I have a confession to make.
I was raised in a religious cult. Uh-oh, here we go again you may be thinking, another cult victim writing about her experiences. I understand how the stories may begin to blur in our collective minds. There really are so many of them. It shouldn’t surprise us though. After all, perhaps more than any other country in modern times, America is home to the Christian cult or what I like to refer to as the cross-eyed cousins of Christianity. You know what I’m talking about. An endless array of bizarre belief systems that have either sprung up from a single individual, usually a male, and then attracted a following or a splinter group that felt the need to redeem a church with stricter interpretations of the scriptures. These wacky doodle groups abound in the US like no other country in the western world. There’s nothing mainstream about them AT ALL. My father was one of those lone wolves who believed he had been called out from among them to be separate. The voices in his head literally told him that he was the last prophet of the last day and age. Lucky me. I was ten when he converted and it was a rough ride until I was old enough to finally leave home.
I was raised in a religious cult. Uh-oh, here we go again you may be thinking, another cult victim writing about her experiences. I understand how the stories may begin to blur in our collective minds. There really are so many of them. It shouldn’t surprise us though. After all, perhaps more than any other country in modern times, America is home to the Christian cult or what I like to refer to as the cross-eyed cousins of Christianity. You know what I’m talking about. An endless array of bizarre belief systems that have either sprung up from a single individual, usually a male, and then attracted a following or a splinter group that felt the need to redeem a church with stricter interpretations of the scriptures. These wacky doodle groups abound in the US like no other country in the western world. There’s nothing mainstream about them AT ALL. My father was one of those lone wolves who believed he had been called out from among them to be separate. The voices in his head literally told him that he was the last prophet of the last day and age. Lucky me. I was ten when he converted and it was a rough ride until I was old enough to finally leave home.