When sitting near a river, reflecting on ‘still waters’ in Psalm 23 had me instead thinking of walking in, sinking under the water. And staying there. Escaping. Psalm 23 isn’t supposed to do that, is it? The power of years-old post-cult-leaving guilt…
I’ve been fighting what I can only call a ‘virusy’ feeling these last few days. Fluey. Fatigued. Sore throat. You know the sort. It just hangs around and doesn’t quite go over the edge into a cold. My husband says every time this happens, ‘Oh you get that all the time.’ Implying it is my fibromyalgia. When hubby said it this time, I retorted crankily, ‘That doesn’t mean it isn’t valid!’ Ouch. Of course he wasn’t saying that. Yes, I have been cranky lately, and he mostly cops it. Luckily, he’s a pretty patient man. And I did apologise quite quickly.
It could be a fibro flare from a busy week last week, or a virus. Time will tell. What I do know is that it triggers my depression and a lack of motivation and energy to do anything. I just want to watch reruns of Merlin, dive into Boy Swallows Universe and watch Human Error. But I do have editing to do, which I’m doing, in spurts until I am too tired. Then it’s blobbing again. Or sleeping.
My heart and head feel heavy, though most people here in our 'village' wouldn’t know as I just smile and chat. Push through. I try to walk each afternoon through the parkland, which has a river running around its edges. There is lots of lush green grass, many types of birds twittering, and Australian natives and fruit trees sprinkled around. Recently the council expanded the park even further, slashing bushland, which has made many of us here happy. This parkland is a refuge to connect to my-self and the greater Self, God. I walked all through the parkland and talked to God, honestly. “I feel crap. I feel depressed. I have no energy. What am I supposed to be doing in my life?” I tried so hard to be grateful. “Thanks, God, for the trees, the grass, the birds, for Nature. I’m blessed living here in a house we own, near this beautiful park. But, sorry, I just feel miserable.” And I felt guilty for being miserable. I have so much to be grateful for.
I sat on a bench near the river and was reminded of Psalm 23:2 ‘he leads me beside still waters’. Restful waters, a place of rest and trust where you can rely on Him and focus on Him without distractions. A chance to slow down.
As I sat there, focussing on the water, I found myself asking God, “Are you upset that I left Unification Church and the ‘True Parents’ so many years ago? I'm sorry. Should I be sorry?" I felt confused that I asked that and felt bad for having even thought it, remembering what I know now about the falsity of much of the teachings and all the trauma I went through. As I saw the river water flowing, I thought, “It’s okay. The waters are flowing towards God always. The tributaries will join together. I’ll keep flowing towards Him.” As I imagined myself in the waters, trying to feel peace, suddenly I found myself imagining walking into it and just going into the water, sinking below. Disappearing into the murky depths, getting caught in the mud below. Ending it all.
I pulled myself up. Eeek! I better stop focussing on my misery. I thought of my husband, who has been going through a cancer journey. I said, “No, I’m going to focus on him. He’s been through so much in life, I am going to plan something he would love to do. That’s what I’m called to do. Love him. Help him. As soon as we know his treatment is over, we’re going to go on a holiday! Alice Springs and Ayers Rock!” And I immediately started Googling, planning something bright and happy for us both. When I got home, I also started organising a table at the Melbourne Cup event here and inviting more people to my 60th birthday party in November. I was still tired but wanting to plan forward.
I asked my husband the next morning to cut my hair, and he offered to style it (he’s a retired hairdresser). While I was in the shower, washing my hair suddenly a memory flashed in my mind. It was around 1988, and I was in the Brisbane Unification Church centre. I’d been sent there after my experiences in Melbourne of false accusations and my enforced cold bath punishments for these ‘sins’. Mr Son had rescued me from that situation, ordering my leaders to stop the cold baths. He was my saviour. I was sent to Brisbane with him and a married couple, who were the centre leaders.
The problem was I was depressed, and I wasn’t getting along with the wife. We sometimes fought. Once I was so angry I threw a pen at her, just missing her head! One day we all got in the van to go fundraising and I said I can’t do it. I started crying and said I’m staying at the centre. Surprisingly, they said I could, and I went back inside. I immediately called my mother in Bundaberg, crying, “I want to come home.” Mum told me to catch a train, but I said I didn’t have any money. So she said she would ask her friend Sheilah to drop me over some money. After I hung up the phone, I turned around and there was Mr Son. Apparently, he’d told the leaders he would stay home and look after me.
“What did you do? What have you done?” he asked.
I told him through my tears that I’d called Mum and that she was arranging for her friend to bring me money so I could go home. I was ready to pack up and leave. For good.
“Call her back now and tell her you’re not going. You can’t do this. You need to stay here. God needs you. True Parents need you. It will be a mistake to go home. A spiritual mistake.” He spoke kindly but firmly. Then even softer he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you,” his eyes smiling as he gently touched my arm.
I did what I was told. I called Mum and said I’d changed my mind. I could hear her disappointment. “But Sheilah is coming over with the money.” I asked for Sheilah’s number, and I called her quickly.
She asked me if I was sure. “Wendy, it’s okay to try something and then when it’s not working to stop it. Try a different path. That’s what we all do in life. I can come over now.”
But I said no. Damn it! How many times have those words of hers haunted me over the years. She was so wise! If only I’d listened.
As I remembered this in the shower, I started screaming, silent screams, angry at myself. “AAAAHHHH!!!!! Why the fuck didn’t I go???? Why didn’t I leave?” I felt SO angry. I could have lived a normal life in Bundaberg, spent more time with my father! This whole event started off Mr Son’s grooming of me. The hand holding started. The private counselling sessions under the house…. I’ll say no more.
Then I thought, But if I had left, I wouldn’t have these three wonderful children. That’s the dichotomy of the cult experience or even a domestic abuse marriage too (both of which I’d experienced). You can regret so much, and feel hurt by so much… But if from that time you have amazing children, in a way you can’t regret it. You have to be grateful. Without Rev Moon they wouldn’t be alive.... Sigh…
I recognised that the depression years ago felt similar to my depression now. After my haircut and hairdo, I had a telehealth call with my doctor, and we agreed to put my meds back up and to try a new therapy called TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation). She wrote out a referral and I’ll be going at the end of this month. We also agreed that my cult recovery workshop this weekend would be good to go to IF my physical state feels better. And also the idea came up to do more writing. Hence this blog.
Don’t worry, anyone reading this. I’m not suicidal. Sometimes fleeting thoughts of death are just a momentary escape while feeling overwhelmed. Imagining worst case scenarios can help you be grateful for the good in your life.
And no, God isn’t mad I left the ‘cult’. I know it. And I know He gave me the strength to end the marriage. Those questions to God while I sat near the river were the classic ‘cult guilt’ at work. It sticks with you for decades, popping out occasionally. My God is a God of mercy and all He wants is My heart and mind to be turned to Him. Even just a thought. The thought that I want to go towards Him. Even if I can’t take a step. At least I have the thought and desire, until I have strength to breathe in and step forward again. There’s much to look forward to!
More writing.
Finishing off some great editing projects.
More holidays including a cruise next year.
And a 60th birthday party in November!
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