Pluck’s Blog

The first week of my blog tour is over. Sitting in front of a hotel window overlooking Lake George in the Adirondacks I have some time to reflect on how it went. At the end of Day 1 Deena of A Survivor’s Thoughts on Life emailed me asking me if it turned out okay and expressing the hope that my other stops would turn out better. I replied:

I think the blog stop worked out fine. It gained some exposure for both of us. I know several people read the post even if they didn’t write comments. Some people emailed me privately. One has asked me to write a book with him on friendship. You cannot tell right away how successful a marketing campaign is or isn’t. Some books sold.

Book marketing is hard work. I had to take time to read my hosts’ blogs and write a post for them to use on their blog. My hosts read my book, wrote a review and helped moderate the comments. During the blog stop I monitored comments and responded to readers as close to real time as possible. I also twittered about it motivating people to read the posts and comment. I offered the incentive of a drawing for a free book. Mary Morgan won the drawing for re-tweeting the announcement and Cat M won for writing a comment.

Day One of the tour I stopped at Aida Calder’s Forgetting the Former Things and at Deena’s A Survivor’s Thoughts on Life. Both women posted reviews of my book on their blogs. I then posted my reaction. Several women followed me at Forgetting the Former Things, commented and retweeted my messages about the virtual book tour. Deena asked me questions throughout the day and I responded.

My third blog stop was at The Apostle Wive’s Club. A few women who had commented at Forgetting the Former Things followed me there. Before “meeting” the owner of the blog I had never given any thought of how the Catholic Church responded to priests who broke their celibacy vow and married. Their reaction appears hypocritical. Over the past decades the Catholic Church has covered up sexual abuse and reassigned offending priests. Why are they so forgiving of pedophiles but not of priests who fall in love and marry?

The fourth tour was at Book Hookup where Donna Sundblad asked me to write about what inspired Not of My Making. Read The Healing Journey

The blog tour has gotten me out of my comfort zone and I have “met” several interesting people. That has been one of the unplanned benefits of book marketing. Immediately following my de-churchings I became mildly agoraphobic and withdrew into myself. Book marketing forced me to be assertive and outgoing. I wasn’t going to sell many books if I withdrew into the safety of my home.

If you missed the blog stops you can still read the posts about Not of My Making, spiritual abuse, friendship and book writing. They are located at:

Forgetting the Former Things

Haunted by the Ghosts of Spiritual Abuse

Aida Calder’s Review of Not of My Making

A Survivor’s Thoughts on Life:

Interview with Margaret W Jones, Ph.D.

Is Shunning a Form of Emotional Abuse

Deena’s Review of Not of My Making

Not of My Makng, Part 2

Not of My Making, Part 1

Not of My Making, Initial Reaction to Book

I Met Someone Today – Divine Appointment?

The Apostles Wives Club:

Margaret Answers Your Questions

Book Hookup:

What Inspired Not of My Making?

Week Two of the Tour will start May 2^nd. Please join me. The schedule is:

With the help of my virtual assistant, Lee Drozak I have been planning a virtual book tour for Not of My Making: Bullying, Scapegoating and Misconduct in Churches. The tour will start on Monday, April 13^th at Aida Calder’s blog, Forgetting the Former Things.

In setting up the tour I have had the honor to correspond with and talk to a number of wonderful people dedicated to helping fellow survivors overcome abuse. Read Deena Springer’s post about our phone conversation at A Survivor’s Thoughts on Life

As I wanted, my book is promoting a discussion about abuse in churches. Below are my responses to some issues raised by John Weaver of  Against Biblical Counseling:

John wrote:

I think what your book does do well is provide an insight into the kind of doctrinal and internal in-fighting that goes on in mainline churches. I was shocked to find that Unitarianism can be so divisive. Coming out of the evangelical tradition, I had no idea that Unitarian belief – which many evangelicals (not me) believe is too vague to provoke disagreement – can provoke such profound disagreements among its members.

My response:

People argue about whatever they feel passionate about. While Unitarians insist they have no doctrine, in fact, they do. Some of its tenets are: man is good, there is no sin, morality is relative, all value systems are equal except Christianity which is the cause of most wars, homosexual behavior is biologically determined and is not a sin, it is wrong to be a Republican etc. If you step outside of this even a fraction of an inch you will be accused as I was of not being a real Unitarian. Unitarians tend to be far left ideologues who play with religion picking and choosing what makes them feel good from the world’s religions while condemning or ignoring the parts that they find too challenging. Often Unitarian churches are no more than left wing political organizations masquerading as religion.

John further wrote:

The situation you describe in your book is hard for an outside reader to judge accurately, especially when only presented with one side of it.

I replied:

I asked my adversaries to share their perspectives on the events I wrote about in my book. They refused. From what I can deduce, they believe I am unreasonable and bad and it is better not to help me. I hope and pray that they know at some level that what they did was wrong and are ashamed to have it out there in print. Maybe some day they will apologize just as my high school classmate has. You can read about that in my blog post, “Facebook Redemption”? Be sure to read Jeff Fisher’s comment. It corroborates my high school experience and will give you a glimpse of how I was viewed when I was a teenager.

John wrote:

I am not saying your church(s) did not scapegoat you, just that it would be impossible for me or any other blogger to be able to honestly say they knew the ‘truth’ of your story, even if the sole guidepost they were using is your text. In this, it differs, from, say, Renee Altson’s book Stumbling Toward Faith, where it is obvious to any reader that Altson underwent extreme abuse at the hands of evangelical church leadership. Similarly, too, the Mercy survivors I cover obviously were abused by their exorcists, as careful research into Mercy Ministries clearly demonstrates.

My response:

I suspect you and/or your readers are having difficulty accepting that emotional and relational abuse can cause as much damage as the severe sexual and physical abuse and/or you do not believe people who share your values are capable of being abusive. Psychological research has discovered it is the emotional abuse that accompanies most sexual or physical abuse which causes the most harm. That is why you can have a woman who has been raped by a stranger on the street and whose family rallied behind her, not develop PTSD while someone who has been neglected and emotionally abused by their parents develop severe PTSD. As for who is capable of being abusive, we all are. It is part of our animal natures. Watch videos on great ape groups. Alpha males will kill the infants of competing males. Physical abuse of weaker apes is the norm. As human beings we get to choose. We can be beasts or we can develop a sense of morality and learn to protect those weaker than ourselves. As a Christian I do not believe we can do this without God.

John:

Please note that I am not saying you were not scapegoated or abused by your church. I believe your interpretation of these events is very likely the correct one, especially after reading some of the crueler comments fellow church members made about you. But I simply can not prove this conclusively from the text, as I can with Stumbling Toward Faith.

My response:

I read through the reviews of Stumbling Toward Faith and see it is a memoir just as my book is. I do not see any mention that she presented any corroborating evidence to her story. So I am puzzled that you find her story more credible simply because the abuse she describes appears on the surface to be more severe.

John:

I also think you create a strong bond of sympathy with your readers. I felt greatly worried for your past and present mental health after I read the book.

My response

I am puzzled that you “felt greatly worried” for my present mental health. If you read through to the end of my book you should realize that I was on the road to recovery and that I received treatment from a competent and well trained therapist. I suspect you see me as weaker and sicker than I am now or ever was. This is a common error. To quote Elie Wiesel: “Their experience has set them apart: they are neither better nor worse, but different, more vulnerable and at the same time more hardened than you.”

John:

Please feel free to use any excerpt from this e-mail to help advance your book. I do think there are many good aspects to it, and the pre-Unitarian section is particularly strong.

My response:

Thank you for taking the time to read my book and providing me with a critique. I wanted to learn more about you but couldn’t find any information about your background. You will see from my websites I strive for openness and transparency. I want there to be no mistake as to who I am and what I stand for.

I joined Facebook to market my book, Not of My Making: Bullying, Scapegoating and Misconduct in Churches. First, I added my family and current contacts to my circle. That was easy but when Facebook suggested I add classmates from my high school I hesitated. I was never part of the in crowd and was often cruelly treated. Would people who had refused to be my friend 38 years ago really accept my invitation to be friends now? I had little to lose and lots of books to sell so I clicked ‘send invitations’ and went to bed. The next morning my in box was filled with replies. They didn’t remember me. That was okay. I didn’t remember them either. Why would we? Although we shared a hometown and school, we hadn’t seen each other since graduation.

My high school experience was radically different from my classmates who were now corresponding with me on Facebook. Almost every day in high school was a torment. Nothing I did stopped the bullying. In school I focused on my studies and avoided my tormenters. I walked to and from school by myself. At home I spent my afternoons and evenings alone in my bedroom. I didn’t attend school dances, proms, or sports events.

It took several decades and a series of traumatic experiences with local churches before I understood the bullying wasn’t my fault. I was an easy target. Short, introspective and shy, I didn’t know how to defend myself. No one, not my parents nor my teachers, offered any useful advice or help. Some of that was ignorance on their part. Some of it was neglect. My father often told me how stupid and selfish I was. There would be no help from him. My mom wanted me to be popular and had no understanding why I wasn’t.

One of my classmates lives an hour from my current home. Over the holidays I had lunch with her. She told me she was bullied in high school. I didn’t remember that. I had been so caught up in my own misery I hadn’t noticed hers. Sitting at the restaurant we browsed through our yearbook. My classmate identified who she thought had bullied her. I was surprised I couldn’t name my tormenters. Although I have some specific memories of being bullied I have no memory of who the culprits were. I remember vividly the people who showed me a kindness here and there. I figure the rest were either guilty of bullying or were passive bystanders. I was certain most of those who had done the bullying would not remember us nor would they realize how much damage they did. My classmate agreed.

When I arrived home in the late afternoon I found a classmate had written a public apology on Facebook while I was out. I admired his integrity. People rarely apologize for bullying others. At least no one has ever apologized to me. It was a blessing and took some of the sting out of the old wounds.

I was not completely blameless. All of us could have behaved better. There were times I witnessed bullying and did nothing to stop it. I just watched. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid the bullies would turn on me if I said anything. One of the strange blessings of the Columbine shootings is it spurred research into the problem. We understand more about where, when and why people are bullied. Schools have implemented programs to stop bullying. The better ones assist the bullied to build friendships with other children like themselves, teach bullies how to be compassionate leaders and encourages bystanders to stand up for the victims.

Facebook has given us all a chance to redeem ourselves and build a caring, inclusive community. As one classmate wrote, it is like finding long lost family members. We not only went to high school together but many of us knew each other in grade school. Some of us had a blast in high school, others were miserable. If our teachers understood the dynamics of bullying back then as they do now, things might have been different.

Who did what to whom thirty eight years later is not important to me. What matters is how we behave today. We are all saints and sinners. I want to do what God has commanded and let go of the past hurts and move on. I wrote my book, Not of My Making, to inform others about the long term impact of bullying and to help the victims recover, the bystanders take action and the bullies to reform their behavior. This is my survivors mission and what God has called me to do.

My book, Not of My Making, is available from Amazon or directly from www.pluckpress.com

The weekends have been busy. Too busy. So when Susan Epstein announced on Twitter she and her co-authors would be signing their book the cat who lost its meow at the Sun Up Gallery on Saturday and Sunday I hesitated. I recognized it could be useful to meet another author and see how successful the book event was. However, I had been on the go for days and I really needed to get some rest.

I was still undecided when I sat down at my computer and squeezed in one last task before going to bed Saturday night. As part of my marketing plan for my book, Not of My Making, I searched Facebook for classmates from my high school. I came up with a couple of dozen names. I didn’t recognize any of them. I pulled my yearbook off the shelf and looked up the men. The faces were familiar but I didn’t remember a thing about them. The women were more difficult. Facebook didn’t list their maiden names. So I sent them all invitations to join me on Facebook and went to bed.

In the morning among several replies I found “Your memory is better than mine. Who did you hang out with?”

Who did I hang out with? No one. Absolutely no one. No one would be caught dead being seen with me. I was a reject. At best I was ignored. At worst I was teased and bullied. There were a few kids who were kind and who spoke to me occasionally. But no one was openly my friend.

“Who did you hang out with?”

I took a deep breath and typed in the names of a few classmates. Maybe this will convince her I am really a former classmate.

Within minutes I had a reply. “Sorry about the last post.” She and several other women sent me their maiden names. With my yearbook on my lap I linked up the names with the faces. As I turned the pages my stomach churned and I felt confused. Who were the bullies? I couldn’t remember. Kids either teased me or stood silently by while I was demeaned. There were a handful of kids who were kind. I do remember them:Hattie, Gioimia, Steve, and Rose. But the names in front of me I didn’t remember. Faces were familiar but there are no memories to go along with them.

“Mom.” My daughter was standing at the door to my study. “I’m ready.”

“Okay.” I put on my coat and picked up my bag. Driving to church I told my daughter about Susan Epstein’s book signing.

“Why don’t you want to go?” she asked.

“I’m tired and need some rest.”

She sighed. “Me, too, but it could be a good connection.”

During the church service I felt tears welling up. I just wanted to stay home where I was safe. Worried I was going to start weeping I swallowed and prayed. A peace descended over me. I would make the drive to Westerly to meet my Twitter friend.

After the church service, I dropped my daughter off at our house and drove to the Sun Up Gallery alone. I plugged in my iPod and listened to Christmas carols as I cruised south on Interstate 95. I felt safe.

My decision to go to the book signing turned out to be a good one. Sun Up Gallery was a lovely upscale gift shop. There was a guitarist playing holiday songs. The owner of a local winery was handing out free samples. I found Susan with her co-authors, Antoinette and Richard in the next room. After I introduced myself Susan became excited, “This is my first Tweetmeet.”

“Mine, too,” I said as we hugged each other.

Richard handed me their book, the cat who lost its meow. The cover was a photo of the artist cloth that inspired the story. It had the same texture. I ran my hand over it. Richard proudly showed me the actual cloth Susan and Antoinette had found on the beach. I skimmed their book as we talked. Proceeds from the sale of their bookmarks were going to National Association to PROTECT Children. It became obvious we had a lot in common. I suspected I was not the only survivor turned thriver in the room.

I read the cat who lost its meow when I returned home. I read while I made mashed potatoes for Sunday’s night dinner. At first, I didn’t get it. Did I miss something? Perhaps my fatigue prevented me from giving it the attention it deserved. Monday morning I re-read it.

Oh! I get it now. I’m a cat that’s lost its meow. Abused, neglected, abandoned and unloved I lost my meow. With God’s grace I got mine back through writing and publishing my own story. I have found love and acceptance with my husband and children. In my current church I have found people who strive to do what God has asked them to.

the cat who lost its meow can be appreciated on many levels by adults and children. It was lovingly crafted by three beautiful and caring individuals. I will certainly read it to the children I work with in my therapy practice. When my grandson is old enough to understand, I will read it to him, too.

As I read When a Congregation is Betrayed I began feeling anxious. The chapter by Patricia Liberty reminded me how successfully church officials silenced me. My thoughts turned to my need to have someone to talk to about what I was reading. I wondered if anyone had the patience or time for me. I felt tears just under the surface. Working through abuse is a life long burden. The book correctly stated clergy abuse was grievous with a long lasting impact on the victim. What it didn’t say was abuse is abuse. A sexual act doesn’t have to occur for abuse to have substantial impact on the victim. And while clergy abuse is evil it is not more or less evil than incest or abuse by a close family member or friend. I have counseled many abuse survivors – incest, victims of bullying at work, victims of war. Abuse is abuse. Victims all suffer. They often have long histories of being targets of predators who correctly see their vulnerability and attack. My work is only beginning.

My client tells me about the man she is dating. She’s worried. He was sexually abused as a child. “Does that mean he might molest my kids?” she asked.
My throat tightens. I know what she is thinking. All those perps who say they were molested. But that may not be true. It may just be self serving trying to gain the sympathy from the judge and prosecutor. I want to cry. Outwardly I maintain my composure. “No, it’s not true,” I replied. “Survivors are probably less likely to molest your children. They know what it is like to be treated like an object. They are often tormented at the thought of other children suffering what they have suffered.”
My client doesn’t know I am a survivor. I don’t think this is the time for self disclosure so I don’t tell her. I don’t tell her I can’t get out of the starting gate. That people won’t give me a fair chance. With their false claims the perps have re-victimized me and other survivors by making people wary of us. Unknowingly bystanders become the perps’ accomplishes further injuring victims.
I would never hurt a child. I would never do to a child what was done to me. I just want to stop the pain. Just because I was molested doesn’t make me dangerous. The opposite is true. That is why I was so easily victimized. I was small, weak and vulnerable. My parents weren’t able to protect me. When will people stop rejecting me and see the good person that I am?
Somehow all of these myths affirm the higher social rank of people who were never victimized. People often admire the bully and despise the victim. Once victimized you are garbage. You don’t account for anything. Reject. Reject. I hear the taunts from my childhood ringing in my head. I see myself hurrying home from school trying to hide my tears. I just want a place for myself and other survivors. That is why my book is so important. It is a starting point. It is the beginning of educating the public about survivors and helping them find a place without having to hide what was done to them.
God, please, please help me do this. I am so scared.