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come. It was a scary thought.
For the first few weeks, I couldn't go anywhere by myself. I felt
too fragile. Even walking around the block by myself became a major
challenge. The sudden and unexpected rejection by the cult had caused a
complete loss of psychic cohesion that would take months to rebuild. I
was, to be blunt, a "basket case."
Even though I had been a computer programmer while in the cult, the
only work I could do now was to work as a waitress. It didn't require
any complex thought. The physical work was actually therapeutic;
concentrating on menial tasks helped me to pull my mind back together.
It wasn't until eighteen months later that I went through my
post-cult "crisis." I began to feel an unfamiliar emotion boiling up
inside me -- anger. I had given them everything for twelve years: my
time, energy, any money I had, my inheritance. How could they just throw
me out?
The more the anger brewed, the more I was forced to search for an
outlet. I began to have dangerous thoughts, suppressive thoughts. One
night, I picked up the phone and called a lawyer, one I knew to be
anti-Scientology. This was a clearly suppressive act, and I was
terrified.
The lawyer asked me some questions and promised to send me some
information to read. The knowledge that I had committed a
suppressive act threw me into a suicidal crisis. I was tormented with
guilt for what I had done. I got in my father's car and drove through
the town, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I stopped at a phone
booth and looked through the yellow pages. I called the local hospital
and explained to the person at the other end of the line that I was in
trouble.
A man's voice came on the line, and he gave me directions to the
hospital. I was surprised to find that he was a priest. He took me to
the cafeteria and asked me questions about Scientology. Later he took me
to the house of a couple who had a son in the Moonies. I stayed there
for the weekend and with their help began to recover my balance.
After that, I made progress. I began to read books about other
cults, thinking maybe that would not be quite as "suppressive" as
reading anti-Scientology books. Seeing the similarities between the
other cults and Scientology was what finally helped me to snap out of
Scientology.
I visited a religious bookstore in search of books about cults, and
happened to pick up a book about Christianity, which was my religion
before the cult. One night, while reading all these books, I was struck
with a startling realization. All these cult leaders were saying they
were God -- but there could only be one God. Which one was it?
In an instant, I realized that Hubbard was not God. And at the exact
instant I had that thought, I experienced something miraculous. I
snapped out of Scientology. I jolted awake as if an invisible hypnotist
had snapped his fingers. A light went on in my mind. Hubbard was wrong,
Scientology was wrong. And I was free. That was my turning point.
Soon after that, I returned to Florida to begin my long legal battle
with the cult. I had to do something to channel the anger I felt toward
the cult or the anger would destroy me.
People do not understand how long it can take to recover from the
experience of a destructive cult. Just as veterans from the battlefield
go through an extended period of post-traumatic stress disorder, so do
refugees from a cult.
It is ironic to me that I spent twelve years in the cult, and it has
taken me another twelve years to fully recover from the experience. It
has been an expensive lesson.
Margaret Singer, the American Family Foundation and others have
written about some of the problems facing the former cult member. I will
relate these to my own experience.
The one problem shared by almost all former members of any cult is
depression. There is a loss of friends left behind, the loss of years
wasted, and the loss of innocence and self-esteem. Dr. John Clark of
Harvard University writes:
A person who comes out of a cult has been plunged into a grief
state. He has lost something, and it can't be returned. These feelings
must be dealt with by the therapist as though he were dealing with the
real elements of grief. There is a real loss. Something has died. The
person cannot go back. He has a right to grieve and mourn. (1)
Another big problem for many former cult members is loneliness.
During my twelve years in Scientology, I was hardly ever alone. The
loneliness I felt when I was out of the cult was devastating. The cult
provides a natural support network that can only be acquired with time
and effort outside the cult.
Margaret Singer writes:
Leaving a cult also means leaving many friends, a brotherhood with
common interests, and the intimacy of sharing a very significant
experience. It means having to look for new
friends in an uncomprehending or suspicious world. (2)
Another problem that was difficult for me was making decisions.
Especially small decisions. What to order from a menu. What to wear.