If someone you love is trapped in a cult or deep in conspiracy theories, you might not want to tell them so.
I originally wrote this piece for a local newspaper weeks before the 2020 election. I held it back, perhaps in an act of cowardice, for fear that it might do precisely the opposite of what intended. And in full transparency, I was simply too emotionally and psychologically fatigued at that time for the onslaught of response that ensues from op-eds. Though this might not have the same degree of timely relevance, the context is eternal.
From age 15 to 22, I was in a cult.
Few people that I spend time with today know this. It’s not something I’m eager to admit, nor is it something that comes up in general conversation. Until now.
I spent seven years fervently loyal to a horribly abusive and imprisoning situation. For the sake of brevity and context, you could say the group resembled a combination of Jeffrey Epstein and Scientology, less all the money. A lot like NXIVM, but for kids.
It was a combination of teenage angst, deep loneliness, and misguided parents that allowed me to be slowly and successfully lured in. I had feelings that they said out loud. I felt understood and no longer alone for the first time. I was part of an “us.”
The inherent danger in being part of the “us” is the delusion that the “us” are always the good guys.
My passion and commitment for the “us” became codified as a “them” began to form. Whether a small expression of concern, or a full out proclamation that the group was a cult, what started as my explanation soon became a venomous defense and division. Nothing strengthened my commitment to the “us” more than a “them.” The louder the “them,” the more zealous I became for the “us.” No matter the validity of the argument or the personal closeness of the arguer, the man I believed in and blindly obeyed could punch motive-sized holes in every criticism until we robotically became even more skilled in doing it for him.
For the group I was in, outside of our family and friends, the biggest detractors were from the psychiatric community. Because the group was a place for troubled teens, many of us were under the care of therapists or psychiatrists. Once in the group, we were told that we must have “one clear voice” to follow, and that we couldn’t see any outside professional.
According to the group, the psychiatric community, instigated by the financially rewarding prescription drug industry, simply wanted to medicate everyone. We were told that we would hear negative things about the group and its policy in an effort to simply keep a paying patient. The psychiatric community was solely focused keeping us dependent for monetary gain. This made logical sense to me. It discredited any legitimate concern they might express.
Our parents’ concern? That was selfish resentment that their parenting had failed and the group was better for us than they were. Again, a logical and understandable motive-based argument.
Let’s be honest, as defiant teenagers, it was not a huge stretch to cast doubt and dissension upon these authority figures. He took people we already had conflict with and told us we had been right to dislike them.
Group members who decided they wanted to move on? They were shunned, shut out, embarrassed, mocked, ridiculed. We weren’t programmed to wish people well, we were programmed to attack. How could we be controlled if we saw we had options? How could his word be the only one that mattered if we had free will and free thought?
My awakening happened just as slowly as my brainwashing. I had such reluctance to trust myself and my own gut, or to trust the motives of anyone on the outside. Because I knew I would lose everyone in my life and have to start a new life from scratch, it sometime felt easier to simply pretend I still believed and stay, as to not have to be alone.
It was not until my life became so completely absent of any outside voice, and all of the “them” faded away, that I was left to contend with only the “us.” I saw and heard things that didn’t sit well, that I knew were not right. It was when there was no more “them”, I realized there had never been “us”. There had only been him.
That’s the thing about mind control. The spell can rarely, if ever, be broken from the outside.
As someone who has been brainwashed and gratefully gone through the long therapeutic process of deprogramming, please know this: every time you post an opinion, an article, a meme, or a comment on social media, you are strengthening that which you oppose. Every time you engage in an argument with family or friends, you are deepening the delusion you are attempting to dispel.
Whether a loved one is in an actual cult, stuck in a cult of thought, or trapped in a cultish relationship, do your best to neutrally stay in their life. Be a safe place to land. If they can’t stop talking about their beliefs and conspiracies, become practiced in responding “Hmm, interesting,” and then changing the subject. Do it over and over and over if you must.
Allow people to sit with their “us.” If there’s no one to fight, then you’re left only to hear and observe your master. If you’re not thwarting criticism, you can regain your own critical eye. Moreover, by eliminating the “them,” people are free to have their own awakening without having to swallow the pride of being wrong or, often harder to swallow, that they had been duped.
And if you are someone who has been accused of being in a cult, you can quell concerns and rest assured you are not being brainwashed with three simple self-assessments:
1. I can change my mind about aspects of our belief system without consequence or shunning.
2. I can openly question or criticize leaders or concepts and have thoughtful dialogue without consequence or shunning.
3. All sources of information are valid and open for my own personal consideration and judgment.
Those three statements would have caused a massive internal wrestling match for me. And that would have been a good thing. Because for a hijacked mind, the rescue mission can only succeed if it is an inside job.
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