#onetimemydadcalledmeawhoreforwearingbootiestochurch

[crayons-cats-chaos]

TW: Religious Abuse-Two True Trauma Dumps

So. Following some of the rules I had to maintain, here comes some vivid memories I have of my abuse. Note that these are only a couple of fucked up moments and that I have severe memory loss when it comes to my childhood, so some details maybe murky. 1) I was...oh I don't know...maybe 9? And everyone that was in charge of everything at the church (including my dad-he was in charge of the childrens activities for a while) discovered that I had a wonderful singing voice (I think its alright, they were mystified though). I was recruited to sing for EVERYTHING. I had to sit through hours of boring sermons just to sing a 2 minute song and not get home into bed until 10-11 pm (I was NINE and I had to be up for the bus at 6). Every single event I had to be ready to sing. It was expected. I had to use my wonderful vocal cords for G O D. Even if I was sick. One particular Christmas, we were doing our little play in which the adults and children all participated together. I was Gabriel. The night of the show, I was so SO sick. I had a fever that was making me hallucinate like I was in a dream and my voice was SHOT. I couldn't hit the high notes of my solo. Normally, you'd have a stand in. You'd figure SOMETHING out. And they did. But instead of me sitting this one out, I had to still be on FULL DISPLAY. I stood silently in my costume under painful spotlights while a ton of people gawked at me and an adult sung my solo. I literally just S T O O D there. I was SO uncomfortable. Then, I had to continue to be on stage the rest of the show. I was barely holding on by the time it was over, but no no no, I couldn't rest. I had to mingle for the after show refreshments. 2) Here it comes; the fun fucked up Baptism story that most of us abuse survivors have. To lead up to the event, I had to do "classes" with the Pastor. I was 7-8 at the time and it was expected, but I was CURIOUS. Thankfully, the Pastor was NOT a ped. He was, however, the "you must have blind faith" person. He did not like that I asked practical questions, and every time I did he would just say something to the extent of "because that's just how it is and that's how you avoid Hell". Anyway, I did my "classes" once a week for 6 weeks and was QUIZZED to make sure I was worthy of Baptism. Fucking Q U I Z Z E D guys. I passed, of course, because I knew the Bible by heart like a good little brainwashed muffin. So, the event was scheduled. I had all kinds of rules. I can't remember them all, but I do know I had to wear a white dress. It was non-negotiable. The pool was about 3 ft deep and I was walked into freezing cold water with a whole congregation watching me (they really liked to put me on display, and this was a big moment considering I was the "golden child" so a lot of people came just to see this) and was instructed to plug my nose with zero time to follow the command. I was dunked in the ice water once, twice, three times for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. When I was allowed to get out of the water, there was no towel waiting for me. I had to stand, climb the stairs, and walk off of the stage with my WHITE GOWN clinging to my little child body. I don't know if there were peds in the audience, but its Christianity, so lets assume I was putting on a show. I was so cold and shivering, but I was not allowed to leave the stage until a prayer was spoken over me. Finally, when I was allowed to go and dry off, I was led into a room that was NOT a bathroom. It had HUGE OPEN WINDOWS and I was expected to get completely naked, dry off, and get re-dressed. I was NOT being watched, thankfully, but that does not take away the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability I was forced to feel at such a young age. I have so many more, but these are two of them that live rent free at the top of my brain....