If you follow my journal, you may remember I've written previously about the cult my parents were in -- The Fellowship of Friends, a.k.a. The School.
I've been reading the blog of a lady who used to be part of "Quiverfull," a Christian cult of sorts, and while my experiences are not even close to hers, I found it interesting how much I can associate, at least with the brainwashing aspect of it. My mother is more qualified to write about the brainwashing, really, since she was technically part of it and experienced a lot more of it, but I can't stop noticing that my life now is still, to some degree, affected by it.
When people don't go through something bad -- abusive relationships, brainwashing, an accident -- much of the time they think, "I would never [do x]" -- "If that was me, I'd leave that fucker in an instant!" "I would realize that's bullshit!" "I wouldn't blame myself for so and so's death, that makes no sense." I do that, still, only to catch myself and think, "but I did do that..." In the blog ([link]), the lady who started it mentions in her story that she would reject anything seemingly un-Christian -- for an example, when she was taught in a college class that Moses may not have parted the sea, and it may have been a different sea completely than mentioned, she found it threatening and -- from what I gather -- ridiculous.
The thing is, you don't notice yourself starting to believe it. The Enneagram, for an example -- a system for classification of people. As previously mentioned, I thought at first that it was something like a zodiac, something for fun. When my parents started taking it more seriously, I got annoyed, but I never actively disbelieved it, and over the years it became something that Just Was -- it's like if you're told a scientific fact which you dislike (just invent a reason why) -- your disliking it doesn't make it less true, does it? Well, it was like that. Even while it annoyed me, it was as though I had a tape on in the back of my head, talking as I went through my daily life. "That teacher is definitely a Saturn-Martial," "Stupid lady, acting from her jack of hearts..." I even wrote down little guides in my notebooks (at the time, I kept many), complete with illustrations and examples. I automatically classified my friends and acquaintances, without even thinking about it. My parents seemed to do the same, and it was a Big Deal to them. I remember we had an argument over whether my mom was a Saturn-Mars or a Venusian, which in retrospect seems kind of amusing.
Once they classified me, I read the book on it thoroughly, trying to figure out what this meant for me. I didn't like the labels of "doughy, pasty, fat" much, but It Was the Way I Was, and I could do nothing to change it. If I was being "negative," they would accuse me of being Lunar. They also said I often "acted from my Queen of Hearts" -- a personality center which was apparently known for being violent and psychopathic -- killing babies and spouses one day, and passionately defending an idea the next. It was an excuse to dismiss things I did or said that they disliked as unreliable, not to be taken seriously. If my parents were in the School right now (or married, actually -- Erich's no longer my parent), they would probably say that suffragettes were all acting from the Queen of Hearts or something, and that I am a feminist for the same reason.
Around fifth grade, I started hanging out with Zoe, who has been my best friend since then. I was fascinated -- her house was the messiest I've ever seen, her parents didn't keep schedules, they ordered pizza and ate it cold later, at random times, and certainly not while sitting around the table with each other, silently. I'm not sure my parents were too happy with our friendship -- whenever I went over to her house, her parents' set time for picking me up would be very vague and sometimes would shift several hours ahead -- and my parents were the kind who liked to have things scheduled down the the exact minute. Zoe never really spent any time at my house -- it was too quiet and awkward, and I wasn't sure I should invite her. At Zoe's house, we walked around a lot, pretended to be fairies, and ate half frozen ice cubes. Sometimes her parents' roommates and some other people came around -- I was a little frightened of them at the time, I think.
Around 6th grade Zoe started learning more about my family and when I told her about the Enneagram, in full seriousness, she thought it was a load of fascinating bunk (basically). I didn't say anything out loud, but secretly I was scandalized. I thought it was stupid to challenge something so obviously true, and she just didn't know better because, well, because she was one of the Outside people. Machines, though I hesitated to think of her in that way.
With time, I agreed with her, out of spite at my parents, and I even told myself I would make an active effort to stop classifying people in my head, because it IS all bunk, right? Well, logically, I might have thought that, but it hardly went away -- it still seemed to me like a fact of life for the next few years. Outsiders from my family would pass by through my life -- mostly people from Zoe's life -- and say that my family is weird, and their beliefs are basically bullshit -- and that they are abusive -- but I didn't believe them. Oh, that's not to say I got along with my parents -- I despised everything about them, and I thought they were unfair. I cried on the bus sometimes because I dreaded coming home. But abusive? No, it was all my fault, I was a bad person; irrational and overly dramatic. And my parents aren't crazy. I believed them. I liked that I received sympathy from Zoe's dad and stepmom, and I liked that they sided with me, but I couldn't go as far as to accuse my parents of anything -- to myself, at least. But on the outside, I agreed with them, and more than anything I wished their jokes about kidnapping me would become serious.
That it was a load of bunk, and that my parents HAD abused me all came in a sort of revelation much, much later. I can't say it was a very nice experience. I'm still not entirely sure sometimes that it was abuse -- my mom would probably deny it, despite the fact that we are on good terms now.
I think from 6th grade to 8th or so, me and my parents hardly ever spoke to each other. The exceptions were fights and times when i would show interest in the Fellowship. They sometimes had people come over, mostly Steve. He was a person they knew from the fellowship, very rich and with brilliantly white teeth that looked almost fake for all the brightening, and he made me very uncomfortable -- probably because he seemed perpetually uncomfortable himself. That would explain his neverending smile, even when there was nothing to smile about. Or perhaps he was just showing off his teeth.
My parents at least viewed me as a good artist, if anything, so once or twice they asked me for advice on things that involved art -- I remember once, they asked me to design a poster for a Meeting. I've no idea why my mom wasn't asked, since she is a much better and experienced artist, but I was quite proud of being asked and drew them a door opening into space. They (my parents and Steve) seemed impressed, for whatever reason, and thanked me. I can recall two other times they complimented me -- I think once they said I have a good singing voice, and another time Erich told me I could be a bellydancer -- apparently he saw a bellydancer that was quite chubby, so I guess there's at least one career I'd be ok in, right? Though I suppose he thought it was a compliment, since obviously a chubby teenager doesn't have many prospects in life. /snark
Most of the other times, we fought. I would complain about their music (The Magic Flute) or about their rules -- I don't know why, but they irritated me. On the rare times I came out of my room, they would usually be having dinner -- very prim and proper, always drinking wine and only talking (very carefully and properly) about the school and some proverbs they gave them. Their sentence structure felt like old plaster, "Tanya, what did you think about the new speech Robert gave on Man number 9 [or whatever]?" "I thought it was very interesting, but remember, we cannot talk while we eat." And they clink wineglasses and take little sips. If I passed by, I would object very angrily, particularly to any talks of how evil laughter and imagination were. That was one thing that they never managed to brainwash me about, probably because by then I barely talked to my parents except to argue. Of course, they never listened to me and assumed a very superior attitude abotu my apparent dim-wittedness.
I did, however, try to be "present". I considered it my failure to not be it, and I would go through times when I would basically promise myself to be good and try to stay present a 100% so as to achieve higher consciousness. Of course, it never worked, and then I would adopt an "I don't care, I don't need that anyway" sort of attitude to ward off disappointment in myself.
I should mention all the proverbs and quotes. I don't remember how often -- it must have been every week -- but the School would regularly send all its Students a list of lectures and quotes. Not a short one -- my parents would always print them out and staple them together, and each time it looked to be at least 15 pages. With nice borders, too. Now that I live on my own and am more aware of how much money ink and such costs, that makes my stomach hurt a little. It explains why they got mad at me anytime I printed a picture or a poem, though.
Now I mostly don't think of the Enneagram, but I do find that once in a while I get mad at myself for not being "aware" enough -- in the sense of being calm and worldly and all-knowing -- snobby, really. I still feel like an outsider to most of society -- the people who live in a loud home, watch TV, and order pizza -- or any food, really. People who eat junk food -- like my boyfriend; he is a mystery to me. Back at school, it always seemed to be the middle-class or rich people who ate junk food, but now it seems like everyone but me did. Families just make me feel weird, since I never had much of one, and I have no IDEA how people with families feel. For an example, when i talk to Dylan (online friend), I can't for the life of me imagine living with a mom that talks to you and feeds the cat chicken in wine and smokes outside, and having a little brother who plays video games. If I had tried to play video games, my mother would have gotten angry over the noise, not to mention my asking them to spend more than, say, 10 non-food-related dollars on me. I can't imagine having family Christmases anymore, or family gatherings at all (I'm looking at you, Commrad). Basically, I feel like all people with cousins, sister, brothers, aunts, uncles -- they are all crazy, to some degree. And hectic.
On the bright side, I have finally achieved a messiness to rival Zoe's.