I Got Out Of MLM

I got out of an MLM after almost two years.

It was a very slow drain and a series of moments that eventually gave me the courage to finally quit.

When I joined, I believed there was something special about this company and I didn’t see the immediate harm because the products seemed harmless and were things I used anyways.

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Was my family a cult?

Cult: a system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object.

Cult: a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister.

Cult: a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.

Until I Googled the words “emotional abuse.” I began to plan my escape, and sought help from some women I trusted at a local church.

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I got out twice...

The first time, I was a college senior. I often cowered under my dorm bed crying, while my boyfriend mercilessly berated me for any number of “transgressions.” I tried all kinds of things to hide my puffy eyes, from blowing cold air on them to holding ice cubes against my face in the mornings. Every day, I wished that he would hit me. Just once, and then I might have a reason to leave.

Until I Googled the words “emotional abuse.” I began to plan my escape, and sought help from some women I trusted at a local church.

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23 years later...

I am 68 years old. I got out of my high demand cult group 23 years ago.

It is only in the last few years that our family is tackling the effects of being in a cult for 9-10 years, so many years ago.

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I got out of a cult in NYC…

I got out of a cult in NYC. I know, a cult in NYC? You would never expect it, would you? I grew up in NYC and still live here. It's a place that’s known for people being savvy and aware. You have to be when you live in such a big city with so much going on all the time. And yet, you can find yourself feeling quite alone here.

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My Experience with a Christian Cult…

At age 21, I graduated from an Ivy League college. I had a great education prior to that, attending day and boarding schools that I really liked and where I made a lot of friends. I was a high school competitive athlete and won academic awards. In college, I became overly attached to my college boyfriend. The year after college, he broke up with me and started dating someone else. I was devastated.

I moved to a new city where I knew very few people. Some new friends, from overseas, were fundamentalist “born again” Christians. Before long, they invited me to services, and, not long after, I was ready to be born again in a full immersion baptism. The officiants told me two minutes before the baptism that I should talk in tongues during the event and I complied, basically pretending.

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Daughter of the Devil

I swept aside my tear-soaked hair and gazed up from my fetal position. I could hardly recognize the faces around me. One was that of my mother, but her eyes were devoid of their characteristic warmth. The other was that of a family friend who’d been summoned to preside over my trial. He looked distraught and confused. Satan had struck our family again, taking captive the mind of another child. But my excommunication was predetermined by God, and he was only the voice of his will.

Then there was my father. His eyes were red with sorrow and rage. “If there is one thing the bible teaches us,” he said, “it’s that the women will always rebel.” His voice quivered as he raised his shaking finger. “You are under the influence of the Satan. Satan has been trying to destroy this household for years. And you know why? It’s because we have the truth.”

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On Becoming...

I got out of an abusive cultic relationship with my narcissistic mother. Anyone who knows the both of us would not believe me.

She is very charismatic, and makes a convincing case that I’m the one who’s confused and unstable. She also pulls off with confidence a claim to psychic powers and access to spiritual wisdom beyond this earthly realm. I believed this, too, until only recently.

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Motherland

Returning to the Motherland

Going back to Ireland has always been an unsettling experience. In fantasy, it is the Motherland I return home to, but in reality, it has never been home. Ireland rejected me when I was still in my teenage mother’s womb, and she was forced to travel to London alone and live in a Mother and Baby Home. For years, I rejected Ireland just as she had rejected me. I disavowed my Irishness in favor of an adoptive identity. But ever since I connected with my roots, that small rock in the Atlantic Ocean has had a magnetic pull akin to the seductive allure of an unpredictable, exciting but abusive partner or father figure.

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24 Days Into a New Apartment...

Now, I am living across town, 24 days into a new apartment. I live among the boxes that hold every single thing that I own or have owned since I was only months old. Some say, too young to remember, but I do.

Outside, I hear church bells and a train crossing tracks, the birds singing, and cars passing by. Before, I used to hear only silence in my isolated place out in the woods, out behind the "owner's" large house.

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How my own research fueled my therapy...

Up until age 23 I thought I knew the answers to life’s secrets. I thought I was better than everyone else. I used to pity those who weren’t privy to this holy information I had, or grew up in the way that I did. Now, I look at those who did not experience what I did with jealousy, with remorse for how I used to look at them, and with pleading to accept me for the person I was.

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My Escape From Witnessing...

I was raised as a fourth generation on my Mom's side and third on my father's. I took to the religion almost immediately, becoming an unbaptized publisher at 8 and joining the theocratic ministry school where I would give five minute talks in front of over 100 people soon after.

While I wouldn't go out of my way to preach to my classmates, if an opportunity to talk about my religion came up, I would take it. Missing out on holidays didn't seem like a big deal, having never experienced them. It was, however, really hard for me to miss out on playing sports, which were strictly forbidden because this would bring me into "bad association."

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I was a "stay at home daughter"...

Eight years ago, I left my life as a stay-at-home daughter in the Christian Patriarchy movement.

I was struggling with depression, anxiety, and terrifying fear. My voice was silenced, and I had no agency over my life. I was not allowed to get a job outside the house, not allowed to go to college, not allowed to date. I had few friends and was mostly cut off from extended family.

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Why I got out...

I got out of the cult in 1997-8.

I’d been indoctrinated at age 10, having celebrated my last childhood birthday earlier that year (got a wicked cool Duran Duran vinyl!). I left around age 24, having just had enough living with all the cognitive dissonance required to make my shit homelife excusable.

As an adult ex-member, I like to say that suicidal depression really saved my life.

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Knock, knock. Can someone let me in?

In the spring of 2020, chaos, civil unrest, and sickness spread around the world. Fear and uncertainty overwhelmed me. The bravery, strength, and courage of those who got out, inspired me, and gave me the strength to move forward.

Getting out comes at an exceedingly high cost, including being shunned by friends and family. And while getting out is seemingly impossible, here is my story of many failed attempts to get in.

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Breaking the Chains...

At first, I wasn't even sure if it was appropriate for me to contribute my "I Got Out" story, but I thought it was important to to share how hard it was to overcome the intense religious indoctrination of my early years.

I was born into a high control group, second generation on my Mom's side. My Mom was a baptized member and my Dad was not. My Dad hated it and did everything in his power to dissuade her from participating in the organization, many times in violent ways. This is the world I was brought up in...divided...half cult, the other half an "unbeliever."

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May 11th, 1976 was the day...

After five days of deprogramming, I “woke up” and emerged from being a “model group member” and leader in my group to a very upset, confused, angry, and ashamed self.

A team of four people hired by my parents worked together until I “snapped” from my fanatical involvement in the cult and allowed a doubt to surface. The rest is history.

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How Trauma & Tragedy Led To My Awakening...

I was born in a record making blizzard and although I had 6 older siblings, I was the one that was completely unplanned. Through her pregnancy, my mom had a terrible health issue and was miserable beyond imagination. I was born much later than expected and the labor was very difficult.

Because of these incredible circumstances, my mom used to tell me that I was “Her child born of distress” a loose quote of a scripture in Isaiah. Funny how that alone set the tone for my life; a lot of challenges and trauma, side by side with a deep inculcation of bible-based beliefs from the cult she was a part of.

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The COVID-19 Pandemic Saved My Life*

*This statement in no way undermines the immense pain and suffering that the last 18 months has impacted on the World, this is my personal story.

You might wonder why I choose to title this “leaving my cult” essay with such a title, please allow me to explain.

I was what is commonly referred to as a “born-in”. That means, from birth I was expected to take on the beliefs and fervour my parents held for the cult they were indoctrinated into.

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The Mind is Made of Glass

The mental crisis I have been in, leaving my family, is, in actuality, the leaving of a cult. In part, the cult of white supremacy, a culture of privilege, wealth and power, of authoritarianism, of male domination and the holdover of primogenitor.

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