Leaving the cult

When you turn thirty-five your first thing to do is not usually decide you want to start over in life. You do not want to leave everything behind, hoping you can get out of your own personal hell with what you can carry in a suitcase and the clothes on your back. No money, no real contacts outside of the community you are leaving and an uneasy realization that you are likely going to spiritual hell because you can no longer live in the physical hell that you have been living.

This was me a week ago. I woke up and realized that if I stayed one more day on the compound, I would not make it to my thirty sixth birthday. Physically, I had let myself go because it kept me safer to be heavier, to not be pretty and draw attention to myself. Mentally I was struggling to keep going day after day and keep the cheerful face that was required by the leaders and board. I knew that there had to be more to life then what I had been living. I had become the robot that they wanted. I lifted my hands in worship to a God I no longer believed in, hoping to get to a heaven that I no longer believed existed. I prayed, followed the rules set before me and I died a little more each day. I said the right thing, read only the books they said I was allowed to, wore only the clothes provided, ate the food set before me, and I died a little more each day.

One day, I made the decision. I was going to leave. I was going to risk eternal damnation to escape the hell I lived which was supposed to be heaven on earth. The beauty which hid the bars would no longer be my prison. I started to hide small amounts of cash that I was able to find. I started to make friends with the local people outside the community trying to find anyone who would not be intimidated by the group I was leaving. I wanted out and I was to the point that nothing was going to stop me.

I chose the day. A few of the friends I had made were coming to pick me up, the plans were made a place for me to live was acquired. I was terrified. Now the hardest part. I knew that if I sat down in a meeting with the board or the ‘spiritual father and mother’ it would be harder to walk away. They would show me all the love and concern that I needed and was counting on, but I knew it was an act. I chose what was considered the cowards way. I chose a date, wrote them a letter letting them know I would be living and from that moment on I would not be participating in any part of community life.

They hemmed and hawed and I left.

I was free.

And now I am figuring out this crazy thing called life in the middle of a pandemic that I barely knew was happening. This is my story of finding my feet, a job and what I believe on the other side of the fence of hell.