I got out, got back in and finally got out again...

When I was 18 years old, living with my then-boyfriend in Washington, DC, we were on a spiritual search. He dragged me to a variety of high demand groups before settling on the one he thought was the “highest.”  We moved into their ashram, but he was kidnapped and deprogrammed by one of several deprogramming companies that were popular in the 1970s and 80s, and I was stuck with nowhere to go.

I stayed for 10 years.

They promptly arranged a marriage for me. Hardly any women joined so there were very few for men to marry. I tried to say no to the arrangement, but I was told that it was best for my spiritual life to “surrender” to whatever arrangements were made by the leader. No one told me that my future husband had a history of stealing cars and money to feed his sex addiction. He repeatedly raped me, once when we were trapped in a motel during a snowstorm when the leaders sent us out to sell merchandise to make money for the group. (We gave 100% of our earnings to them.) One of the ways our group kept us infantilized was that we had to ask permission for almost everything, such as having a baby, for example. They didn’t allow any sex except between married heterosexual couples and even then, only when trying to get pregnant. Before sex, married couples each had to chant certain mantras for about 8 hours, in order to attract a “great soul.”

I had two children during that arranged marriage. Most parents had to send their children away to one of the group’s schools in various parts of the world at the age of 5. Fortunately, there was a school for children of the group in our town. My son lived there for all of first grade. We lived nearby and could see him at services, and we could have him home on Sundays. When I realized my son was ashamed of himself and how he looked (obviously identifiable as someone in a high demand group such as ours), I immediately took him out of the school and put him in public school, where he did well and made lots of friends, though to this day his best friends are all of the boys he grew up with in the group. They are like family.

When my son was 7 and my daughter 3, I separated both from the group and my then-husband. Leaving was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. And I had to do it twice.

I can remember the exact moment I began identifying with the group and the exact moment that I left. Back as a teenager in DC, I was so distraught about my then-boyfriend becoming involved with the group that we fought about it constantly. I was dead set against giving up everything and moving into their community. I was horrified at the thought. He tried bringing me to services but that only made things worse. Finally, when I was getting ready to take a train back home to visit my family, he stuffed one of the group’s magazines into my backpack. On the train, I pulled it out and proceeded to read it cover to cover. By the time I got to my destination, I was absolutely convinced that this was the highest and oldest religion and that I should surrender everything and join them full-time. It was like a switch was flipped, and I was ready to join!

The main thing that seduced me was that there was an answer for EVERYTHING. I was very vulnerable at the time, as are a lot of people are who join high demand groups. I was a confused teenager on the cusp of adult life with no support, and not a clue how to live my life. I had dropped out of college (at the boyfriend’s suggestion) and I wanted a spiritual life, a life of meaning where I could serve God 24 hours a day. This group seemed cool and ancient and on a mission.

The group I joined already had a reputation for being a dangerous cult, but I wasn’t aware of that. Sadly, Jim Jones had convinced his followers to commit suicide not that long before I joined my group. And Life magazine did a full exposé of the group I was going to join. Relatives and friends were concerned, including my father, who called me at 6:00am one morning when he saw on the front page of the New York Times that our group was caught stockpiling weapons at one of its centers. I called one of the members of the group and they explained that that incident occurred across the country, and it didn’t mean the whole group was bad. I went like a lamb, accepting everything I was told. I turned over my autonomy completely when I joined the group. They even had an aphorism that the founder had apparently said: if you begin a sentence with “I think” then you should go in the closet!

I relished rising early and going to morning services, which lasted about 5 hours every day. I learned discipline and how to clean and cook—and sell almost anything to make money for the group. I was an artist, but was only allowed to draw things related to their philosophy and their idea of God, so I gave up art, which was a big deal. My whole life was art and music before I came in contact with them. I became convinced that if I followed their practices, I would advance spiritually, with the ultimate goal of going back to our “spiritual home” after death. I can remember thinking to myself that if I can just keep going, which meant staying with an abusive husband, working 8 to 10 hours a day for the group (with no pay) and raising my children within the movement, I would be dead soon enough. I was 29 years old.

God was always out of reach. Our ideals were all in the service of something to achieve far off in the future, and you never could do enough or be good enough. Every day was packed with practices and the expectation that you were to say particular prayers for hours without fail as well as serving the group and its leaders. I actually liked the practices at first, but they became a burden as time went on. I was constantly sick and had terrible eczema from the stress. We were not allowed to read any literature other than what the founder or his followers had written. We were discouraged from contacting our families or former friends. We did not hold jobs outside the group and were expected to work to support the group without fail every day. We had one day off a week in which to do our laundry and take care of household duties. We lived and ate communally, with a restricted diet and a head full of the founder’s teachings that I have found almost impossible to get completely free from.

When we saw our teachers, or other members of the group with special status, we were to bow down to them immediately, putting our heads on the ground and saying a prayer. We were taught of the extreme danger to our spiritual life if we were to offend anyone else in the group, particularly the leaders. Though I had friends in the group, we never honestly discussed our experiences. If you had doubts you had to keep them to yourself, and even from yourself. We were expected to follow a stringent set of rules and regulations, apparently for our “spiritual benefit.” If you couldn’t follow them, you would keep it to yourself and suffer the guilt in silence. These rules included no meat-eating, no intoxication (including coffee and chocolate), no illicit sex and no gambling.

My then-husband stole money from the group and rented us an apartment. It was such a relief to have running water! Our own kitchen! My eczema began healing immediately. When my daughter was almost 2, I decided to become more financially independent and got a job. After work one day, I went to an event where my teacher was going to be speaking. Listening to him, I suddenly realized that I was not the least bit interested in his sermon. I went home and put away anything having to do with the practices of the group, but that was only the beginning of leaving. I literally had a “dark night of the soul” and was terrified of leaving the group. In my mind, I had to be willing to give up any connection to God. I was so scared. I have never felt so alone. I didn’t know where I was going; it felt like I had to be willing to step into a dark abyss. I desperately needed my “self” back.

I didn’t know where to turn and had no money. I went to a local mental health clinic, and told the therapist that I really needed to talk to a priest or a nun because my issues were spiritual in nature. She leaned in close and said to me, “I don’t usually tell anyone this, but I’m a nun.” I felt like this was a blessing, a confirmation that I could move forward and get help. I met a few people who had left the movement and we helped each other with the huge transition of creating a new life. I don’t think you can leave one of these groups without support. Having online help, therapy or a friend to talk to helps immensely. Part of the task of leaving an insular group is finding connection with other people, as difficult as that can be.

After leaving the cult, I married a musician who encouraged me to get back into the vocal and piano music from my youth. I had a really hard time at first because of the constant nagging feeling that my music was too secular, too meaningless. I still had the guilt and shame from my cult days because I still believed in their philosophy to a degree. I thought it was ancient wisdom and had validity. It still had power over me.

About 12 years later, my friends and I were introduced to a “swami” and became involved in his group, an offshoot of the original cult. I dove right back in, with demanding spiritual practices and a brand new guru to “worship.” My music became infused with his influence, even co-writing two songs on my second album. I became lead singer of a psychedelic, world music band, and they wanted me to draw on the mantras of my prior spiritual involvement. Only then did I feel like my music had any meaning.

I traveled 300 miles to visit this second guru, but I was somehow able to see through him. He was a master manipulator who changed his message depending on whom he addressed. I realized I had no taste for evangelism. I was able to extricate myself from that group, but it wasn’t until about 9 years later (after a total of 36 years with the cult philosophy weighing on me) that I was able to finally see through the whole thing. I was devastated and cried for days, but I was also elated and motivated to learn and grow and experiment with new art and music. I was ready to life my actual life.

~ Joanne