A Mid-year Update and My Decision to Keep Speaking Out About Cults

 

Picture of Lydia Joy Launderville

I think it’s time for an update on my personal blog. Life has been busy, whew! I’ve moved out of the small town that was home for most of my life. It was both a place of dear memories, and also very tough ones. I still go back often though and feel a peace within me that is accompanied by a bittersweet smile (and yes, sometimes triggers because Post Traumatic Stress is real!). I turn on country music often, as it feels fitting and is connected to my roots. While there, I was always on the outside, my family being swept up in the IFB and not really able to join in on the festivities but country music was a theme we heard often. There was still the annual Christmas parade we witnessed many, many times  and every year Brunswick stew was up for purchase once it got colder weather. Then, most often July 4^th celebrations that included fireworks near the small ballfield and I did enjoy their car shows that featured classic muscle cars when it was warmer outside. 

How often I walked those streets, sped down its backroads as an adult, loving the beauty of blue sky with puffy white clouds and fields of corn, soybean, cotton, and some peanuts all around. I learned to sleep right through the trains that moved through at all hours of the night and day, and I’d rush up to the railroad crossing to count the cars, especially the engines, and wave to the conductor. I loved the train tracks, danced innocently with my first post-cult boyfriend on them at midnight one summer in a different lifetime ago. There were many late night walks and runs down those streets, with music blaring in my ears as I started to heal from PTSD.

As a child I loved the swings at the small town park. My first date ever, my date and I sat there, talked and swung. My first kiss was at the park’s picnic table. My first breakup, I went back and cried. The tree near the picnic table, I climbed and gathered its pecans for a snack throughout the years. I’ve sat in the park’s bleachers, always on the outside of the fun, with my long dresses and skirts, but I bought snacks at the concession stand. I would park my bike against the brick water fountain and drink thirstily on hot summer days after long rides around town. It was a place that, like I said, holds many memories. Nearly half of a lifetime of them.

Now, I’m in a much more bustling city. For privacy purposes, and not to feed the trolls, I won’t list where I am now. But this country girl often feels outside of her element! I crave country roads and fresh air. Now, it’s ocean air I breathe in and find solace on days I venture to the beach. It’s blaring horns and way too much traffic. But it is also new chapters and I get excited, even when I’m nervous of what’s to come. This season is looking uniquely my own, filled with people I love and new faces in my circle. I underestimated, never really thought about the option to attend, music concerts, to sway back and forth to a band playing. I never envisioned what it would be like to see ships in a harbor and take in the sunset from behind the wheel as I travel the interstate at evening. Art, museums, restaurants, and parks are becoming my best friends. And bookstores, and most definitely bookstores. First week I moved, I got my library card!

I’m finding healing in this chapter; I’m finding thriving, too. Of course, change is incredibly triggering for me. I battled severe stress and was left feeling numb at all of it and panicked! But I’m adjusting and leaning in, a concept I’m still embracing after two years in therapy, and just being. On my wall, I finally hung a picture gifted to me by a neighbor who witnessed the years I was shut down to slowly venturing out of the darkness. It simply reads, “She needed a hero, so that is what she became.” I’m my own hero, that’s the honest truth. Those closest to me know how far I’ve come in many ways, but down deep, I feel it to my bones. I’m a butterfly gradually poking my wings out of the cocoon and taking in a whole new world, all over again. My wings are still strengthening after trauma that was abuse and a cult that tried to bend, bruise, and break me, to remove my wings altogether.

This year, I attended my first protest to join in and support voices on subjects that I cared deeply about. I did not agree with everything said, but never had to. I was there, with my own story, and the countless stories told to me throughout the past 5 years. I've spoken to the protest leader, a local community leader and activist and shared my story, and that the community needs to offer more for victims of cultic environments. I found myself telling others that this experience, my experience, is not an anomaly; it's a common occurrence amongst many survivors.

Two huge highlights of my year thus far is that I’ve been able to meet up with a few people I’ve connected with online. Former survivors of the IFB who became such good friends. Through these visits, chatting over dinner and sharing an actual hug in person, I learned for certain how much strength it takes to make a life after a cult. I was moved beyond words. I am lucky, blessed, grateful and I cherished those moments and the connections that can be made by surviving something like the IFB.

In this chapter, I’m still actively volunteering and it’s so rewarding to connect with contributors for the nonprofit’s blog I volunteer with. In 2022, I shifted gears from Administrative Assistant and became the Blog Editor and feel my best there. I honestly enjoy reading so many stories, so many brave and courageous moments in others’ lives, and how surviving and healing after religious abuse is possible. And ahem, you know I’m always looking for more submissions, so if you are interested, contact me! (I also recommend volunteering!)

As it often happens every year or so, I was recently in a conversation about when I will walk away from this part of my story, and I’m thankful for my therapist who helped put into words why that is not something I should or want to do at this time, or ever if I'm quite honest. Being a cult member is not a part of my current identity, but it did play a part in my story, a huge role really. I survived something and left when so many don’t. I somehow found the ability to put much of my experiences into words, have shared them with others, and volunteering, writing, and advocating is still very much part of my current chapter. By denying that part of my history, by not following my heart in volunteering or speaking up about the issues in Christianity today, especially fundamentalist churches, I’m denying that I survived. I’m proud of me. "Moving on" isn't the same for everyone and it certainly looks different for me, and I embrace this healthy and passionate part of me. I'm very excited to share more about this year and what's to come!

On that note, although it’s not yet time to announce the details, I’m working closely with one of the most respected organizations that helps not only families of cult members but offers education and training to law enforcement and psychologists and is such a strong supporter of research on this very important issue. Crossing my fingers, that my writing appears soon to the public. I’m honored and excited!

Late last year, I did an interview with a fellow survivor and advocate and would love to share about this for a bit. I had never really done an interview. Well, I mean, I had. I have talked to producers out of Los Angeles and have spoken with documentary makers in the past. But this one was very special to me, because I truly respect the blogger and consider them a friend. One day, I hope to finally meet! This interview with Deconstruct With Me was moving and I had no idea how much I was able to share in a short amount of time. You can find that piece here. 

Speaking of documentaries and interviews, but specifically, audio documentary series, I wrote a piece for The Daughters, an audio docu series on the Stay at Home Daughters Movement, that I didn’t even realize I was par of, which is why the title of this piece specifies that. Please check out this amazing series and share! 

There is one piece I want to highlight because of the brave survivors who contributed to this project. Back in the fall of 2020, I had an idea to write on the Troubled Teen Industry (TTI) and the connection to the IFB. I knew from my own experiences and research that this is a huge industry and for the IFB, at that. Lester Roloff saw to that, after all. A project that took 2 years to finally be published did, in fact, get published earlier this year. It’s one that I had confirmation is helping in the fight for politicians to create legislation that protects children in this catastrophically abusive industry. If you would take the time to read this piece, but most importantly share to support survivors, that would be incredible. There are links within the piece to see all the hard work on this issue by survivors and advocates. Seeing All in the Name of God: The Multibillion Troubled Teen Industry and the Christians Who Profit from It come to fruition, was, well, indescribable. I was a newbie making phone calls, interviewing others, creating questions for email Q&As (still am) and took a huge step, but survivors trusted me with their stories, and I hope that I gave them a voice as I aimed for.

As it’s been for so long, writing is still a huge part of my story. It continues to be so as I volunteer, write on topics I care about, and share stories of others. I am so grateful that I decided to start a blog. That through this blog, I’ve been able to uncover wound by wound, big and small, little by little heal those. It’s been an outlet of hope for me, of processing and of rewarding growth. This blog provides me a way to see that growth throughout its posts. I look back on the places I’ve been since starting this and am in awe.

I’m also in awe of my readers, and the stories you share with me. I’ve said it once before, many times even, but saying it more and more will never be enough… thank you. Thank you for the support, for the encouragement, and for being a part of a former cult member’s healing journey!

Until next time (and another blog post!).

Xo,

Lydia Joy