Leaving Paradise...

I Got Out

I got out of a highly controlled spiritualistic cult. I was born into this group and was taught that it was absolute truth. I lived and embodied the teachings as best I could.

The leader of the group, “Sri,” was a self-proclaimed channel and identified herself as a direct conduit for God himself. I was taught that the being speaking through her was “the same that spoke to Moses.” In other words, we were speaking directly to the god of the Old Testament. We were chosen. We were the Children of Light.

This entity, who we referred to as “Master,” informed us that the end days of the world were upon us. We were told to prepare by gathering food, supplies, and weapons. The end of the world was seen as an inevitability. We were likened to Noah, building the arc while the land was dry. We were told there would be a sign for all to see. The future seemed grim and apocalyptic; picturing a life outside the protected shelter of the group seemed futile.

Over the years the group changed and morphed. Where we would once gather a few times a week, we now shifted to a full-time dynamic. At 11 I was moved to “The New Home,” that had been foretold by Master. This move took us from Texas to Montana where we then lived in a communal setting with all members of the group (roughly 20 people) shared a 4 bedroom 3 bathroom house.

I was moved from sharing a room with 4 other members of my family; to a mattress on the floor of Sri’s closet; and eventually to a camping mat inside her bathtub. Other members slept in shared rooms, tents, and campers.

This cult made up everything I thought was good and right in the world. It was family. I couldn’t imagine a life on the outside. Why would I ever leave a direct connection with God (“Master”), everyone I loved, and all the protection it offered?

The facade of the utopia began to slip. Little cracks at first. Comments not matching the teachings. Teachings that countered reality. Blame placed onto the sick and dying for their illnesses. Hours of verbal abuse on individuals who in some way slighted the leader. The mask was crumbling, but I still refused to see it. My general sense of misery and daily panic attacks; my body’s desperate attempt to set off the alarms in my brain. I thought of myself as broken and crazy.

Time went on, and days turned to years. At 12 I was sexually assaulted and stalked. I was objectified and used. The protection I’d always been told would be there disappeared. I was in mental free fall and found myself wanting to commit suicide.

My feelings were seen as something dangerous to control. I was told my anger was killing the leader. I was told my unresolved conflicts with my assailant were worsening the cancer of one of the members. I was told to stop speaking about the stalking and abuse. My attempts to speak out grew quieter; I learned that the fail-safe was gone. I was surrounded by “family” and somehow was still abandoned. No one was going to save me. From 11 -18 years old I was surrounded by people who watched the abuse and said nothing. I was alone.

I was told I lived in heaven; but my reality was a living hell. I was told my job was to bring joy, to serve. I was silenced and dismissed for years. I lived in terror. I’d exhausted every option and I prayed nightly for death to take me.

Even given all of this, I continued to believe in Master and his messages.

When I first began to question things, I felt like I was betraying the group to its very core. I was a snake. I was Darkness. I was lost.

For me there was no singular moment. It was a slow release. Like pushing a curtain aside and sneaking glances behind it. The soft light from the outside burned my eyes with its intensity.

At 17 I began attending community college and was exposed to the unfiltered world for the first time. The freedom was intoxicating. At school I could be anything, I could question anything, and I could observe. I studied interactions and mimicked the ones I saw as successful. I studied religion and neuroscience. I studied evolutionary human history. I began to compare undeniable facts with what I’d been told to believe. I grieved each time the discrepancy showed a flaw in my beliefs; but I slowly began to let them go. One heartbreak at a time, I was rewriting a lifetime of programming.

Simultaneously, I was given the job of leading meditation sessions for the healing of one of the group members who was dying of cancer. Despite our nightly meetings, his condition continued to deteriorate. I watched as a strong and healthy man turned into skeletal remains before my very eyes. I felt helpless and guilty.

After his death, Master gave a message stating that he had “chosen” to die. This filled me with rage. I’d watched that man fight harder than anyone I’d known just to stay alive. Him “choosing” death was unthinkable. The messages on his sickness were so contradicting and full of gaslighting that I could no longer reckon them with reality.

Shortly after this, I began to plan my exit. It was important to me that I kept an amicable relationship as I left. My biggest fear was losing contact with my family. So despite being mentally and emotionally ready, I had to be practical and wait until I had enough money and a valid excuse to move out. For me, this was moving to college in another city.

This escape was the perfect cover and allowed me to slip away into the world while slowly easing my family into the idea that I would not be returning to the group. It worked perfectly.

Only now I had carefully balanced the lies I had to live by.

My whole childhood was shrouded in secrecy. I was taught to lie and talk circles around the fact that I was in a cult. Leaving the group, I now carried those secrets into the real world, while also hiding my life in the real world from the group.

Now, I am in a state of transformation. I am learning to value myself and my experiences. I’m working to integrate myself into one whole human being. I’m unlearning and erasing the old beliefs that shackled me to the lies and secrets. I’m learning to speak up and hold my boundaries. I’ve put myself in therapy and I’m welcoming the discomfort of change. I’m no longer in darkness and I am stumbling into the light of a new and powerful self.

~Anonymous