Growing Up In A Bubble

I was raised in a bubble…what most others I’ve come across consider a religious cult. I’m 40 now and in reflection it amazes me how much this aspect of my childhood has negatively impacted my whole life so far.

Like most kids, I didn’t question the direction or environment provided by the adults in my life. I thought my parents knew everything right? They were Grown-Ups.

I was kept separate from all things “worldly” for my protection of course. This meant I was not allowed to have any friends or extracurricular activities with anyone who was not also in my church (which btw did not have any kids my age).

No BFFs.

No holidays.

No birthdays or parties.

No sports or cheerleading.

I remember as a child I loved to sing. I watched Star Search with starry eyes dreaming of singing on stage someday. But that dream along with most others was rooted out because really isn’t it just fostering “idolatry”?

By the time I reached high school, I had become a master at hiding my social awkwardness. It was mistaken for shyness and modesty. I was blessed with being very pretty and talented…sometimes it was hard to hide my shine. But I was taught at church and home that getting attention for my abilities was a bad selfish path even though it felt good.

I was an island. I grew used to the hours of solitude and productively filled my time. I pretended I enjoyed being alone, even to myself.

I graduated high school with a 4.2 GPA. With encouragement from one aunt and a couple teachers who saw through my façade, I enrolled in college.

I was ridiculed in my bubble. “Didn’t I realize the end of the world was coming?!? Was I stupid? I should be dedicating all of my time to the ministry” was the usual rhetoric.

I began working at a local video store in the afternoons until midnight (lol, long before the days of Redbox) to support myself because my student loans only went so far. This made my full-time studies difficult to keep up with.

Up until this point in my life, I had experienced a massive amount of trauma and didn’t even realize it. I was raised to keep everything to myself. “Children are meant to be seen, not heard” was the general rule of thumb. But you can only keep so much turmoil inside before it starts to bubble out.

My parents and grandparents had gotten divorced. My uncle had been molesting me since age 12 (conveniently after my parents separated). My mother was on her fourth husband; after her second had shot her third and she and my little brother watched him bleed to death. My first serious boyfriend joined the army and broke up with me…

It became too much…I started smoking cigarettes.

One day at work, I was outside on break smoking and someone from church (a girl I thought was one of my best friends) walked by. She shot me a disapproving, sideways glance but did not say anything to me.

She dutifully ran to the elders to report my wrongdoing immediately. By the following week, I had officially been kicked out of the bubble.

Ex-communicated.

Disfellowshipped.

The only group of people I had been allowed to interact and bond with my entire life was told I was bad association and had to be shunned.

And they did.

People I had known my whole life; even family members would see me and walk by like I didn’t exist. Sometimes they would even come through my line at the video store and act as if I was a stranger just to really make their point.

With no one in my life that understood how I felt and no guidance, I turned to drugs. It was the first time I found something to numb the chaos inside. But this fork in the road came at a price.

In my subconscious, turning to drugs only solidified the voices that told me I was “unworthy”.

Unworthy of love… unworthy of the friendships it seemed others made so effortlessly…unworthy of a normal life.

I have now lived through three significant relationships; all abusive in different ways. Each progressively worse than the previous. All preying on my own insecurities and brokenness to keep me isolated.

And that is what it took for me to find my breaking point. To finally shake me to my core with such a vibration that I could finally see the cognitive dissonance I fight for what it is.

It’s a beautiful thing when our old self is finally shattered. Only through its death can a new life begin; as a phoenix rising from the ashes.

I still have a hard time making close friends.

I get overwhelmed and become reclusive to the outside world.

Sometimes, I still feel unworthy.

I am now on my own journey of self-discovery; I have finally stepped onto my own path. It feels good and scary at the same time.

Meditation has given the ability to look back through my past and assess where my emotional blocks come from. So much that I still struggle with comes from the bubble I started in, but at least I can now recognize my issues and work on being better.

Here’s to finding myself in my next 40 years.