Dear Mr Gothard,

      When I was about 10 I had an assignment to write a hymn. I didn't need to write the music, just the lyrics. ATI is big on this. It took me YEARS to figure out that most of the songs I had learned in the Children's Institute (ATI's kid seminar) were parodies. Every time I went to a parade I thought that "The Ten Unchangables" was a largely popular song until I was an adult and found out the bands were playing "Anchors Away", and no one in ATI was as original as I had thought. 

Since my assignment, and being heavily involved with ATI's programs for kids (Children's Institute, Character First!) I have started writing parodies as a natural part of my day. I do it allllll the time. I have posted a few on YouTube about being locked in my room at the cult, and summaries of sermons. My thoughts tend to turn into parodies, which comes in really handy when playing with my twins all day, and entertains Dreamy Eyes quite a lot. 

     After watching the documentary The Cult Next Door , which is about ATI, I was up all night writing a letter in my head to Bill Gothard. He is 83 and I thought it would be cathartic to put something out there before he finally dies (I checked with my therapist, and she said to go for it, but to avoid becoming pen pals who argue).  As I lay awake, mentally penning my letter about all the ways that Bill Gothard had directly hurt me, the more and more it became a song. Finding this ironic that it became a song after this habit was one that ATI started, I decided to embrace it. It took me about one commute (3.5 hour drive) to write, and as you can guess, about 10 minutes to film. I also had to borrow my mother's ATI clothes, because I had thrown away anything that reminded me of how I had to dress back then. 

  

I think the only person on earth who understood the entire thing without explanation is my mother. Facebook decided that the preview of my video should be the first thing that is shown on my page, and that the snip of an image they would show is the part of me holding up a giant knife. Thanks, Facebook, I really didn't need more friends anyway. I promised my fans (read: my cousin) that I would write a blog post so that they could also be in on the jokes. So, here is the breakdown of the lyrics, and the video for those who don't know what I'm talking about.  ➡➡  Dear Mr Gothard ⬅⬅ (Really, click on it, and join the 37 others who have watched it)

Dear Mr Gothard, 

Here's a few things you need to know since you formed a cult, and then you robbed me of my life...

So far, I think it speaks for itself. 

Due to your evil rules, I was homeschooled, 

Everyone in ATI must homeschool according to their standards. 

And let's forget going to college 'cause I'm just a girl. 

Brevity here. You CAN go to college if you don't have a penis, but you can only major in SOME of the studies. Not the ones that require a penis, such as Pastor, or "How to use a tool that isn't a needle and thread".  My sister's graduation presents included a kitchen aid mixer, and books on homemaking and motherhood. 

There's no light in my eye. 

ATI is big on eye light. Bill Gothard and his wizard senses can tell whether or not you still have your V card just by looking into your eyes. Maybe it's me, but they really could have capitalized on this super power. 

Not a submissive wife. 

ATI teaches that you need to submit to your husband NO MATTER WHAT. Unless it is illegal. Then you pray about it first, but usually still submit. Dreamy Eyes is rarely wrong, but being able to say "I don't want to do that" and not being brought before the elders of the church is something that I never thought I would be doing in my married life. Dream bigger, girls. 

There is more to me than my baby factory. 

You guys have seen TLC shows. You know that spilling your seed is a sin. 

He's got that 9 to 5, but honey, so do I, 

Dreamy Eyes works, but my job pays the rent, and takes skills AND pants-wearing. 

So don't expect I'll have the Hebrew Bible memorized. 

Women should be at home, keeping the house spotless, whilst memorizing and meditating on Scriptures all day. The "ATI Bible" is a KJV with Hebrew and Greek study guides, and is Bill Gothard's personal favorite.  People stand in line for hours waiting for him to sign theirs (I stood in the line, but I didn't want him to sign my Bible). 

I read your Wisdom books,

Wisdom Booklets are the curriculum put out by ATI. They are all based on the Bible, and contain educational material on how to be a submissive wife, how to hate sodomites, how to deny climate change, etc. 

but you should take a look, 

Was it worth it all? Yeah, was it worth it all? 

"It Will Be Worth It All", aka "When We See Christ" is the theme song that the Apprenticeship Choir (choir of hundreds of 12-18 year old ATI students) sings at every ATI conference. It is a gigantic deal and everyone cries. After the song, Bill Gothard usually looks at the choir and says "What an awesome, awesome sight." (This comes up later). 

When I hear your name it sounds like clanging hangers. 

A "famous" story from Bill Gothard's Basic seminar is about how a woman complained that her husband left metal hangers on the door knob and they would clang and drive her crazy. It was like the "thorn in the side". Eventually she learned to love her husband more than the clanging hangers, and learned that submissive wives put away the hangers happily and stop giving their husbands shit about things that are their job. 

This did NOT resolve my anger! 

Bill Gothard also has an Anger Resolution Seminar. The portion I held up in the video is called "Understanding Why God Lets Things Happen". 

I'm so sick of blue and white! 

The dress code of ATI. White shirt/ blouse, navy bottoms. All modest, aka potato sacks. 

Dear Mr Gothard, 

Here's a few things you need to know since you formed a cult, and then you robbed me of my life. 

You told the fathers "If you want the hearts of all your daughters, tell them they'll burn in Hell if not pure on the wedding night. 

Fathers are "encouraged" to sign a contract with their daughters that will assure her purity until marriage. 

My father and I signed no such contract. You can see that I'm holding up my wedding photo, 6 months pregnant with the twins. 

And when you've found the man in God's perfect plan, and if he prays enough with YOU to win your daughter's hand... 

The ATI books literally teach that wives are prizes to be won from their fathers. 

What if your choice is wrong? Wait, men are never wrong!" 

How dare I disagree with your authority. 

It would take an illegal act, and a BIG one at that, to convince the population of ATI that what "God told the father" about his choice in suitor for his daughter was wrong. 

You taught the men how to take command of ladies. 

See: Bill Gothard's Umbrella of Authority-

  

Your umbrella makes me crazy. 

Get me out of ATI. 

I'm out, but again, brevity. 

Dear Mr Gothard, 

Here's a few things you need to know since you formed a cult, and then you robbed me of my life. 

You said rock music shouldn't be the kind of stuff I'm choosin', 

That it would allow the Devil to control my mind. 

Come over to my mom's house. She has a few shelves full of videos of Bill Gothard speaking on the evils of rock music. HOURS of this stuff! He preaches often on how a 1-3 beat gives your mind over to Satan.

Zero. Hyperbole. 

Don't need a neck bow to enhance my countenance. 

ATI is BIG on drawing attention to your face and away from your body. Neck bows were a regular part of my wardrobe. Note: This blouse is not ATI approved, as it has pockets that call attention to my tits. I borrowed it from my mother. Clearly my father needs to take better inventory of her closet. 

You locked me in my room in hopes that I would break. 

When I was at the ATI training center in Oklahoma City, I would get "Heart Checks" and get shut in my room with a staff member outside my door to assure I didn't leave until I had made my heart right with God. Eventually my roommate and I just started taking naps and pretended to be super spiritual. 

Then looked at all of us, once all our brains were washed. 

The Apprenticeship Choir: 

"What an awesome sight, an awesome, awesome sight!"

I told you it would come up later. 

You always told me to be an empty vessel. 

Constantly. The goal was to be an empty vessel, ready to be used by God. 

But the thing with empty vessels, is they make the loudest noise. 

This was my passive aggressive attempt at a sick burn. 

Bill Gothard: Bad at picking proverbs for motivation. 

Dear Mr Gothard, 

Here's a few things you need to know since you formed a cult, and then you robbed me of my life. 

You said a stronghold comes from all the lies the Devil has told, 

This is the famous "stronghold" diagram from many of Bill Gothard's seminars. It's pretty much a false thought (from the Devil) that you allow to fester and consume you and eventually ruins more and more areas of your thinking and your life. There is actually something to this, but this is the ATI version, where it's always the Devil's fault. 

But, hey, let's be honest, you're the one who told the lies. 

Which, according to my mother, include "This is NOT a cult". 

See my other posts for more lies. 

Ooooo, Mr Gothard, 

F you, and ATI. 

You can figure this line out on your own. Basically, I know that sometimes my friends with kids watch my stuff, and they will learn how to say "fuck" soon enough, so I don't need to be blamed for that too. 

Dreamy Eyes came home to find this on his bed. He figured I was working through some stuff. He is very supportive of my catharsis, even if sometimes I leave knives on his bed.

Homeschool Heather Goes To Prom

  Twelve years ago I watched as all of my friends got ready for their proms. I helped them pick out dresses, stood by at the mall while they tried on different styles that their fathers would hate, and finally find the perfect one. I went to their houses to help them get ready, and giggle about their dates, hoping it wouldn't be awkward going with a guy who wasn't thrilled about going to the prom, but it's a thing that you do. I took pictures of them outside, along with the other proud moms. I was handy to have around for group pictures, since selfie sticks weren't a thing yet. Then I would wave as they drove away for their magical night, and I went back home, understanding how Cinderella felt when she watched the rest of her village go off to a giant ball, and she was commanded to stay home.

Being homeschooled was a big part of not getting to go to a prom, but there were other factors. I could have gone. I was actually asked to 4, but I wasn't allowed to go because of all the sinning there would be.

(Example: tattoo showing above my dress)

     A giant fear of mine is that I'm going to drive my girls crazy by trying to live my longed for high school experiences through them, and they will end up embarrassed or hating me. I'm absolutely going to chaperone their prom, but I'm going to try my best not to take away any of their joy. I have always felt like I missed so many normal parts of growing up, and not going to prom was a big one for me. I've been told that it's not all it's cracked up to be, that many nights end in tears, that their dates were jerks and they ended up with a group of girls all night. Didn't matter to me. I wanted to go. I wanted the experience everyone else gets to have, and I think I got it, complete with the standard prom photo.

When Dreamy Eyes started school up here, I was talking to one of his classmates and she told me that the school throws a C.O.M. (College Of Medicine) prom every Spring.
I was elated!!! I was FINALLY going to get to go to prom!!! No matter what, I was going.
It took forever to find out when the date would be. I had to find out from one of his classmates because I had assigned her the task of watching for tickets since DE wasn't thrilled about going and was hoping I wouldn't notice. She came through, and he bought tickets.

I work 3.5 hours away from where we live while he's in school. I work all of my shifts in a big chunk, and of course, prom fell on a date right in the middle of my scheduled work chunk. This provoked a tiny amount of panic, but I rearranged my schedule so that I would drive (with the babies) from CT to ME on Friday, go to prom Saturday, and drive back to CT on Sunday to finish my work week. 8 hours of driving for a prom? To me, that's how much I wanted it. That's how much it meant to me to feel normal. That's​ how much I wanted that dream night. I was going to get myself all of the experiences I longed for.

Another friend of mine who is also a med school wife and brand new mom was also homeschooled, so this would be her first prom as well! We heard that a lot of girls get pregnant after prom. We had to worry about whether or not to pack our breast pumps. I guess prom as an adult is slightly different.

I don't think I can explain how excited I was in the days leading up to prom. I think I told anyone who would listen that I was going, and was going to have the most handsome date there. I got my hair styled on Friday and drove all the way home leaning forward and slept sitting up so that I wouldn't ruin it. I spent all day Saturday altering my dress, (I dropped 12lbs for this) which took hours because my girls are afraid of the sewing machine and it's not the easiest task to measure your own alterations and sew them while nursing 1-2 babies the entire time. But I was determined. I was FINALLY going to prom. I ironed DE's shirt and got his clothes ready, including the socks I laid out for him that got left home. I shaped my nails perfectly and painted them. The babies also wanted their toes done, so while the other girls were getting ready together, I was getting ready with my babies. Babies are really not helpful with hair curling and not putting applesauce on your dress. They spent most of the day crying, but it's only fair, because that's how I will spend all day leading up to their prom.

After lots of chaos, we were ready. The poor babysitter had her hands full, and because we don't have working doorknobs, got to see me naked. I told her I was sorry a lot. This isn't meant to sound cocky, but DE always looks handsome no matter what, and I'm told a lot that I'm so lucky to be with such a good looking guy. It took me a lot of work, but I looked better than I've ever looked before, and I was happy. I finally felt like I could belong on his arm.

12 years ago my friends all went to prom together in a limo. We have a minivan and are too lazy to move the car seats for a carpool.

We went to dinner on our own because our other plans fell through, and then walked awkwardly around the city for a bit because we were really early. We still ended up being the 4th and 5th people there. As we were walking, a few people yelled out of their cars that I looked like a princess. That was much nicer than when I get cat called walking past a cell block at work. It may have embarrassed DE, but it was kind of fun having a bunch of strangers tell me that I  looked beautiful. As flattering as that was, I would have traded it to hear that from him. I'll assume that he thought I looked ok.

I would guess that most typical prom features were there, except for the bar. I doubt they have those at most. There was a photo booth, which was fun. DE was the one who suggested we get our pictures taken. I wasn't even going to bother trying to coax him into that, so it was nice that he offered. As you can see, we seem to have forgotten that it was still taking pictures somewhere in the middle.

Once everyone arrived I think the night took on the atmosphere of how proms are portrayed. The girls danced and took pictures together and had a blast while the guys kept an eye on the trays of food.

I was surprised that there were no slow dances. I was looking forward to that, but maybe it's better to have not had the chance than trying to drag a reluctant date around for 3 minutes. Sometimes it's easier to have a romantic moment with a dissected cadaver between us than in a setting that most people would find ideal. I gave up on the idea of being with Prince Charming and realized I got more of the Flynn Ryder type of prince, who sings "I've got dreams like you, no, really! Just much less touchy- feely. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny, on an island that I own, tanned, and rested, and alone..."
Which seems to be a decent fit as far as dreams go, because all Rapunzel wanted was to see the floating lanterns. Nothing big, just one happy night.

I had been really excited about writing this post about the magical night that I waited over a decade to have. Instead, I ended up having a fun night out with our friends, which was really, really amazing, but not magical. I love the friends I've made here, both his classmates and the "med spouses" who know not to make double date plans during block week. They are incredible.

I didn't have a fairy godmother to drive me 8 hours, lose 12 lbs, sew for 4 hours, do my hair for 2, or hold my babies during any of that so that a prince could fall in love with me. Escaping a cult was something I had to do on my own, just as I can't depend on anyone else for my happiness. It takes work, but it's up to me to make my dreams come true. Homeschool Heather went to prom. It wasn't a dream. It was a check mark. 

"I think that coffee is mine...wanna make out? " My own experience with a wife chaperone

Last night a friend sent me an article about a powerful man who has a standard of only dining with a woman who is not his wife if his wife is also present. Maybe you have read the article, or have heard people discussing it. It was a pretty popular one (shocking fact: my mother had no clue what I was talking about).  My blog is not a political one, and I would enjoy mostly keeping it that way. The article was in no way shocking to me. I had heard and practiced all of these things before... back when I was in a cult.


Several months ago, the new Pastor of my parents' church texted me asking if I would have coffee with him and his wife the next time I was in town. I asked if my writings against his church had prompted this, but he said no, and he had committed not to read my blog. He said that he wanted to be able to "love on" my parents, and to do his best at loving on them, he wanted to get to know the whole family so that he could understand them (heavy sigh, eye roll). I personally hate the expression "love on". It sounds like you have a very excited dog on your leg. We texted back and forth a bit over times and plans, and he assured me that he would not attempt to convert me or lure me back to that church. I assured him that I was not worried. The only reason that I agreed to the meeting was that I like when blogs write themselves.

A few days later, my mother informed me that her Pastor had told her he was in deep prayer about our coffee meeting because he wanted to ask me not to write anything about it on social media. I told her that I would not agree to those terms. I figured that he wanted to try to prevent me from talking my sister out of leaving the church and that was the point of the meeting. I had no desire to meet him if I would reap no benefit other than a free coffee. He later decided to "give the issue to God" and trust that I would make the right choice about my writings, and kept the plan to meet.

I went to Starbucks (before most of the church was boycotting them for hiring LGBTQ+ people) to meet the Pastor and his wife, with an honestly pleasant attitude, and the babies in the stroller. As soon as I walked in the door, someone from behind me began rubbing my back/trying to hug me, and I came very close to throwing a punch. It was his wife. I asked her what made her think it was acceptable to touch someone she had never met? She said that she knew it was me. I did not find that answer acceptable and explained the intent behind the signs on the stroller (that is in a past post).  His wife assured me that she also wanted to get to know me, but she would let her husband and I talk, she was there to be a silent partner. I told her she could talk all she wanted, I was meeting them both.

Although the church is not part of ATI, their foundation is pretty similar. Below are pictures from one of Bill Gothard's text books, noting the verses often used when "instructing" men not to be seen with women other than their wives, and to make sure that if they must be near another woman, that she is sure it is not a date.

Once the Pastor had brought the coffees to the table and prayed about our fellowship, he took a sip of one. He soon realized that he had sipped the one I had ordered. I said that I didn't mind the mistake, and to please pass me my coffee. He and his wife looked stunned. He offered to buy me a new one and discard the one he had sipped, but that seemed horribly wasteful to me. I asked several times for him to pass me the coffee. His wife was surprised that I would drink it after HER husband had had his mouth on it! I got a new lid so they would chill out, but I finally asked him if he had AIDS, because unless he had a disease, I didn't care. They figured that I must be used to a lot because of my job. False. I know that drinking from the same beverage is not the same as tonsil hockey. Maybe that's why Baptists don't share the Communion cup and everyone gets their own. (I also assume he has never donated blood, because he said this was the first time anyone asked if he had AIDS.) 

After several minutes of chit chat, I asked what he wanted from this meeting. He said he only wanted to get to know me. He wanted to know about my job, my life, etc.  He didn't want anything from me, nor to offer me anything. Essentially, a waste of my time. He said he didn't want to know what happened in the past that hurt me at the church, it wasn't any of his business. He told me a story of some pretty crappy things that happened to him at his sending church, but said he was just sharing those with me and asked me not to write about those. I told him I don't think he understands. My writing is not about him. It is about MY healing process. I told him that because he doesn't want to know about what happened in the past, he has no idea how many nightmares I had in the weeks leading up to this meeting. I still find it strange that up to that point, he had not attempted to set up meetings with much more reachable past church members. 

Finishing a cup of coffee was a long, uncomfortable experience. I spoke to both him and his wife, but she kept directing the conversation to her husband. He reminded me that his wife was there to avoid any appearance of evil due to him having coffee with me. So I mentioned that he needn't worry. Granted my husband is the same age as this Pastor, but Dreamy Eyes is far, far more handsome, intelligent, and respectful of women than the man who had transitively kissed me via a coffee lid. But even though I had a dashingly handsome husband, and his wife was there to chaperone him, that was not the reason that I wouldn't be sleeping with him. The reason that I wouldn't be sleeping with him is because I. Didn't. Want. To. It was obvious that my spelling this out made both the Pastor and his wife uncomfortable. I don't see why it would be inappropriate to mention such a thing. That is the entire statement of bringing your wife along as a silent partner, is it not?  Should I not point out that I understand your unspoken message? Although if anymore meetings are planned at an LGBTQ+ friendly coffee house, she may need to tag along for the men's prayer meetings as well. I'll admit, I was slightly annoyed that this was the time I was out that the babies didn't need to eat. I would have loved to see how that played out, but I vowed never to spite breastfeed, so I'll never know. 

I'm all for having standards and understanding in your marriage. All marriages are different and what is right for mine may not be right for yours. Couples should be able to trust each other and be happy and comfortable. But having standards in your marriage does not have to mean that you are disrespectful to others. As a child, having your wife ever present was the norm in my world. As an adult, it is offensive to me. Inviting your wife to join and be a valued part of a discussion or meeting is vastly different than asking her to put aside her schedule because you are unable to see another woman as a person equal to yourself, but only as the potential for temptation. 

Are there really guys out there who think "Gah! If only my wife had been here I would have remembered not to grab that lady by the pussy! Ugh, better luck next time." ? 

Of course there are exceptions in different situations. When my male OB/GYN does my exam, a female nurse is always in the room (guess what? There is a nurse in the room if my OB is a female also). But there are vastly different standards for each situation. 1, My OB did not invite me there to have a conversation over coffee. 2, My OB's wife, to my knowledge, has never checked in to see what happened at my visit. 3, The nurse is present because my pants are off and his hand is literally inside of me. I'm a big fan of education, so if his wife ever did want to be there as a student or resident, by all means, come on in! That would not make me uncomfortable at all. Having his wife silently in the corner of the room to make sure his behavior is appropriate...super weird. 

If a man wants to have a meeting or discussion with me and feels that his standards would be in jeopardy were his wife not present, that tells me that you cannot set gender apart from a person. That man will never be able to convince me that he sees men and women as truly equal. This behavior does not make me think of how much he loves his wife by having her involved. Instead it makes me wonder how his behavior would change in her absence, and if there would be no change, why degrade her into a babysitter and me into a pin up girl?

If having these standards in place is meant to prevent the possible advances from either party, then his wife ought also to be present for meetings with men as well. If the man thinks this is absurd because there is no way that he would give in to the advances of a man, this only drives the point deeper that he is only concerned with protecting himself from temptation, not others.  Saying to me that you need your wife present to chaperone you, but you don't expect me to drag my husband along everywhere tells me that you don't really care if I get raped, you just want to make sure you aren't the one who does it. It tells me that if you don't trust yourself not to try to sleep with me, why should I trust you? It tells me that you will never be able to have a serious discussion with me, not only because you don't respect me enough to see me for me, but because you will never earn my respect in return. 

"A Nice Christian Man Won't Marry YOU!"

"A woman said to me 'It's legalistic when you said I can't get remarried.' I said 'Well, look at it this way; you want to marry a nice Christian man, don't you?' 'Yes I do.' 'Well, a nice Christian man won't marry you, because you're already divorced... And all the things you're looking forward to in your remarriage you're not going to get because you're not going to get a Godly man."


These are the words from Bill Gothard. Words that I have heard since I was a child. Words that have made their way into the very core of my belief system and convinced me that because of something I couldn't change, I am no longer worthy of a good marriage. I know that this is false, but I do not yet believe it to be false, and because of that, I am constantly trying not to get too attached to being Mrs Dreamy Eyes. I think there is a word for that...Oh yes. ATI refers to that as a "Stronghold". A stronghold is usually described as a damaging idea that you have allowed to remain in your mind long enough that it takes over and destroys an area of your life, and Satan is usually the culprit. But let's give credit where credit is due. Bill Gothard set up this stronghold in my mind. This has been the focus of several weeks of therapy.

He isn't just responsible for this one though. I am reminded DAILY that I need to pause and correct my way of thinking.  Here are a few examples:
When I go to feed the twins lunch I think "Oh! I can't feed them yogurt and meatballs together...wait, yes I can. That's not an actual nutritional restriction."
I have gone without my asthma meds before because I didn't come from a broken home, so the asthma must be all in my head.
Tampons don't take your virginity.
I forget to get the mail all the time because I forget that I have the authority to get it.
I hate metal hangers because Bill Gothard had a classic illustration he would use about a married couple who would fight over the metal hangers the husband would leave on the door knob, and after a while, the wife had to learn to deal with this "source of irritation" as a way that God was working in her life to help her love her husband each time she heard the "clanging hangers".
But my therapist has been asking for weeks where I got the belief that I don't deserve to be married to Dreamy Eyes. I gave her many examples ranging from the obvious unplanned marriage, to being an average height redhead with brown eyes who is constantly told that for once I'm with a guy who is way more attractive than I am, to the strict "one marriage for life" teachings of my past. She pointed out that I don't seem to miss anything that went along with the first marriage, but I am stuck on the detail that I am divorced. But today when I found this video with these words it was all summed up in 48 seconds of an evil lie that convinced me that one detail about my past would be the only way I could be defined for the rest of my life.

In a way though, he's correct. Dreamy Eyes is not a nice Christian man.

I already married a nice Christian man. We were married by a Pastor, who held a Bible. A year later, that nice Christian man left. This is not a lament, this is a fact.

I love this picture of the two of us. But I think that Bill Gothard could use it as a fitting example of our marriage. A strong man in his prime, suddenly carrying the weight of a broken woman, covered in dirt from being cast to the side of the road. (He carried me for 2 days before I got an x-ray and learned that my ankle was broken.)

Dreamy Eyes and I got married one morning in our living room, by my cousin (who is a woman). He was wearing the same thing he was wearing the day I met him, because as soon as he kissed the bride, he went off to work a double shift to prepare to care for his family.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He is the kind of guy who will jump on a plane because his friend 1,000 miles away needs help.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He took forever to get his application for medical school perfect because he didn't want to brag about himself. He doesn't think that running marathons or building houses for the homeless is anything special.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He wakes up early so that he can see the girls and climb in the giant bed for family snuggle time.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He loves his parents and talks to them almost every day. He loves how they raised him and he wants to mirror their marriage.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

It was extremely important to me to breastfeed the twins. It ended up being much, much more difficult that I had anticipated, but he sat with me, rubbed my feet or my neck, read to me, researched, and did everything in his power to help make it happen. They wouldn't have been breastfed if not for him.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He is trying to figure out the best way to help our girls grow into the strongest women they can be.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

His mother says that when he was a toddler and she was babysitting a smaller baby, Dreamy Eyes gave the baby his pacifier because "He needed it more", and that's how he quit his pacifier.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He leaves me notes on the mirror and my hair brush telling me how pretty I look that day. He either refers to me as "Beautiful" or "Gorgeous" every day. It is rare that he actually calls me "Heather".
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He has an unfathomable amount of school work to do, yet he still manages to have a job, do dishes, laundry, cook, build forts, change diapers, and read bedtime stories.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

When we are walking in a parking lot or on a sidewalk, he always has to be on the outside, so he can protect me.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

His shoulders flex when I tell him a story of something upsetting from my past because it annoys him that he couldn't protect me from that.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

When he was young and his sister got all her stuffed toys taken away as punishment, he gave her all of his toys to cuddle so she wouldn't be sad.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He has many close female, platonic friends. I was one of them for years. I think they would all agree with me that they have never felt anything but safe when around Dreamy Eyes. He'd never think of pressing his advantage.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

Dreamy Eyes is very, very smart. He is constantly reading and cannot rest until he knows why and how something works the way it does. When I (or anyone) find out something that he thought was obvious knowledge, he doesn't make me feel like an idiot, he gets excited about learning and says "And look what else..."
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

From beers to birth, he has been by my side, and often much closer, at the very worst, most disgusting parts of my life, and not once has he even pretended to mind. He just says "I'm washable" and "You know how I feel about helping."
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He has arrived late to an event, covered in blood after (off duty) helping someone who was struck by a car. He spends his free time and breaks at volunteer clinics and similar programs.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He is extremely supportive of my goals, whether it be nursing school, sleep training, or decluttering, he is constantly telling me "Strong work!" and doing anything he can to assist me in my pursuit.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He doesn't like to go out to eat. I do. If we go on a trip, he packs a "fancy shirt" so that he can take me out to dinner. At home he gets food and dessert that I love and we have "spouse dates" in the other room after the babies go to bed.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

Every day he puts the needs of his family far above his own. I don't envy him, but I love him.
But a nice Christian man won't marry me.

He isn't a nice Christian man (although his mother is still praying pretty fervently). He is the greatest, most kind, wonderful man I have ever known. I now know that I don't need to see that picture in that ATI sense. I can look at it and see a strong man in his prime, who takes care of those he cares about. A man who takes on more than is asked of him, putting aside his own agenda in order to help heal, protect, and enrich those who need him the most. With forearms like a damn Disney prince.


Note: I didn't publish this a few days ago when I wrote it because I was annoyed at Dreamy Eyes that day. I should have published it anyway. This isn't about stroking his ego. It's about tearing down the strongholds in my mind so that I can stop the nightmares and the torment that comes from years of believing harmful lies.

I've got to stop joining these damn cults!

I used to wonder how my parents (mostly my mother) could get to the point where they thought "You know what? Let's join a cult! That will be good for the kids!". It didn't phase me so much at first because it was mostly all I knew. I had never been in "the real world", but they had been! They both went to public school and my mom went to a 4 year, well known university. Yet all of a sudden, they were in a world of Bible thumping, non-recycling, sack wearing extremists who never played outside. Or was is really sudden? That's the thing with cults. They are sneaky. Plus, last night my mother told me that during one of the first seminars she attended, they specifically explained to everyone that they are NOT a cult. So, you know, absolutely believe them.

My life has changed so much in this past year. I feel like so many of us have felt like reevaluating our social circles and our lives after the endless battles over current events. I got slightly lucky, it was easy for me to clear out my social circles a bit. I went from working full time and hating anyone who called 911 if they weren't actively dying, to working about 24 hours a month and spending the rest of my time raising my twins. I got to pick up and move to a new State, to a house on a river bank, and kiss future Dr Dreamy Eyes every day before school whilst sipping the coffee that he made for me, out of the mug that matches my mood. I now seldomly have to work with people I don't like, and even if I do, it's only for a few hours. I'm better at my job, because I no longer feel burnt out. I got to move away and mostly start over, but keep the parts of my life that I liked. I love my current situation. But I need to be wary...

I have found that I tend to find a new idea or way of life that I think may be helpful, and then follow the engrained "Whatsoever ye do, do it whole heartedly..." concept, and rapidly become engrossed instead of improved. In ATI, this type of behavior is called "conviction", and is highly encouraged. We tended to have waves of conviction through our house growing up when my father would decide to rid the house of all movies after hearing one sermon about Hollywood. Often he would cut up all of his credit cards at the altar without thinking about the concept of a credit score being based on your longest active card, and then would hurt himself later by needing to apply all over again. Unfortunately, I now see that I have learned that cult-joining extremism.

Reading a book about climate change started out inspiring me to cut down on water usage and hang my laundry instead of using the dryer everyday, which is great. But then it spiraled into walking to the grocery store and back with way too many bags and gallons of milk in the stroller because I didn't feel worthy to use fuel. ATI is big on none of us (humans, but especially women) being worthy of anything, so my life has just been one giant snowball of unworthiness (Think back to the top sheet post).

I have been listening to some podcasts about minimalism, and quickly saw the potential to be drawn into more extreme behavior if I didn't watch out. I discovered that there were many different sources from which I could draw my ideals for a happy life, without slipping into what could easily become cult behavior. I love the concept of minimalism, but I have no desire to live out of a single bag and sit on one chair in an otherwise unfurnished house. I started to worry that if I got rid of everything, that all I would be doing is setting my girls up to overcompensate and become hoarders as adults because I wouldn't let them have things as kids. I want to focus more on not screwing up my kids and less on not having them be screw ups, which is the opposite of ATI's plan.

After I moved and had most of my contact with friends via social media I started to grow more and more stressed each time I looked at my phone. It wasn't just the political issues. It was everything. I joined a few online groups and forums of moms of multiples, and breastfeeding moms, but that was the complete opposite of support for me. "Mom wars" are vicious. I personally will not use a cover when feeding my babies, but if another mom wants to, so be it. This is unacceptable in mom wars.  Can't we just make a deal that I won't feed your kid French fries if you keep your loud mouth shut while mine are trying to nap?! Moms will fight other moms about EVERYTHING! From baby wipe warmers and store bought baby food, to birth plans and baby wearing, whatever it is, be sure that someone is out there waiting to tell you that you are doing it wrong. It didn't take me long to get overwhelmed by this. I left all of the groups (even the tag sale groups were crazy! I got a message from some guy telling me that he just wanted to let me know, it was bad luck to sell my wedding dress. He seemed very confused at my hostile, profane response, and then I noticed that he had sent his message months prior, and probably had no idea why he was being called so many names by a stranger).


I started thinking that it would be fantastic if I could just exist in a world where everyone wanted to raise their kids the same way, and could just agree with my world views. What a happy utopia of vaccinated, breastfed AND Gerber fed kids, who all slept in their own beds, and had a positive body image we could create! I immediately started scrolling through my Facebook friends list to see who had to go. Those who were ruining my happy place.
Then, mid-choice to delete every social media outlet and think that maybe the Amish had something going there, the rhema (see that? ATI word usage right there.) came to me that I was falling into the same trap! I called my mother and told her that I was terrified. I was becoming her. I realized that joining a cult was really just her failed attempt at getting people to stop giving her shit! Bill Gothard, the founder and leader of ATI is a very smooth talker who makes a lot of promises. At first, the idea of raising kids who are a parent's "dream" as teenagers, who don't get into trouble seems like a great goal. Most people want their kids not to be jerks, and not end up making the mistakes they made. So, maybe she didn't see it coming when she signed us up for a future of encouraged abuse?

People ask me all the time how my parents could have joined something like this. My father will need a post all his own, but my mother is tricky to explain. I feel like she is both a victim and offender in this situation. Just as I thought it would be more pleasant to surround myself with people who think like I do, she found a world where most of the women were married to dominating, abusive, power-hungry fools, whom they refused to divorce, and figured she would fit right in! I am not sympathetic to the situation, but I can follow the... logic.

I say that she is both victim and offender because even after seeing that this world may not be the best way to raise a kid, she still stayed. Trapped, yet holding us captive at the same time. Martyrdom is held in high regard in ATI, so the more she is abused and submits, the better she looks. After lots of therapy, I am desperately trying to curtail my own  circuitous behavior of happily remaining a victim. I honestly don't think my parents fully understand how bad ATI was/is. They don't think that the concepts that brainwashed us were detrimental to our well-being. My mother said today that I didn't really know it was bad either until I went out to the training center in Oklahoma and fully experienced it, that the stuff we did until then was fine, and I wasn't messed up before that. I was. I just didn't know it. The home based damage was much more subtle, but got in much deeper. Some things I don't even realize are not normal until I mention them in therapy now!

My mother will admit that it was a cult, but I'm pretty sure that my family still just thinks I'm bitter and backslidden about the world that they are still a part of. That's another thing about cults, you can only save yourself. You can't rescue people who don't want to be rescued.

I said NO! (But please don't be mad. I'm sorry...ok?)

People told me that I would become nicer when I became a mom. I hate when people lie to me. Having twins (or as Dreamy Eyes says: "2 freaking babies at the same time!!!") is both the greatest thing on earth, and super annoying... in public. I hate taking them to the store or to an event not because they are a lot to handle, but because EVERYONE wants to tell me about their brother's wife's sister's best friend's twins and worse, wants to touch them. I get the twin questions all the time, and my answers have become snarky when people clearly interrupt something I'm doing:

"Do twins run in your family?!" -"No. They can't even crawl." 

"Do you have twins in your family?" -"Yes. They are right here." 

"Hey! My cousin's friend has twins." -"Hey! Me too!" 

"Are they identical?" -"Yes"-"So are they a boy and a girl?"-"You already have that information from the last question." 

My favorite people to see in public are other moms with double strollers. We just pass each other and exchange a look of exhaustion and "I know, right? Everyone is terrible. My best greeting for you is shared silence." 

But I think I would be a bit more tolerant of these experiences if people would stop thinking that it is okay to touch my children, or anyone, without permission. Over the past few weeks people have mistaken my stroller for a political statement. Oh sunshine, I've been this way long before a rich idiot got caught saying degrading things on a bus. Why? Because consent is important and I have intended to teach my daughters that fact from day one. I intend to teach others that whether you are a granny with 15 grandkids, or the leader of the free world, there are no exceptions to consent. 

When I was making my baby shower registry I asked people to give the girls books instead of cards. I'm sure there are tons of books I will dislike, but I made sure to ask friends not to buy my girls the book called "Too Many Kisses!", which was formally titled "Stop Kissing Me!" in the first edition. I read this book while babysitting (they have wonderful parents, I am not criticizing them at all) and I couldn't finish it out loud. It is a story of a duck and a poodle. The duck keeps kissing the poodle with big, wet, sloppy kisses, and the poodle hates it. The poodle continually tells the duck to cut the shit, but the duck only comes on stronger. When the poodle finally sees that this is a matter too big for her to handle and tells an adult, the adult takes the duck's side and tells the poodle that the duck is just giving kisses to show love, and that the poodle should not only be more accepting, but return the affection. What. The. Actual. Hell?! 

When the girls were born almost two months early I was very cautious about their tiny, fragile immune systems. I did not allow visitors who did not have a whooping cough vaccine. People would say "So if I show up are you going to keep me outside and hold them up in the window?" Yes. Because it's not about what you want, and no means no. How dare you attempt to guilt me into letting you compromise my standards and the health of my children! After about 2 or 3 trips out of the house I realized that EVERYONE wants to touch babies. I get that. I also really like touching tiny hands and kissing little cheeks and I would love to do so to every baby I see. But that doesn't mean I should. Just as most of us like kissing handsome faces and squeezing a well toned, dreamy butt, that doesn't make it okay to go around doing so without asking. I went online to look for some ways to avoid unwanted baby attention. I found some signs for car seats and strollers that say things like "I'm a preemie and your germs are just too big for me. Sorry! Please don't touch". If those signs help protect some babies, great. But seeing this made me all the more frustrated with the world! Sure, my infants can't read those signs, but I refuse to have them provide an excuse and an apology for saying what happens to their bodies! So I made my own signs. They say "Just because I can't say "no" doesn't mean you may touch me, so...ask my grown up." and "RESPECT and age don't differ much. ALWAYS ask before you touch." They still rhyme, I'm not a monster. 

It surprises me how much attention these signs get. Most people read them and go away. A lot of moms love them. Some praise me for making a statement. Some people flat out ignore them, and go so far as to lift up the covers I also have and touch the babies anyway because "they have grandchildren". The cover lifters are the ones I start touching back and telling them "It's ok. I have a gramma" before telling them sometimes several times to stop touching my kid. 

Then there are the people who say that my signs are "a little too much" for a baby. They tell me that my signs make them think of the rape cases going on in this day and age, and how consent gets confusing when people are drunk, or in a relationship, or when one party didn't actually say "no", but just "let it happen". Um, no. No it doesn't. When I tell them that I intend on educating my daughters about their bodies and unwanted touching from the moment they were no longer protected by my also non-consenting, but constantly rubbed belly, I am criticized for taking away the magic and innocence of childhood by teaching them about adult things at such a young age. I agree. That sucks that I am going to have to talk about people putting things in or on or near parts of them that otherwise would only be brought up during potty training. I would MUCH rather spend my time reading about princesses and dinosaurs and making pillow forts without a care in the world. But that's not what I get to do. Also, stop saying things like "in this day and age". Unwanted attention has been going on since the beginning of the human race. It just took us this long to figure out that it's ok to talk about it. 

Well, sort of. 

Coming from a sheltered home school world with no brothers to rape me, and no experience with how boys act, getting into the world of EMS was a huge change for me. I didn't know what was and was not normal. I took my cues on social behavior from all of those around me. In EMS, a lot of responders spend most of their lives at the station, and there is usually someone grabbing the 5 seconds of sleep that they can at any given hour of the day. One station where I worked had what I hope was a unique group of boys. They had this "game" where they would see how many people they could get to touch their testicles. It was not unusual to wake up with a "sleep mask" on your face (use your imaginations). The first time this happened to me I was disgusted and terrified, but no one else in that crowd really seemed to care, and they all thought it was funny, so I figured this was just how people acted in the real world. Plus, the boys doing this could have snapped me in half, so I didn't bring it up and just started sleeping with my face down.  Why wait until now to bring it up? Because I had accepted it as normal and forgotten about it until recently. Because it took this long to dawn on me that "Hey, that wasn't ok, and it's not my fault for sleeping face up that it happened to me". 

I've written before about my date rape experience. I told those close to me about it the day after it happened. I wrote a blog about it. But that was all. I never filed a police report or pressed charges. As we have all seen lately, I am not alone in that course of action at all. People told me that what happened was my fault, because I had originally consented. And people wonder why women don't report their assaults. I'm sure there are many reasons. For me alone the reasons range from not actually knowing it was wrong until years later, to not wanting to report it because I would have to see him again, to fearing for my safety or my job, to just not wanting to deal with it and hoping to forget. 

Women  People are criticized for waiting to come forward about what happened to them until someone else comes forward. They are accused of "jumping on the band wagon" and their motives and stories are questioned. There was another situation from my past that I didn't know was not normal until victims started to come forward. I spoke up and said I knew that such and such was happening, but was told to keep "my thoughts" to myself. It's making me cringe, but I still hesitate to write more on that. More on that in a few years. 

Now I want to ask some serious questions. Have you ever been assaulted? Touched without your consent? Date raped? Spoken to in a fashion that made you feel what was happening was YOUR fault? Pressured into doing more than you wanted? Tickled, hugged, kissed, pinched, or worse by someone you and your family trusted? How long did this continue?

Did you tell anyone? How long did you wait? 

Did you go as high as the police? Court? 

It's a serious read, but I want you to read the story of my beloved friend, Alicia, who wrote her story.

Reporting an assault is a GIANT hassle and many people just make you feel like all they see is a scarlet letter. 

I've asked these questions to many women. The answers given to me have been similar to mine. The only parts of the stories I do not believe are that they are telling me the whole story. We bury so much of this deep down, hoping that it will just go away. But what I have found over and over again is that the age that most of those women at their FIRST assault was 5. 

5 years old. 

So I wonder, when would people suggest I start talking to my daughters about what is right and wrong, and doing the very, very best that I can to keep that avenue of communication constantly open? Is it acceptable to allow them to be touched without and against consent now, just because they can't understand and because people are just trying to show affection? No. It will never be ok for ducks to kiss poodles against their will and it will never be a child's fault for being too cute and irresistible. 

When I play a princess for children's parties there is usually at least one kid who doesn't want to take a picture with me. I appreciate when parents respect their kid's wishes on this. When parents tell their child to go give me a hug or kiss, or try to hand me their protesting child, I won't take part. Parents will say "Sorry, she's shy" and I tell them that makes no difference. I tell them that they never need to apologize, nor give an explanation for why they are saying "no". If someone doesn't want to be touched, I don't touch them (outside of obvious life saving procedures, but those worlds don't normally cross).  I ask them if they would like to fist bump or sing a song, but it's ok if they don't. This often surprises parents. After a while, the child usually warms up and we get a picture, or we get one with the parents, or I photo bomb without touching the child. Children deserve to have their space and bodies respected. 

The sad thing is that I don't think there is a woman reading this who doesn't have her own story of someone taking things too far. You may have kept it quiet for decades. You may keep it quiet forever. I hope you don't. But if and when you decide to tell your story, I hope that people don't make it even worse for you. Being told it was really your fault or questioned as to why you waited "until now" to speak up only makes more women stay quiet and allows behavior like that duck's to continue. 

I used to think one of the most terrifying things that could happen was that I would be assaulted. Then I had daughters. 

I hope that soon we will live in a world where saying "no", or saying nothing leads to, well...nothing. 

Submissive Wife, Feminist Husband

How I'm learning to live without the umbrella

   If anyone spends more than 40 seconds in ATI, they will hear about the infamous "Umbrella of Authority".  For those who need a quick review, it is an example of how the chain of command ought to be carried out in a Christian home. Christ being the ultimate authority, then the husband, then the wife, and the children and menial tasks fall under the wife. Here is a picture from one of the ATI websites, for those of you who enjoy visuals.

    This is the image we all had drilled into our brains from day one. As kids we learned "The Umbrella Song", which I can still sing to you. Obviously we never questioned the umbrella. Not until recently when Dreamy Eyes and I were having yet another discussion about me not needing to ask his permission to buy cookies did he point out just how ridiculous the umbrella diagram is. Why do you need three umbrellas? If there are no holes in the Christ umbrella (which there wouldn't be because His is perfect and without sin, obviously) how is rain falling around the husband umbrella? Then more rain is falling around the wife umbrella, which they sometimes explain to mean that the husband has some holes in his umbrella caused by sin or not being right with God, but usually this is still the fault of the wife. Maybe her umbrella poked holes in his? It's never really clear. But I digress...

   The ultimate compliment a man can receive in ATI is that he has a wonderfully submissive wife and family. The men decide who can befriend their wife, what she wears, how she teaches the children, and even what she eats. Saying a woman is a feminist is actually a pretty strong insult to her. It means that she is defying her husband and Lord, and is for sure on a path to damnation. One of my friends told me a few years ago that I was a feminist and I instinctively apologized for offending her. Getting this cult out of my head takes a LONG time! You never know how many areas they have affected until you stumble upon one. Even though I've been living "in" the world for most of my adult life and my mother knows that women can be anything these days, it still takes a while to stick. 

    I have had the same conversation no fewer than seven times with my mother about Dreamy Eyes', and now MY friend, Alicia. It always goes something like this:

Me: "Remember Alicia?"

Mom: "Joe's friend?"

"Yes"

"The lesbian?"

"No. She's straight."

"The one with the red hair? Who went to school with Joe?"

"Yeah. Her. Not a lesbian."

"Didn't she used to live with Joe?"

"Yes."

"But I thought they never dated."

"They didn't."

"And she's straight??" (It sometimes comes as a shock to more than just myself that some women have the ability to resist his charm)

"Yes. She's not a lesbian, just a strong, independent feminist." 

"Wow. I didn't know those existed. Well, I guess all Kleenex are tissues but not all tissues are Kleenex." 

Alicia now has a boyfriend, but the conversation still takes place. 

     I have a poster hanging in the girls' nursery that says things like "Act like a lady, play dress up, dance in the rain, etc" Dreamy Eyes wants it to say "Act like Alicia, play with Alicia, dance like Alicia." and I agree. No one is perfect, she has had just as many struggles as I have, but she knows how to fight for herself and what she needs, and is a wonderful role model for our daughters. She also writes a blog. It lives here. She inspired me to start mine (no, she will not apologize to you for that).

 I want to raise ladies who can think for themselves, with educations, and independent views. I want to raise ladies who know how to take care of a house, but not for the sole purpose of maintaining their husband's orderly domain. I would teach the same thing to boys if I had them. 

    Looking back to where I was just a few years ago makes me cringe. My mother told me recently that she got a social media friend request from a lady in her church, with whom she thought she was already "friends". The lady told my mother that yes, they were friends before online, but that was the page she shared with her husband. She was allowed to post things to their page, but she said that she ran into trouble when a man commented on an article she posted and she wanted to respond, but she couldn't usurp the man's authority or opinion on the matter, and her husband was too busy to respond for her, so her husband allowed her to make her "very own" social media page where she would only contact women and would be free to have discussions without fear of stepping out from under her umbrella of authority. Needless to say he monitors her page as well. To me, this is absolutely insane. To my mother, it's silly but she understands. The only reason she had her own page for so long was because she hid it from my father. To many in the church, this is completely reasonable. This isn't something that is happening in some third world country. This is "normal", acceptable, oppressive behavior right next door! (Hi, Liz!) 

     I am stuck somewhere in the middle of Alicia and my mom's friend. Maybe stuck is the wrong word. I am happy where I am. I feel like I currently have a nice balance of at home wife and mommy time but I still work and have my own life. But the cult brain still sneaks up on me and makes me feel like a failure. We moved to a new apartment and no longer have a dishwasher. I said that this was frustrating because when I hand wash dishes they are always greasy. I used to wash dishes at my grandmother's house, but she redid them when she thought I wasn't looking. Instead of telling me what an idiot I am, Dreamy Eyes looked up a youtube channel that has all sorts of simple domestic tasks and explains the best ways to do them, and bought me cute rubber gloves and dish cloths. No one ever told me you needed hot water to wash dishes! You can imagine how long I cried over my inability to keep my husband happy if I couldn't give him a tidy place to live! What other wife tasks am I doing incorrectly?! He told me to stop worrying about it, but I still do, so I'm clearly failing at the whole obedience portion. 

     I looked up on ATI's website how to be a good wife. Some of the instructions include: 

"Practice self-control, especially in the area of diet.

God is concerned about the bondage of overeating and gluttony, and many wives struggle with the issue of self-control, especially after giving birth to children. Weight control requires consistent conformity to God’s principles of living.

Let God and your husband know you care about your weight. Ask your husband to help you identify and remove hindrances to weight control, such as unhealthy foods, poor meal schedules, medical problems, or bitterness. Work together to accomplish specific goals. Your efforts to stay healthy and physically fit will bless your husband.

Stay beautiful for your husband.

In addition to nurturing a meek and quiet spirit inwardly, a wife should strive to maintain her outward beauty as well. A wife should dress to please her husband. She should have a joyful countenance and select clothing that draws attention to it. A wife should always be well groomed."

   Now, I am all for looking nice and I like getting dressed up, and when he wears his "I'm a grown-up starter kit" suit. I like when he tells me I look nice today. But the above way of thinking still haunts me. I told him I will cut my calories a bunch after I wean the girls and his response is always "You know I don't care, right?". Same response when I am frantically remorseful for not shaving my legs for two weeks. He had no idea what I was talking about when I was upset that since we have babies who grab everything I have pretty much stopped wearing earrings or necklaces, and my hair is usually up. Not to mention that between my tears and baby kisses there is no point in trying make up. I was lamenting the fact that I have limited options to use to enhance my countenance. He responded with his usual "What??" and I explained that ATI suggests that you use at least seven ways or accessories to enhance your countenance every day. He said that sounds an awful lot like pieces of flair needed in Office Space. Another way to drive the point home that ATI's standards are ridiculous and just made up for the amusement of some silly man. 

Another portion of how to be a good wife tells us: 

"Enjoy the privilege of physical intimacy.

God grants spouses full access to each other’s bodies for sexual gratification. “Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband. The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife. Defraud ye not one the other . . .” (I Corinthians 7:3-5; see also Ephesians 5:24 and Colossians 3:17-19). Resistance or indifference to your husband’s need for physical intimacy is the unspoken crushing of his spirit."

We are however told that it is okay to deny our husbands IF we have a doctor's note. ATI teaches nothing of respect for your wife. Teaching men that they own their wife's body should make every parent about to sign up for this home "school" program turn and run. What guy in his right mind is fine with his wife being miserable as long as he gets off? Are there ATI men rushing home to have ambivalent sex at best? Spouse rape is very prevalent in ATI, but it's not, because they just stopped believing that was a thing.  

      My father still takes the umbrella concept very seriously. All wives should answer to their husbands and the husband should not be usurped. Sometimes this works in my advantage. Once married, a woman's father is no longer her authority but moves to "the chain of counsel". In a few days I am going out of State with my parents. I do not allow my father to drive my girls, but he is never the passenger in a vehicle. However, since the girls' and my "authority" said that I need to drive, my father is not allowed to usurp that. So, he got Gotharded. It's like getting lawyered, but without any grasp on reality. 

    It scares me that I am still trying to work all of this out of my brain. The other day my father told me "You're 28. You got married and moved away. Just get over it."
That's not how cults work, and not how being brainwashed works. I worry what I'm subconsciously teaching my girls that is left over from years of ATI madness. I am SO grateful that Dreamy Eyes is such a strong advocate for feminism and I am excited to watch him raise daughters. He has a great balance down of wanting women to be empowered, yet still wanting me to walk on the inside of the sidewalk because it's safer.

I may be out from under the umbrella, but I do enjoy a parasol now and then.