16 ICSA TODAY
What Made It Easier—What Helped
David finds that people outside are not as the Brethren said they
would be instead, they have humanity and offer him support:
I hadn’t bargained on calls from friends. I have spoken
to four by phone since coming home from work, and
none of them are brethren. … It’s quite heart warming.
(the survivor, September 3, 2007)
He also finds that other former Brethren are not as he anticipated
they would be. He describes his conversations with some of
them:
It’s not about bad-mouthing where we have come
from, it’s about the relief of people knowing what the
little references mean, not having to explain, just being
ourselves without being wary of being different. (the
survivor, September 24, 2007)
Even the pain of his former life has a function it helps him
appreciate what he has now:
The real crux of the issue, though, is that we need the
dark times to show up the light. Without struggles and
sorrows, how can we appreciate the good in life? … I
can look back on various proverbial dark nights of the
soul, and they both give me strength to get through
the tough things of the present, and set the happy
aspects in sharp relief. (the survivor, August 17, 2007)
He is beginning to find a way to navigate the choppy social
waters:
So far, my prime principles are openness and
watchfulness. If I don’t know what someone means,
I ask. If I suspect something is expected, but I don’t
know what it is, I ask. If I don’t know the answer to a
query, I say so.
People are kind, on the whole. And all I can hope is
that before too long I will be natural enough that I
can simply enjoy society without the strain of treating
every encounter as a lesson too. One thing is for sure:
if I stay home for fear of being different, I’ll never get
anywhere. (the survivor, September 2, 2007)
Blogging, he says, continues to help:
I hoped documenting the things that had been swirling
around my head for so long would begin to change the
reality around me. It has succeeded beyond my wildest
dreams. Text in black and white has a power that
spoken words don’t, especially in a diffident and quiet
voice such as mine. (the survivor, September 30, 2007)
“Blogging has changed my life” sounds like hyperbole,
but it’s the literal truth… (the survivor, September
30b, 2007) Useful things these blogs… (the survivor,
September 30a, 2007)
A great part of David’s strength, I believe, is that he can
acknowledge both the sun and the shadow of his journey. He
writes about his hope and achievement:
Now, to my surprise, I find that there are good people
in the world, people who can be true friends, who can
have a call on my time and a tug at my thoughts, and
be a fulfilment in themselves. I shouldn’t be surprised,
and on a surface level I am not, but somewhere deep
down I did think I was solitary, and that I would always
feel a little outside the happy enjoyment that others
seem to get together. It isn’t so. (the survivor, October
23, 2007)
I have a strange background. I have believed odd
things. My life has been spent a peculiar way. But here
I am, and all that has shaped me. If I wish it hadn’t
happened, not only am I wishing myself away, but I am
losing the opportunity to learn from it all. (the survivor,
September 27, 2007)
Reality is precious. It’s not pleasant in every aspect,
but I wouldn’t settle for protection from the
unpleasantness at the price of delusion… (the survivor,
September 10, 2007)
And yet he can accept that there is always a sense of loss:
I still get moments of sadness and loneliness, however
‘grounded’ and moved on I think I am, and however
little reason there is to think that way.
In considering the whole thing, one fact became very
clear: just because you don’t like something, that
doesn’t mean you won’t miss it when it’s gone.
I spent many years chafing against the restraints of
my life, the hypocrisy, the meaningless rules, and the
knowledge that I didn’t have to suffer them, that there
was a price I could pay and be free, was part of that
suffering. Yet as a thinker I also had a drive to make
sense of what I could. So now I can feel bereft on
occasion. Something I knew intimately has gone from
my life.
So yes, I miss something I never liked. Miss it a lot
sometimes. Whatever I thought of it, it was familiar, and
the familiar has a strong pull. It pulls harder whenever
something knocks my stability.
Nobody needs worry about me, I hasten to say. My life
has plenty of fulfilment, and I still don’t think I could
swallow the transparent nonsense that comes with the
stability and financial support. But I’d be fooling myself
if I pretended there was no temptation at times. (the
survivor, June 11, 2008) n
“...just because you don’t like
something, that doesn’t mean you
won’t miss it when it’s gone.”
What Made It Easier—What Helped
David finds that people outside are not as the Brethren said they
would be instead, they have humanity and offer him support:
I hadn’t bargained on calls from friends. I have spoken
to four by phone since coming home from work, and
none of them are brethren. … It’s quite heart warming.
(the survivor, September 3, 2007)
He also finds that other former Brethren are not as he anticipated
they would be. He describes his conversations with some of
them:
It’s not about bad-mouthing where we have come
from, it’s about the relief of people knowing what the
little references mean, not having to explain, just being
ourselves without being wary of being different. (the
survivor, September 24, 2007)
Even the pain of his former life has a function it helps him
appreciate what he has now:
The real crux of the issue, though, is that we need the
dark times to show up the light. Without struggles and
sorrows, how can we appreciate the good in life? … I
can look back on various proverbial dark nights of the
soul, and they both give me strength to get through
the tough things of the present, and set the happy
aspects in sharp relief. (the survivor, August 17, 2007)
He is beginning to find a way to navigate the choppy social
waters:
So far, my prime principles are openness and
watchfulness. If I don’t know what someone means,
I ask. If I suspect something is expected, but I don’t
know what it is, I ask. If I don’t know the answer to a
query, I say so.
People are kind, on the whole. And all I can hope is
that before too long I will be natural enough that I
can simply enjoy society without the strain of treating
every encounter as a lesson too. One thing is for sure:
if I stay home for fear of being different, I’ll never get
anywhere. (the survivor, September 2, 2007)
Blogging, he says, continues to help:
I hoped documenting the things that had been swirling
around my head for so long would begin to change the
reality around me. It has succeeded beyond my wildest
dreams. Text in black and white has a power that
spoken words don’t, especially in a diffident and quiet
voice such as mine. (the survivor, September 30, 2007)
“Blogging has changed my life” sounds like hyperbole,
but it’s the literal truth… (the survivor, September
30b, 2007) Useful things these blogs… (the survivor,
September 30a, 2007)
A great part of David’s strength, I believe, is that he can
acknowledge both the sun and the shadow of his journey. He
writes about his hope and achievement:
Now, to my surprise, I find that there are good people
in the world, people who can be true friends, who can
have a call on my time and a tug at my thoughts, and
be a fulfilment in themselves. I shouldn’t be surprised,
and on a surface level I am not, but somewhere deep
down I did think I was solitary, and that I would always
feel a little outside the happy enjoyment that others
seem to get together. It isn’t so. (the survivor, October
23, 2007)
I have a strange background. I have believed odd
things. My life has been spent a peculiar way. But here
I am, and all that has shaped me. If I wish it hadn’t
happened, not only am I wishing myself away, but I am
losing the opportunity to learn from it all. (the survivor,
September 27, 2007)
Reality is precious. It’s not pleasant in every aspect,
but I wouldn’t settle for protection from the
unpleasantness at the price of delusion… (the survivor,
September 10, 2007)
And yet he can accept that there is always a sense of loss:
I still get moments of sadness and loneliness, however
‘grounded’ and moved on I think I am, and however
little reason there is to think that way.
In considering the whole thing, one fact became very
clear: just because you don’t like something, that
doesn’t mean you won’t miss it when it’s gone.
I spent many years chafing against the restraints of
my life, the hypocrisy, the meaningless rules, and the
knowledge that I didn’t have to suffer them, that there
was a price I could pay and be free, was part of that
suffering. Yet as a thinker I also had a drive to make
sense of what I could. So now I can feel bereft on
occasion. Something I knew intimately has gone from
my life.
So yes, I miss something I never liked. Miss it a lot
sometimes. Whatever I thought of it, it was familiar, and
the familiar has a strong pull. It pulls harder whenever
something knocks my stability.
Nobody needs worry about me, I hasten to say. My life
has plenty of fulfilment, and I still don’t think I could
swallow the transparent nonsense that comes with the
stability and financial support. But I’d be fooling myself
if I pretended there was no temptation at times. (the
survivor, June 11, 2008) n
“...just because you don’t like
something, that doesn’t mean you
won’t miss it when it’s gone.”
