For the past four years, I attended a “church” in my hometown. During the course of my time at that church, I attended most Sundays, went to Bible study fairly regularly, played in their euchre club, joined their women’s ministry, and made some “friends.” My mom died shortly after I started attending there, and people were kind about it, and I felt supported. Fast forward a few years. My dad died on September 11. I have yet to hear any sort of condolences from the pastor, or anyone else in leadership, aside from the one person I respect who holds the title of elder, as he and hsi wife helped move soem furniture. Fast forward some more. I stopped going to that church after the Sunday after my dad died, so September 14 was the last time I went there. Silence.
Now, I am not the type of person who needs to be needed or mollycoddled, but when you claim to be a big family, when you claim to be a church, I have certain expectations for how you conduct your communal life. One of those things includes making sure people who have been part of your family are thriving, whether or not they remain a part of your body. What makes me really sad about this situation is that my parents had a similar experience with the church they attended. When my mom was in the hospital, not a single person visited her, reached out to my dad, or made any attempt to make sure we were all okay, and we’d attended there for about 40 years. I guess my expectations are too high, desiring some sort of actual Christlike human connection when I lean into a church family.
Brene Brown says that in the absence of information, our brains tell us stories, and I have had to really reflect on whether or not my brain is telling me the truth about these people I formerly considered as friends/family. And, I want desperately for my brain to stop thinking about this, so at some point, I am just going to have to write it out, burn it, and let it go. So, I ask, in the process of trying to get past this shit, why would no one reach out to me when I left a space I occupied for four years? Why would the pastor not even tell me that he’s sorry my dad died? Why would people I considered friends not make any sort of attempt at communication with me? I’m looking at two particular individuals with this question. I considered you friends. And, now, here we are. Why would there be no follow up about my safety, my spiritual health, my life? Here’s the story I’ve made up in the absence of information: they are horrible people and merely tolerated my existence, and they are mindless followers of a narcissistic leader who speaks in pat answers and underdeveloped, childish theological black and whites. Oh, and they think queer people are going to hell, and it was clear I wasn’t buying that, so I am a lost cause.
So I know most of that probably isn’t true, but it’s the story my brain is telling me. What is true based on all the definitions I’ve seen, is that this group of people functions as a cult, not a devious cult, but a cult nonetheless. Sort of like the Amish or some rogue LDS groups, if you’re in, you’re in, but when you’re out, you cease to exist, you’re excommunicated. What hurts the most about this for me is that I am a person who doesn’t open up to people easily; I don’t just share my inner thoughts. I was telling my friend Molly about all of this, and she said it sounds like a cult, and I told her that I felt foolish, because I was made to feel safe by a friend and her friends, to the point that I shared information with them that I’ve never even talked about in therapy. How silly of me to trust people with my emotions, information about my life, or the ways in which I believe. I loved that Molly said to me, We’ve been friends for 25 years, and we’ve never had to find out that the other person is not who they presented themselves to be, because we’re authentic. I have asked around to lots of other friends, and they’ve all said that I am nothing if nto consistent, so I have to rely on the fact that I am not the one who changed. I just left. Surely, I deserve some sort of good-bye, or fuck off, at least.
In short, for about four years, in a perfect storm os really shitty events in my life, I forgot who I was, I settled for false community to assuage my pain, and I allowed myself to be taken in by deceit. And I couldn’t sense that these people were horrible. I was duped. I’ve watched almost every cult documentary out there, and I used to think, how are people so foolish, how do people let themselves get taken in by this nonsense. And, now, I know. Through increased vulnerability, increased fragility because of life circumstances, humans reach out for what feels loving, helpful, and kind. I never thought I’d be the type of person to reach the wrong way, to cleave to something that was fake. I am so good at sensing who people are and usually very quickly. But, here I am on the other side, just wishing I’d never have gotten involved. I wish I would have never met these people. I wish I would have stayed over in my corner, away from these people.
Reason Breeds Insanity 