I grew up in the Catholic Church until I was seven, when my parents divorced. My heart grieved for the loss of the church when my family quit attending. I would visit with my Godparents and cousins from time to time and always enjoyed the sense of community. One of my earliest memories is when my cousin, Jenny and I excused ourselves to go to the bathroom, each of us in our own stall listening to Father's voice filling the restroom from the small speaker that hung on the wall. I let out a big sigh and whispered, "I love church". She thought I was crazy. But, I did. I loved church and missed the routine of going, I craved the togetherness and the sense of community. As I grew older I also admired my cousins as they both went through confirmation along with family friends of ours.
At a very young age and probably younger than most, I learned the meaning of faith. When I was only three my brother, Matthew passed away at the age of three months from a rare birth defect called Mitral valve stenosis. Also known as mitral stenosis, a narrowing of the heart's mitral valve. The abnormal valve doesn't open properly, blocking blood flow into the main pumping chamber of your heart (left ventricle). Mitral valve stenosis can make you tired and short of breath. For my brother, his complexion was always a faint purple and he quit breathing in his sleep. Because we knew so little about mitral stenosis at that time, we were't aware of the defect.
My parents separated and got back together. My second brother, Jonathan arrived shortly after, but my parents marriage didn't last long. As a teenager, I began my search for a church. I visited nearly every denomination, including non-denominational and Buddhism, which led me to explore World Religion and Art History studies in college. I've always felt a strong presence of the Lord.
The trauma of losing my brother so young put a mark on my heart that day. One of the police officers came over to me, to a small and frightened child, who I know must have looked confused and explained to me that the Lord had lifted my brother up and took him to Heaven. Numerous times I envisioned two massive, large hands coming down and scooping up my brother. And, at times I wished I had been able to go with him. The idea felt safe, inviting and I was curious.
Occasionally I would go to my Aunt Pat, my cousin or my mom with questions, but I learned that all the answers to my questions are in the Bible. I still craved community. The search continued through my twenties.
It wasn't until after I married and had my children that the Lord placed our family in a church. I was in my thirties and finally found a church I felt at home at. We did life together. We ate weekly dinners, bible study, book club, we went on field trips with our children and babysat each others kids so we could all have date nights with our spouses. When I tore my ACL I needed help more than I could imagine. My husband was working full time, I had two young children, homeschooling and was running two businesses from home. I couldn't bathe myself, cook, drive myself to physical therapy, run the kids to activities or walk the dogs. Families would bring us nightly meals, friends would come to help bathe me, clean my house, teach my kids, drive them to swim lessons, and pray with me.
My friend, Cheryl who is a mentor of mine, suggested that I take the time to go deeper in my meditation practice. Made sense, so I did. I signed up for an online anatomy class and a meditation retreat. It was then that I got really quiet with the Lord and deepened my practice. Little did I know what was in store next.
Medical bills escalated. Stress heightened, especially for my ex-husband. He began to drink. He quit his job which had full benefits and security. Now don't get me wrong, I am all about trying new adventures, but something wasn't right about this. For fifteen years of our marriage we always did life 50/50 and made big decisions together. Not this time. When his new adventure didn't work out he began to drink more and more and little by little I no longer knew the man I had married. Sometimes I didn't know where he was or if he was going to return home and sometimes he would tell me he wasn't.
It was like a light switch had been turned off in our marriage. Satan crept in and I no longer knew the man I called my best friend, who I loved, trusted, admired and felt safe with. For five long and tiring years I poured into our marriage. We both attended individual therapy, marriage counseling, we met with mentors, had date nights (some good and some not), doctors visits, looking for the nearest AA and Al-Anon Meetings. Friends poured the Lord's word into my ex-husband, into me, into our children, and into our marriage. Then, after five long years, a major move, the loss of two brothers, losing my gallbladder, and being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease the Lord opened doors for me and helped guide me along the way to knew beginnings.
The road had been windy and to be perfectly honest, still is today, but a whole lot lighter. As long as I am present, with my heart wide open, willing to receive, not toting the past around, I am filled with love, grace, and forgiveness and my spirit is at peace. Peace in my heart. Peace in my thoughts. And, peace in His Light.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:23
When my family and I first moved, our church in our last town connected us with a brother church closer to where we moved. Since then the building itself has changed and the commute has become longer, so we no longer attend, but brothers and sisters are sprinkled throughout Atlanta. Some near and some far. We stay in touch, pray together, call on one another, and do life together.
Life took us on a few detours along the way as life often does. One was at another local church where our children were attending actively for activities. We grew close with some of the families, including the minister, his wife and their children. There were many times I could call on him and his wife to help with the kids and even to help find my ex-husband. Then one Christmas Eve after not knowing where my husband was for nearly 24 hours, he stormed into the house sloppy drunk yelling at me and terrifying the kids, which was uncommon. It was that night that he overdosed and passed out. This was the first time anything like that had happened. He lost his job early that same month one year from then. He no longer had a routine where he could hide his drinking. The secret was completely out and in the open.
My ex-husband became a narcissist. I'll never forget it when our therapist slipped me a book on narcissism, when I read the pages my mind opened up and I knew I needed out of the marriage. This man was not going to change. It felt like life revolved around him. I had become drained and the kids and I needed an out. In the months ahead, I worked on my resume, applied to several school systems, yoga studios, local newspapers, and spruced up my Linkedin. I would work odd end jobs, photograph outside my comfort zone, which allowed me to grow as well as network more than when I was only photographing families. I would photograph for large events, weddings, and even landed a gig at Mercer University. Not just at one campus, but at all the campuses.
The following year I received a call from who I consider even today, my guardian angel and began working full time at the best school I have ever had the honor to work at, with a wonderful principle, administration, and a beautiful community. The kids were able to attend as well. We would get to the school every morning at 7am, my son would walk next door to the local high school, my daughter would walk inside with me, and we would leave some days between 4:30 or 5pm. Most evenings when we returned home, my ex-husband would be gone. He would tell me he was looking for a job during the hours of 5pm-5am.
He would occasionally meet the minister for coffee. We were living complete separate lives. Those who knew us were clueless. Within that year I was scrapping to get by while racking up credit cards. In the school system I started off making $17K a year with benefits, then $28K, and little by little would walk my way up as they say, while I was getting my foot back in the door. I continued to photograph, teach yoga, and would sell some of our things on Ebay and Facebook. I confided in my Pastor, who took my burdens to the church and helped me pay an occasional bill here and there. Brothers and sisters helped me pay toward my mortgage and often times gifted me Kroger and Publix Gift Cards. The kids and I were on Medicaid and food stamps. The Lord provided me with a brother from the church who became my attorney and I finally filed for divorce that same year.
So, where does narcissism and the church come in? Dr. Ramani says it best in her podcast, Navigating Narcissim, when dealing with an addict who also has narcissistic tendencies, recovery is hard because narcissism is almost a complete block in recovery. There is no humility, there's only grandiosity. It is still about ego and when there is the ego their cannot be recovery. There's harm to other people who are often viewed as the the vessels of blame for that persons incapacity to actually step up and take responsibility.
The church. I met with my husband the day after Christmas, the same day I met with the attorney to let him know I filed. An hour later I walked outside to meet with the minister of the other church, the minister who had been meeting with my ex-husband and praying with him. My intention was to let him know I filed so he could meet with my ex-husband. I was concerned for his mental state and I needed peace in knowing that my ex-husband was safe and had a friend to help him process what was ahead. To my surprise, the minister was shocked and told me I was sinful. Normally I would have become rattled and stumble over my words, but this time I took a deep breath and the Lord provided me with what to say. He covered me in that moment so mightily that I spoke with confidence and grace, and to this day, I know both the minister and myself grew at least 2 inches taller. Today, I wonder if he regrets placing judgement on me. If so, I forgive you. In the book of Romans 8:6, the Bible says, "For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace."
I love the church. Religious communities can sometimes let us down, but other times they can help build us up. The Lord is very sweet and continues covering me and my children through all of life's ups and downs. He has surrounded me with an armor of brothers and sisters who reminded me that it was okay for me to leave a man who abandoned his wife and children. They reminded me that it was okay to get out, save myself and take care of me, so I could better provide for myself and for my children. The church is never perfect. Parts of the church did bad, but also parts of the church did good. My faith is strong and has been a huge part of my healing.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.
PROVERBS 3:5
A great big thank you to my therapist for slipping me a book that opened my eyes and would forever change my life. Thank you to Dr Ramani for the work you do, for helping educate and bring awareness, for your podcast, “Navigating Narcissism”, especially Overcoming a Narcissistic Husband and Church that Enabled Him, Surviving Dirty John w/Debra Newell, Bikram Yoga and the Abuse of Power w/ Mandeep Kaur Sandhu and the list goes on and on (unfortunately I am able to relate to all the victims in more way than one), your work on Red Table Talk Productions and your YouTube channel. Thank you to Debra Newell for sharing your story. I am especially grateful for your book, “Surviving Dirty John: My True Story of Love, Lies, and Murder”. I am a firm believer in our stories needing to be shared to help inspire, raise awareness and empower others.