The Center Cannot Hold

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? - Jesus

Although I liked SJSU and my classes, it did not alter any of my belief systems significantly. It was simply to large, the culture was too different, and I was struggling to survive at home. I went to church only sporadically and felt very disconnected from all things spiritual.

My mother was going through a metamorphoses. She got more involved in Women's Bible Study and was soon teaching it. She began counselling women and was shocked at how many had suffered from childhood sexual abuse. This was back in the day when no one talked about those things. She was pretty busy and happy with her work but when people started telling me how blessed I was to have such a wonderful mother, I flinched inwardly.

I started seeing a guy and he asked me to marry him. Though we were ill-suited, it seemed a way out of my problems at home. Maybe this was what God planned for me all along. Inwardly though, I was in turmoil. Not wanting to stay at home and not wanting to marry this guy ate at me. He belonged to a Pentecostal Church which weirded me out. A small church with mostly lower middle class, upper poor members, they wore cheap flowered dresses and hats while singing rousing verses of Count Your Blessings. They spoke in tongues, danced, and every service was a chaotic mess.

My mom was thrilled. She planned the wedding and I basically attended. Within weeks I realized that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. Still, I married in good faith and was determined to make it a good one. I wanted to be happy.

I had three children in rapid succession. They were my little angels and I felt such a great love for them that I almost felt God was blessing me again. I was grateful and awestruck at these wondrous little people. However, close pregnancies had worn me out physically. I grew thin and my hair was like straw. Exhaustion followed me every moment of every day. Worse, my marriage turned out to be a nightmare. My husband was violent and cheated on me often. I tried to be the perfect Christian wife and mother but nothing seemed to help.

Since my mom was turning into somewhat of a godly woman to others, I thought I tried to confide in her. No dice. She was practically gleeful at my problems and called me "weak". No help was forthcoming there. No babysitting, no help with cleaning, and especially not an encouraging word. Some of my friends also married young and the difference between their moms and mine was a stark contrast. My mom actually laughed at my problems and found an ally in my husband. She encouraged him to take biblical roles of headship which basically meant I do everything and he does nothing. I was told again and again that all his failings were my fault, I wasn't good enough to keep him good. Or, she would just revert to an old favorite. "Well, you married him."

Things were taking a decidedly sadistic turn.

Doing all the work has a different connotation for the Christian woman. The standards are unbelievably high, set to perfection. The house had to be perfectly clean all the time just in case people dropped in and believe me, they did. The children had to be perfectly clean, act perfectly, and be dressed perfectly. One was also expected to be hospitable and have a wonderfully cooked lunch, dinner, snack ready for guests at the drop of a hat. Church was a test of godly womanhood. If your children were not well dressed or god forbid, misbehaved, then maybe you weren't a very good Christian. I kid you not. God and his followers are tough taskmasters. My mother once dropped in at the 5:00 chaos time when the kids were at their loudest and actually wiped her finger across my furniture and shook her head at me disapprovingly. The strange thing was that I actually felt guilty. I was becoming more and more isolated from society and these were the only voices I heard.

I was proud of my children and personally did not mind the mess, if you could call it that. I most certainly was not going to beat them into perfect behavior robot children, as my father suggested. They were naturally happy and didn't get into mischief or disobey. But they were children and the constant care coupled with a horrible marriage and constant criticism for not being perfect were taking its toll. It was becoming more and more obvious that I could not go on. I was down to just over 100 pounds and looked like a skeleton. My mom took a sick delight in watching me circle the drain while telling me how I was not a good Christian woman. I was vulnerable and she was going for the jugular.

For many people, it is difficult to understand how a person could be a godly while an absolutely horrible human being to those at home or to one person in particular. How do you explain the fact that a woman who teaches the Bible and the love of Jesus would psychologically torture their own child and grab control of her life to ensure failure? The simple way is to deny it outright  and I have heard the facts of what happened to me contradicted more times than I can count. But there are some who know exactly what goes on, who have experienced the same or similar, who nod sadly in agreement with closed eyes. Most have parents in a religious leadership role.

But is it the person or the religious lifestyle that creates monsters? It's an interesting sociological topic to explore.

Recently I called my mother to wish her a happy eightieth birthday. She has been out of leadership for many years and, now with significant health issues, is content to read to the kids in the church daycare, watch her period movies on TV (she loves Pride and Prejudice), and watch life happen from afar.

"Jaim! I'm so glad to hear from you!" We chatted for a bit. The topic for the day is that I've finally been accepted into a nursing program which starts in a couple months. She is very proud and excited for me. During the course of the conversation I mentioned that someone stole my stethoscope from work. She asked me how much it will cost to replace it. When I named a figure she informed me she would be sending a check for twice that amount so I could get a really good one.

But I digress.

One day I could go no further. The donkey sat down. After receiving permission from my father, I called my husband and told him to come take care of the kids. I was going to stay at my parents house for a while. My mom was on a trip so maybe I could have a few days of peace and quiet. Instead of being supportive or concerned he told me that if I left, then I was to never come back. I said ok.

My mother was furious that I left my husband and children. My spectacular failure was a PR disaster. What would people think? And worse, what if I told people of her role in this fiasco? She called me into her office and railed for over an hour while I shivered in horror at the vicious condemnation of my irresponsible acts. I totally believed her. I was a disgraceful person, a failure as a Christian wife and mother, and did not deserve to have children. She concluded her tirade with the command, "Now go home to your husband."

For many years my life consisted of hate, betrayal, and abuse. Exhaustion made it physically impossible to care for my beloved children. I said quietly, "I'm not going back."

Her face was scornful. "You are going to Hell."

Utterly defeated I stood there for a moment. The verdict had been announced and the sentence delivered. I was guilty. There was only one thing left to say. "So be it."