Category: Snippets

It felt so freeing just to have quiet.

No screaming. No arguing. No life or death problem that needs to be solved. No abuse. No hitting. Nobody trying to escape and then come back. Not being told you are the devil incarnate. Not being disowned for the 100th time. No psychological torment. No church services filled with rebuke at 6am and 7pm every day.

None of it.

Gone.

It was as if I could finally hear myself breath and think for the first time in my life. I was so happy to just have quiet and no stressful drama that culminated in hours of meaningless discussions just meant to build up one person’s ego.

Happiness can come in the smallest, most inconspicuous ways. For me, it was being able to wake up in my own apartment and know that I wouldn’t have to deal with all the stress that came with living in the same home as my father. I now had a new home, one that was mine and could be made as I saw fit. It finally felt like I was free, even though it would be years before I truly could be.

Finding happiness in just having a normal day was something that felt so pure but had an ugly side. It can lead to a habit of complacency. Looking back, I realize that being satisfied and being complacent are two different things. Satisfacton in your life means that you aren't generally expecting anything more. Complacency means that things are good enough for you to keep up the status quo, but it doesn't mean that you are completely satisfied. You can be complacent and dissatisfied at the same time, and the complacency only leads to more dissatisfaction.

I have some regret that I was too complacent with how things were and didn't more fervently strive to better myself or my situation. For example, I was working a job I knew wouldn't be a job I wanted to be in for the next ten years. Or even five years. But, the money was okay and in general I was just happy to have the basic things in life we all take for granted, so I stayed in that job longer than I wanted to or should have. I should have left and pursued my future more aggressively. But instead, I became complacent.

The habit of complacency can affect us all and can show up at any moment and very easily. If you are happy and satisfied with your life, then great! You are not complacent. But if you are just feeling "okay" about things and stay in your situation because it's the easy, familiar thing to do, you might be complacent. And that can lead to regret down the road and missed opportunities.

Enjoying the peace and quiet of a normal day in the beginning was okay. I had a right, I feel, to be complacent after I first escaped a cult I was born into. But years later, there were no excuses left, and I let my complacency fester into something that had a negative impact on my life. If I could go back and do it over again I would rid myself of this and at least try to do things that would bring more benefits to myself and my family.

In life there are no redos.

But I can help others along the way and end the complacency. In fact, that is a lot of what this entire experiment is about.

Growing up always fearful for your well-being isn't fun. There are different ways you can react to this environment. Some, like my brother Alex, didn't take all the shit that's coming their way and let it be known that what's going on, and the way they are being treated, is bullshit. This can cause a lot of pain in the moment, but doesn't make you anyone's...how shall I put it nicely...well, it doesn't make you feel as used and abused.

Others, like myself, just take it and hold things inside as a way to get by. Handling such enourmous stress and conflict isn't fun, and it can be easier in many ways to just take it and deal with all the shit that comes your way. Watching Trump's administration reminded me a lot of my childhood and the people around my father. Doing and/or saying nothing is in many ways less painful in the moment, but the long-term reprucussions are worse.

I've learned this and still struggle with it.

People have said I'm patient. You would have to be growing up in my family. But it goes beyond patience, and almost borders on masochism. How much abuse are you willing to take before you let out all of your anger, frustration, and despair?

I am patient, though, and it is because of how I grew up and probably my personality. And my choice to just take it and try and let it go. But what I've found is, it isn't always possible to really let it go, and it can come and bite you in the ass at the worst possible time.

All of the anger, self-loathing, sadness, and disappointment will break through sometime. In my life, there have been a few times this has happened and it's never actually been at the right time. I should have took this out on my father and those enabling him when I had the chance, not on my friend who didn't want to drink with me until 3 in the morning.

That's what happened, though, on a few occassions in my life I can luckily still count on one hand. Something would happen to me that I have a right to be upset about. Someone stole my shoes at a bar. My landlord never fixed something that broke in my apartment after they said they would. My friend said they would stay out with me on my birthday and didn't.

All reasons to be disappointed, but not reasons to let my past surface and say things I would regret. Essentially, I was wronged and had a right to be upset, but my poor response led to me being the one apologizing. I can now recognize that it wasn't the specific instance that led to my response, but it was because of a lifetime of holding things in and dealing with stuff I shouldn't have had to deal with. Especially not as a 9-year old kid. But I did, and I held the frustration and anger inside, and it came out at the wrong time decades later.

I haven't overcome this completely, but I am aware of it and try to do better. I need to pick and choose when I can be justified in the wrath I express, and when it is simply a manifestation of decades of abuse. It's not easy, but I'm learning and trying.

If I could go back and tell my 9-year old self to get angry at the abuse I endured - to follow my brother's example - I would. But I can't, and now I have to live with the effects.

The thing about growing up in a cult is you have no idea about what the outside world is like. I recently watched a Netflix series called Unorthodox. It’s about a young girl who grew up in an orthodox Jewish family in New York.

One scene in an episode had her in a club for the first time in her life. She didn’t know the music. She didn’t know how to dance. She’s never drank before. Everything was completely alien to her. Even though she grew up in modern day New York, she had no idea how to behave in any social situation outside of the customs and beliefs she knew.

I could relate so well to this. It’s exactly how I felt when I left the cult I grew up in and experienced life outside for the first time. There were so many unknowns and I still think today how much this has affected my life and choices.

My first trip abroad was three years prior when I was 14.

I went to the UK and, while it was different, it had many similarities to my home in the midwest. This, however, this was truly different. And I loved it.

I loved the complete disconnect from anything that was familiar. Even though my presence in Peru was to assist my father's missionary work - which was loathsome for me - just being in such different surroundings was invigorating. Was this what people meant when they referred to the "travel bug", I asked myself.

My feelings of peace in what to me was chaotic surroundings was interrupted as the rest of my group came through the lobby. I had already lugged down two of the massive suitcases filled with religious literature that we brought with us and my older brother Alex soon appeared with the second two suitcases.

While we had a short rough patch during our early teenage years, Alex and I have always remained extremely close. If it weren't for him I don't think I would have managed to get through many parts of my life. Peru was exciting yet agonizing in many ways, and having Alex there made it all easier.

I put my coke bottle - still over half full and cool to the touch - on the front desk and lugged two of the four heavy suitcases out to our van where our driver awaited.

We had been carrying these suitcases since our departure from home. Through airports, bus stations, trains, hotels, and many times loading and unloading them into different cars, taxis, and vans. Alex and I ruminated amongst ourselves that our father brought us with not to give us a unique experience, but to carry the luggage.

These suitcases were not the expensive, light kind that you might see today at a high-scale luggage boutique. These were heavy-duty Samsonite 1990s suitcases, and the worst kind. They were heavy themselves, only had two wheels on one end that only allowed you to pull them one way, and they were shaped oddly, with sharp angular edges on the top.

How I loathed those suitcases.

I've tried for the past two decades to write down my story, and I've always tried to do it chronologically. I would get through 50 or so pages and then get stuck, trying to remember the exact pieces of the next part of the puzzle.

This never worked well because I always ended up stopping. Looking over my past work, I've started and stopped so many times and have the same thing written - but in a different style - throughout these documents that I realized it's never worked.

Finally I've decided to do something different.

Instead of start to finish, I'll write snippets. Small pieces of my story that I hope will be interesting, can be digested quickly, and might help someone else who is stuck in a cult, is in the process of escaping, or has already left and is trying to figure out what to do.

Hopefully this new format will be easier to write, read, and help me gather my thoughts and emotions as I take this journey down a past that should not be forgotten.