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Post by Vyckie D. Garrison on Mar 1, 2010 9:34:51 GMT -5
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Post by km on Mar 1, 2010 9:52:23 GMT -5
"We had heard these tapes many times but I sat at the table and glared at any child that did not appear to be enjoying them. Being entertained is serious work."
I loved these lines. They made me laugh out loud.
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Post by gloriamarilyn on Mar 1, 2010 11:17:11 GMT -5
Wow....yes! This describes SO well that horrible, awkward phase of refugee-ism- perfect word to use, btw! I remember that horrible culture shock- it was unbelievably hard and lonely to go through. My husband saw me for the first time when I was in that stage, and he was not at all interested in this ultra-conservative young woman. (and I thought I was "worldly"- I had already loosened alot of the strict dress standards- lol) It's just so....awkward. Like arietty said, nobody from your past wants anything to do with you, and the "normal world" also thinks you're weird and conservative. It was such a desperately lonely time. Our only contacts/friends were others that were in that semi-conservative place- I'll always have pleasant memories of them- they were my sanity in the loneliest of times. I finally was properly able to break out into the "real world" when I went to college- I changed from day to night in the period of 3 years. Friends that knew me through the whole time marvel at the day to night change that occurred during that time. It was also there that I actually met my husband, and we became friends. He got to see me change, and was a huge part of my support network. Life now is very, very good, and I completely fit into "the world"- I sometimes like shocking people by telling them I was raised in a cult- it's fun to see their unbelieving expressions. It's interesting- I used to think that I was the only one that was going through this kind of thing, but over the last 10 years, I've learned that's not the case at all. Even though our family wasn't officially QF, the similarities are astounding. **hugs** to you all- you're all such incredibly strong, courageous women!
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aimai
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Post by aimai on Mar 1, 2010 11:24:10 GMT -5
Arietty, What a brilliant post. I love the way you've written about time, space, and society using the metaphor of the "refugee." My family came here, a long time ago, as refugees from another country and I've read tons of books and memoirs from that earlier generation, but what seemed so obvious in those accounts (Like "The Bread Givers") now seems much richer seen through the lens you are providing. That is to say I've known for a long time, and thought about for a long time, the ways in which the immigrant generation left behind the religion, sexuality, sociality, and gender relations of "the old country" but I never realized how that experience is paralleled for QF women while they stay physically in the same place.
I'm finding it awkward to say what I mean. I guess what I mean to say is that reading about your children as "refugees" learning a new language/new social connections etc... makes me think about them less as individuals and more as a transitional generation. My great grandparents left behind one kind of tight social formation and found themselves (sometimes) adrift in a new world. But their children, and their children's children, became natives. You seem to be saying that you abandoned one world and have, yourself, adapted joyfully to the freedoms and pleasures of the new. What do you see ahead of you for yourself and your natives? Do you think that any of your old "landsmen"/QF aquaintances can forgive you, or learn from your experiences, and decide to join you on the voyage out of the old country to the new?
aimai
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Post by journey on Mar 1, 2010 11:55:52 GMT -5
Loved your post, arrietty...
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calulu
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Post by calulu on Mar 1, 2010 12:04:19 GMT -5
Arriety! Wonderful post! You really summed up how awkward, hard and strange it is leaving that lifestyle in a hurry. As sorry as I am to hear you got phone calls and snubs it's comforting to me to know I'm not the only one out there on the receiving end of harassment because I stopped cold turkey drinking the koolaid and toeing the line.
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Post by hopewell on Mar 1, 2010 12:17:57 GMT -5
So awful--even the funny parts like not having that child scheduled for a bath or entertainment is "serious"....I'd love to hear what happened with your ex--in that I mean do the kids have to visit him? Did he, too, "come around" eventually?? Schedules, to me, are for medicine, prison and similar places! I'm glad you and your kids can enjoy each other now.
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Post by WanderingOne on Mar 1, 2010 12:30:17 GMT -5
I spent the first two and half years of college as...not quite a refugee...everyone was pressuring me to return to the first country--and i really, really wanted to. Except I was in love with my classes. Apart from classes, I hated school. haha. I was utterly terrified of the world. I was terrified of the music I heard in the dorms. I hated that I was surrounded by people who were drinking and partying and indulging in hedonist practices. I wasn't a refugee--I would be welcomed back if I returned. And I did return, during summers and other breaks. But living in the World changed me and eventually, I realized I couldn't stay in the old country anymore. I couldn't accept it's rules and practices. I was still afraid of the World, but I had to make it my new home. So over the past year, I've been trying to get used to this world and to learn more about. I mean, I've been here for a while, now--but I hardly know anything about it, since I spent so long focusing only on school. I'm getting there. I'm still hopeless ignorant about pop culture, but I'm making progress. I went to my senior ball this weekend--I drank, I danced with boys, I laughed with friends, I enjoyed the music, I wore makeup and a dress I never would have been caught dead in before. I had fun.
I like this new country and I like feeling like I'm not the weird awkward one...but a normal person.
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em
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Post by em on Mar 1, 2010 13:10:12 GMT -5
What a wonderful post, Arietty. It seem to very clearly detail what the post-leaving experience is like for many of you who have left QF. And it gives a happy ending. I really hope this post will help those who are thinking of or planning to leave gain the courage to do so and stick it out for a while until they adjust to the outside world.
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Post by philosophia on Mar 1, 2010 14:48:58 GMT -5
Arietty, That spoke to me in so many ways. So much of that was my life. And the stresses built and built. It is funny you mention the hot water. Later we had a 3300 square foot house with 4 bathrooms, 2 washing machines and a dishwasher. 11 people living in the house, (4 older daughters and me with long hair). When it came time to replace the electric hot water heater we had plenty of money, and I begged and pleaded for at least an 80 gallon hot water heater. I downloaded charts recommending the sizes of hot water heaters for households. I was practically reduced to tears. His only comment was "Nobody needs more than a 50 gallon hot water heater." End of story. Every time I am stuck with a cold shower I have to curse him and his idiocy. My kids were simply happy to hear the "Your Story Hour" tapes. Did you use those, too? And we did the R&S workbooks, too. I don't know how I got everything done. Homemade bread, cloth diapers (homemade with covers), the whole shebang! I love the refugee idea. That is truly what I feel like. Actually, I'm still on the raft, looking forward to placing my feet on solid ground.
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Post by Sierra on Mar 1, 2010 15:31:50 GMT -5
This was a beautiful post, Arietty.
The 'fear of the world' bit really surprises me now and again when I hear it on these boards. By the time I left, there was simply nothing left in the world that could possibly be as scary as my church. I made friends right away at work and college. I felt a bit like a cartoon character running on the edge of an earthquake, with the ground collapsing behind me. I stayed just ahead of the fear until I was so far away I knew it couldn't touch me anymore.
When I left, I simply turned off my emotions, memory, and sense of awareness that I was leaving. I didn't start turning them back on until two years later. I was numb. It was impossible to contemplate all that leaving meant. All I knew was that going to church was killing me, and I was drawn in by the sense of peace and normalcy at college. Once I knew what it was like to sleep in on a Sunday morning and not be told that the world was 'hastening towards judgment and destruction,' where the elect would be saved by the skin of their teeth... I started listening to the birdsong.
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Post by journey on Mar 1, 2010 15:35:34 GMT -5
I think what I didn't realize was that I was going to lose most of my old community in the process. I didn't understand that most of the relationships were built on "like-mindedness" and the fact that we were together regularly due to church functions, and so once you took away like-mindedness and forced togetherness, well...
I deeply love the new community that I am becoming a part of. But there is an undeniable aspect to the deep loneliness that occurs when you cast your boat off of the shore. It is very much a personal journey, in that respect. You have to be willing to lose it all. For women, our brains wired to think relationally and our hormonal and psychological make-up deeply rooted in relationships, this is not something we are willing to do unless we truly feel it's a life or death issue (physical life/death, or psychological life/death, etc). I know that it was only when I realized that *I* was going to go crazy if I stayed under that regime of insanity any longer, only then was I able to push off my boat and actually *do* it. And only the knowledge that there was no way I could survive staying kept me from turning my boat back around, more than once.
I mourn the community that I thought I had. It still is hard for me to accept that part of the loss. I wish they could understand. The fact is, most of them cannot...the paradigm they live inside makes it virtually impossible. There is no fixing that...not unless life hands them pain to such a degree that they can see, and, honestly, I hope that never happens and that they can remain safe, inside of their world, because I love them and have no desire to see them hurting. I feel like what happened to me was so eye-opening, so soul-crushing-yet-expanding, a terrible bloody forcing of change (that turned out to be a wonderfully good and life-giving thing, surprisingly).... I have learned so much from all of this, so much...and yet I still would wish it on no one.
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aimai
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Post by aimai on Mar 1, 2010 16:26:29 GMT -5
I am challenged by the idea of "the community you thought you had" that falls apart, as I believe Vyckie's also fell apart, when you stopped being "like-minded." I'm having a teeny taste of that, right now, at my daughter's school where I have lost one friendship (but with the head of the school) because I stopped being perfectly happy with the school. This is a boring story, and I won't go into it, but what I wanted to say is that all kinds of human communities are built around the idea that you and everyone else in them share a kind of "project"--
families: being together, worshipping together, going on vacations together, educating the children, preparing for marriages, old age, death, new births etc...
schools: educating the children colleges: working with other teachers/students, furthering knowledge Churches: building god's world, spreading god's word, helping others in the community
When one member, or even part of a member--like the conscious mind of a member--starts to withdraw, or pushback, it can be terribly uncomfortable for everyone who is left. How are they to understand the way you are "withdrawing from the project?" Isn't it a challenge to those who remain behind? If you aren' t satisfied, why are they? Something has to be wrong--with you or with them. I find that some people will always approach you secretly and say "I agree with you, there was something wrong." But a lot of others will, to resolve the cognitive dissonance of remembering you fondly and now missing you will turn on you.
Using your concept of "the refugee" you are like people who left voluntarily, but who were forced to renounce your citizenship in that other land, and who find that your old countrymen close ranks against you and see you as, more or less, a traitor.
Anyways, it was a great essay.
aimai
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phatchick
Junior Member
Medicated for Your Protection
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Post by phatchick on Mar 1, 2010 17:54:18 GMT -5
Your story sounds so familiar. I remember when I left, I had nightmares about going to Hell for leaving God's path. And when I ran into fundy friends I was always asked if I was coming back to church and if I was still serving God. I also realized something else; When I left the church, I left the only thing we'd had in common. They were all nice people but I had nothing in common with them and no real desire to find anything. Fundy life was clean and holy and sterile. I like my life a lot more now that I'm dealing with reality, no matter how messy and complicated it seems at time. It's worth it to be able to think and act and feel for myself.
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Post by musicmom on Mar 2, 2010 23:34:01 GMT -5
I think what I didn't realize was that I was going to lose most of my old community in the process. I didn't understand that most of the relationships were built on "like-mindedness" and the fact that we were together regularly due to church functions, and so once you took away like-mindedness and forced togetherness, well... I deeply love the new community that I am becoming a part of. But there is an undeniable aspect to the deep loneliness that occurs when you cast your boat off of the shore. It is very much a personal journey, in that respect. You have to be willing to lose it all. For women, our brains wired to think relationally and our hormonal and psychological make-up deeply rooted in relationships, this is not something we are willing to do unless we truly feel it's a life or death issue (physical life/death, or psychological life/death, etc). I know that it was only when I realized that *I* was going to go crazy if I stayed under that regime of insanity any longer, only then was I able to push off my boat and actually *do* it. And only the knowledge that there was no way I could survive staying kept me from turning my boat back around, more than once. I mourn the community that I thought I had. It still is hard for me to accept that part of the loss. I wish they could understand. The fact is, most of them cannot...the paradigm they live inside makes it virtually impossible. There is no fixing that...not unless life hands them pain to such a degree that they can see, and, honestly, I hope that never happens and that they can remain safe, inside of their world, because I love them and have no desire to see them hurting. I feel like what happened to me was so eye-opening, so soul-crushing-yet-expanding, a terrible bloody forcing of change (that turned out to be a wonderfully good and life-giving thing, surprisingly).... I have learned so much from all of this, so much...and yet I still would wish it on no one. Journey, I actually know exactly what you are saying here and have thought it myself. There are people I know who are still living this life and both they and I can see the problems they are facing. And I think sometimes they choke back doubts as to the goodness of this lifestyle. But I can tell that their problems are not severe enough for them to make this terrible, anguish-filled jump out of their marriage and their comfortable way of thinking. And even though it would be good to have some company, i am glad that they can stay and endure because I would not wish this journey on anyone - as transforming as it has been for me. If I could have avoided it, I probably would have. There was just no way that I could. I guess I'll avoid details since I'll be going into that in my article series. My mother asked me recently whether I felt good about my decision to leave and whether I still thought it was the right thing to do. And I answered her completely honestly that I did think it was the right thing to do - the only option really. But that, if I had known how hard it was going to be, I probably wouldn't have done it. I'm still glad that I did, but I'm glad that no one told me what it was going to be like because I probably would have just sunk into more denial, or gone completely crazy to stay where I was. It's been over two years now for me, and I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, signaling that I'm through the worst and we are beginning to get readjusted. But saying it was a bumpy ride seems like too much of an understatement.
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Post by krwordgazer on Mar 3, 2010 2:29:50 GMT -5
Arietty, you are amazing. My own cult-leaving was nothing like so hard as this. But you made it through!
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jwr
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Posts: 218
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Post by jwr on Mar 4, 2010 10:44:01 GMT -5
Arietty, your writing is totally awesome. You took me there. Made it all real to me. I hope that somehow a lot of current QF people find and read this. It might set a lot of people free.
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