Irish Potato, Goodbye!

Decades of critical and negative self talk, influenced by “the cult,” led me to believe there was something fundamentally wrong with me. For decades, I was often told that I was too showy, too flighty, too exuberant, too dramatic, too assertive, too free, too much, too much, too much.

Serious, reverent, quiet, humble…those were the words admired within the high control group I was raised in. For a few years, these were the words I aspired to be. I put 100 percent into this kind of being. I kept my clothes simple, no makeup, no jewelry, quiet, serious, serious. SERIOUS.

But as you can imagine, when you’re not being true to yourself, you experience a nagging feeling of something being off. Not long into this solemn version of myself, I started to tip toe into a double life.

Within the sect I was raised in, women were looked down upon for working outside of the home. So with conformity, I listened to the women ministers and became a QUIET little homemaker. Living a quiet simple life at home was the goal.

But it was the cakes. The darn cakes. They were my downfall.

I began making dramatic cakes and attention seeking gourmet meals for the kids. Unadmittedly, I experienced profound happiness in expressing myself through the cakes I made. It was an acceptable way to be creative and tap into self expression. “SO UNFORTUNATE!” I say that with deepest sarcasm-baking extravagant cakes was the gate way to me becoming… myself.

I believe my expression through the cakes and fancy foods led me to break cult rules that held me down in so many ways, specially, creatively. I stopped wearing my hair in buns and slowly began revealing my inner fun through “rule breaking” outfits and makeup. Guys, I’m just talking about a little mascara here and there and skinny jeans. 😂

The baking inevitably led me to showoff my cakes on Facebook. And let me tell you, the gossip of my spiritual demise ensued.

First of all, being on social media was a HUGE no no. It was repeatedly preached to “stay off the Facebook and just keep reading the Good book.”

However, when the gospel gossipers soon found out that they could be nosy about other peoples’ lives, and then report back to the ministers of our misdeeds…then… then…it was ok. They were doing the right thing about us who were doing the wrong things.

My cake endeavors seemed acceptable within the community at first. A few postings were ok. I gained some compliments and companionships. But it didn’t take long for everyone to feel that I was just TOO MUCH! After a picture of a cake inspired from a movie proved I was watching the forbidden TV and the photo of me in pants and HIGHLIGHTED hair- I became an outright outcast. I was red flagged as “too much” and the separation from the group became intense.

You see, the social control tactic of the group is a specific kind of artful bullying. It’s just a woman’s whisper. If you’re not familiar with cults, this is typical within many high control groups.

Soft Voices.

The soft spoken voices from older respected women would tell any women not following the “unspoken-but-very- known” rules, that if God is truly speaking to you, then you wouldn’t be doing the things you’re doing.

The “soft whisper voice”, or “sweet talk” is the essence of a true cult woman. It makes everything they say, seem sweet, humble, and true. Almost every woman within the cult speaks in the same tone, uses the same mannerisms, and employs the same jargon. They call it, “being led by the spirit.” They don’t realize it’s just a mimicking of one another to fit in. It is actually quite fascinating when you pick up on it. Specially, when your natural voice sounds like a bull frog among these little cherubim.

I got my fair share of sweet talking tos. And they ate at me.

Some of the younger women would spy around and play both sides to see who the “good ones” were. They’d make their way around the circles and innocently and sweetly share how they did not think it was a big deal to wear hair down or wear pants…acting like they are your ally…all to throw you under the bus to save themselves socially.

IF you ever confronted theses sweet talkers or spoke up to their passive aggressiveness, they would inevitably fall down like shattered women: tears rolling down their faces while taking on full victim mentality. EVERYONE would know about the conflict you started, and spread what a hard bitter heart you had. Ministers would reach out to explain how you furthered your standing away from God-because HOW dare you offend a soft childlike respected woman.

If you didn’t heed the social norms of the women groups after the soft talks, then you were just ignored. And this worked really well for most women.

Having outside friends was not only discouraged but just hard for many women because they usually looked like freaks from all the weird indoctrination rules. Think, Amish woman without the bonnet aesthetic. And so, for most women they did what it took to have a place at the table. Self sacrificing and becoming what I call, an Irish Potato. Do not have flavor, do not stand out. Be plain. Talk like a child, act naive, be serious.

I found myself alone and lonely within this group for years. Loneliness, is not natural, nor is it good for you. It makes you question yourself. And, I found myself wondering WHY can’t I be like these “good” women? WHY don’t I have ANY desire to be like them. Is there something wrong with me?

Nevertheless, I was not an Irish Potato and I couldn’t pretend to be.

The years went by and I arrived at the decision to only attend the mandatory church portion of the community. I purposefully did not include myself in any “extracurricular” gatherings because it would make me feel unwelcome and wildly awkward if I did attend. Not that I was ever truly invited to any event anyways.

I started to break another rule that I believe completely saved my spirit. I began to seek friends out of the church. Sometimes the minsters would stay at our house and they’d see my wordly friends and I’d get the big disappointed “sweet talk” and asked if I had considered saving my friends’ souls by bringing them into the “fold.” To be honest, I had some guilt about it at the time. However, I never could quite reason why those within the cult disliked me so much and my worldly friends loved me like friends should. It just didn’t make sense.

I began to enjoy pissing the women off in the church when I could! I watched them look like they swallowed turds when I happily announced I worked outside of the home just because I LOVE to. No other reason. I just wanted to. I watched them STARE at my hands when I painted finger nails with bright colors. I watched them GASP when I wore pants to bible study. I just watched them dislike me more and more for just being me.

The only reason I stayed at this time was because my entire family was in it. I didn’t want to be the one to break up the family dynamic.

Then a HUGE scandal hit the church.

Sexual abuse was exposed in all parts of the church and all over the world. To be clear, this isn’t the Catholic church, but the scandal is similar. Ministers and elders knew of abuse and just moved the abusers to other location allowing the continuing of the abuse. Women and poor little CHILDREN were abused in all kinds of ways for years and years.

And that is all it took for me to be done.

I had no emotional attachments to the people, or “the friends” …as they hilariously call themselves. I could see the crimes as the crimes that they were.

As there is with any cult, exclusivity is one of the most effective tools used to create a fearful people. NO MATTER WHAT, abuse or not, you can’t leave THIS WAY. THIS WAY is the only way to live and if you leave you will go to hell. They preached-m over and over -we are so special to have a revelation like no one else. This tactic worked for many. And even tho they could see the crimes… they were tied to the fear and the only community they ever knew. They could not leave.

Thankfully! Thankfully! I had a real community to count on as I stepped away.

I was one of the first to leave the cult in our area. I did not struggle with my choice. But. I was so ANGRY. These plain Irish Potatoes were abusing others while judging MEEEEE? I wasn’t good enough because I had a little creativity and fun in me?

Some women that left after me, called me to apologize for the judgements they had cast over the years. These apologies validated the years of hypocrisies and tactics of passive aggressiveness I had endured. The biggest surprise to me, was the many women who said they actually admired my bravery to be different and to be myself despite the social outcasting. Those same women said they wished they could have done the same.

I can not express the anger I felt. I was just SOOO angry that I allowed myself to think for one second that there was something WRONG with ME. That I allowed their soft voices to speak so loudly in my head.

Many many many therapy sessions later… and many many many books and podcasts later…I realize the extent of religious trauma, cult tactics, and the deconstruction process that follows. Anger is normal! Anger is justified.

Leaving, at first, left me feeling like, WHO AM I?

However, on the other end of it, its reassuring to know… I knew who I was the entire time of being in that cult. I just didn’t listen. BUT NOW, I listen and NOW I live out who I am.

What I am most thankful for, is having real friendships. Friendships that encouraged me to be who I am. Friends that sought me out because of my fun side!

I mean statistics show- having friendships is what keeps us ALIVE longer! The fact that I had REAL friends to listen to my anger, let me cry, distract me, and encourage me to be who I really am was truly life saving for me. I cannot imagine how I would have done that alone.

As I reflect on friendships and my experience of cult life, my friends feel like family to me now. They are not just people to hang out with every once in a while. They are people that take care of one another. There is a different care and intention that I want to truly lean into.

I don’t want to live another day with the burden of the Irish Potato Syndrome. I don’t want Irish Potato friendships. I don’t want an Irish Potato life.

For me, that means all kinds of things. Living life with lots of sparkle and spice.

Book the trip. Laugh more. Reserve the table at the newest restaurants. Posts all I want. Go back to school. SPEND TIME WITH FRIENDS. Write the book. Get the tattoo. Wear the fancy shoes. LOVE on your family. Sing loudly. Quit your job. Meet new people. Do the things I say I want to do.

And so, I got to work on it.

After I left the cult, I jumped right into forming more GENIUNE friendships. I had some making up to do. I cleaned up house. I detached from everyone that made me feel used, uncomfortable, or forced. Then, I went on bumblebff and described myself as I am.

“Love travel, adventure, and food. Enneagram 7. Spunky. Awkward and Fun. Want to experience and connect on a deeper level. Always up for coffee concerts and cocktails.”

I ended up meeting these two gorgeous souls.

Over a year of getting to know these women over whiskey, I learned we truly have common goals of living life to the fullest and sparking each others lights. So I tested it out…I invited them to join me in Costa Rica. And they totally showed up. 110 percent.

That is all a girl can ask for. Friends that show up and let you show up as you are too. What an amazing trip we had. I left feeling refreshed, grounded, and so so smiley!