How I Reclaim My Voice
by Amy Hartman
Welcome! I invite you to join me on a trip down memory lane – to a life and a world that used to exist for me. I hope to provide insight and hope and healing for you as I speak through the pain of my past.
Have you ever come to the realization that everything you thought about your life or a relationship or a friend (or possibly many things) was a lie? I still remember sitting in the church pew in my coral and brown dress, once again being scolded…yelled at…chastised…from the (bully) pulpit. I had recently turned 40 years old and had dedicated essentially every waking moment to that tiny but powerful institution.
I was tired…tired of feeling empty…tired of fighting…tired of crying. At this particular moment, I thought to myself, either I have significant unresolved issues in my life or whatever is happening here is really wrong…really bad. The room began spinning, and looking back, I realized I dissociated in an effort to survive the overwhelming crisis in my soul…a coping tactic I had utilized my entire life. I somehow had the presence of mind to realize that I had repented of every sin I had or had not committed. (We were taught repentance is a gift, so we were expected to constantly repent.) The next moment was my “oh s—” moment when I realized I really was in the middle of something bad. Something really, really toxic. Have you ever found yourself in a state of utter fear and hopelessness like this?
I started attending that church at the age of 6. At that age, one’s level of autonomy is quite limited. What I do remember is that something radically changed in my life at that young age.
There was an innocence, a freedom, and frankly, fun that evaded my life when we started attending that church. I realize now that I lost my individual voice at such a young age.
For as long as I could remember, I thought a constant rapidly beating heart was a typical occurrence. I believed it to be a sign I was being convicted or changing in some way. I thought my salvation was guaranteed when I felt chills move throughout my body in a church service.
And I was led to believe that every thought, action, and decision needed to be approved by the pastor himself. This became especially true when he told me at age 14 that he was going to be the father I didn’t have because my real father just couldn’t understand my emotional needs.
With every passing year of my life in that place, I slowly lost my precious voice – my ability to speak up or for myself in any way. Have you ever felt at a loss for words of any kind?
I had the ability to express myself in the form of dance or song or instrument because the pastor liked it. He would always wink at me and mouth things to me that no pastor should ever say to a little girl. I was allowed to participate in many activities – as long as they were connected to the church and prioritized over family events. I could even share what they called testimonies – accounts of God’s work in our lives – at church services. But what I did not realize is that as a woman, and as an easy target, and as an innocent sheep, I really had no voice. Women were overtly and covertly blamed for everything, so I knew I did not stand a chance at anyone taking me too seriously.
I could spend countless hours sitting with you as we put together all the puzzle pieces of my ill- fitting past. But my present life is becoming a story of redemption, because one moment at a time, I am taking steps to reclaim my voice.
How could I possibly reclaim something that is technically mine but was stolen for so many years? It feels so unfair and upsetting. Ultimately, we are not promised fairness in this life, but let me share some ways I am working to muster up my voice…
I look for ways to practice leadership.
When I left the church, I had to create an entire new life, and this was terrifying at first. Leading outside of the church was not something I ever really learned to do, because I was expected to follow the “shepherd” and his minions. Now I realize I CAN be a leader. I found an opportunity to join outreach efforts in my city. I help in their food pantry. I mentor students, and I serve on committees in my professional organization. People look to me for advice, direction, and advocacy, and it feels so good knowing I can impact others’ lives in a way I had no confidence or capacity to do for so many years.
I look for opportunities to practice autonomy.
I find daily joy in looking for ways to make simple decisions all on my own…decisions that many people would take for granted. What will I do with my evening? What do I want to do with my hair? What can I say “no” to or turn down? Do I want to subscribe to any particular belief? Just thinking about having the freedom to go and do and choose and decide puts a smile on my face most days. I had no idea just how much of a prisoner to others’ voices I was until I broke away.
I take pride in setting boundaries.
I now know I am allowed to say “no.” I do not have to be everyone’s friend. If someone makes me uncomfortable, I can walk away. Others’ problems do not have to be mine. I can rearrange my schedule to accommodate, but I also do not have to. Most of all, I can actually choose the direction I want my life to go.
I know I still have so far to travel, but I acknowledge that life after trauma is one baby step at a time for us all.
And I now know that nothing is wasted…especially…my voice.
About the Guest Author:
Amy Hartman is a survivor of over three decades of spiritual abuse and over two decades of clergy abuse. Having walked out of a high-control religious system disguised as a church, she has a passion for telling her story in order to connect with and inspire others to find their own way. She serves her community in her volunteer work and in her occupation as an Ombuds. She practices the tenets of transformative mediation in an effort to help parties find and use their voices – something she was not free to do for so long.
Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in guest blog posts are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the positions of the Religious Trauma Network. We recognize that each person’s healing journey is unique, personal, and courageous. The stories shared here belong solely to the contributors, and their experiences, perspectives, and advice may not apply to everyone. We encourage readers to honor their own paths and seek professional support as needed.