I started this blog over two years ago. I was going to just let it go.
Two years ago, life changed drastically for our family. It isn’t even about leaving the church we were at for four-ish years. It was a complete upheaval in my belief system. Attempting to pick up pieces, once again I thought I would never have to pick up. Trying to figure out truth and not truth.
Honestly, I wanted no part of it. Church. What even is that? What is church? I really have no idea. I read the Bible, and look at what the church has been since Jesus came. I think it looks nothing like that.
It looks like a people who use the word Church but then bends and molds it to what they want it look like. It looks like a manipulating and an angry place. That dishes out more punishment, than the love I hope I am reading correctly in the Bible.

I also wasn’t sure if I was allowed to write about it. To tell the story. It’s not unlike many others, and I didn’t want to be just another angry voice. Or to come across as trying to get vindication for all that has happened. Lets face it, I have been pretty angry. Trapped inside my own little prison that I am not even sure I can get out. I have felt voiceless and unheard. I would just crawl back deeper into my cave.

It seems though that some of the people have just moved on. The people who caused this have just moved on with their lives, maybe I am somewhat happy for them. However, it does cause anger and confusion. How can the people who have lied, manipulated, and hurt people just be okay? How can they just move on to the next thing as if they have done nothing wrong?

While I am a shell of the person I once was. Sadly, its not all their fault. I allowed them to take pieces of me, so small, that I didn’t notice. When I did start to notice, there were people I trusted telling me that is not what was going on, if I was even talked to at all. Sometimes I was just punished with silence, until I “came around”. Told I was loved and a “daughter” only when I was complying to their way of thinking. When I didn’t, I was met with silence, ignored, and even told it would be better not to partake.

My whole identity has been left in shambles.

See even just writing all of this, feels like I am coming across as an angry person. I guess I still am. Not as much as last year, there has been some healing I hope. How do you begin to rebuild yourself after being completely broken down to a person you don’t recognize? I mean there was never any actual abuse. No physical marks, bruises, or scars. There was no real verbal abuse, I mean maybe. But not like what you would think. The silence was punishment enough. Being told you were loved than ignored, was enough.

Now I find I am trying to move on. Maybe I am, moving on. It just seems slow and painful. It is still hard for me trust my own voice. We have tried going to new churches, and there really isn’t anything wrong with them. It is just hard to trust. Trust the same thing won’t happen again. Trust in who the leadership is truly following. Trust people.

How do you move on from something that has marked you, with no physical evidence? How do you not feel crazy feeling or thinking the way you do. When the people who caused it have been able to slip into a whole new life. Like nothing ever happened.

The hardest part is how do I forgive myself for allowing things to go on for so long? When I knew something wasn’t right. How did I start to believe that silence was the way to be loved? How did I begin to look at a man for acceptance than God alone? When did the man start to stand in front of God, be the voice I was hearing? I don’t know.

This is the worst part. I understand that I am not all to blame. I understand that others are not all to blame. When did I, start to wither into nothing? To just bow and take whatever was ditched out? When did that become okay? When did that become the norm? With a smile, I would just dismiss it and say, “Oh, its just something I need to work on.” Somehow, I let this happen.

That I fear is the part that makes me most angry. At myself. This is the part I worry I won’t be able to forgive. Myself.