Stories from Survivors
Your story is important. The world needs it.
These stories reveal the universal patterns of control and abuse that exist across diverse high-control environments. By sharing their experiences, survivors contribute to a growing body of knowledge that helps others understand the dynamics of undue influence and the mechanisms of manipulation.
To protect the privacy of those involved, identifying details have been removed. Use the search bar to find stories that resonate with your own journey by exploring key themes, emotions, or experiences.
Do you feel the call to hold abusive groups or persons accountable?
Jump to our whistleblower guide.
I have decided to write about my experience in a high demand spiritual community after hearing an inner circle member died recently, who most likely was encouraged to 'pay no attention to the body' which is a mantra there.
In 2008 a spiritual teacher of mine invited our group to go to see an awakened teacher who traveled around the world following the voice of the holy spirit via divine providence and lessons from a well-known spiritual text.
“They say you’ll die if we don’t stay late and do this timeline”
I open my eyes to look around to see the looks of shock on everyone’s faces only to find everyone, eyes closed, completely un-phased by what just came out of his mouth.
It was a typical practice for him to keep us past the 10pm end time of our weekly class, sometimes until nearly midnight every Tuesday. No one complained, because at level 9.2, which took 8 or more years to achieve, we had learned not to ever question, criticize or complain about anything a teacher at the school did, especially the leader.
“Peace and freedom are worth the loneliness.”
Religion runs incredibly deep in my family of origin. Christianity goes back at least 5 generations on both sides, and if you aren’t a Christian, then you don’t exist to anyone. In the 1990’s, I was born into this family, followed by my siblings a few years later. When I was about 2, we moved to another state. While there, my parents hired a babysitter for us when they both worked.
Who was I supposed to be? I still have no idea, really.
I thought my home was happy.
I thought love was just tricky and came with terms and conditions. Especially when it comes to family. They only want the best for you after all, right?
I thought her happiness was my priority.
I met a psychopathic life coach who ruined my life.
She used every possible psychological manipulation and brainwashing technique to make me her puppet.
It all began when I was 25 years old and left a toxic relationship. I had encountered several physical abuses, but nothing was as bad as the psychological pain I had to endure months later.
I remember my birth date, month and year. My brother came out with an appearance similar to that of my parents and extended family. I have double eyelids and skin that is slightly darker than most of my extended family, making me the black sheep. I had an attachment problem since my birth as I cried every time my loved ones left me and I cried during rainy days when I was young, but now the raindrops do not bother me. I was too young to find out, but I am still working on the reason.
I got out of a cult I didn’t know I was in.
It was my hometown and my place of origin–my ancestry. I lived for perfectionism and greatly achieved it…until I didn’t.
Imagine for a moment, if you could, being engulfed by an invisible sphere.
Now imagine that someone else sneakily got YOU to create that sphere and imprison yourself. A thought prison if you will. A beautiful and simple prison of the mind – no key required to lock yourself in. No need for anyone to check in on you to make sure you are still locked up, after all you are a great prison guard in your own sphere. Why would you need someone to check in on you?
I survived being dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night by two strangers, yanked down a flight of stairs by my feet, leaving rug burn on my chin, threatened with handcuffs: leaving the ‘hard way’ if I was not compliant or yelled bomb in the airport, I would be departing to a place I couldn’t know.
I was told that my parents had signed over custody and no longer wanted me, that things were going to be different now, that I was finally going to learn my place, before being transported across state lines. I was not allowed to change on my own, I’d never been nude in front of an adult and felt violated.
I realized my body wasn't mine anymore. I knew my mom was upstairs, had opened my door, signed me away. She was ok with what they were doing to me.
In 2012, I came with a friend to Sweden. I met a guy (in a pub), and fell in love with him. I was a little lost at this time in my life. I’d graduated from college, but couldn’t seem to settle down after a 7-year relationship ended in a very drastic way.
I noticed he drank quite a bit. I drank with him, because i have addiction problems (which i now know have to do with generational trauma).
At the beginning of the fall semester of junior high school in Berkeley California in 1962 I was entering the second half of the ninth grade. I was a “midterm” student, having begun kindergarten in January due to the overcrowding in public schools of baby boomer children after World War Two.
I was not a happy fourteen-year-old, but that is not uncommon for adolescents.
I got out of a trap.
In 2016, I was a target for a person who preyed upon those going through the muck of life without support and looking for like-minded people to help them up. At first, the predator was hiding; lurking in the shadows of the internet, using search tools to cast a wide net in hopes of catching those in crisis, those in limbo, those like me.
Seeing the phrase “survivors of high demand environments” was the first time I really felt seen in the cult conversation. I am emerging from ten years of intense work in a high demand personal transformation environment that tracks with some of the popular LGATs (Large Group Awareness Trainings.
If there's anything I've learnt over the last three crazy mind-blowing years, is that it's OK to get things wrong, and it's OK to change your mind.
On that last point, not only is it OK, but sometimes it's healthy, responsible, grown up, and entirely necessary. I've lost track of how many causes and issues I've changed my views on since the early half of 2020, the MLM I joined being one of them. In my experience, this process gets easier in some ways, and not in others.
If you said to me a few years ago that the essential oil company I was working with was cult-like, I would have probably just laughed it off, but now I see things differently.
I was born 6th and 7th generation in an American cult, cleverly disguised as a religion.
My ancestors on both of my parents’ sides go back to the beginning of the cult. I was born “under the covenant”, which means, my parents were married and “sealed” to each other for “time and all eternity” in one of the sacred (and secret) temples before I was born.
I got out of a company that slowly, over the course of ten years, ended up consuming my life, stealing the most precious years of motherhood under the guise of the complete opposite–time freedom.
Abusers thrive in environments where victims are kept silent. Shame and fear perpetuate this cycle. I’m going to share a story of my predatory relationship with a scam artist.
My story began when I was 21, in a vulnerable time in my life where my best friend told me about this psychic. I had a previous experience with a celebrity psychic whom I vetted and did extensive research on. This new psychic I did no research on, I only went off of my best friend’s trust. I was nervous going into my appointment, but I wanted to step outside of my comfort zone. After all this was only gonna be a one time thing, what’s the worst that could happen?
What matters the most to you in your life? What would your life be like if you had greater levels of self-confidence, self-expression or more love in your life? Imagine you have all of these things along with the time to focus on what matters to you. Picture your life with you being successful, breaking through your perceived constraints and limitations. Are you creating big things in your life, or do you want to see positive change in the world? Do you have goals to reach extraordinary levels of performance or just a niggling feeling that surely there is more to life? If this is you, welcome to the next step of your life.
Inspiring pitch? It is exactly the kind of language that seems to see inside a person’s thoughts, language that helps a person feel seen, understood and full of potential.
I got out…hmmm…not just yet…personal, financial, legal rocks keep me there still. There are many, many, many tangled parts of my life. But I’ve been able to breathe, I have had time to sleep, to eat, to laugh, to cook, walk the dogs, be silly with my husband and my kids.
I am getting out… It’s as if I’ve been underwater the last four years of my life. I met him when I was teaching High School English, just for fun. I really got those classes because I loved the campus where I was teaching.
I GOT OUT……
it was around Easter 2022, a string of seemingly small events that had me unable to ignore the feeling in my gut that this was not going to end well. I hadn’t consciously planned on leaving, there were significant moments that led me closer to that exit doorway.
Pain.
Shooting pain.
I feel the conduit tearing at my skin over and over again. Determined to never give him the satisfaction of winning, I tense my body and focus on counting. “40, 41, 42…” Knowing the amount I was to receive was my saving grace. So, I counted.
“I’ll cut you up into little pieces before the police can get here.”
My husband had a knife and was chasing me and our three children across the street to the neighbor who had agreed to receive us. Few could believe that a minister would behave this way.
I was raised Catholic and knew early that that system did not honor my relationship with Christ.
“2019 is going to be my year!”
I exclaimed from my VIP seat, high above the others. I felt a surge run through my body. I felt special.
I felt special because this year, I was selected. This was a complimentary ticket because a top mentor saw how hard I was working to succeed. Even though I was scared, I felt seen. My upline said the hotel, flight and food were business expenses, so when I worried out loud about the sacrifices I would be making to attend, she reminded me of this several times. I felt reassured.
I said yes...
I subscribed to the promises of a guru who said she’d teach me groundbreaking science and support me in building my business as a body language trainer – a business that, in the first few months, would generate well over the $5,000 I invested (by taking out a personal loan.)
I agreed to be part of an elite group of like-minded people, to a small and chosen inner circle of badasses, when I had almost no positive friends and influences in my life, and felt like a nobody.
I said yes to efficient marketing tactics…to empty promises and lies.
I got out of a Christian church/cult after having lived there for 40 years. They look good on the outside and the public message is all about love and forgiveness and living the Christian life fully in our daily lives, and what joy and freedom comes from that.
It is also about receiving correction from everyone around you, confessing your sins constantly, and being absolutely obedient without question. Behind the scenes no holds are barred and humiliation, shame, browbeating, and isolation are all used.
𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: This story by Kara AB Brown speaks graphically of sexual abuse, rape, sex trafficking, trauma, and disassociation. PLEASE take care of yourself while reading this story.
One night, Douche took me dancing with some of his mall security work friends. I had the weekend off from my hostess job and, though I would have preferred staying in and watching TV or reading a book, I went out with them.
𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Let me tell you about how abusive this place I was at is...
I was there since 2012 to 2018 and it was very abusive and it still scars me until this day.
It’s peculiar how life can take a drastic turn when least expected. On a day that seemed not unlike any other day, my life changed in one short encounter with my next-door neighbor whom I’d never met.
It happened late one afternoon when we were both at our mailboxes in front of our homes. We engaged in small talk, but then I felt her eyes on me. Studying me.
I was groomed from birth forward to be completely obedient.
Far beyond the stereotypical and societal expectations for girls and women of my generation. I was a docile, quiet, intelligent child. Loving and eager to please, as children tend to be.
My mother was a predator and she preyed upon my siblings and me relentlessly. She was a sadist and exhibited no conscience, and never the slightest remorse. She had privilege and luxury, and she told us on a daily basis that we were her literal slaves. Her mantra was delivered to us, at least hourly, and it was, "Run, animal, run".
Likewise, when you have done all the things assigned to you, say:
‘We are good-for-nothing slaves. What we have done is what we ought to have done.’ — Luke 17:10
The papers in my hand were still warm from the printer. Standing alone in my bedroom, I read the testimony of a principal leader of the religion I was born into to the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Abuse in Australia.