Talked to Bailey's dad

When I was a little kid, my family did the whole religious thing, too.
Church every Sunday. And Sunday night. Bible study on different nights of the week.

I believed there was evil lurking around every corner. Like my family, I hated anyone who was different. I knew that brown people and gay people and people with long hair and tattoos and girls who dyed their hair weren't as good as we were. My friend Hollie babysat for a single mom who worked as a bartender. My parents didn't want me around her or her children. Our religion, the Christian religion of love and understanding, was really just words. They judged everyone and I enthusiastically joined in.

I knew the 'hate the sin, not the sinner' justification for being a religious asshole, too.

(Now I answer that stupid, stupid comment with, "Oh! Kind of how I try to hate the bigotry without hating the bigot!")

I was immersed in godliness.
Potlucks and evening services and sledding parties and 24 hour prayer vigils (we all signed up for a one hour time slot and went to the little prayer room of the church to ask god to help us be worthy of his love and be able to spread the good word). There were church work parties and the annual 'Pray in the New Year' which was as boring as it sounds.

All of it was, really.
Boring and, until I was 12 or so, scary.

I got told every week that I was a sinner and going to hell and needed to get right with God. Every week. I felt guilty. Like I always came up short.
I was even told that 'the lord' was disappointed in me.

I was afraid of the devil until I was 12. Then I started asking questions and being unsatisfied with the answers.

So.

I wrote about it back in 2011, but I was molested by the teenaged son of my babysitter.
It's certainly ancient history at this point and as far as I know, hasn't caused any issues in my current life.

But my parents never sent me back to that babysitter.
Instead, I was sent to my mom's old babysitter. The one who'd watched her as a child.

Mrs. Hill threatened me each time I misbehaved.
Not sure how badly a three or four year old child can misbehave, but whatever.

Mrs. Hill used to tell me that she was going to lock me in the closet in the dark and I could just wait for the devil to come and get me. She put me in the closet more than once.
I was terrified.

And that has caused me issues in my current life.

I no longer believe in a god or the devil or heaven or hell, but I'm still afraid of the dark.
Those childhood things stick with you.

I talked to Bailey's dad this afternoon. I can't address what I think of the fear they've put in their child. But I told him the facts. That she is utterly terrified to use the bathroom. That she doesn't wipe after going.

We talked about her very large imagination.

He thanked me for bringing it to his attention. I sincerely hope they're able to help her through her fears. It makes me sad and angry at the same time.

I know they mean well. That they're trying to raise their child in the way they believe.
I also hope she eventually escapes from religion.