My Elaborate Plan

Five years ago, on my birthday, I left home.

Obviously, there’s a lot of backstory to this, and, I guess, this is that story.

I didn’t say goodbye – I couldn’t say goodbye. I was terrified that if I did, if I told them I was leaving, that they would shut me in my room, and jam the door and not let me out. That they wouldn’t let me out of their eyesight ever again, despite my having reached legal age where they couldn’t do anything – and I would have fought, you bet your ass I would have fought. I would have called whoever I could, police included, if they locked me up when I was 18 – but I didn’t want that to happen, I didn’t need that delay, I didn’t need that pressure or the guilt trips that would then ensue and cause me to acquiesce.

My mom was 9 months pregnant with the last child, due any day – I prayed that my mom would have the baby before my birthday, so I didn’t have that weight on my shoulders. I talked about how praying never really worked for me, this wasn’t any different.

I had spent the last three months planning my party, working on my parents to let me go to the mall by myself without a sibling. I told them of my plans many times – how I was going to hangout and eat dinner with friends and then we’d go to a movie and they could pick me up at like 10 or 11 when the movie let out.

I started carrying a messenger bag with me everywhere I went months ahead of time too, so when I packed what I was bringing with me, and brought it to the mall, they wouldn’t notice anything different. I always had a jacket in there to keep it looking full, no one thought anything of it. On my birthday, I packed my vital records that I had kept/hidden after getting my driver’s license the month prior, my HSLDA diploma, my laptop, a pair of clothes, and my conveniently travel sized birthday presents.

I convinced my family to celebrate my birthday early, before I left for the mall because I would be home after the kids went to bed and we had church in the morning. They didn’t really like it, but they went along with it.

I had bought all of my siblings presents with some leftover amazon money from christmas or something, and put them in my backpack by my bed with a note dividing up my stuff and saying I love them.

I got to the mall, and my closest friends met me and we had an early dinner and that was as far as the plan I told my parents about went, because after that, my actual plan came into play.

This plan, the escaping part, had been in the works for over six months.

In August of 2008, right before the olympic opening ceremonies, Alex and I woke up to an email in our inboxes from my parents saying “we have decided to end the relationship between Alex and Kierstyn and are forbidding them from speaking to each other.”

This happened conveniently after my mother had yet another positive pregnancy test (or whatever it was that indicated to her that she was pregnant and had every reason to control my entire existence again). Things had started going downhill since that May, and the last time Alex and I had seen each other in person(June), we created this plan.

If my parents broke us up (because they had been acting like they were about to and causing a lot of drama and being suddenly very negative and pushy and ridiculous) that on my birthday Alex would come get me, and we would run away.  If it was on my birthday, there would be nothing legally my parents could do, since I was legally an adult – we would be free to do whatever. We hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

July happens, Alex is asking about a proposal (the earliness, yeah, okay, they were pushy) twice is what sent them over the edge – twice because they didn’t respond the first time and the vacation he was planning on proposing to me on was coming up soon and he needed to buy tickets.

Interestingly, when Alex asked my dad in general about proposing, my dad gave a whole-hearted yes that lasted until the next morning when my mom took me aside and told me that my dad had changed his mind. This wasn’t the only time this had happened – dad endorsing something, then going to bed and “changing his mind” I knew it was bullshit, I knew my mom was actually behind it and the subsequent announcement of the pregnancy sent me over the edge. I was livid that my mom was having yet another baby, I cried on the phone to Alex telling him that my life was over – because in many ways, it was, this was the one that was going to do me in, if there was one that was going to do that. I realized I couldn’t keep living as my parents slave but I also had no choice. At this point I didn’t realize that what was happening was abusive and wrong, I thought I was wrong. This pregnancy is when the shit hit the fan.

So August, the email happened. The email obviously created an email fight and I was too emotionally distraught to deal with it, so I told people to stop CCing me. I screamed and cried uncontrollably, I went outside where I was alone and there was room only to have my mom come out and tell me to get back inside or someone will think something is wrong (ya think? asshole). I went in, and she sat on my bed and deigned to tell me she understood what I was going through (um, she has no idea what it’s like for parents to decide they can retract your adulthood, control every move of your life, and break you up with your boyfriend just by being parents – her parents didn’t do that). I glared at her through streaming tears, and managed to muster “only for six months”, she said “no” shook her head and left, as I watched her, still glaring.

This triggered a borderline suicidal depression, or whatever it is that results in suicidal ideation – because I did that a lot. I was already depressed (but I didn’t know it until I started meds and realized what not depressed felt like, and realized that was not what I had ever experienced), but this was just, every time I thought I hit bottom, the bottom caved in and I fell deeper deeper deeper into an increasingly dark abyss, of confusion and self loathing and numbness. I was always waiting for another shoe to fall because they kept hitting my head, it was unbearable, and the entire six months, that went unnoticed. No one said anything. In fact, I barely talked to my parents at all except to go over my birthday plan and be demanded of. I felt so alone and uncared for and every day I felt like I was dying inside, and every day I was reminded just how much my parents really didn’t give a shit about me as myself, only in relation to my service to them.

Interestingly enough, I had told my parents, after my trip in June, that Alex and I were planning on running away together should they break us up, because they were all like “we feel like maybe if things keep going this way we’ll have to stop it” and I was like “yeah, well, if you do, I’m leaving” and they didn’t believe me, or remember this conversation. I remembered it because I thought I was screwed – turns out my parents don’t have much of a memory for things I say, unless it makes them angry and/or bent on punishing me. And before anyone dares get into “but parents are wiser” territory, this was about stuff that had been completely resolved, stuff that happened because I was projecting things (my parents) onto people, and stuff that was cleared up because I was apologized to. And also about petty theological disagreements my parents had with his parents. Nothing that had anything at all to do with the relationship or the relationship dynamics between Alex and I – just them and his parents (again. my parents destroyed so many of my friendships because of their disagreements with parents).

So, I bode my time, I flew under the radar, I became what felt like invisible – I made plans to get my driver’s license in January, started carrying my messenger bag around in October or November, and started birthday planning in November, and was beyond that, never noticed.

I told some people I trusted about my plan, and was supported, mostly – except for one person who was supportive at first, and then was like, you have to tell your parents because youth pastor said and I was like “…” but all my close friends, all the ones who’d been with Alex and I from the start, knew sort of what was going on and were super supportive – which meant the world (and still does <3). Then I left, I left on my birthday without saying goodbye, before my mom had the baby. My grandparents had come up for the baby/to be around to help, so I wasn’t leaving them hanging. I don’t know what it says about me that I still, five years later, have to justify my escape with but my grandparents were there, so I knew the kids would be taken care of, and I wasn’t abandoning them altogether.  I think I feel like people will still be like, but you left your siblings! Which, I’m pretty sure is not the reaction people should have, because I shouldn’t have had to have been my siblings’ (essentially) primary caretaker in the first place. Strangely enough, I’ve never had that reaction, but it could be because I always pre-emptively answer it.

It killed me though. Leaving without saying goodbye killed me. I mean, I said goodbye, but not with the “I’ll never see you again probably” ending, but I hugged and kissed them before I left, because I needed to. Because, I was leaving everything. Leaving didn’t trigger a change of heart on my parents, it just enraged them. I didn’t know if I’d ever see them again, honestly, I still don’t know if I’ll ever see my siblings again. My grandparents paid for our plane ticket to see my family in the December of 2009, and that’s the last I’ve seen of them.

My parents have spent the last five years telling my siblings not to be like me.

In 2010 my parents decided they wanted nothing to do with me until I apologized to them for the hurt I caused. It destroyed me. I didn’t leave my room for two weeks.

I don’t know how to say this emphatically enough, leaving was hard, it was brutal, it wasn’t something I did willy-nilly, it destroyed me, there were times I re-thought leaving at all because I knew it meant leaving my siblings and believe it or not I do give a shit about them. Ultimately I left, because it was a life or death choice. I could stay, and wither and die – internally, definitely, and with a daily increasing possibility of physically – or I could leave, and have a chance at life and then be there on the other side for my siblings when they get older – or at least have that chance. So I left. I left on my birthday five years ago, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done (to. this. day.).

I just wish that maybe people really understood what that meant – means – feels like.

4 Replies to “My Elaborate Plan”

  1. I don’t think anyone will truly understand who has not been in an abusive situation before. That’s the sad truth as I have found it in the eight years since I left a similar situation of parental abuse. It’s sad, too, because people leaving those situations need support – they need normalcy and love and comfort. But, if you haven’t been touched physically (and, sometimes, even if you have, since people somehow still find a way to make that your fault in their minds), people just don’t get “what the big deal is.” They haven’t lived it. They don’t know the terror that it can bring, the complete inability to act or even function.

    I’m sorry you lived through this. I’m sorry you had to run away, too, and that, even in the midst of saving yourself, you had to ask yourself if what you were doing was right because of those left behind. I’ve been there and I know how it hurts. Being a few years ahead of you in the healing journey (and knowing others who are years ahead of me), I can say that the feelings stop controlling you…but, for me, they’ve never gone away. I’ll always carry some sort of scars.

  2. Dear Kiery – Hen,

    My heart breaks for you and what you’ve experienced with your family.

    I am a mother of four incredibly beautiful, talented, creative, and intelligent daughters.

    We raised them in a church/ministry that has since imploded from child sexual abuse cover-ups/lawsuits/and Survivor Blogs.

    Three years ago we began the painful and arduous journey of extracting ourselves and leaving that toxic and extra-biblical environment.

    Even though we (all of us) left that church (and subsequently lost the friends and friendships we had spent 25 years making/acquiring) we didn’t (couldn’t) purge ourselves overnight of the false/extra-biblical teaching and doctrine that we had been steeped in for a quarter of a century.

    Even though my husband and I LOVED our daughters with every fiber of our beings and weren’t overly harsh or strict with them – we did buy into our church/denomination’s teachings on modesty, courtship vs dating, etc.

    We also (routinely) enlisted our daughters help with babysitting (free of charge for pastors), cleaning other church member’s houses, providing meals, etc. even when we couldn’t (often) afford to do these things.

    When I say we loved and doted on our daughters – we did. We took family vacations to Disney World, purchased a time-share so they could learn how to ski, and lavished love and affection on them. My third daughter is 6′ 2″ and still manages to sit on my lap (not for very long) so I can sing to her.

    What we (her Dad and I) did to them, however, was try to control and monitor every TV show, every movie, every book, and every relationship they ever had.

    And while our motives were to love and protect – we ended up quenching and controlling their God-given spirits and thought processes.

    Even though our family was united in leaving our controlling and abusive church – my husband and I had to learn to rethink and repattern our brains, so to speak, and learn to listen – truly listen to our daughters when they talked to us and especially when they shared their hearts and their feelings with us.

    We didn’t always do this well.

    A year and a half ago our eldest daughter left home (in the middle of the night) after a terrible argument she had with me and with her Dad.

    We had discovered some things about her boyfriend that we were not comfortable with and instead of talking to her in gentleness and love – we pounced on her when she came home from a date and demanded answers.

    Our precious, precious daughter fled in tears and has never moved back home. I REJOICE to say that through many tears, much confession, many apologies, a thousand hugs, and hundreds of home-cooked meals – her Daddy and I have once again become two people that she not only LOVES but also TRUSTS.

    That precious, fragile, trust continues to be a work in progress.

    I don’t take ANYTHING for granted with my daughter.

    I communicate with her and I listen to her because what she feels and what she thinks matters to me and to God.

    I don’t know if you still believe in prayer but I do, sweet hen.

    I promise to pray that your parents realize what they’ve done and not only apologize to you and your partner but also to your siblings.

    I will pray that their eyes will be OPENED and their hearts RENT with their hypocrisy and sin.

    I will pray that they will repent and be reconciled to you!

    I will pray that they will LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY.

    Your friend,
    Trace

  3. You did what you had to do. For Sanity, Life, Liberty, and Love. You can’t be faulted for that even though you knew you would be. I really admire you because you did the right thing and have paid an enormous cost for doing it. You cannot convince or compel others to understand your position or your actions. Your parents misunderstanding is what they have to work through if they ever do. Eventually, you will probably be reunited with your siblings. I don’t really think I’m telling you anything new or overly important but I am really glad you did what you did because it’s just one more piece of the Love puzzle fitting up against the Truth and Justice puzzle. Thanks.

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