It's Okay to Grieve a Childhood Lost to a Cult

 

Upon waking up after leaving a cult and finding myself grappling with that fact, I also started to grieve. I grieved my exit and what leaving cost me: access to family within it, loss of community and the people I knew all my life. And then there was the grief that comes along with realizing you were lied to, manipulated and controlled. Even the realization that the cause wasn't real, worthy or righteous: all of it I grieved. 

I also started to see more clearly on all that the cult stole from me, including my childhood. 

I don't blame my family for the things the cult stole. I understand too much on how people get sucked into an religiously abusive group and I believe they joined because they believed it was not only the best thing to do, but the only right decision. As much as it can be frustrating and easy to do, I try not to direct my frustration at them. I remember well how controlling and manipulating the Independent Fundamental Baptist movement was and I have no doubt that I could have been sucked in as well if I were in their shoes and so easily at that. 

Still, I can grieve what I feel was taken from me. My feelings are not only worthy, they're warranted. A cult truly does touch every area of your life. If you grew up in one, it defined what your very existence would look like.

And my existence looked like a very isolating childhood, one where a lot of healthy and normal experiences were prohibited. I'm thinking now of everything that starts from kindergarten to high school, and then beyond. 

For starters there was my education...

I remember sitting in too small booster seats in my family's small living room as my mother taught me the alphabet. In this, I actually had fun and I'm not sure how she managed to teach two squirming twins on top of raising ten other children. Although I struggled with some basic aspects of elementary school, I at least had the foundation of reading laid, which would offer me many worlds to escape into by way of books (the ones that weren't band, of course). But the overall curriculum was lacking and simply littered with misinformation the cult flooded into it. Because of this, my schooling is unaccredited and that's something I grieve even years later. 

I grieve the inability to have been surrounded by other children that were outside of the cult. 

There were some fond moments I have to look back on, but because of the cult's vigorous teaching of being separate from the "world," I lacked basic social skills that still impact me to this day. I can only imagine how fun it could have been to have grown up playing with children my own age more. 

The lack of music, movies, books and toys.

When I think of all those things, I feel a pang in my chest for missing out on. Music because I am musical by nature and thrive while being surrounded by it. Not having watched classic movies can not only make you feel "dumb," but can be incredibly frustrating when you are sitting oblivious while someone talks about one and you have no idea what they're referring to. Books are much of the same, and as an avid reader, I would have loved to turn the pages of any title I dared to dream of. And, let's face it: not believing certain toys like cabbage patch dolls or card games were evil and demon possessed would just made a lot more sense. I sometimes grieve the witholding of these things, but I know that's perfectly okay when your inner child feels robbed. 

Cult clothes.

Looking like a "weirdo" (my own words) for the way I dressed is probably more annoying than anything. Plus, it was so impractical to be a girl eager to climb trees and ride my bike down the street without my long dresses, skirts or culottes getting in the way. I don't think people know fear until the hem of their dress gets lodged into their bike's gears and brakes and you suddenly cannot stop. Being unable to have dressed authentically and practically are things that still I struggle with. Plus, learning what I like to wear can be overwhelming now, even if I try to find the fun in it.

Precious time that was stolen.

Not having enough time to just be a kid because all time and energy went into the church are things that very much upset me to this day. Hours and hours were spent volunteering or helping the cult's goals be met, regardless of what they were. It was an abuse of time, finances, and physical labor. The stress I felt was unimaginable for a child.

Being chastised for normal teenage experiences. 

Whether it was puberty, crushes and wanting to express myself, I still grieve. I recall being yelled at by male family members for simply looking at a secular boy and shyly smiling. I was shamed and called a "harlot" and "slut." I was maybe fourteen. I missed prom, holding hands, first kisses and going out on first dates. 

I grieve it all. 

The things I missed out on; the abuse I couldn't. The inability to practice free will and the loss I experienced when I finally did and left the cult. I miss family, friends and the memories that could have been made. 

I grieve the lack of stability and support. 

I grieve not being able to just be a kid. 

I grieve growing up before my time. 

I grieve my childhood in a cult.

In spite of those things or maybe because of them (the verdict is still not official on that one just yet) though, I've found that it's never truly too late to give your inner child what it missed. Maybe that looks like celebrating Halloween for the first time in your late twenties or watching movies that were once banned. Maybe it's reading, and learning, and trying new things, and laughing. And possibly it's allowing yourself to be authentic in the moment and daring when possible. Maybe it's being a cycle breaker to give your kids what you didn't have like safety, unconditional love, and stability.

We may have had a cult identity forced upon us, but the true us was always there. It's not fair what a cult stole from us and never will be, but this is our chance now, our choice, our time. 

May your inner child smile widely, may your spirit be daring, and may you never again forget that it's okay to grieve a loss beyond your control. 

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