crushing daisies - ways in which patriarchal fundamentalism harms its children #3

The crippling weight of sin-consciousness

I am likely to say this more than once here but one of the most important things I learned as I made my way out of delusion was that integrity is vital for mental health....it's vital for survival. In fact, I believe that when all is said and done, who we are and who we know ourselves to be is all we've got to offer ourselves, our families and the world.

The scary thing about delusion is, of course, that you can't see it. It's not just dummies that are drawn into cultic groups like QF patriarchal fundamentalism. A lot of clever, strong, thinking women find themselves there too. Getting dibs on a guru's formula which is guaranteed to please God and produce great kids is a big drawcard. And once you enter in Delusion begins to build a wall of ideology-protecting self-deceit around you. In the end, for many of us, it takes a major disaster to open our eyes.

The disaster works wonders because it activates a sledgehammer of truth that knocks a hole in our wall and lets in some honest light. And that helps us begin a journey that starts with telling ourselves some painful and frightening truths.

I adore my children. Admitting that my beliefs and practices had harmed them was truly agonising and something I did in increments as I was able to cope. But truth, in particular painful, life-altering truth like that, is the only way out of the prison cell that is legalistic delusion.

I've observed large numbers of women who have parented similarly to me. By and large they have produced disasters at both ends of the spectrum - either they have simpering, dominated 20-somethings still cringing around their dinner table, or rebels who busted out leaving an unsightly mess. While there is obvious collateral damage when kids are forced to fight their way to adulthood, injury is just as present in the quite, respectful ones who are of age but have failed as yet to make that journey. 

For some children, the element of their parents' faith that harms them the most is a fundamentalist view of the inherent sinfulness of humankind. That's how it was for my beautiful oldest son, D. 

We were pretty strict on D. He was our firstborn and we adored him. He was so smart, so funny, so lively. I remember saying that the saddest thing I could imagine was for a child to grow up in a home where the Saviour was known without ever having encountered the Christ for himself. I was going to make sure that didn't happen to my darling boy.

I read psalms to D before he was even born and thrilled that he jumped as though he enjoyed to hear them. I sang songs of God's wonderful love over his cradle. I taught him that God made him and loved him and wanted him to live a life of abundance and joy. In those days while I did use spanking as a method of discipline I believed I handled it as lovingly as was possible. D, as I often told him, was the most loved boy in all the world. He was my heartbeat, my breath.

But somehow D missed grace. I mean, he completely missed it. He got sin, and guilt, and judgement and hellfire alright. But he missed grace.

This grew D into a perfectionist who struggled to avoid mistakes at any cost. Inevitably, he would fail and this would lead him to go to lengths to conceal his wrongdoing and avoid subsequent consequences. Unlike my other children I don't ever remember a time when D came to me to say his conscience was bothering him and he wanted to get something off his chest. He would just wait until he was caught out, and then furiously deny his involvement.

When D finally would confess, he'd sob that he was foul and make promises that he would never, ever do it again. I would explain that he certainly was not foul but a flawed human like the rest of us. I'd remind him that he didn't have to carry the burden of his sin but as a much-loved son of God could come to the cross, lay it down and be free. D would repeat the prayers but the burden remained.

And I couldn't convince D that in his determination to be perfect in future he was setting himself up for inevitable failure and self-condemnation. He simply couldn't grasp that we all make mistakes and need then to say so, make amends, seek forgiveness, brush it off and move on. D dealt with the weight of guilty feelings with a never-ending regime of internal self-flagellation and continued to conceal and vehemently deny even minor contraventions of the rules.

I didn't realise the degree to which D was living in fear of being overwhelmed by the monster Sin that apparently lived inside him, crouching and ready to drag him off to misery and damnation. As he grew older these fears left him unconvinced of his intrinsic wonderfulness - no matter how often I told him it was so - and unable to grow into the strong man I always known he was born to be. D wore every little misdemeanor he had committed on his back and remained unable or unwilling to lay a single one down and find forgiveness and freedom.

Ultimately D's fear, spiritual emptiness and lack of self-esteem made him an easy target for the advances of M, a self-appointed leader in the Christian homeschool movement and a trusted friend of many years. At the time we failed to discern what we see so plainly now - M was also an accomplished sexual predator. I think it may have been after D's sixth suicide attempt that he finally began to disclose the nature and extend of M's abuse. 

My precious son has attempted to take his life more than 10 times now and has literally hundreds of appalling scars all over his body where he has cut himself horribly with knives. Last year D spent more than 5 months in a psychiatric hospital where he diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and possibly Borderline Personality Disorder. Currently he on a concoction of meds including anti-psychotics, is not able to work or study and has lost all his friends. He self-medicates with drugs and alcohol in an attempt to dull the pain of his traumatic memories. If you had known D before he was abused, you would never believe he could come to this.

It has been a challenging couple of years for all of us. For months I hardly slept as I struggled to find a strategy for living with the unrelenting dread that is part of awaiting the next horrific incidence of suicidality or self-mutilation. During the worst times I would not be sure if I was going to faint or vomit any time the phone rang so often had calls brought terrible news. It took me time to learn how to love my son while keeping my own heart safe. I still very much feel for D but I no longer am at risk of being destroyed by internalising his pain. Efficient compartmentalising has become a matter of survival.

Whatever the Bible says about vengefulness, the day D finds it in himself to report M to the police will be a happy one for me. I would gladly see the bastard who stole my son's soul get some of his own back in prison and I don't care who knows it.

But however much it hurts, it's really important that I accept responsibility for the part I played in D's sad story. Thankfully, our relationship remains good and strong. Just yesterday when he was visiting we talked about this again. I believe it strengthens him to be reminded that some of the things he struggles with were produced by the unbalanced sin-consiousness that his dad and I mistakenly imposed on him when he was little. It helps him to know that others have come out and recovered. It helps him to know that I am so very, very sorry. 

D is both gracious and increasingly realistic. He's glad to be able to talk about the difficult parts of his childhood without fear that I'll take offense and he reiterates that he knows I was sincerely trying to love him the best way I knew how. But he rightly agrees that I made some very bad choices and that he has been hurt by them. Truth is a very powerful medicine. I like to believe that each time we squeak open a door and welcome a little more truth into both our hearts, we get one baby step closer to D being well again.

Those domineering parents like 'Leigh', who played the Jonathan Lindvall 'obedient adult children' card so well that they succeeded in preventing their teens from wriggling out of the nest and into healthy adultood really frighten me. I've made a lot of mistakes but when I realised my beliefs were harming my children - and it's pretty hard not to notice when they find their voices in their teens - I dumped my bundle. I chose to love my kids first and figure out the rest second. I get it that I will be criticised for that in some circles but I'd suffer any punishment rather than turn my back on my kids when they are floundering as I've seen some parents do. Owning our mistakes is the only way out of delusion and self-deceit and on to integrity. And come what may I'm going there.

Sin doesn't figure in my conversations with my kids now. They hear enough of that from their dad who rarely lets the opportunity of a good finger wagging condemn-a-thon slip by. At my house we focus on how fabulous my kids are, how emotionally intelligent, how intuitive, how capable. I listen to them and tell them to listen to their own hearts, to trust their instincts and to know when to seek wise advice. I encourage them that they are capable of making good choices. Sure, they'll make some lousy ones, we all do, but we are learning how to admit it when we screw up, make amends, seek forgiveness - forgive ourselves - and move on.

I want my kids to be emotionally healthy, growing, thriving and courageous. I want them to be adventurous, to walk boldly into the world trusting that they really can do great things. I want them to be aware there is real evil out there, but to live confidently, unafraid of a sin-monster within that dooms them to live as pathetic slaves to their own wicked desires. I want my kids to be flawed but fabulous. I want them to be free. That's what legalistic fundamentalism stole from D. That's what he's missing.

D has had a pretty good couple of weeks. The depression which constitutes a large part of his illness has given him a few hours reprieve most days. He's been good company when he has come to stay and is talking about the future and maybe even applying for university one day. I know enough to realise that this is a journey of 10, 000 steps many of them backward but nevertheless it's encouraging. I hold on to the firm hope that the time will come when D is not just functional but truly well, thriving and making the most of the wonderful gifts God has given him.

I believe it and I'm waiting.