I’m still processing all of the lies. I still have to untangle myself from them, strike them down, and learn to live apart from them.
The fear they created was so destructive—it consumed me. The stress it brought into my life was unbearable.
One example: the lie that I had to dress a certain way at church. There was a strict, mandatory dress code at every church I attended. For women, it was always skirts, with the rest of the body covered as much as possible—hats, closed-toe shoes, and long sleeves. Pants were never acceptable. And this is no exaggeration: the more “old lady–like” you dressed, the better. Self-expression was frowned upon, even punished.
This lie hurt me financially, because I had to constantly buy clothing I didn’t even want. I lived in fear that if I didn’t follow the rules exactly, I would be yelled at and scolded. And yes, they yelled at us.
It also crushed me emotionally. I hated those clothes. I’ve always been someone who feels best in high-quality jeans, girly tops, great shoes, light patterns, makeup, and fun short hair. That’s who I am—and who I still am. But they stripped that away from me. I was afraid to be myself.
The lies created the fear. The fear created the stress. And that cycle became my prison.
I lived in that hell for twenty long years.
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