One thing I feel like no one understands is how anxiety inducing it is to get an email from an abuser who wants to reconnect with you. You know that feeling when you've been under the water too long, and you're not sure you can make it to the surface? It feels like that.

As you may know, a few weeks ago, I was getting very excited about a presbytery Zoom meeting. Local pastors had discovered the ID of a past abuser, and armed with new testimony from his daughters, called law enforcement and scheduled a church meeting.

I was so happy I cried.

Then stressful things began to happen. Some people thought we shouldn't have the Zoom meeting. Some feared an abuser could retaliate. Some pastors and elders called me and the abuser's daughters liars and slanderers. I was getting limited communication and it was all confusing.

Then the abuser messaged me.

Someone had told him I was involved in the meeting plans, and that I'd written about him. Someone had betrayed me.

Suddenly, the meeting became more important than ever. I needed to talk. I needed to feel supported. I needed to see people's faces.

I still hadn't received any invitation to the Zoom meeting, so I emailed a pastor friend. He said the meeting had been canceled. I was stunned.

I have since learned, they're scheduling another one. But I can't describe to you the panic and fear this instilled.

I'd written about this abuser anonymously. He didn't bother me. I didn't bothered him. I agreed to team up with pastors to get justice if possible, and discuss protecting kids against abusers.

Now my cover was blown.

The abuser knew I'd talked.

And the meeting was canceled.

And this, my friends, is how you create the perfect storm in which Jennifer writes a panicked open letter and names all the names.

So, Gary, if you're reading this (which, you are), if you had left me alone, know that I'd probably never have named you publicly. Or at least, not until you were already in jail or something.

Because, I didn't know who I could trust. I didn't know who had told him I was involved. I didn't know who had canned the meeting or why. I didn't know if anyone was doing anything. And now this weirdo knows I'm ratting him out (and, by the way, he's still sending me messages).

I got this bizarre email the other day from someone using the handle "Phatt Cow," claiming to be the "family member" of the abuser, and claiming that my "crusade" is giving them "a nervous breakdown."

Nervous breakdown? No kidding! I'm getting called a liar, a slander, I'm hearing from a creepy old man I never wanted to think about again, pastors I don't know are asking me personal questions, my eyelids won't stop twitching, and I'm sleeping around 3 hours a night.

Oh, but I traced the IP address of the message so I know where the sender lives.

Tomorrow, I will be (happily and of my own choice) be issuing a public apology to innocent and/or repentant people I hurt when I wrote my open letter.

However, I will not apologize for naming Gary, for being afraid, or for being panicked and distrustful. I still am.

The primary purpose of the open letter was genuinely and sincerely to grab the OPC's attention and get people talking about abuse in the church.

Mission accomplished

But there were secondary reasons too.

If any of my abusers decided to show up at my door or harm me in any way, I wanted everyone to know who they are and why they'd want me to shut up. The police would have a short list of suspects and all y'all could give it to them.

Also, I had a desperate need to feel heard. We're all stuck home, isolated. I've got all this anxiety-inducing, confusing, weird stuff going on, and occasional phone conversations with dear pastors who sound calm and unperturbed. I needed prayer warriors and weeping buddies.

Anyway, so that's what happened.

I am going to attempt to sleep.

Look for my article in the afternoon