Tag: childhood memories

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My Journey Out Of Christian Science Following Bipolar Disorder Diagnosis

Content Note: This article contains detailed descriptions of the symptoms and effects of a mental health condition that may be alarming to some readers. The Ex-Christian Scientist recommends that anyone who is dealing with a mental health condition seek qualified assistance and treatment.

I spent the majority of April 2003 with one foot in and one foot out of reality. I was just finishing up a three year journalism program and internship. During this time, I began feeling incredible anxiety, panic, and fear—unlike I had ever experienced before. I casually mentioned this to one of my professors, who told me to see the college’s therapist. This person was actually more like a guidance counselor than someone with the qualifications of a licensed therapist. She strongly advised me to see a doctor.

I was raised in Christian Science since birth, so the idea of visiting a physician to get a handle on this issue was completely foreign to me. Despite this, I came home from our session and decided to walk down the street to a plaza that had a walk-in medical clinic. I spent all of 10 minutes with the doctor, who barely listened to me before prescribing Paxil for anxiety and depression. Praxil is an extremely potent drug that was pulled in 2009 from distribution in the United States due to numerous lawsuits regarding tendencies for suicide, birth defects, as well as extreme withdrawal symptoms.

I took the Paxil as prescribed for a period of two weeks. During that time, I began experiencing some extreme symptoms, including hallucinations and grandiose ideas to the point of feeling omnipotent. I was already a considerable night owl due to my field of study, so my parents thought nothing of me hammering away on my computer and talking to people on the phone at all hours. They had no idea that I thought I was George W. Bush and that I considered my bedroom to be the Oval Office in the White House.

The people I was talking to at night weren’t really on the phone—I was having imaginary conversations with Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, and every single United States president that preceded George W. Bush. We were busy, so I believed, with drafting up plans to capture the world’s most wanted terrorist, Osama Bin Laden. Meanwhile, in real life, I had been sending a bombardment of emails to classmates, friends, professors, and angry sources for prior interviews and stories I had written for local papers. I thought all of them were either members of my cabinet, senators, and/or ministers heading up various departments of my government. On the evening of April 27, 2003, “we” got a lead (or so I thought) pinpointing Bin Laden’s exact location. Our plan was to use sitcom stars and celebrities as CIA agents, and to send up the space shuttle to nuke the Bin Laden using a laser beam. If you think this sounds crazy, it was.

I hadn’t slept in two whole weeks and found myself in a complete crisis on April 28, 2003, which so happened to be my mother’s birthday. I woke my brother and parents up that morning telling them that my plan to kill Bin Laden had been leaked to the press and that we were all in mortal danger. I thought I could see the U.S. Capitol and White House through my window, and advised them not to venture outside because snipers were on the roof and the Secret Service would be showing up to evacuate everyone and take us by motorcade to my aunt’s street. I thought that Air Force One was there and we would head by air to an undisclosed location.

The next thing I knew, my parents lied to me and told me that the Secret Service had a new plan to allow them to drive me to the White House—a white house, but not the actual White House. They pulled up to the local emergency room and told the doctors exactly what had happened. The next thing I knew I had passed out in a holding room. I woke up with four psychiatrists standing over me, waiting to start an interview process which I thought at the time was more of an interrogation to figure out over the course of a 72 hour psychiatric hold exactly what mental illness I had. In the end, the chief of psychiatry at the hospital delivered my parents a verdict: I had bipolar disorder.

My father, who was a staunch Christian Scientist, and my mother—who was not, were in a state of shock and denial. My dad thought that the Paxil I was taking was the culprit, and once it was flushed out of my system completely, I would be fine and could go home. Both of my parents thought there was no way I could be mentally ill, and that the psychiatrist was way off with his assessment. They had never heard the term bipolar disorder before, and so began the process of him educating them about the disease. Neither of them felt I should be surrounded by people who could become violent at a moment’s notice who were on the same ward as I was. All my parents knew about mental illness was what clinical depression was, and about people who were wired wrong committing violent crimes that made the local news.

I spent three months in a psychiatric ward getting well. During my stay, I was required to attend a special program where patients did crafts, games, and above all, group counselling—where we had to talk about our problems on a daily basis. We had to do this before transitioning to the outside, and then do the same program daily as an out patient once released, until told otherwise. It was strongly drilled into me by the head of that program that leaving it was a bad idea.

I absolutely hated the program, and wanted no part of it. My father also felt it was detrimental to me because, as taught in Christian Science, people shouldn’t rehearse a problem and give it credibility—rather than denying the lie and focusing on who man “really was” as taught by Mary Baker Eddy, and drilled into me in Sunday School. He felt that others insisting that they or I was ill was a form of malpractice against me—delaying my healing in Christian Science. So, instead of going to the program, I was driven around in the car to give me something to do. I was often taken to a Christian Science Reading Room during my recovery so dad could do metaphysical work and pick up the latest Christian Science Journal.

While this was happening, my journalism career ended up in tatters after an editor lost an article that I had written a month before it was to be published. The article was fine and contained zero inaccuracies when it was initially sent to him. When this person lost my draft, he had me write another one up; but, now I was completely out of it, and had no recollection of what I had written having been in a mental health crisis in hospital. It ended up being printed a few days after I got out. They later retracted it after I quoted a source in the article inaccurately and couldn’t produce tape or notes for back-up.

My official graduation from college happened in June 2003—before I was released from the hospital. My doctor ended up putting me on enough medication, and with chaperones to attend with me, I received my diploma and returned to the ward that night. Unfortunately, I knew that everything I had worked for years to accomplish was now up in smoke, and nobody would employ me—or so I thought at the time. Once I was released, I did fine for six months before suffering a relapse.

While I don’t blame my parents for any of this, Christian Science played a huge part in them not knowing what bipolar disorder was. None of us knew the symptoms of the disease and its undercurrent of hypo-mania that had been leading up to an inevitable crisis for approximately 10 years prior. I had crippling depression and then bursts of happiness throughout these years, and constantly slid between both poles rapidly, with zero warning but without any delusions as a child. I also always twisted mild teasing from peers into something completely different and totally out of context.

I couldn’t relate to any of my peers whatsoever. I even had my arm broken by a classmate during recess one day. It was several months before I reached high school, when the school district wouldn’t allow me to enroll in a school that these classmates wouldn’t be in so I could have a fresh start. My parents home schooled me until I found a school offering equivalent of GED to adults. During this time, the school board insisted I see a doctor and counselor because they thought I could be mentally ill and that this was the cause of my problems. My dad took me to a doctor, thinking there was nothing wrong with me at all.

At the end of the discussion, she gave him card and referral to a psychiatrist. I remember my father getting into the car, rippling the card up and telling me this was the standard brush off and a way to dump a client they didn’t want. He still prayed for years in Christian Science to fix my social problems until everything came to a head in 2003—10 years later.

I mentioned earlier that my career was in tatters. The only good thing that came from this awful experience—that still impacts me daily—was a second chance. I was in total despair one day, and reached out to a friend who asked me if there was anything I wanted to do in journalism that I hadn’t achieved, or that involved writing for magazines or newspapers. I told her that I really wanted to be a film critic. We ended up finding a lead and a site that has published my interviews, features, and reviews for over 17 years now.

This work has led to guest appearances speaking about the Academy Awards and other film-related topics for U.S. and Canadian radio and television. I would have never had this opportunity without being diagnosed as bipolar, eventually following medical treatment to the letter, and ditching Christian Science completely; and having constant care under watchful eye of a psychiatrist for over two decades now. While there were numerous missed opportunities over the course of 10 years prior to experiencing my full blown psychiatric crisis, I do not blame my father or mother for anything that I experienced. My father didn’t know any better, and he followed Mary Baker Eddy’s teachings for 60 years until his passing from terminal cancer in 2021. He believed, as I did until my crisis, that the TRUTH contained in her writings and teachings could heal any disease—including mine. When it couldn’t it devastated him.

My father was never the same afterwards, and blamed his genetics for everything I experienced with the disease. Our relationship became somewhat fractured, as he could see that the same traits within himself—with constant rapid cycles of depression, horrible temperament, and twisting of what others said. My psychiatrist believed strongly that he had an undiagnosed type of bipolar disorder, minus the delusions, for all of his adult life. While I got helped by modern medicine, he never took those steps for himself because of Christian Science. It is a fact I cannot change, and I continue to grapple with it every moment of every day.

By Geoffrey D. Roberts

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Released: Walking from Blame and Shame into Wholeness

New Memoir, Exposes Childhood Medical Neglect and Finding One’s Agency After Leaving Christian Science

New memoirs of former Christian Scientists are seldom published. There are a few, Blue Windows and Fathermothergod, and now we can add to the list Peggy Cook’s excellent new memoir, Released: Walking from Blame and Shame into Wholeness. This exceptional memoir clearly articulates many of the challenges of growing up in Christian Science. 

Peggy Cook was diagnosed with clubfeet upon her birth. This condition requires many surgeries and procedures during the formative years of a child for the condition to be fully corrected. Born into a strict Christian Science family, Peggy’s father was employed at the Mother Church in Boston and clung closely to orthodox Christian Science views—that prayer and medicine cannot be mixed. After undergoing several castings as a very young girl, Peggy’s parents decided not to continue medical treatment and to fully rely on prayer.  

Childhood Trauma and Medical Neglect 

In the introduction of Released, Peggy writes, as she looked for her baby book and found only empty pages: “I needed proof that I was celebrated despite my clubfeet. Proof of being a cherished infant, not just a burden and someone to constantly pray about. My birth, a joyful event.” (2021, Cook, p. 2)

Peggy then begins her story with her earliest of memories: being terrified as her parents took her to get her legs casted, a very traumatic event for a toddler to say the least. She recalls singing hymns with her parents, although even at an early age she did not find comfort in them at times of intense difficulty. Written in present tense, we are right there with Peggy as she endures the castings, the fear, and the interactions with her parents, who mean well, but do not grasp the trauma inflicted on their young daughter. She articulates how much later as an adult she began to understand why she struggled so much of her childhood—from these early traumatic childhood experiences. 

Different View of Reality in Christian Science

In Released, Peggy gracefully weaves the Christian Science worldview into dialogue as she shares her childhood memories. Christian Scientists believe that the material world is not real, it’s just an illusion. Matter, like our bodies and the world around us, is artificial and not the true reality. Scientists spend copious amounts of time studying the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, the religion’s founder, and denying the existence of the material world around them. They deny the five senses and cling to a theology that only good exists and that everything is God; anything not good is not of God and therefore isn’t real. In Peggy’s case, her reality as a very young girl afraid of having her legs painfully cast and walking incorrectly was met with spiritual gaslighting by her parents. 

“I say, ‘I’m scared.’ My father says, ‘That’s error telling you that you’re scared. That’s not you talking.’ (2021, Cook, p. 13).

In her child’s mind, the only state of mind that made sense, Peggy internalized fear and pain that impacted her entire childhood and into adulthood. The way that she is able to articulate this disparity in her childhood sense of reality as an adult looking in on herself not only gives weight to the traumatic childhood experience she alone faced, it gives voice to many others who have never written about their pain. This is the power of memoir.

Embarrassed by the Failure of Christian Science Prayer

A byproduct of any high control religious group is extreme guilt, embarrassment, and shame. The group makes the rules, often rules including extreme requirements such as no medical treatment, ignoring a situation that needs professional help (either medical, psychological, or emotional), and requiring the follower to adhere to rules that should, if followed correctly, bring about a solution. When the solution (or healing, in Peggy’s case) doesn’t happen, the individual follower is to blame, not the belief system itself. What develops is a deep sense of failure that produces shame and embarrassment. 

To outsiders, who can barely fathom making a child feel responsible for their disability or illness, this seems implausible, even absurd. To insiders working hard to mentally deny the reality of the situation, the suffering goes on and on. Their reality is living each day surrounded by their shame (for Peggy, this was through her daily struggle to walk and endure the constant pain of uncorrected clubfeet). She needlessly endured horrific amounts of suffering—taking responsibility for her own condition (not her fault) and taking accountability for her lack of healing (also not her fault; Christian Science rarely works for most followers). 

“It terrified me thinking about children dying from trusting God. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep, hoping it never happened to my brother of me.” (2021, Cook, p. 18)

A Mother’s Suffering of Cancer Gone Untreated

Part of Peggy’s journey out of Christian Science includes losing her mother to undiagnosed and untreated skin cancer. This experience became the catalyst that propelled her from Christian Science. She endured through the end, similar to other’s stories of watching a loved one endure untreated cancer in a Christian Science nursing facility. It’s unfathomable that this still goes on today, and we know that it does. My grandfather. Your cousin. My friend’s mom. The first reader at church. The list of sufferers goes on and on. 

But rather than destroy Peggy, despite the layered trauma of watching a loved one suffer and die in front of her, she finds the courage to pivot. She meets her new nephew shortly after his birth and notices the signs of clubfeet. She says, “I had been praying unsuccessfully for the healing of my clubfeet for 36 years.” (2021, Cook, p. 81)

At 37, Peggy decides to seek out a surgeon who can fix her clubfeet. The process is nothing short of a medical miracle through a devoted surgeon, the hard work of physical therapy, and a new outlook of self-care, humanity, and hope. The memoir is gripping as she dedicates the better part of a year to recovering and finding the use of her new feet, heels, and legs to carry her forward into her future. 

The Human Condition Embraced

As Peggy’s story unfolds, she opens up in a way that is so refreshing and honest. She articulates the language of the Christian Science family in fresh ways that have not been written before. You will likely hear your own mother in her story; you might find your own father there too. 

Peggy’s story doesn’t stop here, it ends with recovery, transformation, hope, relationship, and learning to become human in ways that each of us must learn once leaving Christian Science. While her childhood was marked by avoidance of the human condition, her adulthood, once she decided to leave Christian Science and seek out medical correction for her clubfeet, was marked by transformation. 

Special Role of Christian Science Memoir

There is a special role that memoir holds for those of us who share the experience of growing up in Christian Scientist. Few understand our plight; not many parents could fathom withholding medical care, love, affection, and attention when a child is hurting. What the Christian Science belief system does to most children is incomprehensible, yet memoir opens the gates and allows others in to see what it was like. 

For those of us who have similar childhood experiences, memoir is strangely comforting because there are others who understand, relate, and experience many of the same things we did. Being able to articulate the ways that parents applied Christian Science treatment is both disturbing and moving. Memoir shows us just how similar many of our childhoods were in how our parents often ignored our little boy and girl needs, allowed us to suffer needlessly, and withheld affection and love because they were “holding to the Truth.”

We grieve one another’s trauma as we were not alone, we were one of many children all over the world, for four or five generations, over multiple continents—Peggy’s suffering is our own suffering. Peggy’s suffering was real, and so was ours. 

Our difficulties are not unique, and Peggy’s memoir reminds us that we are not alone. There is hope for recovery, there is growth and trust to be built and experienced again, outside the blue chalk lines. 

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Leaving Christian Science: 10 Stories of New Faith in Jesus Christ, Interview with Lauren Hunter

Lauren Hunter grew up in a fourth generation Christian Science home but struggled to understand and implement successful physical healing. Like many who have left Christian Science, she sought out others who had also left to gain clarity. After being out of CS for nearly 20 years, she hoped to help others cross the chasm of leaving this religious cult by sharing her story, as well as the stories of nine others she interviewed. Her book, Leaving Christian Science: 10 Stories of New Faith in Jesus Christ, was released in 2020. 

Hunter’s book examines stories from 10 different people who left Christian Science and started walking a Christian path, following Christ Jesus as their guide. 

In the following post, Contributor Jodi interviews Lauren Hunter about her experience writing the book:

Jodi: What compelled you to write a book about various people’s stories of how they left Christian Science? 

Lauren: I’ve always loved the power of story and felt that the impact of pulling away from the Christian Science faith would be stronger as told not only through my own story, but also through the stories of others who left. 

When I first left Christian Science in 2001, I knew no one who was a “former Christian Scientist.” I became a member of the Fellowship of Former Christian Science (FFCS) group in 2015. Through that group, I met so many new friends with incredible stories. Each person’s tale blew me away and encouraged me. I thought, if I can compile a whole book of stories of people who left, there’s a lot of power–all in one book.

Jodi: What kind of power are you talking about here? 

Lauren: It’s easy to shirk off one story of someone who left CS. Followers will often say, “they just couldn’t understand it” of someone who left. They look down on people who leave because there’s this sense of baked in narcissism–that CS is a special knowledge that only they have. I felt there was power in sharing 10 stories of people who all left. There’s no book available with this many exit stories in one place.

Jodi: How did you come up with the list of people to interview? Did you know all of the people before you approached them to write the book? Were people referred to you? 

Lauren: I worked with Katherine Beim-Esche of the Fellowship of Former Christian Scientists to help me locate people who had various stories to fit the theme of each chapter. I had an idea of what themes to include, but these changed as I did my interviews.  I did preliminary research, short email interviews, then long Zoom recorded interviews for each person’s chapter. It was tricky to pull out distinct themes for each story, but it all came together as I had hoped, which was great. 

Jodi: How did you come up with the questions you asked them, in order for them to tell you their story? 

Lauren: I really love interviewing people. Initially, I made a list of questions asking about the person’s upbringing, history in the Christian Science church, etc., and sent this in advance. When we sat down for the interview, I made sure to ask many of the same questions, but each person had such a unique story that some questions emerged as we were doing the interview. It was a wonderful process and I feel very honored that these individuals would entrust their stories to me. 

Jodi: Are there thread(s) that you see each story sharing? 

Lauren: Great question. I spoke about all these different threads in the recent FFCS presentation I did entitled: “My story, your story, and God’s story.” (YouTube Link Here) Some common threads are:

  • Struggling with the dual reality of having to deny the physical world while living in it. 
  • Guilt and shame over “trying” medicine when healings didn’t happen
  • Shame over imperfections in health as well as imperfections in beauty
  • Dissociation from physical needs including noticing pain, anxiety, or fear
  • Trouble recognizing boundaries, limits, and identifying needs

Jodi: Tell me about the ‘dear one” sections of the book, where you write a comforting letter to the readers of the book. Did that come naturally for you? Was it easy to hear their stories and come up with a comforting letter?

Lauren:  In the “dear one” letters at the end of each chapter, I tried to invoke the kind of gentle and loving mother many of us wished we had growing up in CS. I am a mom, and I can’t imagine watching my kids suffer as many did in their childhoods. It’s really heartbreaking. I had more trouble processing several of the stories because they dealt with issues that hit close to home for me. I really loved writing these ‘dear one’ sections and hope that my concern and care for the reader came through. 

Jodi: How long did it take for you to compile the stories? To write this book? 

Lauren: It took me about two and a half years from idea to publishing. This was my first full-length nonfiction book and I was squeezing it in around running a full-time business (and raising my family). I learned so much during the process and treated it like a learning experience. My second book, due out this winter, is a step-by-step guide to help people write their own stories. 

Jodi: Did any particular story stand out to you as either typical of all the stories, or different in some major way from all of the other stories? Which one? What made it different or the same? 

Lauren: John Andrews’ story about struggling to let go of Mary Baker Eddy as Leader with a capital “L” was something that many people struggled with. In Christian Science, we were taught to put Eddy on a platform above God and Jesus Christ. This is something a lot of people struggled with. 

This is where mind control comes in. The only way followers will do what an organization says is if they buy into the (often narcissistic) leader who proclaims they are a prophet — most of us “drank the Kool-aid,” and believed that Eddy’s words were holier than the Bible. 

Dixie Baker’s story of surviving the measles epidemic at Principia College was so difficult for me to stomach. It was a completely different topic and included physical, emotional, and medical neglect–her account rocked me and was very unique that someone from within was brave enough to detail what happened while under CS nurse care.

Jodi: Is there something you would like to share with people who read our blog, who are looking for a path to leave Christian Science and are scared to do it? 

Lauren: Interestingly, you use the word “scared” in your question. When I was growing up in Christian Science, I felt scared all the time because I never knew what was wrong. So much of the Christian Science belief system deals with allaying fear. Well, we wouldn’t have all been so afraid if we’d gone to the doctor to find out what was wrong! I now feel huge freedom not practicing CS. If I have a medical issue, I email my doctor, get a test done, and figure out a plan. I no longer have massive amounts of fear to deal with surrounding my body. I have to ask questions, look things up, and learn as I go–and I’ve been out of CS for 20 years! I’m just grateful that I left before having my four kids. I can’t fathom dealing with all the childhood illnesses without medical care. 

So I guess my advice is to ditch the fear, allow yourself a care team that includes a good trauma-informed therapist, a former Christian Scientist who has adjusted well, and a good doctor who will listen to you and take you seriously. 

Jodi: Is there anything else you would like to share with our readers? 

Lauren: I’m working on a new book called Write Your Journey that will help people write their stories about their family, faith, or career. The idea came to me when people read my book and wanted to share their stories with me. Info on this book will be available at https://laurenhunter.net. 

Leaving Christian Science: 10 Stories of New Faith in Jesus Christ by Lauren Hunter (Veritable Books, 2020) is available on Amazon. 

If you have left Christian Science and are seeking others who have taken a Christ-centered path, we highly recommend the Fellowship of Former Christian Scientists.

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The Polarity of Christian Science

This post is a contribution by Chrystal C.

Every Sunday School hour ended with a repetition of “The Scientific Statement of Being” by The Sunday School Superintendent. (Somehow, giving all these things a capital letter made them extra important to the impressionable child that was me as a little girl.)

Question: What is the scientific statement of being?

Answer: There is no life, truth, intelligence, nor substance in matter. All is infinite Mind and its infinite manifestation, for God is All-in-all. Spirit is immortal Truth; matter is mortal error. Spirit is the real and eternal; matter is the unreal and temporal. Spirit is God, and man is His image and likeness. Therefore man is not material; he is spiritual.

– “Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures” by Mary Baker Eddy, page 468.

Christian Science says “if it’s not good, it’s not from God, therefore it’s not real.” So – everything – I mean that – EVERYTHING – has to be examined and decided upon whether it’s good and thus from God, or bad and thus from nothing. “It started from nothing and it will go back to the nothing from which it came.” That’s probably a quote from somewhere, probably Eddy, who knows. I just know I heard it a LOT.

In my case, I had an additional polarity thrown at me: my parents divorced because my mom had a long-time boyfriend. You see, my mom was a stripper at a strip club. She was the only white person there at the whole club. Her nickname was “Snowflake.” One time, a guy named “Josh” called her at the house, and my dad answered the phone. “May I please speak to Snowflake?” the caller said. My dad said, “Snowflake! You must have the wrong number, no one here by that name!” My mom quickly came in the room and said, “that’s for me.” That was the moment my dad knew with absolute certainty she was cheating on him. 

My dad would have never divorced her despite so many things that nowadays we would refer to as “red flags” except for Christian Science, which said “you get married for life, and no divorce unless there has been infidelity.” Well, my mom had a long term boyfriend inside the marriage to my dad. 

During the era of time when my parents divorced, women couldn’t get credit cards. Yes, that’s a very recent thing in our world that they can now get credit cards. We can most likely thank Supreme Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg for this change. Women not being able to get a credit card. They got paid less, they couldn’t buy things on credit, they couldn’t build credit without a man’s name and signature on the form…. how were they supposed to get any decent paying job and get an apartment or live?

I was also in an unusual situation in that my parents made a mutual agreement that my dad would leave, but he would get me. My mom didn’t want me, she was most decidedly not ready to be a mom. I was not planned for. My parents were poor by anyone’s standards, but she wasn’t ready to take care of a child on her own. 

My mom started to write bad checks and wound up in jail. My dad bailed her out the first time. I think that’s the one day I remember them being together after they had divorced. I don’t remember any other day of them being in the same room until I was in high school, come to think of it. That was the day we all split an order of fast-food-fried-chicken, while we sat in my dad’s little car. 

Well, I then started making connections in my own little child brain. “There is no life in matter. All life is in God.” “Either I grow up as a Christian Scientist like my dad, or i become a stripper at a night club who drinks alcohol, and I wind up in jail. My choice.” 

I am still sorting out all of these bizarre polar experiences. I am a mom with teenage boys, and I still have this whole “everything is polar!” going on in my head. I either go to a certain doctor and love that person, or I quit the whole practice because “that other person at the practice wasn’t good! How can they keep that horrible person at their wonderful practice!” 

When I first left Christian Science, I was so afraid I might now be some kind of extreme heathen. “I have been shown the absolute truth of the entire universe, and now I have completely rejected it! I will burn in hell forever, and apparently I am choosing this path now because it makes more sense than the one that was absolute good!” I saw this as a very black vs. white / light vs. dark experience, and it frightened me to my core. 

I took a timid step forward and said to myself, “let’s try this a little bit and if there is a God who is All Good, such a god would forgive me for trying to figure things out the best I can, using what I have in my thinking and my own experience. It’s just one step, and we will see where it goes.”

I am just starting, now, to figure out that the world is not this polar opposite place. There is so much more to life than “left vs. right,” “hot vs. cold,” “black vs. white,” “light vs. dark,” “up vs. down.” …

I am so grateful to have left Christian Science, because it’s the only way I would find out that the world is not this polar place where you can ONLY be “good” or “bad!” There are many shades of emotions, temperatures, light degrees (just ask a photographer), colors, directions (North, South, East, West, North East, South-South-West…)

I love the way this “non-polarity is an actual thing” conversation is shown in Star Trek’s “Deep Space Nine” when Lt. Commander Worf comes on board. Initially, Worf has trouble undering the Space Station, because it’s not “all good” the way the Starship Enterprise that he came from was “all good.” Worf sees things in a very polar way when he first arrives at the Space Station. Commander Benjamin Sisko and Lt Cdr Worf are having a conversation about a troublemaker on the station – a Ferengi named Quark. 

Captain Sisko: Starfleet officers often have trouble learning the unofficial rules of [this] station. There’s no manual to study. You have to learn things as you go. A little different than… life on a starship.

Lt. Commander Worf: When I served aboard the Enterprise, I always knew who were my allies, and who were my enemies.

Captain Sisko: Let’s just say, DS9 has more shades of gray. And Quark definitely is a shade of… gray. He has his own set of rules, and he follows them diligently. Once you understand them, you understand Quark. I’d say that’s true for… everyone here.

[he offers Worf a glass of raktajino]

Captain Sisko: You’ll fit in, Commander. Just give it time.

I have my own path I walk now. I feel light, free, happy. I also cuss when I have big emotions about something that is important to me. Sometimes I even go so far as to stamp my feet! Imagine that! It helps get the emotions flowing in my body instead of staying stuck, and eating up my very inner light fire. (Take those last few sentences in the best possible way. Some people draw heavily with crayon to get their emotions out, some people chop wood, some people might drive really fast on the highway. I say cuss-words in the privacy of my own home when no one’s around. There are definitely worse things I could do. For now, this is where I am, and I am good with it.)

I guess this is my own shade of gray, for one of the places in my life that is full of shades of gray, shades of light. If you used to be a Christian Scientist, do you feel you were taught the world was an all-or-nothing kind of place? Looking back, do you see “shades of gray” now that were perhaps perceived as “hypocritical” at the time, or something like that? Thank you for reading. 

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Unashamed ExCS

By m.rose, submitted via email. m.rose is a pseudonym. For more information about how to share your story, please visit https://exchristianscience.com/about-2/share-your-story/

I am a former student of Principia. I was raised in Christian Science my whole life, and my mom is one of the most respected CS nurses in New England. My father attended Principia College, but later left Christian Science. At the time I was graduating high school, he had lost his job, and told me Prin was the only affordable option because of the scholarships I received. After moving around and attending 4 different highs schools, part of me was relieved that I would be with people I knew–so I was obedient.

Early on in my freshman year, I went through an experience that would now be labeled as date-rape. I swept it under the rug until several people urged me to come forward. I waited until school ended that year, because I didn’t want negative visibility for me or the gentlemen involved.

That summer I attempted to process what had occurred, but after struggling from depression off and on throughout my life, I quickly fell into a dark place. The guy I had accused said many hurtful things to me, but when he called me a cunt, it completely broke my heart.

I started seeing a therapist and taking prescription anti-depressants. I was not planning on returning to Prin, but at the time it was my only option. The dean of students treated me like a heroine addict, and took my medication away from me. For a while, the resident counselor (with absolutely no medical background) was doling the pills out to me at night. Eventually the school told me I needed to stop taking them or leave.

Soon I fell into the adverse effects of withdrawal, far worse than anything I have ever experienced. The mental anguish was as painful as being stabbed. The dean of students told me I needed to go on medical leave, but it was a contentious time in my family and I felt I had nowhere to go. Eventually I tried to overdose on the sleeping pills I hid from the school. My roommate found me unconscious and called the school nurse. Luckily, after hours, I woke up. No one had called an ambulance, and no medical attention was given. It frightens me to think of how easily I things could’ve gone the other way—and I wonder why I wasn’t worth a 911 call.

I left at the end of the semester after the dean of students met with me and my father and told us that I could come back the next semester, without needing to reapply, and that my scholarship would still be in place.

I did as she said, but I was never admitted back into Prin, and was told I wasn’t allowed on campus. No reason was provided.

I remember the dean of students (at Principia) asking me to be more realistic when I said I might want to apply to a school like Boston College or Northeastern. I currently attend Northeastern University and work full-time in marketing. I am up for a second promotion, despite not having my bachelors yet.

Recently I met up with that same roommate, in NYC, when we were both visiting family, and we got into the topic of the school now allowing students to take medication. I became upset and said “well, where’s my apology”?! She told me it was my fault for attending the school, and that I just blame everyone else for my problems. It is this kind of ignorance and judgement of those who take medication, that make it really hard for me to be around Christian Scientists. What happened at Prin was deeply painful, but I suspect me not being CS made me unworthy of compassion.

I returned to work that Monday, feeling totally defeated, only to find I had been promoted to a full time employee “for far exceeding the expectations for an intern, and for an incredible work ethic.” Interesting that they left out my characteristic lack of accountability.

I don’t drink or do drugs, but I take medication every day for allergies, Birth control, etc. I don’t identify with any theology, but I am passionately vegan and advocate compassion for all living beings. In the eyes of Christian Science and Principia, I am morally inferior. In the eyes of everyone else, I am someone deserving of respect.

You know, it’s funny that I eventually got a heartfelt apology from the guy who assaulted me, but I never got a word of remorse from the school that almost killed me.