Hey Abby,
I just want you to know that it gets better. You build skills, and you learn to handle things one step at a time a little better than you used to.
You are capable of self-regulating, of enduring discomfort. Your mistakes are not catastrophic, and you're never going to become perfect.
You're not fixed, but you're capable, and you're not stuck.
And you're deeply loved.
Hey Abby,
It's been a few weeks! I missed you, and I'm glad to get to talk with you.
You feel like your brain is broken. You're afraid it's your own fault, for getting addicted to social media (but I know you were dealing with this way before you ever had a phone). You're stuck, and feeling hopeless. You just wish you could fix yourself.
We're going to figure out how to build a good life for you. I promise. I'm going to be right here next to you, and we're going to get you unstuck, whatever it takes. I don't know what to do either; I don't know how to help you. But we'll find someone who does.
You're important to me, even if you never succeed at any task or accomplish any goals. You're important to me because I like you. I like the things you think, and the questions you ask. Even if there are things you haven't learned, and the conversation reinvents the wheel a little bit, you're still qualified to talk and think. I like how you care deeply, and you get excited when you learn something new. You don't have to earn the right to take up space. You're still allowed to breathe and eat and live. I still want you here.
And I'm not going to let you just suffer until you die. You got yourself, got me, through a hostile situation in one piece. Now I'm older, and I'm going to get you through this situation.
It won't be like this forever, so hang on. I'm not giving up on you. Don't give up on yourself. <3
Hey Abby,
Holidays are hard. I just want you to remember a few things:
You deserve an apology from your parents. They had enough information to do right by you, but they chose dogma instead. They chose their understanding of their religion over your well-being, and that wasn't okay.
You're never going to get that apology, or any kind of real restitution, but I'm still sorry that you went through that. That grieves me for you. I want better for you. You deserved better. You deserved a Din Djarin, who would defy his religion to take off his helmet to see you off.
The way they act, the values with which they chose to indoctrinate you, the way they treated you, was all deeply wrong. And you have rejected those values. You don't need to prove that to anyone; it's already very clear.
They don't have any right to be judging you. You don't need to prove your success to anyone, either. You're not your brother, and you were never going to be. You still deserve a good life, regardless of what your family thinks you deserve.
It's okay for you to lie to them. They haven't earned the right to your honesty. That's okay.
Be friendly and reserved, stand up when it's needed, and stay true to your values. You'll get through it, and hopefully you'll still come out the other side with some positive memories.
Merry Christmas. <3 You're loved.
I have a lot to do today. It's scary and overwhelming. I don't want to mess up and there are too many things and I want them out of the way quickly but I know that can't happen; they're going to take time. So I'd rather not look at them. I'd rather read a blog, and write a blog post, or scroll through social media (except you just got rid of that, so I can't).
Dad's truck will never roll down your driveway; he doesn't even live in the same state as you. He's not coming home tonight to yell at you, or hit you, for not doing it all, or for doing it wrongly. Mom isn't going to come into your room and see that you're writing this blog post instead of doing the tasks, and tell you no more blogging, or hit you. She, also, doesn't live in the same state as you.
You don't actually have to do these tasks. You get to choose how you spend your time; being unproductive isn't wrong or a sin. Tell me what you actually want. What you want is important to me, and you're allowed to value it. It matters.
Tell me what you feel, in your tummy, in your hands, in your head, in your chest.
I feel scared. I feel like I've already let everyone down, and I want to fix it all right now, but I also want to never touch anything difficult ever again. My tummy is knotted, my throat too. My head is aimless. My heart is pounding.
And what do you want?
I want to have done something right. I want to be a part of why the world gets better; I'm tired of everything being so hard. I want to be someone else.
Who?
I want to be someone who gets stuff done because I want it to get done. I want to be a problem solver. Practical, not caught up in tasks for their own sake, but focused on a goal. Like my brother. But I want to do it right, not like my brother.
What else do you want this "someone else" to be like?
I want her to be empathetic, and intuitive, and honest, and courageous. When I was younger, I picked who to be. But now I can't do that. Who I am is stuck; I can't move her.
Why?
Because I keep messing up. I keep not being her. I keep being a procrastinator, lazy, instant-gratification-obsessed. I'm doing it now, by talking to you instead of working. This just makes me feel productive, like I'm "dealing with my shit." But I'm not. I always do this.
Okay. Do you want me to help you?
Please.
Tell me one task you need to do. Just one. No lists.
[Censored]
Okay. Let's start that task.
But there are so many others. It'll never all be done.
Who did you say you want to be?
Someone practical.
Is it practical to worry about all the tasks? What would Practical Abby do?
The one task.
It's okay if you mess it up. You still have permission to try, to start. I think you are practical, and productive, and a problem solver. I think you don't put up with nonsense, and you're ready to get something done. I've seen that person in you before; she's there. You can be her. We'll do it together; I'll be here if you get stuck.
I'm Abby (Magness) Scott. I hate IKEA. I really like purple. I like carnivorous plants, because I think it's really impressive, that so many plants' evolutionary response to not getting what they need is to show up first to an incredibly hostile environment, before anything else can regrow, and overturn the established food chain, lethally taking what they need from their predators. But I'm also vegan, and I hate when sentient beings die, including the bugs these plants eat. The duality of woman.
I haven't written in a very long time, but in picking up reading again, I've felt the need to write. I guess that never goes away, this internal sense that maybe something you are thinking is something someone else might like to read.
I'm 26, and I was homeschooled, mostly in Tulsa, OK. I come from a background which I would describe as Christian Nationalist indoctrination, though the people who formed that background would almost definitely object to that characterization. From 4th - 10th grade I attended Classical Conversations, and then from 10th-12th grade, I competed in Stoa speech and debate. I'm aware that the Doctrine of Discovery is the ideological foundation for US history even in public schools, but the way I was taught history doubled down on that narrative (in all but name) much more explicitly, as well as on the Lost Cause myth, climate change denial, young-earth creationism, and a complete lack of sex ed. I also may or may not have undiagnosed ADHD (working on the "undiagnosed" part, but alas, no health insurance). I have a strong shame response, as many from my religious background do, which can create a cycle (perfectionism->procrastination->shame->perfectionism), and I don't know whether that is an explanation for my behavior which competes with ADHD as an explanation, or whether that is potentially a cause of ADHD (like maybe my distress in a hostile home environment fucked up my dopamine system), or something else.
As I deconstructed those political views, and eventually, the religious views which accompanied them (which I may or may not someday decide to write about here), I became quite toxic on social media, and consequently deleted all of my profiles. I haven't had an online presence in years (and I'm much better for it), so this blog will be the first time I announce some things about myself to the world, things which I haven't previously needed to either hide or publicize, because I just ... moved away and ghosted everyone instead.
I'm fascinated by the online musings, blogs, Reddit posts, and even Facebook screenshots, of people who deconverted from fundamentalist Christianity, and/or of people who left the Christian Homeschool world in the US. Tell-alls about the blatantly horrifying abuse which the nuclear family is uniquely positioned to enable and hide, about the damage caused by the less blatant forms of abuse, which many people don't define as such, and also about the damage caused just by these inherently toxic ideologies, even by loving families. I've been reading blogs like that since I was ... maybe fifteen, and right now (though I reserve the right to go back on this decision as I learn and grow), I'm convinced that nothing I can add to that particular library will be more worth your time than the gold mine that's already out there. If you're looking for that from me, I highly recommend reading Artemis Stardust's blog, because their background is similar to (though significantly more intense than) mine (I haven't struck any sort of deal with Artemis; I just found a lot of solace in their writing in my teens, and later again in my 20s). I also recommend scrolling through: r/homeschoolrecovery, r/deconstruction, r/exchristian, and r/exvangelical, on Reddit.
I went to college for creative writing (I didn't graduate). My creative writing professor (shoutout to Murphy - I greatly appreciated everything about you as a professor) told me three things that stuck with me: 1) I'm good at wholesome writing. My peak in my writing "career" was a "wholesome" piece I wrote about a teenager who was engaged. Murphy said I was in my element in that piece. 2) I should write what I know. In my story, I had this teenager attending public school, even though the only times I'd ever even stepped foot in a public school had been to take ACTs and SATs. People apparently found it odd that none of the story took place in school, despite the protagonist being 16. Can't imagine what's odd about that. I said I didn't know how to write school, and Murphy told me to write what I do know. 3) Read and write every day. Your ability to write is going to be directly impacted by the quantity of reading you've done, your source material. And even if you can't work on your pet project, keep the muscles in shape. I've struggled with this one, because of the ADHD.
A big theme in my life story is my parents (and I'm, obviously, the only person who has ever had bad experiences in that department /s). I don't know whether I can still call myself a "young adult," but I have a tendency to develop a sense of attachment very quickly to someone older whom I perceive as a safe parent- or mentor- figure. A lot of the personal growth and therapy work that I have done and still need to do has to do with that past. Right now, I believe the best thing I can do is try to develop that sense of attachment to myself. Not to the abusive imaginary father- or bridegroom- figure that fundamentalist Christians worship, not to another parent figure who has their own actual children to tend to, and not to my actual parents. To myself. To 26-year-old Abby, who works with children regularly, and who would never in a million years look at, speak to, or think of a child the way my parents looked at, spoke to, and thought of me.
So, because of my evaluation that the world doesn't currently need another tell-all blog from a survivor of American fundamentalist Christian homeschooling, because I need to write more and would be at my best writing in a wholesome tone about a topic that I know, and because I think the next step for my personal growth is developing a parental sense of attachment to my adult-self (I believe this is inner-child work?), I've decided to start a blog of maternal letters written to my child-self.
If you're a parent who put a child through what I went through, to be frank, this blog isn't primarily for you. But I hope you'll read it with an open mind, and I hope you'll take the subtle opportunities, which will surely arise in my writing, to re-evaluate some values which you might feel very attached to, and to interrogate why you might feel that attachment. Please (and this is very important) don't mimic my language toward your own children. I might be (I hope I am) saying things your child needs to hear, and even that your child would appreciate hearing from you, but without actually being a better parent, saying these things to your child would just be manipulation. I'd regret ever having published this if I knew parents were using it that way. Instead, maybe offer your child honesty, by sharing with them how this blog made you feel, and (and this is important too) listening with openness as they share how it made them feel. Lay down your goddamned defenses. You won't die; it's what you signed up for when you decided to be a parent.
If you're a child who is where I was, I hope it helps to hear things from me that you don't hear from your parents. If you're an adult who was where I was, I hope the same, and I also hope it doesn't stop there: I hope you maybe try to write or speak to your child-self this way, so your own voice can join mine in your child-self's mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now, to attempt the kind of writing I actually intend to do on this blog:
To 8-year-old Abby: You're allowed to make mistakes; the world won't end. You're allowed to rest. And you're allowed to think your parents are wrong, and to be mad at them. All of those things are good, important parts of life, and I'm really sorry you're being punished for them. You don't deserve that, no matter how well they've convinced you that you do. You're not a bad person.
To 11-year-old Abby: Your anger is valid. You're allowed to individuate, and keep secrets, and make choices that your parents wouldn't make if they were you. They're not you. You're supposed to want to do those things; if you didn't want to, something would be wrong with your adolescent development. You don't owe anyone "pretty." You don't have to fix your appearance, or otherwise prove your compliance, to earn the right to grow up.
To 14-year-old Abby: You're doing such a good job. I don't think enough people have told you that. Your body has been violated so many times now, but it's still yours, every inch of it, no one else's. You're important to me. Your thoughts are valuable contributions to a conversation, and when you talk, I'm excited to hear what you have to say. I see how hard of a time you're having, and I'm really sorry. You deserved so much better from the last 14 years. It's not hopeless; it really does get better soon.
If you want to see more of that, you're in the right place. Glad to have you.
All the love,
26-year-old-Abby
