Going to a party was a good way to show the girls that I was not a prude or religious fanatic. The thing was that I was drinking and partying every night. When I was drunk, it was like I was floating on clouds. I forgot that I was the cult girl and the other girls thought about this as well. I would get so drunk that I did not know what I was doing and could not remember. This would lead to hangovers, but despite the agony of these, I would party every night.
Dad and Julian were worried. They tried telling me that freedom could be a hard thing to cope with when one was given no freedom for years. Besides this, they warned me that getting drunk was no way to deal with experiences I had in the cult. Julian tried this and it only made things worse. They both pleaded with me not to take this path of self-destruction
I was 18 now, and I could do what I want. I considered this partying as making up for the last decade of no fun and being controlled. I continued to party and I was popular with the other girls. I knew that school was suffering, I usually had a hangover when I was sitting in classes and I could not study because I was partying. Even Dad noticed that my grades were falling, but he said nothing. He was afraid that I would leave home if I did not have things my way.
Sometimes I did feel bad. I would try to ring my mom and just hear her voice. I know this may sound stupid, as when did she last show me any love? She was still my mom and I could remember when she loved me. I would hang up the telephone when I heard moms voice. It was not until one time that I rang her, that she replied and said she knew it was me. Mum did not chat with me. She told me to stop ringing as she no longer considered me as her daughter.
When I told Dad about this, he was upset. He said the cult were hypocrites. They preach love and they are so close to God. Yet they have no problem in disowning their child. Dad hugged me and said he is my number one fan, even when I make mistakes. He explained that his love was limitless and unconditional.
I felt lost. It was breaking my heart that my mom disowned me. It should not have bothered me as she stopped showing any love years ago. Still, it hurt more than words can explain. I yelled at Dad telling him we would still be a loving family if he did not allow us to join a cult. My life would not be so bad now and I would not be without a mother or so different.
Maybe I partied and was getting drunk most days because I did not want to be different. I did not want to be a cult girl. I did not want to be one of the chosen ones. I wanted to forget God and his plans for me. I was partying more and more and this would make me so drunk that I did not know what was happening. I could not remember half of it. The next day one of the others would tell me of some crazy thing I have done. Some of the things they told me worried me as they were suicidal. It worried me that I did not remember everything and I had no control. However, this was also liberating.
At one party, I was offered a pill. I reluctantly took this pill and within minutes I was on a pink cloud, where there was only love and respect in the world. There was no God or rules or expectations of me. I could dance the whole night on this cloud. My world became alcohol and these tablets.
The only time I considered this a problem was when I lost my virginity at a party. I was 19 years old by now and took drugs and got drunk most days. The weird thing is that I had no memory of my first experience with a man. This saddened me as I always wanted this to be a special man. I always imagined it would be with my husband. Now I did not even know the man who took my virginity
Dad was worried about me and pleaded to me that I get some help. I would get mad and tell him my actions were the result of the cult. I shouted I was not an alcoholic or drug addict. I had control of my life.
When I prayed, I was down on my knees. I knew that I had problems. I asked God did he abandon me because I left the cult. I did not know what to do except continue the life of partying and drinking. How worse could things get?
They got worse. It seemed like my life was one where I was now high all the time. The school could see this and after several warnings, they ended kicking me out of the school. I was expelled and my dream of an education and being a teacher was destroyed.
When I looked in the mirror, I have no longer seen the pretty young woman smiling back. I looked like a mess. I looked like a homeless person that was an addict. I ended up smashing the mirror shouting that I hated the woman in it. I hated myself.
It did not get any better when I would see Dad. He would sigh when he saw me and he would be silent. Julian gave up on me long ago. Dad never did know how to deal with a crisis. He did not know what to say to me. I could see that his eyes were so burdened and so sad. I waited every day in which he would say that he no longer loved me. I expected him to do the same as mom had done. I expected Dad to say that he no longer loved me
I wanted to forget everything and met a drug dealer outside the Church. I asked him if he would give me some tablets. He told me that I had to pay and when I begged him because I had no money, he just smiled and said I could work with him as a prostitute and get all the pills I wanted.
I was about to agree until I looked at the church. It looked as if the cross was glowing and it had a sort of halo around it. I could feel that it was spreading its warmth and hugging me. I forgot all about the drug dealer and walked towards the church.
I knelt at a pew and was silent. The sun shining through the stained glass windows were shining on me. What happened to me. I was now a drug addict and an alcoholic. I was just about to agree to sell my body for drugs. I shouted at the top of my voice while I was in tears that I needed God's help. I was one of his lost sheep. I wanted to smile again. I wanted a future. I wanted to be happy.
I spent most of the day in the Church.
Then I walked to Morris house. She hugged me. Dad was sitting inside as he was so worried about me. I ran to Dad and told him that I loved him. I told Morri that I loved her. Then I told them that I needed help...
I know I will find myself. I know that I will not let my life be destroyed because of what I experienced in the cult. I would be a survivor and help others. I would find a good husband and be a good wife and mother. I knew that I would be a good teacher. God would be a big part of my life. I also suspected that Dad and Morri were in love and Morri would be a mother for me.
All this would happen. However, I am sitting with you, a psychiatrist now to help me on the right path. Let me start:
"Being born with the name Angel is special. It makes you feel like you are close to God. At 11 years old, I was interested in what other girls were interested in. Things like which music should be listened to and what clothes to wear. I sent as many text messages as anyone else and I had an app for everything! I was popular enough at school and had friends.
My family was like any other family..."
The End
I hope you will look at my profile and read the other stories I have written
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