Merry Christmas....or not....

Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate and a happy day to those of you who do not!  Tonight I will celebrate Christmas with my family and go to mass at the church where I met Will.  I've been back a handful of times, and it gets easier every time.  I still don't like to go.  There is still fear and shame and panic, but I will go because it is important to me and my family.  It is another instance of trying to make the heart follow the head.
Holidays can be difficult for those who have been in cults or abusive and controlling relationships.  Memories abound both good and bad.  The bad memories are just bad and the good memories....well, you just kind of feel guilty for having any positive feelings about a person who treated you so cruelly....and if you look hard enough, you may find that those good memories really weren't so good after all anyway.
It is a difficult time of year, so please be kind to those who have been spiritually, emotionally, or otherwise abused.  Some may have never experienced Christmas if they were raised in an enviroment that did not observe "traditional" holidays.  Help them to not feel so out of place.  Help them not be the foreigner all alone in a foreign land.
And then there are people like me who are just still floundering and trying grow roots for a belief in God that exists but is fragile.  Going to church may be hard.  Go with us and sit next to us and don't look at us like we're crazy if we cry during the service.  Just give us a tissue and sit with us quietly because the feeling of not being alone is quite powerful and healing.
Merry Christmas to you all!
May we all find joy and peace in our lives!

Absolutely FREE!!!!

This weekend "Lunch with a Sociopath" is FREE.  December 8 and 9, Saturday and Sunday.   It's also now available in Canada, Brazil, and Japan!   Thanks, kind readers!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0078HLEF8

What I'm Thankful For

Lately on FaceBook lots of people are counting down thirty days of thankfulness this month.  While I'm doing that on my personal page, it seems a bit silly to limit that practice to thirty days.  I've always had mixed feelings about Thanksgiving anyway.  Why set aside one day per year to celebrate our thankfulness when it should be a way of life.  We should live in thankfulness each day even when we find it difficult to be thankful for anything at all.
So...here is what (and who) I am thankful for 365 days of the year.

My readers....you are the reason I wrote "Lunch with a Sociopath" and your messages and e-mails to me mean the world to me.  It was incredibly difficult for me to share my story, but I did so in the hopes that someone who needed to know they weren't alone might read it.  I wrote it because it's important for you to know that you are not stupid or foolish or defective.  You were abused by a leader who took advantage of your earnest desire to follow God and twisted your goodness into something unrecognizable.  I wrote it because people don't believe thought reform can occur in this day and age but it does.  I wrote it because I wanted friends and family and society and general to understand how people can be taken advantage of and how they can help thier loved one recover just by being there with unconditional love.  It is not an easy path for any of us whether we are the ones who were abused or whether we are the ones that love the survivor of the abuse.  But you have helped me on my path much more than you can ever imagine.

My family and friends....even when you didn't understand all that happened, you loved me with a love that can only be described as heroic.  You questioned little and listened a lot.  Many of you prayed for me and my family.  Early on I despised your prayers because I no longer really believed in God, but I've come to see that your strength in God has helped me regain my faith in Him.  I'm especially grateful to my mother because she instilled  a deep faith in me very early on.  I think this faith, though it has waxed and waned to the point of (almost) nonexistence, is why I am still here among the living.  This was the second greatest gift she has given me--the first being life.  I am also grateful to the women of St. John's church who have remained friends and supporters even when I was distant, even when I was unappreciative, even in my darkest hour.  One woman stands out in particular as a shining and heroic example of a prayer warrior and an inexhaustable fount of unconditional love.  I am grateful to my children and husband who have suffered with me.  It has been unfair to them and, for that, I am truly sorry.  There are no words, no actions, nothing at all that can ever wipe the slate clean.  For thier forgiveness, for thier  patience, I am humbly grateful.  And to so many others, sometimes nameless others, who showed kindess when I needed it even if they had no idea what was going on inside.

Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center....the starting place.  In this little isolated place, I found hope amongst people who intimately understood all that had gone on and who didn't think I was crazy.  This was the  place that the healing began.  Sometimes I long to go back just to remind myself that it will all be okay.  I will be forever grateful to the staff and therapists who unclouded my eyes and showed me a better way.

Three Priests....I will always be grateful to the priest who took my phone call and helped get me away from "Will".  Over the course of several months, he made sure that I was okay and had everything I needed---first to get away and ensure my physical safety and then to get therapuetic help.  After I made the decision to leave Will, he was the first person I called.  I made a very sound judgement in calling him as he was supportive from the first syllable uttered.  He is the reason I didn't change my mind about leaving the first time.  In the first weeks, his oft-asked question to me was "What do you need?  What can I do for you to make this easier?"  I think of him daily and remind myself that there are, indeed, good priests in the Episcopal Church. 
Two other priests are helping me find my faith in God and to strengthen what little faith that still remains.  Although they came in when the story and the book were finished, they have displayed amazing understanding and patience with me.  They have picked up where "Lunch" ends and are leading me toward greater freedom in faith and away from the memories that enslave me.  They have no reason to do this.  I am not even a member of thier church. They do it because they care and because it is what God would have them do.  For thier selflessness, I am ever grateful.

So there you have it.  These people are why I am amongst the living.  These people will forever have a piece of my grateful heart.  Always....365 days of every year.

FREE this weekend!

This weekend, Saturday and Sunday, Lunch with a Sociopath will be absolutely and positively FREE!!!!
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0078HLEF8

Why Stay?

     Recently we moved into a new home.  It is 135 years old and, while we have lots of living space inside our home, our dogs have a relatively small space in the backyard.  We do not  let them into the house because of allergens, and we don't yet have a fence.  We keep them on tie-outs until our fence can be built next month.  Yesterday one of the tie-outs broke, but our dog, Molly, stayed in the yard and only went as far as the unbroken tie-out let her.  It was as if she didn't realize she was free.  Although this was fortunate for us because she didn't run away, I wondered why she didn't.  She was free to roam the neighborhood and cause chaos but she stayed.
      So many people who don't truly understand the nature of cults or spiritual abuse ask why don't the abused just leave.  If only it were that simple.  Like victims of domestic violence, we stay because we're afraid.  We stay because we're told that to leave would be a blasphemy to God and all that we believe in.  It would be turning our back on the true religion and the only path to salvation.  We stay because we've been told we will encounter misfortunes financially and physically.  We stay because we are told we are going to die if we leave. 
      And we stay because we are afraid of what's out there.  I didn't grow up in a cult, but I was in my relationship long enough to fear any other way of life.  I had the hardest time making decisions when I left because I could not ask my leader what to do, what to wear, what to say, where to go, what to think...it was just me.  I was so not used to being reliant on myself that I questioned everything I did.  Then I thought it really didn't matter what I did because I'm sure it was wrong, and I was going to hell anyway for my "betrayal".  We stay because we know no other way and the alternate ways presented to us seem wrong or evil or too difficult.  But we're not weak.  Take everything you believe in right now and turn it upside down.  Change your entire thought process and do it with very little support from people who have may have never experienced what you are going through.  Wipe the slate completely clean and start over.  Daunting, isn't it?
       Daunting but not impossible as evidenced by the fact that there are survivors.  It's a fact that many of us will suffer post-traumatic stress for years and maybe will never feel completely comfortable in a church or even in our own skin....but at least we're free.  Remind us of that because it is easy to slip back into thinking that we've done something wrong by leaving. 
      It's easy to stay where you are like Molly.  In the backyard she has food and water and a nice bed and people who love her and take her for walks.  She doesn't want to leave because she knows no other way.  Fortunately, our love for Molly is real.  But it's just as easy to feel false love and belonging in a group or relationship and feel unable to get out.  But you can.  You can run from the backyard and create all sorts of chaos in the neighborhood and I hope you do.

Cults and Bananas

I recently had a friend ask me why I remained in a church after I was abused by an Episcopalian priest.  It's true that I never left the church and always considered myself to be Episcopalian even though I don't attend church regularly and am not active in any church activities.  In fact, I haven't been to an Episcopal church since 2011.  I have been to a Catholic church twice this year.  So...no, I'm not the dedicated parishioner I once was.  I can't be.  Being in a church and seeing the priest evokes many bad memories that I wish I didn't have to deal with.  But I want to be there.  I really do want to be a faithful servant.  It may seem crazy to some to go right back to the church that abused me.  Am I setting myself up for failure?  What's the draw?  Why is it so important?
      I answered my friend's question in this way.  I chose to stay in the church because it was not the church at large who abused me.  In fact, they swiftly dealt with my abuser and booted him out after taking his collar so quickly that it would make your head spin.  They did the right thing and I am grateful for that.  I also chose to stay in the church because it's not God's fault that this happened.  It took me a long time to come to this conclusion and, to be honest, I've only reached it very recently.  God doesn't create us so that bad things can happen to us and he can laugh at our misery.  Much like we hurt for our own children, so does God.  Yes, bad things happen.  They always will, but it's not God's fault that I came into contact with a sociopath.  I also cognitively know that not every priest is bad.  Priests in general, especially ones that wear collars, freak me out.  I immediately look at them and think that they are sizing me up and seeing how they can use me for thier own gain.  It's a trigger and an automatic emotional response.  But in my head, I know I'm wrong.  To say that every priest is bad simply because I had a bad experience with one would be like throwing out the whole bunch of bananas when only one is going bad.  You'd miss out on a lot of good bananas if you did that.
     I'm lucky that my mother instilled such a deep faith in me.  At least I feel lucky.  To some faith isn't that important or even necessary.  Some cult or abuse survivors never go back to any church and that's okay.  They take thier bad experience with religion and transform it into something new whether it is thier own form of spirituality or just by being a good person.  The survivors of cults and spiritual abuse that I know are some of the kindest and compassionate people I have ever known.  They've been through some stuff and want to help others.  And some do that differently than I do.  They take that bad banana and buy two more and make banana bread.  They experiment with the recipe until they find what taste and texture they like best.  And they survive.
     Isn't that what it's all about?  Survival?  Whether you choose an organized religion or not or shy away from priests or embrace them or have meaningful talks with God or find some other avenue for peace within or eat bananas straight from the peel or bake them into banana bread or mash them into pudding, isn't about finding what is right for you in order to ensure your survival?  Because after the physical and sexual and emotional and spiritual abuse doled out daily, hourly by our former leaders, it is an accomplishment to even live through the day sometimes. 
     But it gets better.  Time doesn't heal every wound, but it does give us an opportunity to learn how to deal with issues and triggers that come our way.  I remind myself that I am lucky.  I got away.  He cannot hurt me anymore....he is powerless.

Paperback Writer

"Dear Sir or Madam: Will you read my book?  It took me years to write.  Will you take a look?  Its based on a novel by a man named Lear, and I need a job so I want to be a paperback writer."
--The Beatles
Lunch with a Sociopath is now available in paperback through Amazon.com at the link below!

http://www.amazon.com/Lunch-Sociopath-Lucie-Lilly-Pawlak/dp/1475058500/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1333408992&sr=1-2

April Fool's

    This weekend, March 31--April 1, Lunch with a Sociopath will be available to download for free at Amazon.com.

http://www.amazon.com/Lunch-with-a-Sociopath-ebook/dp/B0078HLEF8

Six Weeks

     It has been six weeks since the release of  Lunch with a Sociopath, and I am pleased that over 350 readers in the US and UK have downloaded my book.  Some have contacted me with thier own struggles with abuse or other issues, and I am happy that my book has been a vehicle for others to share thier feelings with me and, hopefully, thier loved ones.  This is what I had hoped for and kept in mind when the writing process just seemed too dark. 
     Thank you, readers, for your e-mails and reviews and comments and facebook messages.  They mean the world to me.  The darkness was worth struggling through because of you.

Why Self-publish?

I've been asked several times why I decided to self-publish Lunch with a Sociopath on Amazon.com rather than go the traditional publishing route.  The answer is two-fold.
     First, I am a nobody.  Nobodies don't get published unless they have connections in the publishing field which I don't.  It's kind of hard to make those connections when you live in out of the way places instead of....let's say New York City where there exists a plethora of major publishing houses.  Many websites for publishers do not take unsolicited manuscripts so the chances that anyone will ever read an unpublished work by an unknown author are slim to none.  If I were a famous "nobody" like Paris Hilton who makes her fortune and fame by being a witless party girl, then maybe I'd have a chance...but I'm glad I'm not her or anything remotely like her.  I think that would be a bleak existence.
      Secondly,  have you noticed how much bad material comes out of a proper publishing house?  It doesn't matter if someone can write.  It matters if they have the afforementioned connections or fame.  If Joan Rivers can get a book published, God help us all, because she doesn't really have anything of worth to say in my opinion.  So good books get overlooked daily in the quest for money--either with already established authors or celebrities.  I struggled with the decision to self-publish.  I thought that if I didn't have a "real" publisher, then my book was worthless.  After checking in to some companies and submitting a few query letters, I decided that the process was just too lengthy for this particular book.  I just wanted to be done with this book and have it out of my mind as it has taken a huge emotional toll on me.  When one submits to a publisher, often that publisher does not allow multiple submissions or requires exclusive reading rights to your work.  What this means is that if you send in a manuscript, you can only send it to one publisher.  They may take up to six months to read your work during which time you cannot submit to any other publishing house.  Then after six months, you will receive a kindly rejection letter to go along with the sinking feeling that you've wasted six months of your life.  I didn't want to wait around for years and have my walls  papered with rejection slips....not on  this book anyway.  This one just needed to be out there.  It needed to be out of my hands for me but for others as well who might be going through the same type of trauma.....but, really, it was a selfish decision in the end borne of my impatience to just be able to move on.

     

First Review is out!!!

5.0 out of 5 stars A Fascinating and Compelling Look into a Soul Overflowing With Pain, February 20, 2012

By 

Jennifer E. Clark - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: Lunch with a Sociopath (Kindle Edition)

This is not the kind of book anyone would enjoy, but it isn't meant to be. However, Ms. Pawlak is a fantastic writer who is amazingly able to put very difficult feelings and thoughts into words. She is incredibly candid. I read this book in three days because I couldn't put it down. When I wasn't reading it, I was thinking about it. I lost sleep over it. This book's intended purpose is to help those people who are suffering or have suffered spiritual abuse and will fulfill it very well. I also believe that it will help the friends and loved ones of these victims, not because it can tell them how to help, but because it will allow them to see inside the mind and soul of someone who is enduring this kind of trauma and will help them to understand what is happening--it did for me. At some point, if she is able, Ms. Pawlak should look for more opportunities to raise awareness of this problem.

Some of the proceeds of this book will be donated to Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center, a clinic that specializes in helping victims of spiritual abuse.

Available on Amazon.com

Because of my agreement with Kindle publilshing, I can no longer post chapters of Lunch with a Sociopath online.  Follow the link below to read more. 
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0078HLEF8

If you don't have a Kindle, that's okay.  You can download free reading apps at:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html/ref=amb_link_352814002_3?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-9&pf_rd_r=11CJC7WWS2FCPVW388HV&pf_rd_t=1401&pf_rd_p=1280395082&pf_rd_i=1000301301

Just Cause

Below is a link to my cause which helps raise awareness about the effects of thought reform.  Any donations go directly to Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center in Albany, Ohio.
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Victims-of-Thought-Reform-and-Coercive-or-Abusive-GroupsRelationships/199825176699233

Impatience

Impatience...it should've been my middle name.  I am anxious to share more with you, and I hope you'll keep checking back, but there is a reason I am pacing these posts.  First because I chose March 3rd as our official date to publish via Amazon Kindle.  Second because I am tying up loose ends.  I would really love to just finish with it and be done.
It took me almost two years to write this book although the actual time spent writing was drastically less.  I wrote for a couple of hours two days a week often making up excuses to not write and avoid it all together.  I pushed through because I felt maybe my story would one day help someone and because I thought it would be healing for me.
I was wrong.  It wasn't healing at all.  In fact, it was nightmarish.  Even now when I do something as seemingly benign as reformatting this book, I begin to have insomnia and, when I do sleep, I have nightmares.  It that old post-traumatic stress disorder rearing its ugly head. 
Soldiers are not the only ones who suffer from PTSD.  Battered women, survivors of plane crashes or natural disasters, or victims of mind control suffer as well.  Anyone who suffers a trauma in which they feel their lives are in danger can develop PTSD.  It is a condition that is little talked about because you cannot see the scars and you cannot hear the silent screams.  The National Institute of Mental Health has a link ( http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/what-is-post-traumatic-stress-disorder-or-ptsd.shtml ) that gives an overview of PTSD, the symptoms, and ways to help yourself or a loved one.
Recently the diagnosis of CPTSD or complex post-traumatic stress disorder has been given to victims of thought reform/mind control.  This would apply to survivors coming from large groups (think Unification Church--the Moonies), smaller groups ( Heaven's Gate--39 members), or one-on-one cultic relationships (like me).  It's not only religious weirdos who prey upon the universal vulnerabilities of humans.  Cults can be political or psychological or scientific.  There have been beauty salon cults and horse cults and art cults.  If you are live and breathing....there is a cult for you, but I pray you never find it.
Cult members are not crazy or mentally unstable or stupid.  On the contrary they are usually the "cream of the crop".  They generally are intelligent and gifted in some way.  It wouldn't make sense for a cult leader to recruit someone who wasn't.  How do you exploit a mentally ill person?  You would end up taking care of them when you really want them to serve your needs.  Also, as a cult leader you would need thier specific gifts to further your cause.  Need help with money problems?  Recruit someone who has a knack for numbers and money.  Then they can help you cook the books.  Need help with your cult literature?  Recruit someone who is gifted in writing.  Then they can help you put a new spin on your lies.  No one is immune to recruitment...because it happens so slowly, so masterfully, that you don't even know it's happening.  I spent a long time thinking I was stupid and that I was to blame for my experience with the priest.  A long, long time.  But it is simply not the case.
So, beloved reader, please embrace that characteristic which I lack which calls itself patience.  I plan to post Chapter 3 next week.

Ready to Launch

     The launch date is set.  March 3, 2012 is a significant day in my life--perhaps even more important than the days my children were born or the day I was married--so it seems appropriate to release the whole of the book on that day.
      I will be releasing Chapters 3-5 in the coming weeks, but, due to legal matters, cannot post more than this.  I am waiting to hear from other entities for thier blessing and approval.  In telling this story I do not wish to harm others.  Be patient, beloved reader.  More is on the way.

Who, what, when, where, why, and how?

Who:  Lunch with a Sociopath is the story my struggle to break free from the bonds of a cultic one-on-one relationship with an Episocopal priest.
What:  Thought reform is a means by which someone entraps another person or persons by coercive means.  In my case, I believed that the priest was God and to leave him or to disobey would be akin to betraying God only with stiffer consequences.  God forgives.  The priest did not.
When:  I met the priest in February 2001 and last spoke to him in May 2009.  I wrote this book over a two year period often becoming overwhelmed and putting it away for months at a time.
Where:  I wrote at La Trattoria in Alpine, Texas where they nourished my body and soul with chai tea lattes, creamy tomato basil soup, and the best pizza this side of the Pacific--the best being Boston Pizza in Waihiawa, Hawaii.
Why:  At the insistent urging of my therapist at the time, I began to write as a way of remembering what had happened.  The more I wrote, the more I remembered, and the more I healed.
How:  With the help of family and friends, I have made it to the other side of this ordeal.  To them and the staff at Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center, I am forever grateful.

Excerpt from Chapter 1

Then again, I wanted to make my father proud.  Growing up I never felt my father was as proud of me as he was my sister Susan.  High school was agonizingly painful for me as she racked up one award after another both academic and athletic.  She was truly gifted.  That I cannot deny.  I remember watching her play in basketball games wishing I could do that though my stumbling feet and complete lack of athletic prowess stunted my sports career almost as soon as it started in seventh grade.  Before it died in junior high school, my career as the family athlete lay in a deep coma since I first signed up for softball when I was about eight or nine.  I didn’t want to play, but my parents signed me up anyway because, to have worth, you must play sports…. and be good at them.  I hated—no despised—softball.  It was the biggest waste of my time.  I could have been reading a book or daydreaming.  Instead I was standing out in left field waiting for a ball to come my way….and they never did because everyone was too little to really hit the ball.  So I began daydreaming about being Laura on “Little House on the Prairie” or Pippi Longstocking with my red pigtails standing at attention or Ramona who drove her older sister absolutely crazy just by being a little sister.  I’d look at the ants crawling on the ground flirting with danger as I stepped aside at the very last moment lest they bite me.  Oh, and there were ugly, scraggly half-dead pink and white flowers on the field starving for water and attention, but to me they were the most fragrant and beautiful flowers of which to make a daisy crown….which is why when the occasional ball was hit my way I couldn’t catch it.  My glove was full of flowers. 

          My sister, three years older than me, would come home from her games tired and sweaty, a towel hanging about her neck, take off her shoes, and watch television before going to shower.  Man, she stunk!!!  She smelled like girl sweat and feet that hadn’t been washed since the last game.  But I didn’t mind and I kind of liked it.  I think I would die if she ever knew that.  I liked it because I wanted to smell like her, to play sports like her, to make good grades like her, to have my father proud of me the way he was proud of her.  I wanted to be her!  Why didn’t God grace me with all her talents?  Because obviously I had none.  I was just a screwed up kid who had screwed up friends in a godforsaken screwed up little bohunk town.  While my sister was floating through high school on a cloud of recognition and praise, I was busy devising ways of killing myself.  So many times I took handfuls of various pills.  I cut my legs, my face, my wrists, and got sent to a psychiatric hospital for my efforts.  However, I did well in school except for math.  I always did my homework before attempting suicide….just in case. 

     I have forgiven Susan for being the perfect athlete and scholar and for making my life a living hell because I know it was all a lie.  Not that she wasn’t smart and accomplished.  That’s not her fault.  It was mine for not accepting what I was (and wasn’t) and for trying to live up to a standard I could not possibly attain.  I’m sure I made her life hell by virtue of being her little sister and wanting to be just like her.  Really it was my dad who never really valued my accomplishments in band or theatre.  But I couldn’t be angry at my father and I didn’t really understand that it was wrong of him to never go to my band contests or football games when we marched at half-time or to my speech tournaments.  I think he went once to a football game.  Instead I aimed my flame-thrower of vengeance at Susan and unloaded on her for all I was worth….which was, apparently, not much.  In that family, you have to be good at sports to be something.  You can’t just be a troubled girl in black who listens to The Cure and plays the flute.

          So it flattered me when Father Will told me I was intelligent and witty and full of promise.  He was almost old enough to be my father—sixteen years my senior.  But, let’s get this straight…this is not about my father.  We all do the best we can when we parent and then we have the rest of our lives to look back over what we have done with our children and, with great sighs, say I wish I would have and I should have.  I’m sure I will heave great heavy breaths from my aging body when my children are older.  I only tell you this because I want you to understand that I grew up with a self-esteem that could only be viewed under an electron microscope on a sunny day.

Father Will told me I was a kindred soul and, to me, that was the best compliment of all. He was educated, charming with an acid wit, and, most importantly, he was a man of God with a growing church besides his career in academia. He was success. He was holy. He was as close to God as I was going to get considering my life of failures and out and out sins. Surely God could not love me. And if He did, it would be a pitying kind of love you have for a dog that tries really hard to be good, but always ends up making a mess on the living room floor…in front of company no less.