANA once for that “bring a friend night requirement to earn a jewel in the crown button.” It was a horrifying experience for me. I didn’t know any Bible verses. I didn’t know anything about church or religion. It was loud and I was anxious and I felt very out of place. I didn’t know the script or what was expected of me. I felt lost and alone.

I remember embarrassing myself and my Jehovah’s Witness friend and everyone else listening at our lunch table in 6th grade when I announced that God was dead and lived up in heaven.

I really didn’t know any better.

I remember in my Georgia public high school, being accosted in the hallway between classes by Christian classmates:

“Are you saved?” demanded a preppy white boy holding up a thick black KJV Bible, gesturing with it, like a weapon.

“From what?” I countered. I really wanted to know what he would say, but I was offended and offensive.

He stumbled and stuttered because he had no real answers for me beyond his script that he learned at his Baptist church and youth group rallies. He’d never been questioned or been taught critical thinking. All throughout high school, I could never get any real answers that satisfied me about church or God or Christians from anyone.

I remember attending a youth group meeting when I was sixteen because it was one way I could socialize that my strict parents approved of and didn’t ask questions. The youth pastor (24-year-old son of the head pastor) taught a lesson about doing everything for Christ. It was probably based on Colossians 3:17, but I didn’t know the Bible very well then. I had no reference point for this sermon. I do remember being very confused by his analogy that we should play football for Jesus. I wondered how Jesus could really care about football. We were told to keep Jesus in everything. The message was completely lost on me. And the line in the CCM song about a “big, big yard where we can play football” always makes me think of that night and I remember my confusion and I am still thinking that Pastor Beau failed to make his point.

I went to college and grad school. I taught English in both private Christian and secular public schools. I am smart and educated and was told I could do and be anything. But Southern society, my parents, family, friends, acquaintances, the media, and my schooling sent me so many mixed messages. The Christian-proscribed gender roles permeate every aspect of North American society.

As an adult, I look back on all the lost years when I desperately tried to fit into church culture, Christian culture. The things I didn’t understand then and was just encouraged to accept, never questioning, has me regret not listening to my gut feelings more.

The charm and flattery of abusive leaders makes it difficult to trust. The Christian celebrities don’t interest me as I read about their egregious fall from too much pride and power and money every day.

My first experience of regular church attendance was with my first husband’s family. It was the Pentecostal church – Church of God, complete with Prosperity Gospel. I was shut down when I tried to ask questions.

After two failed marriages amid so many visits to Christian therapists who told me such lovely things as being available – ready and willing – for sex anytime, being more submissive, more forgiving of his porn addiction, less angry, doing better with housekeeping and meal planning – even while working full-time, keeping the baby quiet, not discussing my income or job details so as not to make my non-college-educated or out-of-work husband feel inferior, to be more cheerful and not rock the boat or nag.

Unhealthy enmeshment makes wives feel like their husband’s porn use has something to do with them. It does not.

Kimberly Stover

I was desperate to do the right things. I thought I was the problem and if I could just find the right formula, all would be well. Then I would be happy.

I wanted to raise my children with more than I had, but I thought religion was what we were missing. Our society and the church teaches that there can be no morality or goodness without Christian teachings.

I was taught that everything I loved was sinful and wrong – books, movies, music, art.

What do unbelievers do for the glory of God? Nothing. Therefore, everything they do is sinful.

John Piper

I married a third time. We began homeschooling my eldest daughter and I was pregnant back to back with my middle two kids.

I researched and thought I was doing the right things, but I was very easily swayed into almost cult-like evangelical Christian homeschool circles. The Christian science curricula is dumbed down and we struggled with finding any good alternatives. Many Christians don’t learn or teach real science in all its nuances because they don’t encourage curiosity or questions and can’t handle subtleties. Also, I was constantly criticized for our literature material and the freedom I wanted my kids to have. I had to constantly monitor my language and vocabulary. Obviously, no cussing, but I had to censor words like luck and charm and learn to replaces those with Christianese words.

My kids remind me of this time of our lives when I became so strict and legalistic. We only listened to Christian hymns. I was in agony and so lost. I hated myself. They were scared of me.

I had no voices of reason and no religious background to realize the red flags waving in front of me for years. My husband didn’t realize how insidious these conservative homeschoolers are or how close we came to falling into their clutches. There was always a small part of me that rebelled.

We barely escaped the abuse of Christian fundamentalism and extremism. We certainly were scarred by many of their teachings that I allowed to infiltrate our worldview.

So many people completely miss the point of it all. I missed the point for many years and it has taken more years to heal myself and my kids.

I’ve spent several years reading books by Richard Rohr, Diana Butler Bass, Barbara Brown Taylor, Peter Enns, and others.

I read the works of many authors of other faiths. I read a lot about liberation theology. I educate myself. I have gone back around to being an intellectual, proud and not worried about being wrong or sinful. I can be happy and comforted that I won’t go to a hell I don’t believe in.

I now laugh at Pinterest recipes for “Christ-centered cupcakes.” What even is that? Christian contemporary music with lyrics about positivity and prosperity and Jesus being compared to a boyfriend is trying desperately to merge pop culture, pseudo-psychology, and religion.

I shared a joke on social media and hurt someone’s feelings. I then had to admit to myself and others that I am anti-church. I want and expect more from church than they’re willing to offer.

I am enraged that the church told me I had to purge all my books and DVDs that were “inappropriate.” We didn’t celebrate Halloween one year and I threw out all my vintage decorations and I just sick about that. I am saddened that my husband didn’t stop me or say anything at all about it. He didn’t realize the loss. He didn’t care. I gave up so many books – like my Anne Rice collection, with many signed copies, and I stopped reading her new works. I cherished those books and the memory of meeting her at the book signing and how she said she liked my ruffled jacket cuffs. I wish I had them back. I got rid of so many DVDs that had erotic content or sex scenes or vulgar language, but told a human story in all its realness and rawness. I was told that anything rated R was evil and if I couldn’t view something with my three-year-old child then I shouldn’t be watching it.

The church really does want its people infantilized, especially women. We are told that our entire purpose is to serve husband and children, no matter what else we do with our lives – careers, hobbies, interests. Those should take backstage or be obliterated completely. This is why reproductive rights are being fought about in our country. Men feel they can control women more effectively if women can’t choose when or if to be pregnant. Gender roles are strictly enforced within the church, sometimes by social conditioning, but we attended one church that actually had brochures with Bible verse citations, in the lobby, written by the pastor about how women and men should dress. I was admonished by many mentor ladies how to plan ahead in case I ever got sick, so as to never be unprepared and have to leave my husband or kids to fend for themselves.

This is brainwashing. I am embarrassed I let it go on as long as I did. I continue to unteach and reteach my kids about what’s ok and what should not have happened. I am slowly acquiring many of the books and movies and decorations I sold or threw away during our darkest times.

I experienced such cognitive dissonance trying to reconcile my intellectual curious mind with trying to learn church history and doctrine while homeschooling and teaching my children. I regret that I was horribly mean and abusive to my three young kids at the behest of the church, trying to control them and demand blind perfect obedience. Interestingly, most schools and American homes buy into this abusive obedience concept in spite of being secular. And we wonder why so many of us are mentally ill – depressed and anxious?

Church perpetuates abuse. It encourages parents to break the wills of children. It encourages women to stay unseen and unheard. It discourages questions because that is a threat to authority.

I realized recently how deeply ingrained the western church is with racism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and sexism. While so many churches say “all are welcome, ” and “come as you are,” very few are affirming or inclusive. These are just popular catch phrases to get people in the door. Enough stay and find their community, I guess.

Without these hateful ideologies, the church cannot maintain control it so desperately needs over a fearful people. The American Christian church just wants to control and it does so by preaching about Others, a duality, Us vs. Them. Whether or not a church agrees or aligns with all or some of Calvinism, those ideas are permeating churches.

White American evangelicalism teaches that western culture is what Jesus is all about. That is incorrect. We have seen so much imagery and realized so many conservatives are actually leading the country towards a theocracy. We have a big problem when churches have national flags and guns and pray for a political agenda instead of spiritual reconciliation.

I tried several denominations and churches and we moved around a lot – Georgia, Texas, Hawaii, Utah, Germany, and Ohio. We tried churches on military bases. We tried churches all over the cities near where we lived. It was exceedingly difficult to find community in a nonjudgmental and welcoming church. And it was hard feeling like we could fit in, knowing we would move in a few short years.

I’m tired of being blamed for being a bad and sinful parent because I don’t force my kids into a church that hates them and wants to change them “in the name of Jesus.” I can’t look the other way anymore as they preach about exclusivity, nationalism, white supremacy, prosperity, sexism, homophobia, transphobia – no matter how veiled and carefully so they seem to be loving and admonishing.

I want my kids to know that I extravagantly and unequivocally love them for who they are – gay, trans, pierced, tattooed, however. It hurts me to see them get side-eye at a church that is meant to love them in the name of Jesus. Jesus is love, right?

I don’t want my kids around elders, deacons, pastors who abuse their spouses and children – calling them names and belittling them, criticizing and encouraging hitting as discipline. I don’t want to be around that either and these people don’t want to hear my opinions about it. They didn’t want my opinions about anything.

I don’t want to feel exhausted anymore as churches demand more time, more money, more effort on my part and to help plan and implement events in which I have little to no interest – for evangelism and outreach and community building and fundraising. My husband completely bought into the serving mindset and I had to explain multiple times how we were taken advantage of with our desire to serve and our love languages of gift-giving and service. There were never any thanks, no appreciation. Just more, more, more. We could never do or give enough.

I understand that the church is and should be made up of broken people. The big difference I have discovered over the years and in many different cities is that while I strive to improve and learn and truly live a good spiritual life, too many are just going through the motions while being insulated in their hatred of others while having superiority complexes and being power-hungry and controlling. Too many professing Christians are complacent and lazy in their spiritual growth.

Yes, it is unfortunate that this has been my family’s experience in every church we have ever attended. I’m tired of apologizing to strangers who surely mean well that we do not and will not attend. Yes, I know there are affirming churches out there. I follow several pastors and teachers online. We visited a UCC right before COVID, but we didn’t have time to make any connections and now everything has changed and we have moved on and my family doesn’t care to try again.

Am I thrilled that your church is different? Absolutely! I read comments all the time on my blog posts and social media #notallchurches and how I should keep trying and that I am sinful for not gathering! Please stop. You’re not helping in any way. I just feel worse and more guilty. Do you not think I have tried and tried and tried again?

The pastor’s husband of the last church we attended got so offended when I shared an article about issues in the American church that he typed on my Facebook wall “Have a nice life.”

No one ever tried to keep us around when we left these churches. There were no check-ins. They don’t miss us.

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