Hello to all,
I grew up in a Nazarene church where the women were expected to cover their necks with high collars, arms with long sleeves, and skirts below the knee. We were told what we could watch on TV, what kind of books to read and the newspaper was off limits more times than not. I was told to be quiet and obey. I was baptized at nine, against my quiet, stormy will. I found it to be a terrifying experience that I can still remember every detail of that day.

My large faithful family consisted of a preacher, a pimp, a drug pusher, and a varity of mental illness that has still gone unchecked to this day, but we all were at church on Sunday because the guilt trip and emotional torture grandma would lay on us was a higher price than getting up early to sleep during a sermon once a week.

Some of the threads I have read through seem to be more authentic fundalmentalist than my whacked out family experience.

I remember being in Sunday school and I must of been in a mood that day because the story that the teacher was relating just didn't sit right with my younger self and I raised my hand and posed a question about something that didn't make sense to my developing mind. The reason I remember this is the answer I got from the teacher shut me down. She said that I shouldn't rock the boat and that maybe I need to talk to the minister of our church.

I struggled with issues of sex when I got married to an 'untouched by religion' soul, but I made the transition. I would read my Bible faithfully every night searching for meaning and understanding but I just got more confused and pissed off. I started having dreams of walking in a dark cold cavern where I could not see until I got to an edge where I could feel a draft blowing up at me I would turn but only the edge was left. I had this dream or ones like it repeatedly. I would always wake up just as I felt myself falling.

So still I would struggle not knowing what to do as I slowly lost my mind thinking that I was not praying correctly. I was praying to God and not Jesus so I started praying to Jesus, then I felt that was rude because now I was ignoring the Father . . . you can see the crazy forming right? Anyhoo. . . I had another dream only once but it was mind-bending for me and I wrote it down not that I needed to.

There was a terrible storm and I was running to find shelter as rain pelted me and lighting flashed. I found an old rickety shack and ran into it. I was out of the rain and that seemed good. Then the proverbial knock at the door I opened it to find what looked a bit more serious than Buddy Jesus who told me I had to come outside to get out of the storm.

Typical weird dream, but it was not long after this that I found the courage to leave my religion and find myself. And that's why I think I may be an ex fundy.