I could never leave the church completely. That's obvious. While I'll never go back, they'll always have a piece of me. I'm sure they're celebrating when I say that, though they needn't. It's only been a source of pain for me, much the same way it is painful how I love those who raped me. Love is rarely, if ever, comfortable. And some ties just bind, they don't love.
Every night I sit down with my laptop and literally go to every Adventist site I can think of that might have changed their hearts in regards to child rape (and rape in general!). None of them. None of them. It's always the same. Each night I grieve anew. Each night Robert pulls me away, swearing, saying "fuck that, you're hurting yourself, just like you do when you use a razor blade except it's in your head."
Last night we argued over it. "You don't understand!" I screamed. "You've never been raped, you've never had a family like I did!" And last night he got drunk, some very interesting interaction/continued argument followed, and he ended up frolicking naked in the kitchen while eating huge hunks of pork, trying to make me smile.
There are new families, even new cultures. It's a process to look forward, but little by little I'm putting my head in the right direction.
