I got out of a company that slowly, over the course of ten years, ended up consuming my life, stealing the most precious years of motherhood under the guise of the complete opposite–time freedom. 

Abusers thrive in environments where victims are kept silent. Shame and fear perpetuate this cycle. I’m going to share a story of my predatory relationship with a scam artist.

My story began when I was 21, in a vulnerable time in my life where my best friend told me about this psychic. I had a previous experience with a celebrity psychic whom I vetted and did extensive research on. This new psychic I did no research on, I only went off of my best friend’s trust. I was nervous going into my appointment, but I wanted to step outside of my comfort zone. After all this was only gonna be a one time thing, what’s the worst that could happen?

What matters the most to you in your life? What would your life be like if you had greater levels of self-confidence, self-expression or more love in your life? Imagine you have all of these things along with the time to focus on what matters to you. Picture your life with you being successful, breaking through your perceived constraints and limitations. Are you creating big things in your life, or do you want to see positive change in the world? Do you have goals to reach extraordinary levels of performance or just a niggling feeling that surely there is more to life? If this is you, welcome to the next step of your life.

Inspiring pitch? It is exactly the kind of language that seems to see inside a person’s thoughts, language that helps a person feel seen, understood and full of potential.

It almost felt like waking up with another person’s memories; like from that moment, suddenly I’d known it all along. And I knew it was over. 

I was heartbroken but so damn relieved. Finally, proof. The proof that literally no one else had needed; the red flags they’d all been trying to get me to just fucking look at for years.

I got out…hmmm…not just yet…personal, financial, legal rocks keep me there still. There are many, many, many tangled parts of my life. But I’ve been able to breathe, I have had time to sleep, to eat, to laugh, to cook, walk the dogs, be silly with my husband and my kids.

I am getting out… It’s as if I’ve been underwater the last four years of my life. I met him when I was teaching High School English, just for fun. I really got those classes because I loved the campus where I was teaching.

I GOT OUT……

it was around Easter 2022, a string of seemingly small events that had me unable to ignore the feeling in my gut that this was not going to end well. I hadn’t consciously planned on leaving, there were significant moments that led me closer to that exit doorway. 

Pain. 

Shooting pain. 

I feel the conduit tearing at my skin over and over again. Determined to never give him the satisfaction of winning, I tense my body and focus on counting. “40, 41, 42…” Knowing the amount I was to receive was my saving grace. So, I counted. 

“I’ll cut you up into little pieces before the police can get here.” 

My husband had a knife and was chasing me and our three children across the street to the neighbor who had agreed to receive us. Few could believe that a minister would behave this way. 

I was raised Catholic and knew early that that system did not honor my relationship with Christ.

“2019 is going to be my year!”

I exclaimed from my VIP seat, high above the others. I felt a surge run through my body. I felt special.  

I felt special because this year, I was selected. This was a complimentary ticket because a top  mentor saw how hard I was working to succeed. Even though I was scared, I felt seen. My  upline said the hotel, flight and food were business expenses, so when I worried out loud about the  sacrifices I would be making to attend, she reminded me of this several times. I felt reassured. 

I said yes...

I subscribed to the promises of a guru who said she’d teach me groundbreaking science and support me in building my business as a body language trainer – a business that, in the first few months, would generate well over the $5,000 I invested (by taking out a personal loan.)

I agreed to be part of an elite group of like-minded people, to a small and chosen inner circle of badasses, when I had almost no positive friends and influences in my life, and felt like a nobody.

I said yes to efficient marketing tactics…to empty promises and lies.

I got out of a Christian church/cult after having lived there for 40 years. They look good on the outside and the public message is all about love and forgiveness and living the Christian life fully in our daily lives, and what joy and freedom comes from that.

It is also about receiving correction from everyone around you, confessing your sins constantly, and being absolutely obedient without question. Behind the scenes no holds are barred and humiliation, shame, browbeating, and isolation are all used.

𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: This story by Kara AB Brown speaks graphically of sexual abuse, rape, sex trafficking, trauma, and disassociation. PLEASE take care of yourself while reading this story.

One night, Douche took me dancing with some of his mall security work friends. I had the weekend off from my hostess job and, though I would have preferred staying in and watching TV or reading a book, I went out with them. 

𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Let me tell you about how abusive this place I was at is...
I was there since 2012 to 2018 and it was very abusive and it still scars me until this day.

It’s peculiar how life can take a drastic turn when least expected. On a day that seemed not unlike any other day, my life changed in one short encounter with my next-door neighbor whom I’d never met.

It happened late one afternoon when we were both at our mailboxes in front of our homes. We engaged in small talk, but then I felt her eyes on me. Studying me.

You fucking bitch who ruled my life for over 24 years.  A huge shadow of a tiger on my therapist’s wall.

You tiny, little, pitiful, crazy thing. The actual tiny plastic tiger my therapist is holding.

I left the property I sunk so much of my money, time, and essence into 5 years ago.

I was groomed from birth forward to be completely obedient.

Far beyond the stereotypical and societal expectations for girls and women of my generation. I was a docile, quiet, intelligent child. Loving and eager to please, as children tend to be.

My mother was a predator and she preyed upon my siblings and me relentlessly. She was a sadist and exhibited no conscience, and never the slightest remorse. She had privilege and luxury, and she told us on a daily basis that we were her literal slaves. Her mantra was delivered to us, at least hourly, and it was, "Run, animal, run".

My First Religion:

I got out of a diasporic religion when I noticed that I had no power over my own life or feelings, they had given me a full plan on how to live my life with complete control over every aspect; diet, clothing, profession, friends, and acquaintances. It was in the year 2000, I was married at that time. They even gave me a full description of my husband's personality and traits of "goodness".

Of course the consequences for leaving; insanity, poverty, loneliness, and the destruction of my children's lives!

Introduction

I left a religious cult that I dedicated 7 years of my life to. I believed that I was following God by obeying the organization.

What is their objective?

With this belief, the goal is to recruit as many members as there are people in the world. Global indoctrination. Through the members' labor and through any means they infiltrate schools, government, religious organizations, and any individual persons.

"We are one."
"Healing all nations."
"We must die, in order to live."

Mom's voice on the line sounded concerned and slightly judgmental... "So, do you have a Christmas tree in your house?" With 2,000 miles between us I had the comfort of freedom to decorate knowing she wouldn't be stopping by unexpectedly. I had the freedom to try the things I'd been curious about.

The Christmas Spirit always seemed to me so good at the heart of it, though from the platform and literature we were admonished that as true Christians we knew Jesus was not in the holiday - with its pagan roots and symbology - and we were so lucky to be unencumbered by the financial burden of obligatory gift-giving and the stress of holiday shopping. Yes, how lucky - even non-believers would tell us so as they sighed under the weight of their to-do lists and gift lists. 

I did not know until I knew
Shadows coming to life anew
Muted echoes, far-off calls
Familiar doodles on the walls
Illuminated in a flash
Unleashing in a tidal wave
The past

I was born into and raised in an abusive, apocalyptic, religious cult. Instead of going to school and having a childhood, I was raised to be an obedient soldier with no will or value of my own, expected to follow orders blindly and without question.

Every day, it was ingrained in me that I was worthless, ugly, and stupid. I was NEVER to consider myself in any other way, as doing so would be "selfish." I had no rights as an individual and was NEVER allowed to say no. Personal belongings or emotional attachment to things or people was strictly forbidden and violently punished.

I was born into a world that was designed out of fear, to lock me into a cage, program me to be an asset with no needs, desire and individuality of my own.

The world was designed to transmit the suffering of another.

I got out when I realised “the Family” was never mine. I was a subject, the slave for a cause that was never mine.

***CONTENT WARNING***

I was sprawled, staring at the roof, trying to focus on dots of…something? I couldn’t tell what they were because my eyes wouldn’t focus and when they did, the dots multiplied.

My body was airbourne for less than a 10th of a second, but it still came down hard. Where are we? Is this a dirt road?

A sudden turn. This time, my body slid on the slick, white leather seat. I knew it was leather because the Man driving had made sure to tell us it was. At least twice. I was not impressed at all. It still feels like plastic, and I was sliding on it just like plastic.

From the perspective of a first-generation survivor.

I was in the cult for 15 years (1975 - 1990). I was 17 when I joined and 32 when I left. My experience is that the cult evolved from an international group of dedicated Christians aspiring to preach the gospel and serve God, to a sex cult, and then a child sacrifice cult.

~~~TRIGGER WARNING~~~

I wanted to speak, but I did not know the words for what I was seeing and feeling.

I was born into a “pedophile-led sex cult”. As a child, I did not know what any of those words meant; they did not exist in the vocabulary of the adults who raised me. Yet there were memories my mind could not process, that still haunt me today.

Why would anyone want to rejoin a cult?

I was born and raised in the cult that my parents joined before they’d had any kids. I left as a teen to get an education and to get away from an organization rife with abuse and neglect, which functioned through forced labor of all members, including children. I’d been out for five years when I briefly (re)joined1. I’d only meant to go on an overseas trip with some friends, but I changed my plane ticket and stayed, telling myself that I’d finally found “home.”

~~~CONTENT WARNING~~~

Excitement was in the air.

It was dress up night. This was a common occurrence in the cult. Since we were not allowed to mingle with "outsiders," we would often have themed dance nights.

Tonight was gypsy night. We spent the afternoon finding odd ball loose clothing to wear. Often our outfits were whatever we could make with the sheets on our beds.

The cult I was born into exerted complete control over the people within it.

My parents gave up their careers and ambitions, donated their wealth, and severed ties to the outside world to be part of a community they felt purpose in. The cult removed outside influences such as TV, music, media, and school, and replaced these with cult propaganda. Anything that contradicted the cult's teachings was branded as ungodly and sinful.

At the time I am writing this, I have just turned 50 years old.

I am four-and-a-half years out of my last group. Or two-and-a-half-years out of the other group. And twenty-one years out of the second group. And twenty-two years out of the first. And somewhere in there, there was another almost group. Or two.

Before I put my toe in the water, I had to first get to the source. There had been no plans really to get wet, but when the shimmer of the sun hit the liquid, it was presented simply. Here it was, before my eyes, however just a puddle. Little did I know this fluid would become an ocean, nor did I imagine once I felt the texture of the liquid, it’s very essence and my perception of it would change beyond belief.