What It's Like Sharing You're a Cult Survivor With an "Outsider"

 

I knew it was possible that the new people in my life may stumble upon what I write on religious abuse, trauma, and cults. I also knew that they could possibly learn more about me than I was ready to share just yet. When I first started writing a blog, my articles, or social media posts on the abuse I survived, specifically in the Independent Fundamental Baptist movement, I didn’t worry too much about that particular aspect of being vulnerable about my experiences, on the internet, no less. I had a goal in mind, and I followed it. I started writing, raising my voice when I could about the things I cared about in the moment. I was all about “giving the damn” for once.

It was with my first real connections post-cult, especially those of the romantic and friendship variety that really brought my writing to the forefront. At first, I struggled to know how to share about my passions surrounding abuse advocacy, mental health, and especially cult awareness as they are paramount to me. I care deeply about these things and even volunteer. I’m proud of this part of me, of the survivor I am. I’m not ashamed of surviving a cult; I’m thankful. But being upfront about the trauma I experienced is very vulnerable and tends to be pivotal points on my journey with the people who enter my life. I’m not new to this now, but I was a newbie, and it was very scary.

I tried to sidestep what I do on my spare time, trying to summarize it in a way that secular people might not completely catch onto. Oversharing too soon wasn’t something I wanted to do. It was about boundaries, learning trust and safety. After all, sharing needs to feel safe first and foremost.

I remember asking my first partner to please not look my name up or the writing I did. Instead, I would share select pieces that didn’t emphasize the cult or my trauma. They were very perceptive though and we connected on writing. It was a strong connection. In the end, I was heard, validated, and found safety as I shared my story. They encouraged me to keep using my voice. Not once did I ever feel the need to silence or shrink my story to better fit their journey. It was my journey, and I held the pen.

There are always a ton of questions when someone new realizes I survived a cult and such abuse. I’m prepared for this. I mean, the research and advocate side of me puts on a cap and answers those questions and then some.

Curious and concerned questions always show up, no matter who is doing the asking. I have had people ask me what it was truly like, how could they support me or anyone else that was in similar shoes as me. My response is usually always the same and that is to simply believe them. Believe them so strongly they are reminded to believe in their own strength. For strength it takes to leave a cult behind and watch it disappear in your rearview mirror as you carve out a new path of your own choosing.

My most recent conversation was after I shared some of my writing with someone new in my life. I didn’t realize that they would see one of my top articles ever and that just happened to be about cults and PTSD. Specifically, my experience with cults and PTSD. This particular piece really documented a good portion of my journey. It’s a piece I’m very proud of actually. I didn’t expect them to have learned what they did in that way though. I honestly felt sorry for them because damn, was that a raw piece to write. They did something I requested though just in case this scenario, in fact, did play out: They didn’t pry or ask until I was ready to talk and share about these things. Yes, I write about this, but in person, the vulnerability is something different altogether.

I was ready for the conversation, so we had it. The questions appeared, the inquires if I were safe and then we talked about details. This person had some knowledge thankfully from documentaries, so my job of explaining things was a bit easier, to be honest. I shared what I was comfortable sharing. I was thankful I didn’t, not at this point in my journey, need their validation, but I was grateful to receive it, nonetheless.

It was on the subject of shunning and explaining how that can look like that I don’t think I’ll ever forget the response recieved. I shared how a few years ago a family member publicly called me out on social media for my blog, for living a “sinful” life, for having sex outside of marriage, which at the time, my PTSD wouldn’t allow me to do. This relative “damned” me and others in my family in the most “loving” way they knew. It broke my heart at the time, but I do understand those teachings and the cult is really good about tearing whole families apart, making them enemies. It was in this explanation that I was damned, receiving judgment that meant I was not going to heaven that I received a hug and the response of “Well, shows you what they know. You’re definitely going to be in heaven.” I’ve never heard that before and it meant a great deal in that moment. Now, I don’t know what I really feel on heaven, but I agree, that I’m not “damned.” And if I were, I’d make “damned” look good.

Often, you grow a thick skin when dealing with trolls or hurtful statements in response to you speaking your truth. And sometimes, there will be those people who are capable of you not needing to have that thick skin, that you can be yourself with and share your vulnearbitly.

I often say I’m thankful. I think I may say it too much, to be honest. But it doesn’t change that fact. I just sat on a person’s couch and received support when I didn’t need it. I am finding and connecting with people who are capable of hearing that cults exist and that I and others survive them. This has also empowered me to keep speaking up. Awareness is so important and goes such a long way towards acceptance.

I think down deep I always knew I’d be writing this. Maybe not in the way my imagination imagined. But I think it was evident even years ago in the cult that it’d be hard for me to shut my mouth. I wouldn’t say this is as much as strength but a pure result of frustration. I’ve always been frustrated that censorship exists, that so many victims have to soften their stories to appease hard hearted crowds. That somehow, we are expected to only speak on things that have happy endings. But the truth is that surviving a cult is raw, fucked up and bizarre. All that said, it was also normal in many ways and very simple. Life could be extremely simple, too. It wasn’t always sinister.

Recently, after the conversation I just shared above occurred, I took to my writer’s Facebook page to put this all into words. I think the most important words I wrote were these: 

“I do not like that another person feels pain for me, that their empathy has to be activated on my behalf for the experiences I was made to live surreally. But I know that with every person that comes into my life, reads something I’ve written, or finds themselves in an online support group, awareness is spreading. Healing is becoming a reality. Hope is being offered. Survivors have always been a mighty catalyst for change.”

And that’s true for me. Today’s chapter looks like it does, but tomorrow’s may change into something vastly different. I’m still me, still learning, still growing, still healing. I know that even in my most frustrating moments, that that is fantastic.

Photo courtesy: My sister for capturing me in my element. <3