You're never as alone as you think you are...

I’ve been out of the new age cult I was in for going on thirty years, and I still look in the mirror and ask myself, “what was I thinking, and how could I have let that happen?”  I hope it’s a question I never stop asking myself…because there is a side of me, that’s afraid if I stop asking, I may end up back in a similar situation. Damn it! I literally almost stopped myself from saying that because the guy who ran my cult, let’s call him Craig, used to say, “Side of you? Are you a box? How many sides do you have?” I have been out of that cult for almost thirty years, AND I STILL HAVE HIS VOICE IN MY HEAD!

 My childhood was full of all the things that would eventually strengthen me; abuse, abandonment, and neglect. Somewhere along the way, because of the hand it dealt me and the plethora of bad choices I had made, I started having crippling anxiety attacks. I started passing out in public and at home; two to three times a day. By the time I was eighteen, I had had these attacks for a year and was ready to end my life.

 I met Craig when I was nineteen years old. He was twenty years older than I was and a master manipulator and con artist. He could turn every word you said into a weapon against yourself. He used our histories and personal traumas like a string to push and pull us through our psychosis like a Yoyo. He kept us all working against ourselves and each other.

Five years passed before I got out of the hell I had created, and my escape came in an improbable place. In his evil genius, Craig had figured out that “encouraging” the women in the cult to become strippers was a great way for him to get more money out of us. I was all for it! That’s right; I wanted to be a stripper. Until this point, I was a prisoner in our “house.” I was rarely let out and seldom without another member of the cult. I didn’t look at the club as a house of ill repute; I looked at it as a mansion of possibilities—a place full of people not associated with the cult, people that could help me.

It took me about a year of dancing before I had gathered the strength, courage, and allies I needed to get out. Long conversations with the people I met helped me wade through all the deception and brainwashing. I met doctors who knew good therapists. Lawyers, in case Craig came after me, legally. Police officers that would teach me how to protect myself. I also made friends with other dancers that helped renew my confidence and offered me safe places to hang out when I got scared and didn’t feel strong.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Lucky for me, it only took a full topless bar to save a twenty-four-year-old girl.

Yes, his voice is still in my head, but hearing something and giving it power are two different things. His voice used to terrify me; now it amuses me. It wasn’t an easy or overnight transition, and I am eternally grateful to everyone who helped me. The strength I gained from freeing myself has helped me build the life I have now. A life of confidence, rich with opportunity, friendship, and love.

~Julia