Yes, that girl is me, wearing my Sunday best. I was very different then from the woman I am now, and not just in the ordinary ‘I grew up’ sort of way. I’ve crossed mountains to get here, suffered the darkest of childhoods (don’t let smiles fool you), and almost lost my life countless times in the chaos that followed, and yet somehow, I made it to safety. Here I am, in a simple quiet life with my spouse and young son, spending many valued moments close to the ocean waves.
I’m a stay-at-home mom, a memoirist, and well - a blogger. I was hoping to get back into the film industry, one job above all others that I loved, but Covid struck right when this mama was ready. Poor timing, go figure. The beauty of it all is that I’ve instead become laser-focused on what I believe is part of my life’s purpose - to share a story that’s origins go back three decades. My story,The Girl Who Lived To Tell. 
I was born into Branhamism. Have you heard of it? No, probably not, unless introduced and brainwashe…

Confusing Emotions After Assault Pt 2

Finally. It’s not a newborn photo but it’s close to what I wanted: a clear image of me to connect with my inner child, as if it were my child, to treasure and to hold onto when I can’t love myself. My aunt sent this to me a few days ago and I bawled.
Today my spouse dropped my son off at his Grandma’s and I have our space to myself. Wildfire smoke blankets the trees and roadside. Tiny, toxic particles seep indoors. This year has been one shocking setback after the other, and the past week has had the most stressful days in 2020. I’m asthmatic and can have intense claustrophobia at times. I imagined quarantine would drive me bonkers but I can’t even open a window and breathe fresh air!
Before the smoke blew in, my family and I enjoyed a gorgeous day, hiking. I felt happy. And, as I write this, I'm okay again. What can I say, I'm used to the rollercoaster! The air purifier that came in the mail has been a lifesaver and the quietness helps me gather my thoughts. I’ve summoned the s…

Confusing Emotions After Assault Pt 1

Warning: Please do not read further if sexual trauma is too much of a trigger. I understand. 
It is not my intention to poke at old wounds, or prompt anxiety and nightmares. I myself have needed a few breaks from writing this as it really messes up my head. 
These words - my small voice - I’ll share primarily for those who believe. You, the strong-willed survivors, ready to discuss, support, spread awareness and address puzzle pieces which are misunderstood. You comprehend that all sex assault cases don't appear in cookie cutter form, recognizable at once. Perhaps your own was unbelievable. It's for the empaths and activists, here with an open heart and mind. For me, unravelling the pain and confusion publicly for the first time. Off my shoulders, and into the big wide world. 
This is not revenge, nor The Dirty. I’m very against online bullying. 
My abusers won’t lose jobs prospects, their family/friendships, have their facial identity revealed or be outwardly affected. Their guil…

Surviving Through Art (And A Little Humour)

I want to discuss my sister, briefly, in the safest way I can. The majority of ex-Message Believers I’ve connected with know her more than they know me, because I was gone at 16. So you - if that's you - you'll know who I'm referring to. You’ll agree she is the kindest, gentlest soul.
My heart aches as I realize all she's been through. I wish I could save her but when I try to show her the newspaper articles or the history archives revealing the facts on Branhamism, she tells me “Becky, it makes me happy,” with the saddest eyes. While reading Charity Rissler’s recent memoir and how she managed the confusion of  her Message childhood through art, I'm reminded of Josephine. Her talents always fascinate me. I believe that although she never escaped the cult, she's past the worst times of her life and has gained some independence. So here’s an artistic visual into her past. Our past, despite each of our quirks and different paths. We shared the same family, the same…

Racist, Violent And Sexist Quotes by Doomsday Prophet, William Branham

Hybreeding, hybreeding, oh, how terrible, hybreeding. ...What white woman would want her baby to be a mulatto by a colored man? -1960, Nov 13. Condemnation By Representation.
The earth, itself, is a womb. Where did God place His seeds? Where is seeds put? In a womb. God put seeds. And what does man do? Like devils, in a womb, he'll make a child deformed if he can. That's what devils has done on the earth, hybreeding, making creatures, is not so. I'd better leave off of that; I'll never get to the rest of this here, I got wrote down. You know what I mean. That's the reason there's a deformed creation about to be cast. God is finished with it. The world is all out of order. Everything is wrong. The streams are polluted. The air is polluted. Filth! Stink! - 1962, Apr 1. Wisdom Versus Faith
What are we doing when nations are breaking, the sea roaring, man's heart failing for fear, perplexed of time, all these things, the handwriting on the wall, racial disi…

The Books That Shaped Me

We were never short of literature. Borrowed, inherited, or bought, they substituted modern entertainment. Rules varied. Mom hated A Wrinkle in Time and The Hobbit; though allowed at times, Little Women or Anne of Green Gables she begrudgingly called Women’s Lib, Feminism. Harry Potter was way off the wish list. The Chronicles Of Narnia were not only encouraged, my father interpreted Biblical types and shadows throughout the classic fantasy novels and used this to his advantage when gaining followers for his own movement within The Message. The Lion was God, and The Witch was The Devil. Dearest C.S. Lewis knew that getting children to read religious books might be impossible, so he retold Christianity in fantasy form. So he’d say. Yet, I was pleased he found them so and in these books, I escaped reality. The magical Wardrobe led way to a forest similar to the one I explored; except in drab real-life there were no Fauns or talking animals, just the bubbling creek, the twittering birds a…