How Christianity Groomed Me for an Abusive Relationship - Part #1: The Falling
It started by earning points. I was 9 years old, enrolled in a church holiday program. Each day we did crafts and other adult-led activities which included praise and worship. There were house points awarded to children who were compliant, those who won the games, submitted to authority without question etc. I always got points for the praise and worship, which to me as a child read: glorified karaoke. I was a natural performer and I have always connected with music emotionally. The more I closed my eyes and lip synced to Darlene Zschech, the holier I became. Little paper coupons got pressed into my hands as I earned these points. The more you cried, the more devout and pure your soul was. This thinking continued into my teenage years. Tracking the pastor on stage with teary eyes, craving their validation. “Give me a prophecy. Tell me I’m worthy.” Clinging to their words, regurgitating their spiritual food over diaries and journals. Reading the Bible and being told how to interpret scripture, how to feel about things, how to treat people. I was the perfect robot. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend. We didn’t date. We kissed dating goodbye and fantasized exaggerated platonic moments about the guys we served next to at summer mission. We wore t-shirts up to our chins and gave side hugs. We knew we weren’t allowed to have meaningful conversations with men, and we only knew boundaries that were imposed on us for “our own good”. Rather than developing our own sense of morality, there was much less resistance if we stuck to the rulebook. So when this man strode into reception at my work and turned his attention on me, I was a goner. Call me a bleeding heart or an immature girl (I was both), but I wanted to save him. I thought I’d found my life partner, the man who would finally take off my clothes and my purity ring. He was Christian and he respected my virginity, but that only lasted a year, because, what better way to show my love for him? My parents found out a week later (I’m still sorry about that, Mum). I packed my things into my friend’s car and moved into his family’s garage. I was his. He owned my heart and I loved him with every cent in my bank account and every ounce of my attention. When he told me not to talk to that friend anymore that didn’t like him, he was protecting me from their negative views. When he didn’t like the way I dressed, I changed my outfit. I was used to submitting and being told how to dress and act around other men. The more he shouted and screamed at me, the more he loved me through his discipline. I was hopelessly devoted. My unconditional love was all our relationship needed. Over the next six years, I’d have these altar call moments where I’d be searching my heart for how I could be better, laying down my ‘selfish’ needs like a regular income, trust, outside friendships. If he became emotionally distant, I needed to try harder, be more devout in my love for him. If he wasn’t coming home to me at 3am in the morning, I needed to up my game and haul my pregnant ass into the car to pick him up. I was ride or die. I was faithful. See how righteous I was? Yes, he could look through my phone. Of course I wouldn’t lose any more weight because it made him feel insecure. Of course I would let him drive my car whilst he was disqualified. Our ‘trials and tribulations’ would make us stronger. Strong enough to lie to the police. Strong enough to support him when he wasn’t working and on probation for assault. Strong enough to stay together after countless times cheating and warnings from other people to stay away from him. This torch of unconditional love for a man, burnt my hands as I still clung to it for warmth.
A Woman of Courage
Join us next week for PART 2: Leaving and healing "Breaking point was when I was standing inside my bathroom one night, barricading the door against him..... He was punching and kicking the door... our son was only 10 days old...."
If you’re experiencing domestic abuse or concerned about someone you know, call Shine’s Helpline on 0508-744-633 now. You can call as many times as you need, for as long as you need to.