obscuredemure

[obscuredemure]

I had a realization recently. Never once when I was growing up did my parents buy me a Halloween costume.

My childhood was really strange. We attended church my entire life, until I stopped when I graduated high school. My parents allowed me to read scary books, but my mom cornered me one day and told me, “Don’t forget those books you read aren’t real. Don’t take any of it to heart and start doing the things in those books.” She really thought I was going to become a serial killer because I liked Stephen King.

My parents would pass out candy (and Bible tracts lol) every year, until trick or treaters dwindled off and started going to better neighborhoods. We weren’t poor, but we definitely weren’t rich. They could afford to pay for my cult school education and the various junk my mom wanted from QVC.

Yet, there’s no photos of me in Halloween costumes growing up, not even a cheap or homemade one. We never did fun activities together, like carving pumpkins. It’s almost like the holiday was meant for others, but never me. Any interest I expressed was immediately shut down, called a waste of time and expenses.

I sometimes wonder if my mother secretly believed the holiday was demonic. Maybe it was another way she feebly tried to impress the other members of our church.

This is the first year I’ve actually attempted to go “all out” on a small scale with decorating for Halloween. It feels strange yet exhilarating to finally give myself the things I always wanted but never had.

[obscuredemure]

How horrible and alienating it feels to be raised by people who cared more about their imaginary friend than the well being of their own children. When the only “family” you have doesn’t even like you, let alone love you. When others around you had caring, supportive parents, but you were stuck with literal monsters who screamed at you and hit you behind closed doors.

Neither of my parents have ever taken responsibility for their actions. They believe any abuse they inflicted on me was somehow my fault. I wouldn’t listen. I wouldn’t behave. I wouldn’t do what they say. They refuse to acknowledge that the church we attended was a literal evangelical cult. Nothing was ever good enough.

I was never the perfect doll my mom wanted when she had a child. She never wanted an actual child. She wanted a doll that she could dress up and parade around. Make them say what she wanted them to say, so she could live vicariously through the attention. And she when realized she didn’t have that, she got angry. She turned to fabricating lies about me so people would pity her. It was always about her. She craved attention no matter what the cost.

I finally went no contact on them this year. No more. Never again.

[obscuredemure]

Toxic Guilt.

I saw a TikTok about this the other day, and it honestly blew my mind. Inner guilt and religious trauma tend to come hand in hand. Feelings of shame and guilt are basically beat into you at an early age when you’re raised in an evangelical cult. You’re taught that you’re inherently evil and that you have to be constantly alert to anything that might corrupt you.

Toxic guilt comes in when we feel guilty for absolutely no reason, a residual reminder of how others found us so unworthy for years. This is brought on by all the invalidation we received from parents, church leaders, peers. Even when we’ve done nothing wrong, that constant anxiety that maybe we screwed up somehow is constantly there.

Not to mention growing up in fear that we’d go to Hell if we somehow displeased everyone’s favorite imaginary friend, God. It’s no wonder so many of us have anxiety issues even after breaking away from the Church.

More than anything, I wish I could have all those years of my life back. I wish I didn’t have to suffer internally for reasons that were completely out of my control. It’s so disturbing how religion has a death grip on its followers to the point that they treat other people poorly because of an instilled false sense of superiority.

I’ll never stop calling out cults and their bizarre behavior because it’s abuse, no matter how you view it.

[obscuredemure]

I feel so angry and left behind sometimes.

Growing up in a cult you really don’t have a sense of self, or if you do it’s quickly crushed under the weight of what is expected of you. Do this or else. Believe this or else. Oh, there’s something you enjoy? Jesus doesn’t like that unless it’s all about him. Every aspect of your life is scrutinized and judged.

I was raised in a evangelical fundamentalist cult. Several years ago I put the pieces together and started reading about Christian cults. It all made so much sense and explained so much. But I was also horrified.

There’s so much grief in what could have been. The person I could have become. The things I could have done under better circumstances. Processing so much anger and sadness while reclaiming my life has been an ongoing journey.

I don’t expect many people to read this. I’m here to seek out similar people and stories, because there’s too many of us out there. None of us should heal alone.