It felt like surfacing from a deep dive with the sun glaring down at me and my ears ringing loudly.
Everything felt too bright, too loud and too real. Leaving felt impossible.
I started reading Mike Rinder's blog Something Can Be Done About it under my blanket. Realising that exScientologists were able to make a life away from it felt so freeing.
On the outside, my life seemed perfectly fine. I went from a wife, staff member, good Scientologist to plotting my escape.
I had many experiences that now I would consider as abuse, but I’ll leave them for another blog.
One main culty behaviour is keeping its members so busy that they can barely think for themselves.
I remember one day, when I was looking out of the window. I was admiring a beautiful day with the sun shinning and the sea sparkling.
A small part of me wanted to be out there enjoying the day. Behind that window pane, all I could think about was sales, not getting in trouble and being on purpose.
There were times when I did realise the manipulation tactics behind the so called religion and certain individuals within the organisation.
With my ex being in the organisation and not really knowing anyone, I felt trapped.
The cult has a tendency to man-handle it's members who try to leave.
Not to bore you with the details, here's an example.
One Thursday after 2pm, I broke the news to the director (ED) that we came 2nd place in a book sales game. She lost it and started shouting at me while accusing me of having O/Ws (Doing something bad/keeping the bad thing to yourself).
She started dragging me towards the Org's auditor and have me put on the cans so that all those terrible things I've apparently done can be extracted from me.
I was holding onto the door for dear life and shouting back at her that I haven't done anything wrong, and for help.
The director started removing one finger at a time from the edge of the door. She squeezed my arms so hard that they were bruised.
Sometime later, I was told to go home. The next day I was forced to recant my sins on the emeter behind a locked door.
I'm sure there are worse stories out there and my heart goes out to them. Back to my escape plan.
The day I got a job was the day my escape plan started.
Three months later, I was sleeping on a new bed, with a burner phone by myside and a sense of freedom ( and anxiety ) washing over me.
Looking back, I don't regret it.
Wonder Woman XXX
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