Being born into and raised in a cult meant that my childhood was always going to be different to what most children would experience. So after the little introduction to the cult I gave last week, I wanted to continue by sharing with you a glimpse at my childhood growing up in it.

In case you missed Part One – I Was Raised In A Cult – Part One: An Introduction

One of my earliest memories as a kid was at school. The cult was vehemently opposed to celebrating Christmas and I can remember being at school and being pulled out of all of the Christmas plays and any Christmas related activities by my parents. While all the other kids were out having fun enjoying Christmas, I had to sit in a room on my own and do some colouring or something similar. Seeing all the other kids come back happy from Christmas play practice whilst I was left alone is just heartbreaking to think back on now. I remember them all asking me why I had to sit on my own and being just as confused as them. I was told that I believed in God and Jesus, so why wasn’t I allowed to celebrate the birth of Jesus like everyone else? As the years went on in school I used to dread Christmas time and having to try and avoid explaining to the other kids why I wasn’t joining in because I was so embarrassed about being in a weird religion. It’s no wonder that I suffered from social anxiety growing up and finding it so hard to make friends at school.

I was always smiling and laughing in photos and home movies from when I was a kid but I can’t really recall that many memories of me being happy. It sounds sad but I can’t remember us really having that much fun together as a family. I struggle to figure out whether that’s because we didn’t or that I just have a terrible memory. I think it’s probably somewhat a mixture of the two. For example, whereas weekends for most children were dedicated to spending time and having fun with their families, mine were dedicated to the cult.

Saturdays were mostly taken up by events at the church. We would go to study days, ‘fraternals’ (usually an evening gathering centred around two hour long talks), Baptisms, special ‘public’ (we never had any visitors outside of the cult actually attend these) lectures or the most dreaded of all – Billing. I used to hate this with every fibre of my being. Once a month the cult would hold a bible lecture which was open to the public. They would design and print hundreds and hundreds of leaflets which we would then have to go out and hand push through letterboxes. Remember, I’m talking about my childhood here and not my adulthood. They would make us, as children, do this. Imagine, as a kid and embarrassed enough as it is about being in this weird cult, to then have to go around your own neighbourhood and post leaflets about it through your school friends’ doors. All the kids hated it and we were made to feel awful if we voiced our displeasure at having to do it.- Not that that did anything because we didn’t have a choice in the matter. We were basically forced to do it. It might not sound like that much of a deal as you’re reading this but it makes me so angry thinking back on it.

Sundays would go like this. We had our morning ceremony at the church at 11am, which would last until 1pm. I would have to sit and be silent for the entirety of the morning ceremony. It was mind numbingly boring as a child and they felt like an eternity. To kick things off a prayer would be given, then a hymn, then a ‘brother’ (a baptised male in the cult) would read a passage from the Bible before another would then read a different passage, sometimes another one after that. Next up the main elder brother would read the announcements (who was giving the ceremony talk that day, who was visiting this week, how much money we had collected last week etc.), then another hymn before the main talk was given. This would last around 45 minutes to an hour and we would have different speakers every week. Sometimes it was a ‘brother’ from our church or it could be another ‘brother’ from a different church. After he was done, there would be yet another hymn and two more prayers, one before the baptised members would pass around and eat a piece of bread and one before a silver chalice of wine would be passed and drank from (everyone drank from the same chalice, that’s fifty to sixty different mouths drinking from the same cup… nasty). After that ANOTHER hymn before bags would be passed around to collect money for various causes, finally ending in another prayer. After it was finished everyone would chat for what felt like forever for a child who just wanted to go home and play.

Eventually, we would go back home for lunch. The fun didn’t stop there though! Sunday School started at 3 so I would be shipped back off to church again which would last another hour with some more, you guessed it, hymns and prayers. Only this time there was only about 10-15 children singing these awful hymns. As there weren’t many of us, you could hear every individual singing loud and clear, which, as a kid is just the worst and incredibly embarrassing.

After Sunday School we would be taken back home for 4.15 before heading back out yet again to go to the evening lecture at 6. Surprise, surprise, even more hymns and prayers before another 45 minute to an hour talk by the same ‘brother’ that did the talk in the morning. Again, I had to be silent for the entirety of it. Finally, after waiting for the adults to stop talking, I would eventually be taken home and get back for about 8pm for supper and bed. Remember, this was every Sunday of my childhood, without fail.

It’s worth noting here that the women, or ‘sisters’, are not allowed to speak AT ALL during any ceremonies in the cult- not just Sunday ones either. They are not allowed to give prayers, give talks or even read the passages of the Bible during ceremonies or gatherings. The only things they are allowed to do is play the organ, teach the children and put the flowers out on the lectern before the ceremony starts. They also have to have their hair completely covered throughout the entirety of every gathering at the church.

Sometimes I wouldn’t even be home for my weekends. My dad was and still is a highly regarded and sought after speaker in the cult. This meant that he was always speaking at different churches which of course meant that we all had to go along with him. If where he was speaking was far enough away we would be invited to spend the weekend. 9 times out of 10 we would be hosted by older members of the cult who either didn’t have any children, had children who were much older and had moved out or were too old to play with as a child. I can’t tell you the amount of weekends I’ve spent literally just sitting and being quiet either at a cult member’s house while the adults talked or at a cult ceremony that my dad was giving the talk at. Sometimes I would get lucky and there would be kids my age but being a very shy and socially anxious child, it was pretty rare that I’d go and mix with them, especially as I’d never met any of them before nor would I ever see again. Not until my dad gave another talk at the same place the next year.

I wouldn’t even get that many week nights at home. Tuesday’s were Bible class night which was, again, another two hour event where I would have to sit and be silent (more hymns and prayers as well), Wednesday was ‘Youth Circle’ which was pretty much mid week Sunday school all over again; A 45 minute talk before some sort of activity or game (prayers but no hymns this time, fuck yeah!).

All of this meant that I would miss out on a lot of the things that other kids would usually enjoy. It didn’t leave much time for any after school activities and completely ruled out one of the things that I really loved as a kid- football. I absolutely loved football; I was pretty good and I’d play it every chance I’d get which, as it turned out, wasn’t very often. Practice was on Wednesday and games were on Sunday. I had cult things on both of those days so I couldn’t ever go. I think I played one game of school football on a Saturday one time. I only got to play about 5 minutes of the game because I’d never been to practice before but it was the greatest 5 minutes of my childhood.

What I’m left with now is struggling to know how to process my childhood. To be honest, I try to not think about it too much. It’s difficult writing this down and publishing it because I know that my parents were doing what they genuinely believed was the right thing but , looking back on it now as a non believer, it’s difficult to view it in a positive light and see it as anything but a waste. I try not to blame my parents but instead the cult. One good thing I take from it is knowing that when I (hopefully) have children, I’m going to give them the best god damn childhood. The childhood that I never got to experience.

The response I had from Part One was honestly unreal. Thank you so much to everyone that read, commented, shared and emailed. It means a lot to me that so many people read and got in contact with me so please feel free to do the same again this time. Ask any questions you like either in the comments or by emailing me at misfitvinegaroon@gmail.com as I’m more than happy to answer, no matter how weird or personal you might think they may be. Same goes for if you’ve been through something similar and want to share your story or simply want to talk about it or ask for any advice. I’ll try my best to help in any way I can.