257- Growing up and Living in a religious cult

***As usual, multiple trigger warnings : cult-related stuff.***

Also : It took me weeks to ponder and let this topic mature from a seed in my mind, to this particular post. I may have repeated a few things, and the order may be a tad wonky, but I've been reading it over and over to try the best combination, to no avail. I therefore leave it in this present form, which is mostly in chronological order of composition, since July 3rd. As I wanted a somewhat comprehensive overview, this post is my longest, so grab a cuppa, as I don't wish to further divide it. (really, it's 2505 words long after the mark). 

If you ever wondered why I write quite often about my upbringing in a religious cult, I hope this will explain as I shall give you an insight into my typical life circumstances and impacts I suffered as a result of this difficult childhood and teen years. 

The first important thing you must know is that contrary to a lot of people, I didn't choose to follow this particular cult. I was born into it, as my father made this religious soup out of several elements, before I was born. These include monotheistic and polytheistic religions, adding new-age esoterism, and lastly his own bits of pseudo-wisdom. 

His own portions are the direct results to his youth; he was born several years after his siblings, and considered the favorite by their overbearing mother... but, mostly, to his own schizophrenic and pseudo-mystical experiences, common in those days... And his narcissism. 

So, basically, in his crazy, warped-mind, he is the ultimate reincarnation of every single previous "humanity saviors", a self-proclaimed messiah ; He is god himself who came to earth one last time, to give the one last bit of truth to humanity, before destroying this planet, with humanity - and to take with him only the souls of those he'd "saved".

In actuality, he was lazy, didn't want to work and found the best way to disguise this by declaring himself "too holy" to touch money as it was "too material". He didn't save anyone, but forced himself and his thoughts onto everyone in the cult, including me, by using conditioning and depersonalization about which I mentioned quite a few aspects. 

• A typical day would start before dawn, with a cold shower around 5-5:30 AM in winter, and as early as 4:30 in summer. This had the pseudo-spiritual purpose of cleansing the body from impurity and nightly sins (say, erotic dreams and their consequences, or just the fact you had to sleep due to human frailty of body, but you still have to pay that you/I weren't consciously devoted to god and his emissary, my dad-that hero of self-sacrifice... (ok, can you tell i'm sarcastic?) Yet, this is all true.
• It was followed by individual prayers. 
• When I was young & going to school, I'd just have to get ready at this point, but once I grew older, I had to attend more prayers with the other followers/disciples/devotees (aka the other slaves in the herd), before going to school, and thus, my early morning assignments became even earlier... 
• After school, I had to be Cinderella : home-chores of cleaning, dressing the table, dish-washing, tidying the abode, with constant reminders how bad I was at it but still had to continue doing and trying to improve, to please mr god... 
• After the meal, I'd clean up the table and around it, before home-work and bed-time, though as I became older, I also had to add extra prayers and extra duties.

>>> As I said in the intro, my father's forced belief system is a massive soup of mono and polytheistic religious precepts, adding his "own" (borrowed from others, he didn't invent much new, but changed and disguised from others). As a result, prayers consisted of thousands and thousands of repeated chanting of pseudo-mantras and the names of each of the deities that were thrown into that soup, and extra chants for my father's name.... over, and over, and over again. Prayer droning is yet another common aspect to all religions and cults, because indeed, there are very few differences between the two. Religions used to be sects/ cults of their own days, before they became popularized and followed by the masses, and in turn, these created off-shoots. 

Being born into the cult of the schizophrenic narcissist father made it more complicated for me, because I was totally under his authority, and for many years thought all this normal and done in every family - when it clearly wasn't - as I found out in due time, mostly from visiting my friend M and seeing his interactions with his parents. 

Another aspect of his grandiose self-image took form in celebrations of his achievements, his "happy events". These meant extra prayers and work-load, as each disciple would participate in making of a feast - though we'd all get to eat of it, in honor of course, who else but my father?  - but, it was nonetheless a lot more work than any other occasion, and we were already quite swamped. Once I passed "spiritual maturity", I had to set the example, as my father's eldest kid. 

As for his persecution paranoia, blended with his narcissism, this took form of anti-celebration of his "sad days", those where the world had conspired against him, where everyone was a messenger of the devil (his name was never spoken, though). Those were days of extra prayers, and fasting. (because, you know, fasting and making your body suffer is sooooooo spiritual!)

• Some of my Cinderella chores were helping 2 other devotees to go on their weekly food shopping trips for the entire "family of god" that was composed by my dad, step-mother, myself, (siblings at some point), and the devotees. So, that meant carrying a lot - which I eventually was sent to do on my own. 
• The entire time, I was sent to local stores and supermarkets, banks and other errands, such as communication between my father and his other devotees at their abode (they lived separately, they weren't allowed to be too close to their god, though always under his thumb, and those people had actually chosen to follow him after he sold his speech, convincing he'd save their souls if they followed him willingly). 

At first, like other conditioning methods, my tasks were rewarded with small permissions such as ice-cream on summer Fridays, or the exceptional right to watch a tv-show. 

These, just like books, were always checked beforehand, to make sure they weren't full of anti-religious commentaries, and that they wouldn't give me rebellious ideas, by stirring curiosity.

Slowly, my rewards were taken away, one by one, until I was left only with tasks, and no reward whatsoever - beyond that humble servitude to have been part of the grand scheme of helping out disciples and my father, my god. 

The extra unpaid and unrewarded workload is yet another way to break a person down, by treating them as a slave. I can tell you right now, this creates so many side effects, that it's become really hard to separate the negative aspects of these experiences from my qualities as a care-giver. I do know, however, that when I feel used and in 1-way relationships, I take it really personally and can cut friendships out of the blue, because I hate to be a doormat and a slave, as it plays on all those depersonalized feelings I had to lock and hide for years - after I had become aware of them, that is. 

To make things even more complicated, my errands and shopping were always timed, and if I'd be late without a verifiable excuse, I'd get in trouble and could be severely punished. 

This was also the case if I'd offend anyone's authority or the guide-lines to a proper spiritual lifestyle, in total obedience and reverence, as well as humbly looking down on the floor, and never, ever, challenge an order. This was to further break me into servility and take away any shred of humanity in me, and to this day, I have tremendous difficulties in making eye contact - especially with men and persons of authority. 

Punishments could be beatings - with hand or a belt, getting locked in the restroom for hours at a time, and many meals were withheld from me during those 15 years of horrific conditions in this cult. As a result, I suffer from claustrophobia (although it is milder now, 20+ years after the last punishments). However, I suffer from extreme coprophobia and emetophobia, and am sure these are easily linked to these experiences. 

Any gift - object or money - was always taken away from me, as they were "material" and would detract my "spiritual goals". This was done systematically, without question, and I didn't need to offend anything or anyone for this automatic privation. I find it still difficult to accept gifts, all the way to my 40's. I can be very stubborn and self-depreciate a lot, but I try to work on this.  On the other hand, in the past couple decades, I learned to accept compliments more readily, which is quite a progress for me. 

Due to legal demand, I had to attend school, where I was forbidden, at first, from ever discussing what was really happening at home -  as in, all the differences in our VIP religious seats, being closer to god than anyone else... Later, however, I was asked to preach, and to cut ties with those showing no interest in converting... (I'll remind you that I was a mere teenanger at the time.) 

I was forbidden from talking to girls, even for friendships. Sexuality was never discussed, outside the fact that I wasn't allowed to have it, under any circumstance, and the one time I was found masturbating got me the second worst beating of my life. 

All these resulted in many difficulties, including bonding in friendships and delayed emotional growth. I was emotionally stunted. It took me many years before I could talk with strangers and create friendships, and many more years before any of those could even turn to romance. In the end, I had very little experience when I met the one friend who became my wife, despite all my previously imagined life : single, alone, recluse, depressed forever, as I thought myself "too damaged" for a good deal of my life before meeting her. Our wedding became one of my happiest memories and throughout our married life, I've undertaken the huge journey that is getting rid of self-doubts and growing together. 

Additionally, part of the cult's precepts had an apparent break from patriarcal misogyny, by dual-gender deities on top of the deity-chain composing the grand-whole that was the belief exhibited in this cult. However, I was shown misogyny, through the ill-treatment, abuse and domestic violence that I saw day after day, and which not only scarred me emotionally with cptsd, anxiety, hyper-vigilance and a host of other issues, but also a lot of confusion regarding the overall messages. It took me many years to define my feminism, even though I had my first seeds for it around the age of 10, and to come to terms with my gender-fluid, non-binary nature. 

All the mind-controlling and depersonalization techniques have created severe self-esteem issues, and I often find that rebuilding my personality from the inside-out, with no real frame of reference has been one of the most challenging burden to accomplish, and this is an ongoing process. It didn't help that my identity itself was changed in stages : when I was a kid, my first and middle names were changed twice, and my last name once. I regained my original last name upon my return to my birth-country, and a few years later opted for a legal change of my first and middle names, as a form of re-birthing, taking control of myself and my destiny, or so I thought... I suffered an unexpected identity crisis, which I think is linked to these changes - even my own elective ones. 

I find myself in dissociative states quite often, and have battled many mood swings, depression and rage/anger flaring up within me at times, throughout my life - even many years after any such fact. I know these, as well as all flashbacks, pervasive thoughts and nightmares are all linked to my cptsd, and that my recovery will most probably be only partial. It's tough to accept that a full recovery may not be in my cards, but I don't have too many choices in this regard, so I plod onward and forward, as much as I can.

Indeed, by its very nature, cptsd reels its ugly face back into the forefront of my thoughts and emotional states, very regularly and periodically, and I have found myself stuck in my past, re-living it through those side-effects to complex post-traumatic stress. 

For many years, the side-effects were forced upon me, because I had no coping tools. A first psychotherapy, in the old style didn't help me much, and for 12 years, I found myself stuck in the loop of repeating my old traumas to my therapist, who'd take notes but almost never gave me tips on getting out of them. I was merely a victim, sometimes a survivor, but that was all. 

Then, 5 years ago, I started a second psychotherapy, after my first therapist retired. You can read more about this comparative experience here. 

This second therapist gave me dynamic advice, and with him, I've slowly started to find new tools. I found most through my personal online research, that I'd submit to him for his opinion, and then I'd make my own idea on a particular subject, by trying out new things - sometimes accidentally finding a new approach to the problem posed by cptsd and all its offspring issues. I discuss some of these new ways, here, in my post about ptsd relief and growth, from 3 months ago.

As you can see, these are rather recent changes, which were brought upon by personally tackling my issues, after I grew tired and quite fed-up with all my suffering. I tackle by researching and trying my best to either take control of my reactions, or to at least push away the automatic experiences associated with my traumas.

I tackle by blogging, and reaching out more than ever. I found support online, through twitter chats, that I discovered after participating and commenting on youtube vlogs during mental health challenges and awareness campaigns.

I learned very important things:

• To ask for help, and that it's ok to do so. That I'm worthy of it. 
• that not everyone is out there to get me, 
• and that I can trust people - all the whilst being cautious and ascertain potential foes from friends. 

I also grasped that despite coming to middle-age, after many years of struggles, difficulties and little progress during my first psychotherapy, that it's never too late to find tools in coping, and progressing. Each life period can be redefined and each therapy and endeavour towards recovery are worthwhile, because I am worthy of recovering.

In recovery, I can heal, at least enough to function, and to progress from a survivor of many abuses of this religious cult - some of which discussed in this and other posts - I will eventually reach thriving, if I fully embrace the long road still ahead, but also realizing and integrating the road already traversed, all my progress up to this point in time, which shall be the basis of my future. 

To be continued... hopefully.