What Would I Say To You

She posted on Facebook, a while back, a link to an article. One of those "what not to say" lists, this one about what not to say to someone who is recovering from growing up in a fundamental, controlling, born again, christian culture.

She is actually recovering from something much worse than growing up in a fundamental, controlling, born again, christian culture. She is the victim of a cruel cult masquerading as a christian church. She was able to persevere in leaving and beginning a new life. She found love, got married, gave birth to a beautiful son, has a successful career.

Other people who have left try to explain the difficulties of leaving; the isolation, the psychological issues, the fear, the guilt. Just one of the cult's cruel practices is shunning and ridiculing those who leave. But she did it. She did it courageously, gracefully, and demonstrating great strength.

I don't know the full story of what leaving cost her.

What would I say to her? I would say:

I'm sorry for your suffering. You are brave. You are powerful. You are strong. Strength, wholeness, and freedom  define you. What seems impossible for others, you do with clarity. You have wisdom beyond my understanding.

Do I have any advice for her? Yes.

Stay strong. Do what's best for you and your new family. Love yourself. Love your husband. Don't lose yourself in being a mommy - aim for being a good enough mommy, don't try to be best mommy in the world. Drink wine and get regular facials. Or pedicures. Have fun. Have as much fun as you can.

 Now that I know what I would say to her, I'm going to finally read that article.

April Love

April Love starts tomorrow. I'll set my intentions for April: to start over, to find love, to be beautiful, to create, to be responsible, to heal, to dance, to write more, to run, to get stronger, to let go of what is not serving my highest purpose. Let it be and so it is.

When You Say Uncle Like You Say Daddy

The sun penetrated right to my bones. The waves sloshed against the edge of the lake. "Plunk, plunk" we heard, as the waves bounced off the underside of the dock. We sat back in our chairs on Uncle David's deck, looking up at the sky and identifying birds that flew over. "Cardinal." he said. "Gull." I said. "Turkey buzzard." "Any more chemo?" I asked him. "Nah." He took a crumbled cigarette pack from his shirt pocket. Out came lighter from under the plastic outer layer, along with a cigarette from the foil part. "Doctor said no point in quitting now." he said, breathing in and out, lighting the cigarette. "Blue jay." "Chickadee-dee-dee." I imitated the call. I had my bathing suit on under my shorts. "Uncle David, do you think I should swim across the lake to that rock and back? Or should I paddle your canoe around the lake?" "You're going to do what you want no matter what I say." "Canoe then. Wanna come?" "Nah. I'm gonna sit here and watch for birds...Pat, I should have kicked his ass for you when I had the chance. I should have treated you more like a daughter after your dad died." I hadn't mentioned the finality of the divorce, but he knew what I was thinking about. So many loved ones had offered to kick the ex husband's ass. Uncles, cousins, brothers. "It's okay, uncle. I stood up for myself, eventually."