I was raised in a Cult, I think, I am not sure…


Charles Bukowski
Factotum
“ “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well,
 yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people 
mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never 
been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, 
because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the
 millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of 
entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!” 

Yesterday I had a Epiphany that answered a few questions for
me, because I have started on a dark journey of who I am and the purpose for my reality.  I explored many avenues of religion and spirituality, because the religion that I grew up in was bat-shit crazy as can be.

The only answer that I ever received;   Damnation! Hell!  Fire! Shame! and the Mark of the Beast looming over me!

Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.” —Revelation 13:18

I can not even begin to describe what the religion made me fear, especially that Christians were gonna go through the Tribulation, and we need to be prepared. 

In our Cult…oh so sorry, I mean religion we identified as:

  1. Born again Christian
  2. Washed in the blood of the lamb
  3. Slain in the Spirit
  4. Raising the Dead
  5. Commanding the weather to change under her authority.
  6. Commanding in the name of the Lord to straighten my crooked teeth.

Speaking in tongues and other weird things did she. 

She started to believe she was the chosen Prophet
for her realm in Wyoming.

My mother was the crusader of this odd reality, she was storing food and wine, for the end of times since the very early eighty’s .

I was just a little girl exposed to this travesty,

I am not being dramatic, just read this and see, and give me your opinion because it matters much to me.  

She became a zealot for her cause and until now, I did not know how much it devastated my being, and who I would end up to be.

Religion is beginning to be recognised as a possible source of psychological stress on children. This is particularly so for children raised in exclusive religious cults and sects
http://openparachute.wordpress.com/2008/04/27/psychological-and-religious-abuse-of-children/

Because it was my normal and I believed that everyone was raised with shame and feeling guilty. 

I constantly lived in fear of death, because that was all that was taught to me.

The part that makes me  angry and bitter, and I feel immeasurable loss in my heart and soul, is when I gave birth to my adorable babies.

I feel like I was not able to enjoy the feeling of motherhood, because I was taught at any moment my children could be taken from me without any warning. 

Having children is like your heart is outside of your body.
(President Obama)

I constantly feared for my babies lives because of my mothers delusional teachings to me.

It is hard to bond to my most important pieces of my heart, because I knew I would not survive them being torn apart. 
So I had to figure out a way to live with this, so my children could at least have a start.

I have to get this off my chest about an experience that is still clear as day to me. 

I was only a child and I remember going to church to watch a movie about the Christian trying to survive the tribulation that was forthcoming for all of us to see.

They showed graphic scenes of people getting their heads chopped off because they refused to take the Mark of the Beast.

So for me life is ending at any given moment, so what’s the purpose anyways?”

Child abuse survivors suffer from long-term post-traumatic stress disorder. Symptoms such as flashbacks, nightmares, intrusive negative thoughts, low self-esteem, compulsive behaviour, anger, disturbed sleep, hyper-vigilance, shame, guilt, etc. are common.http://openparachute.wordpress.com/2008/04/27/psychological-and-religious-abuse-of-children/

I cant even begin to describe to you how deep the scars and nightmares that has been seared inside of me and its still my darkest monster watching ever close to me.

I know it affected every single aspect of my life and the choices that I have made.

Especially one friendship that use to be so dear, is forever over, between me and her.

I speak of souls weeping in my other blog post called “She was amazing”  because my former friend was the only person who went through this travesty with me.

I feel so much guilt because it was my mother leading the crusade to cast the demons out of she,

Because as a tiny little girl was not treated humanly.

Which was absolutely not her fault, and had no control of the monsters that she was born too, 

Even when she got rescued from her evil father,
she still never got the proper therapy that she needs.

They were working in the name of the Lord so there is no way they could be off key.


Glossolalia
 or speaking in tongues is the fluid vocalizing (or less commonly, the writing of), speech-like syllables, in some cases, as part of religious practice.[1] The significance of glossolalia has varied in context, with some minorities considering it a part of a sacred language. It is most prominently practiced within Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity, but it is practiced in non-Christian religions as well. Many believe[who?] that the vocalizations are a reaction to externally induced hysteria.

Please, please, help me understand….. tell me how casting demons out of someone, especially a child while holding them down and wailing in tongues is something I am sure no one could even perceive. 

My mother and her followers performed it not once, not twice, but  thrice to She.  Why? as I shake my head and wonder how my mother got this level of crazy.

” although religious child abuse is not restricted to cults like the Exclusive Brethren a religious upbringing can be healthy – provided it occurs in an open and flexible atmosphere. If this is absent the child can suffer from the stultification of a personal moral and intellectual sense.

I stared exploring different  avenues of religions and spirituality, since I was already the black sheep of my family.
 I was never gonna be like my mother I vowed on the daily.

For even thinking the answers were in my mother and the Holy Bible, that only she interpreted for me and her followees.

She kept me hostage with fear of burning forever in Hell.
She used  this fear of pain and death as a instrument for evil deeds did she.

Everlasting punishment

The most terrifying aspect of the torment in hell is that it never ends. It goes on forever and ever. The words used by Christ and the apostles to describe the duration of the suffering in hell clearly, unambiguously and unequivocally teach that the punishment in hell is eternal, unending and everlasting.

http://www.reformedonline.com/view/reformedonline/hell.htm

So I am in a search for  a different philosophy, something that does not scare me and help me find Faith, Purpose and Love.

Found one.

and now I am going to start the process to set myself free.

Thank you to everyone for listening to me, that act alone has given me some positive energy.


Prologue:

When does it get better?  When does it feel like I might have a life again? My dear Candy, two weeks ago she decided to give up the good fight. She left on her own terms…her heart broken from too much loss.

I know the pain overtook her…she herself stated she was tired of being brave.  Her attempt at learning to live again failed.  I ask myself if she was truly the winner…the pain that ravished her heart and soul had stopped.

Where ever she is at….I wish her well….hopefully some peace that she deserved but never found. I am sorry Candy I couldn’t help you…couldn’t talk to you. Couldn’t be there for you.

But at this time in my life I can’t even help myself…just existing…barely breathing…and getting up each day to to do the same thing…over and over. This is not a life. This is not enough. This has to change…I too am tired of being brave…tired of just existing.  

I don’t really matter to anyone…not even to myself.  What do I do? Something has to give. I have to find an answer before I tear to pieces from the pain..from the loneliness…from the complete emptiness inside of me.


Peace to you my friend….see you the next rotation of the Sun….Tina

Published by Just Tina

I am a Writer, Artist and Human Rights Advocate. I also have a dream about this project. I wanted to hear the voices of my Sisters. Their Voices speaking truth to power, her stories and dreams, and nightmares that she needs/must express.  “A strong woman stands up for herself. A stronger woman stands up for everybody else.” – Unknown

One thought on “I was raised in a Cult, I think, I am not sure…

  1. Keep writing sister. Your journey has been so horrible most don’t survive. But you’re a inspiration!! I’m so happy to be a part of your life

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