Hundred year old beams and their integrity inspire me. As a kid, I remember standing in an abandoned barn near our house and sneezing. Old hay hung from trapeze-like cobwebs. It was cavernous and I was small and from the back corner, my brother was shouting for help. Eric, our large German Shepherd was bleeding. Badly.

The tide of Idealism. 

I think it’s safe to say that most survivors of cultic abuse possess an inherent and sometimes exaggerated sense of idealism. It can be a beautiful thing and it can get us into trouble. I’ve noticed that most of us survivors are willing to do more than our fair share for a good cause. This is certainly the case for me. Thinking I needed to facilitate a public event, (instead of a private dance party) is just one example of my overzealous idealism being in the driver's seat. Devoting countless hours to a mission-driven project is another. This makes me wonder:

When Idealism is at the wheel, who is really driving?

I want to dance! But I didn’t know ... til I finally got out of the box I put myself in.

Last week was ‘one of those weeks’.

I’m guessing you know what I mean. We’ve all had them, right?