475 - Living in a religious cult 7 - failed parenting

When I posted my sixth living in a religious cult entry, back in July 2022, I thought I was done with the series that started in October 2017. However, just like I said back then, it's probably impossible to be exhaustive - at least on a blog - in telling all that occurred in those traumatic years in my father's religious cult. 

Today, I discuss the topic of parenthood : that of his failures as a parent might be evident already from previous entries, but requires expanding and perhaps clarification.

In posting this publicly, I may offend people's views on parent/child relationships. Some of you may believe that no one should speak ill of their progenitors, and yet, these things can be shared in any situation, even so-called normally loving one, but I feel absolutely necessary in the case of a parent who indoctrinates a child into a belief system. I discuss my own case, but when I say this, I actually mean into any religion. A child isn't ready to decide what to believe, don't use their sponge brain to fill-in whatever you think is right. 

I'll start with a recap of this blog series (I just assigned to it a new Page for easier access, sharing the label 'LinRelCult'). 

Part 6 was about gender issues, part 5 on education, 4 explained about health topics within the cult, 3 on my stunted emotional growth, entry 2 was about isolation caused by its rules, and the very first entry was a presentation of the cult, some daily habits etc. 

I will remind you that as often, multiple trigger warnings apply in this entry (abuse, domestic violence, religious trauma, brief allusion to suicide).

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The generally accepted roles of a parent can be summed up to the following:

Protect your child from harm / provide safety, supervision and structure.

Provide necessities  (food, clothing, a place to live... ) ; Financially support ; 

Provide medical care, education and psycho-emotional growth, 

In short, teaching your child to grow, mature and fly by their own wings - with firm roots, nurture and care.

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My so-called father (read : biological, but not parent) failed every single one of these precepts.

Indeed, and in the same order as above : he caused most of my harm ; abducted me from my mother and displaced from my birth country to one that had many dangers to my life, both from him and from external causes (over which he may have no control , but that's a different topic. I'll just say he should've known). 

His supervision and structure are also fails, because of the extreme nature of depersonalization for his own gains. 

Basic needs, yes and no : food was provided, but with rituals (prayers, ways to wash and cook...), and limitations (many forbidden foods, such as sweets, deemed of the devil and materialistic) ; clothing yes-ish, as I had to wear the same till they disintegrated, having to ask permission for new ones, and either accepted, or often, DENIED. 

As for the essential need for warmth : he never ever hugged, nor told me that he loved me. 

(this is emotional neglect). He didn't step up to say it to my step-mother when she said she hated me (in one of their fights I wasn't supposed to hear). Instead, he told her that he had 'plans for him and if he fails, I'll kill him with my bear hands'. 

In other occasions, he'd actually tell me this very answer - so, not only he was emotionally absent (not saying I love you, etc) but he was also psychologically abusive, and the mere repetition of these threats were torture - I wouldn't call that anything less. 

A place ? well, he did get several, but most were in difficult conditions, and even once those were over, I had no space of my own, only shared, monitored and controlled to an excess. 

In confiscating all gifts I'd received (birthdays etc), he didn't support me financially, but rather stole what should've been mine. 

Health ? very very limited, go read part 4 of this blog series, already linked earlier. To its content I add that sport was viewed as a sin (vanity of the ego) and thus forbidden. I'm sure that my sedentary lifestyle, and lack of regular and proper physical exercise are aspects of the ingrained issues here, on top of my introspective nature, and I pay with my ill-health. 

Bad posture resulting from daily prayer positions caused chronic back pain. 

Education ? he let me attend public schools only because he didn't find a way to legally avoid it, and chose places where my brainwashing would continue, not lessen. Read more details in part 5.

When I finished the last available class at my latest school, he pulled me out completely - at equivalence of 8th grade. 

Thus, when I got back to my home country, I had to learn so many topics, basically from scratch.

Indeed, those semi and full religious schools I attended limited history and geography classes to that particular country ; some math ; and the rest had been religious, starting by morning prayer, followed by bible, mishna, talmud and the likes. 

Thus the day was filled with theistic mind-numbing hours - both at home and at school. 

If I hadn't read books in secret, I'd have been totally devoid of literature. 

Without M, my best friend/classmate, and my grandfather, I'd never had been exposed to 'secular' music. 

Evidently, a lack in education also meant no training towards any job, and has a life-long lasting side effect : unemployment. Once I got back to my birth country, this is something that I personally had partial control over and landed job positions, but they were very limited in their scope and I wasn't able to turn them into a career. Simply put, the under-education I received + lack of practice results in less experience, and thus fewer opportunities. This isn't solely my father's responsibility, but is still a direct result of all the traumas I endured at his hand. A few years ago, I had to accept my limits and went on disability, both for physical issues and my psychological ones as an important component. 

Did he provide psycho-emotional growth? no, no and no. He scarred me on all levels of this distinct sine qua non. He (figuratively) clipped my wings, blind folded, cut my tail and ears, more than anything else. 

Upon my return, the world was very strange to me! I guess we can call my encounter with it as a culture-shock, in a very expanded meaning : it sure was dangerous, I knew that from many events, but it wasn't full of nasty, selfish people VS my father's followers. There were kind ones, who helped my transition. 

Even in the administration, some agents had expedited the procedure to allow me a quick recovery of my initial citizenship, and thus remain more than 90 tourism days - which would've unavoidably sent me back to my tormentor. I actually owe my life to these agents, because I'd planned to end it if my sole remaining choice had been going back! 

Others helped in many ways, small or big : teachers/tutors to re-learn my native tongue ; update my geography and history, outside of the bubble that was presented as the entire world/its most important portion.

So many people had to step-in and fill gaps and sink-holes in my education and nurture. All of these gaps were, evidently, the direct results of my father's actions AND inactions. 

My birth country had been estranged and I had to reacquaint myself with it ; its climate, customs, and even language. 

There are things I still don't know, well into my 40's, so I make due with what I can. He'd never taught me basics such as shaving (wasn't allowed in his gender bias), nor swimming, riding a bicycle, and a myriad others tiny and big parts of daily life as a human being. 

Examples can be given, but I doubt I'll remember everything that can be said : 

With a view of 'scary sinful world' and "us VS them' fostered the nest that would become, very early in life, social phobia and generalized anxiety disorder. He absolutely failed in teaching me social skills and etiquette. I had to learn both, partially on my own, stumbling and losing friendships along the way, including a tendency to accept toxicity from people, because I didn't know better, nor believed I deserved any improvement (until I did). 

Household matters : in my duties, I had to clean (sweeping and the like) and which was expanded later on to dishwashing and laundry. Instead of teaching me, my father sent me to my step-mother ( already a common mistake in parenting, which worsened for me). She just told me "go do it'' ; no how-to sort (color, fabric, size...), and what soap to use. I just stumbled my way and they'd both verbally abuse and tell me I was good for nothing, and she'd re-do it all anyway. Because of that, I started to do it very fast and badly, because I didn't see any point in doing and for her to redo, so might as well save my energy, right ? Nopes, I was beaten as punishment for my attempted shortcuts. Guess what ? It took me many years until I actually learned how to do all that. 

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As I arrived to this portion of composition, I had a feeling that I was forgetting something. I did a bit of research and decided to add a topic from this video : that of favoritism. 

I guess you're asking yourselves how it can be in a cult ? Well, let me tell you my perspective : 

As his elder son, I was supposed to take over the hardest portion of all of the cult's proselytizing, so my father could have a rest, devoting his time and energy to other spiritual 'matters', and set all his other disciples on 'lighter tasks'. This is because of the innate sexism in religions, the messiah's a man (my father, evidently), and his eldest son comes next in line - ahead of any woman disciple, including his wife/wives (my mother and, after their divorce, my step-mother). 

So, to this end, I was subjected to the full spectrum of indoctrination, from my youngest age. 

My half-siblings, born a decade and more after me, received much less of it, especially the girls.

I think he also didn't want to reproduce the same errors he did with me - as I'd been rebellious, and ultimately lost to him when I left the cult - so he was less severe and actually allowed many 'worldly' activities to each of them. Things that I received severe beatings for even suggesting an inclination towards was granted to my half-siblings. So, in this respect, it's favoritism, and I got the short end of that stick. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for them that they didn't suffer as much, but I must also be truthful that I resent my father for double standards in his treatments and abuses. 

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To sum it all up, He (figuratively) clipped my wings, blind folded, cut my tail and ears, more than anything else. Flying on my own has been a strenuous adventure and learning curve. I had to build myself as if I had no parent, though I had one very abusive, another hated me, and separated from my birth mother so early, that our reunion wasn't tainted by the years apart. 

I force-opened the eyes that had been shut for so long, and listened intently with my ears to the sounds of the world around me. My tail is gone, so finding balance is a story in itself, and is a work in progress to this day. 

In sharing these, I hope readers can better understand where I'm coming from, and to others to start questioning either themselves when they're unintentionally abusive, and lastly, those who may be in my past situation to rebel NOW, as soon as possible, and get as far away from tormentors of this sort, it's high time to build yourselves and start healing. 

You don't owe anything to a toxic, abusive parent/s - they made the choice to have you, not the other way around. They have responsibilities towards you, and if they're replaced by abuse, you must protect yourself - which may mean cutting all ties, if boundaries cannot be set and pain stopped. Don't wait any longer than you need to escape this prison!

(2,060 words total)