Friday, October 28, 2011


This cartoon is from the fabulous David Hayward at He describes himself as a "graffiti artist on the wall of religion", and man oh man, has he drawn some stuff that hits me in the gut.

This drawing is one of them. This was my life in the POS church. After a certain point I was a zombie, tasked with going out to make other zombies.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Curvy Girl's Guide to Buying Pants

The majority of clothing designers seem to make pants based on the figures of 16 year old Ukrainian supermodels. For those of us who are built with hips and butts and (let’s be honest here) thighs that go OUT, and waists that go IN, shopping for pants can be excruciating. So, when the fashion world is not ready for your jelly, I’ve developed a few tips to try and make the shopping process more bearable.

First, this is a shopping trip you do alone. This is not you and your best friend Tiffani giggling as you pick out cute outfits and then go do lunch. This trip is a dark night of the soul, a time of examining the nature of good and evil and questioning the existence of a benevolent God.

I'm guest blogging today for the incredibly generous (or totally insane) Elizabeth Esther over at Please head on over to read "The Curvy Girl's Guide to Buying Pants". And yes, I know you are supposed to hyperlink or hyperdrive or something. Be patient. I have the tech skills of a sloth.

Monday, October 17, 2011


I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness.

It seems to me that the God of the Bible expects much more of people in this area than he expects of himself. We are supposed to forgive "seventy times seven" regardless if the offender takes accountability or not. But God only forgives if we apologize and repent. If we don't do these things and decide to "follow Jesus" the Biblical God banishes us to a lifetime in hell, which seems to me like the ultimate in holding a grudge.

I think forgiveness in Christianity can be used as a way to protect an abuser, or to keep others from having to experience intense or unpleasant emotions from someone who has been hurt.

I've been reading this book "Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd. There is a line in there that really resonates.

"You forgive what you can, when you can. That's all you can do".

What you can, when you can. On your timetable. Not under threat or manipulation.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Getting Off the Hamster Wheel of Healing

When I was in my twenties, I read a book by a popular Christian author which told the story of a blonde virginal Christian co-ed who is attacked and raped by a stranger. She becomes pregnant and decides to go through with the pregnancy. Her fiancĂ© dumps her and her Christian school kicks her out. By the end of the book, she has given birth to a perfect baby girl, she has forgiven her rapist (within nine months), completely gotten over her rape (within nine months) and has a handsomely rugged new preacher fiancĂ© (within nine – ok you get my point).

Good Christian girls don’t have PTSD, evidently.

This is all perfectly consistent with the modern day Christian Theology of Pain, which is that no matter how horrific the event, God will buff out all the rough edges and make you as good as new. The signs outside churches promise it. The preachers on tv guarantee it.

I certainly believed this is the way it was supposed to work for a very long time. When I first left the POS church, I went in search of the sermon, the small group lesson, the Bible Study that would get me better. Then it was the conference, the therapy session, the book, the blog. And I would certainly find things that would educate or enlighten or make sense to me in some way and YES! I had it all figured out! I was all better now! It was like a temporary high. But in a few days or weeks I wold be hit in the face with my damage and brokenness, and I would be back in the pit.

The emotional and spiritual abuse I've survived are like an amputation. And for years, I've kept waiting for God to grow my leg back. Every story I heard and every book I read seemed to say that was how it was supposed to work.

And yet, the leg didn't grow back. I got furiously angry. I got depressed. I thought God hated me personally and intensely.

I'm beginning to wonder how many other people sit in church who feel how I felt. The couple who is called to testify how God "restored" their marriage after an affair, when in reality the consequences and the pain still haunt them both. The parents who have lost a child who can never say out loud that they no longer believe that "God works things for the good of those who love him".

What happens when the leg doesn't grow back?

I'm ready to get off the Hamster Wheel of Healing. It's not that I don't see the value in the blog or the book or the therapy session, but I'm ready to stop believing in salvation or rescue. I'm ready to strap on a prosthetic and limp through life, rather than waiting for God to turn me into this pink and perfect person.

Maybe that is what true healing is, when you stop waiting to be saved or fixed, and just live life how you are.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

I heart cursing

I love to curse.

Most people associate cursing with being angry. While I can certainly let the four letter words fly in the car with the best of them, most of the time when I swear, I feel little joy bubbles bouncing around in my chest. 

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. See right there? Imagine Maria with her arms stretched wide, singing about the sound of music. Happy. I have to remind myself when I'm out in public that some people are offended by cursing. That parents don't like their children to hear it.

If I had a kid his nursery would be painted with "Nantucket" limericks. Which is probably why I don't have a kid.

I know this glee stems from the fact that at the POS church, cursing was strictly forbidden. Unwholesome talk. You could talk about hell, but you could never SAY "oh hell". The "curse" words of choice were "stinkin'", "cotton pickin'" and maybe if you were really on the edge "freaking", although that would probably get you in trouble.

So when I say real 100% full octane curse words now, some little voice in the back of my head pipes up "Free at last! Free at last! Motherfucking free at last!" (quote may have been changed slightly from the original).

I've also had some realizations about "unwholesome talk". You don't need curse words to terrorize someone, to show up in their nightmares for years. To leave scars on their soul, to destroy their concept of God.

I think about some of these preachers out there. I'd much rather hear salty language than words that give parents the license to beat their children to death, words that send gay kids to commit suicide, words that make women feel inferior in the sight of God.

Isn't THAT unwholesome talk?

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

I hate intros

Couldn't I just start talking in the middle? Do I really have to introduce anything?



I was in an abusive church for 12 years (henceforth known as the "POS Church"). Now I'm in a never never land where I can't be a Christian anymore, but I'm trying to figure out how spirituality plays some role in my life.

I want to ask the hard questions. Who is God? What is God? Why don't they make pants for girls with big butts?

Ok, I also want to talk about the totally random things that run through my brain. Some of my posts may only be two sentences long. (Why DON'T they make pants for girls with big butts?)

I may only be talking to myself. That's ok. If you happen to find my little corner of weirdness? Welcome. I'm sorry.