It’s Christmas morning here in Australia. 
Anyway I first posted here on Friday, July 24th, 2009 and I just wanted to submit an update. So here follows another moment purging of my pent up angst, in this wonderful sharing environment where I know people will “get” where I’m coming from.
I’m sitting here with the eldest of my three sons – Tom, 12. Tom suggested I write my feelings down again, in this
“safe place” after I had a bit of an emmotional meltdown. I got quite worked up last night (Christmas Eve here in Australia) about my parents and the WCG “no Christmas experience.” My feelings were churned up this Christmas Eve more so than ever, as I was having flashbacks to how I felt at Christmas when I was Tom’s age.
When I was Tom’s age my parents had just left WCG, and consequently my childhood family was celebrating our first Christmas. It’s amazing how when your children are going through the age that something sigificant happened to you… that it brings back the memory that you had of your own experience at that age.
Anyway I was getting more and more stressy last night as my parents were coming over to celebrate Christmas with my children and I — and I really didn’t want them at my place. They are in consistent denial about how the WCG impacted on me and themselves, and I detest “putting on appearances.” I am upset and I couldn’t express it to my parents… the people who I REALLY need to hear my grievances.
But I long ago came to the conclusion that they will not listen, they do not want to know me and they’ll project their own conclusions about my life as they like. Well, I rebel against the misrepresentation of life as they do it. I rebel against the bullshit way they live a lie. I am blatantly honest about everything. My parents were walking through my front door and I had to put on a front to create a pleasant Christmas celebration for my children and husband. All I really wanted to do was bail them up and give them an idea of how much pain they caused me then and now.
My darling husband and Tom came to my aid… and helped me through the night. They hugged me and loved me and let me sook and let me vent, and gave my soul some comfort. ‘Cos thats what hurts… my soul was bruised by my parents’ WCG choices. Anyway I’m honest about the pain and angst it gives me, and that honesty helps me heal. Thirty years after my parents left the WCG I still struggle with the repercussions of my childhood WCG existence.