Past Tense, Present Progressive

There was always an expectation in my family that I would go to college.  Both of my parents had a college education and saw its value, and they didn't cave to the general attitude at our homeschooling cult church that higher education wasn't appropriate or necessary for girls.  Even though my parents' expectation was for me to attend an extremely fundamentalist Christian college simply to get a skill to "supplement my future husband's income, if necessary," that expectation was more than what many of my female peers at church had, and I'm grateful for it.  And, unlike many homeschooling families in our circles, my mom also put in the necessary work to make sure I wouldn't encounter any roadblocks on my way from homeschool high school to college--she made a very professional-looking and detailed high school transcript that included my GPA, she signed me up for the CHSPE (California High School Proficiency Exam) so that I could have a legal high school

As a former fundamentalist homeschooled kid, one of many aspects of life that I've had to do a lot of catch up in is fashion.  I grew up choosing clothing based solely on modesty , which in my circles meant that I was shopping in clothing sections meant for the elderly and basically wearing fabric sacks.  Often, I had to make things for myself when even the grandmotherly clothing options failed me.  Everything I wore was at least 4 sizes too big and several inches too short, and I had no idea about choosing colors that complemented my skin tone, no idea about hair, no idea about makeup, no idea about skin and nail care. There are many wonderful people in the world who spend their time/energy/money on more important and lasting concerns than on their appearance, and I have a lot of respect for them, but this wasn't a choice that I had made for myself.  I had no choice in the matter, because my family and the fundamentalist homeschooling culture around me told me that trying t

Many people find the beginning of parenthood marks the sudden decline of their friendships. Babies are constantly needy and deprive you of sleep, energy, and coherence.  Toddlers, when awake, need constant monitoring; and even their sleep must be prioritized in your schedule.  Preschoolers are fast and fearless and can disappear in an instant because of a whim.  And for all of them, their constant stream of needs and your constant stream of worries, day and night, can completely shut down your ability to think of any other topic. But somehow, although all of those things are true about my two kids, that does not describe my experience.  And I'm forever grateful for that, because increasing my already unbearable feelings of isolation  just might have killed me.   Somehow, in the haze of new parenthood, I actually connected to a group of other new moms.  Maybe it was because they were in a similar haze, and we were all in the trenches together.  Crying, worrying, laughing,

In my early 20s, I had my first experience living away from home. It was a Really Big Deal.  Me-- a weak, vulnerable, easily-decieved woman, according to the teachings of my family's pastor Reb Bradley --out on my own, flying to a faraway state.  I was going to spend a few months living and studying music at Bill Gothard's Indianapolis Training Center. ITC was a tall drab brick building surrounded by a parking lot, not much to look at.  But that didn't matter.  As I soon learned, the people staying there rarely ventured outside.  I personally only went outside about once a month during my few months there.  In order to leave, as a legal adult, I had to sign out, state my purpose for leaving, and verify that I was not leaving alone or with a male peer.  For a walk in a parking lot or a view of a run-down part of town, the hassle wasn't worth it. Inside the building was where all the excitement and drama played out.  For me, my time at ITC was a huge social ch

I am a chronic worrier, a bit of a pessimist, an over-preparer, and prone to occasional panic attacks.  And since becoming a mother a few years ago, all of these tendencies are now focused on my son and his soon-to-be baby brother.   Growing up, I heard so many times, in so many ways, how unsafe the world was.  As an adult, reflection has made me realize how the "safe" isolated homeschooling world my parents confined me in was actually incredibly damaging to me and many of my peers, while my adult experiences in the "dangerous" outside world have been very positive and affirming.  I have been able to overcome my deeply ingrained childhood perceptions for myself, and feel like a functioning and happy member of the big outside world.   However, I am unexpectedly having to go through the same process again, now that I am in the role of a mother.  All the progress I made for myself, I am having to do again, this time for my son. Hours, days, weeks, and mo

Crosspost from Homeschoolers Anonymous , originally posted here : A CALL TO ACTION: TOGETHER, WE CAN MAKE HOMESCHOOLING BETTER By HA Community Coordinator R.L. Stollar Every day on Homeschoolers Anonymous, we are hearing about how appearances can be deceiving — how heartbreaking abuse happens all around us, and can hide even in the families of homeschool leaders. We read  Mary’s story , our blood boiling in horror that a respected family could inflict such emotional and physical abuse upon its children. We read about people like  Susie , who were left on the side of the road with a few dollars in their hand because their parents were unwilling to love them for who they are. We read with shock that  Jennifer ‘s family would go so far as to threaten to kill her pets and remove all her belongings just to get her to obey an ideology. We read these stories with heavy hearts. Yet we also read with hope and amazement that there are so many of us willing to join together and create