The Real Story?

The thing about being the child of an abusive alcoholic is that so many things about your life and memories don't make sense until later, when you think about it in a different context as an adult. There are strange memories I have that I look back on now and go, "Oh, she was drunk. That makes sense."

This is different. I don't know how I feel about this. I was re-reading over what I wrote yesterday, particularly the horrific incident at church, and I realize that my mom most likely lied about something very important. See, we left the Korean Baptist church I grew up in around the time my mom stopped physically abusing me. We had been in that church pretty much my entire life. That church meant a lot to me. That church was the reason we weren't homeless, that I learned what little of the Korean language I could, that I got music lessons, that I didn't fucking kill myself or become teenage pregnant or abuse alcohol or drugs at a young age. Leaving that church was a big deal. Of course, I had questions. My mom told me at the time that we were leaving because the adults were talking about our family behind our backs because my mom was a divorced woman.

God, I hate that I didn't question that. I mean, sure, the Korean culture is very judgmental about divorced women. That's true. It was a clever lie, but that's just it. It was a lie. I'm 99% sure that it was a lie. Here's what I think the real story is: I can't place that abuse incident at church on a timeline. I don't know how old I was when it happened, but I know it probably happened toward the end of our time at that church because we were in the new church building and the bathrooms had been renovated. Remember I said an adult walked in? I don't remember who that adult was. Remember before how I said the pastor was made aware of what was happening and said that God forgave her and we weren't going to talk about it any more? What if my mom wasn't the one who sought forgiveness? What if the adults who found out about this really did do something, and I never knew? What if that's why my mom left the church that meant so much to me in my young life?

This is a big deal. This is a major reason I fell away from the church, because I felt the judgmental nature of the church was a major betrayal and that led me to question my faith. Don't get me wrong, this doesn't change the fact that I still believe that the Christian faith doesn't fit my worldview any more, but this changes the narrative of my memories. Is this the real story? I don't know how I'd know. I certainly can't ask my mom. I won't. I have half a mind to track down my former pastor and ask him.

I don't know. I just made this realization and I'm still reeling. I had to write it.