Cult of None

There was a paging system in my house when I was a teenager.

Each room had a speaker that was connected to one of the main units, one of which was in my parents' bedroom and another that was in my father’s library. Unless the speaker had the mute button on, my parents could listen in on whatever us kids were doing in our rooms through the paging system. The main system could page all of the speakers, and my father would do this whenever he wanted, really loudly through the entire house.

Sometimes he would ramble on about something stupid, or just to let them know some random apparent fact. Instead of actually taking time to spend with his kids, he would frequently page the house and say "I love you {insert kid's name here}."

There was nothing more embarrassing than him doing that while I was on the phone or when one of my friends was over. I always hated this paging system but was always able to live with it. But there were so many times I just couldn't take it and had to leave the house any chance I could get.

Whenever my father was home for an extended period, he seemed to live on the paging system, always talking about something stupid or asking for something from me, my mother, or one of my siblings. There was nothing worse than just sitting down to relax and then hearing your father’s voice really loud throughout the entire house asking you to go get him a glass of water from the kitchen, which was only about two meters from his library.

Even worse, you knew that once you went down the glass of water wouldn't be the end of it. Follow-up work was always involved, some of which was really awful.

It was the winter of 1998. To be more precise, it was my winter vacation from university of 1998-99. I had successfully completed a year and a half of university and I was slowly starting to realize more and more that I really needed to get out of the situation…

If you were just looking from the outside, at the height of my father’s success it probably seemed like we were well-off. We had a huge house with nine bedrooms, four cars, two airplanes, and all sorts of modern early 1990s luxuries.

I use the term success loosely, however, because it was all about appearances and not real success or stability. Sure, my father drove around in his Mercedes and flew in his airplane, but he was on the brink of losing everything at any moment. For my entire childhood.

One thing he would do was buy us kids a lot of gifts for Christmas. Looking back on it now that I am older and wiser, I realize this was more a combination of compensation and selfishness than it was about making his children happy.

The compensation was for all of those times he was never there as a father. Never there as his children needed him.

The selfishness is equally as simple: knowing my father, he probably just wanted to make himself feel better and also wanted his kids to think he was a wonderful father because he bought them a bunch of stuff with money he actually didn’t have.

One year, he decided to take one of his missionary trips to Africa. He had been to Namibia a number of times and was going again. My mother also went and they decided to go over the Christmas and New Year period. Some church members lived in our house with us, and they would manage things and watch us kids while my parents were away. We were always happy, to be honest, because any time away from our father made our life easier.

My father always loved Christmas, but not enough to cancel his trip and spend it with his family. He didn't want to miss out, though, on all of the Christmas festivies. Instead of having an early celebration, he decided to make the family wait until my parents returned in the second week of January. But he wanted to make sure that the tree was full of presents.

Being only 8 years old at the time, I was conflicted. I was happy my father would be away, but it also felt like cruel torture to see all those presents sitting under the tree for weeks and weeks. We couldn't touch them, and if we did anything wrong while my parents were away, we wouldn't get to open them when they returned.

You may be thinking - what's the big deal? We were lucky enough to have a roof over our head and presents under the tree, so why should you complaing?

You're right, it's not a big deal, but I provide this as an example about what I felt was true at the time but couldn'd express, and so clearly realized was true when I became older: my father never really cared for others and his actions were only to benefit himself.

He could have celebrated Christmas with his family before he left. But he didn't want to. He wanted to make everyone wait for him, so he could have the celebration that he wanted to have on his own terms, regardless of what his family thought or felt.

From small and mundane things to big decisions, my father's first thought was always himself.

Immediately after stepping through the door Ben knew something was off.

Even though it was mid-summer it was only in the 70s outside but inside Ben was met with a rush of cold air. It was like being instantly transported to the middle of a harsh Minnesota winter. Just breathing the cold air can sting your lungs.

"What's with the temperature?" Ben asked.

"Oh, ah, well, you see, my dad he..."

Before I could get another word in my younger sister came down the steps, which were just in front of the entrance of our house. She was wearing a sweater, but that wasn't the weirdest thing Ben saw.

Her sweater was emblazoned with the words "Slave #5" on the front. She was only 7 years old, but she was already made aware of her place in the house and family.

Ben was speechless. I could see he was trying to think of something to say, but what words are there that would be remotely appropriate? Ben said a suspicious hello to my sister as she happily ran by to the kitchen, not even realizing how hurtful the words on her sweater were.

My father thought the sweaters were just an innocent joke and he bought one for everyone, with my mother being slave #1. He would make us wear them many times at home, even if people were over.

Then there was the library, which was directly to the left of the entrance. It was a separate room on the first floor in which my father would spend a lot of time. He would usually leave the door open so he could yell out to anyone passing by and ask them to do something for him.

On that summer day, with the air conditioning in the house blasting and every one wearing winter coats inside in the middle of July, Ben looked left and saw a roaring fire.

"My dad likes to have a fire going even in the summer, so he turns the air conditioning up full blast. It gets cold in the house, but his library is warm because he has the fire going."

I don't remember what Ben said after that, if he said anything. The look on his face, though, I will always remember. It was pure disbelief. I tried to shrug it off and just explain it as one of those quirks of my father.

But it wasn't just a quirk, it was selfish behavior that made everyone else in the house cold and uncomfortable just so he could enjoy his fire. Claiming to be a man of God that spoke to God himself, here he was putting his own desires ahead of everyone else's.

It was just another day in my house. Nothing new, just another thing that my father did to make himself happy without thinking of anyone else.

I never invited Ben over much again. We became really great friends, but we stuck to hanging out at the mall or at his place.

Having good role models while growing up is important, because you are able to learn in a way that can be beneficial for your life. Bad role models teach you as well, though whether it turns out to be useful or not all depends on your specific circumstances and how you handle with what you learn.

There are a lot of things I wished I would have learned at an earlier age that could have been helpful in my life. Things I had to find out for myself that, many times, came too late. One of these is that ignoring problems does not make them go away. They just fester and can become a permanent scar.

My father had a way of ignoring things. It was amazing, really, I remember it happened even from the littlest things up to the largest. He was perpetually late, and whenever we were running late for something he would completely ignore the reality of it, look at the clock, see it says 3:25pm while we are on our way for a 3:30pm appointment and still 20 minutes away, and just say gleefully - we aren't late yet! This somehow let him ignore the repercussions of being late.

Then there were larger things, like the risk we would lose our house or his impending trial and legal troubles. These are things he would swiftly ignore and pretend that they didn't exist. A point would come when he could no longer do so, and then he would simply run away from the problem or continue to pretend that it didn't exist.

This wasn't a good role model for being successful in life. When you are young and impressionable, the things your parents do make an impact on you and you can take up habits and traits, good and bad.

The bad habit of ignoring things is something that took a hold of me for many years and was one I struggled to break free from.

Ignoring things is never an answer, even if it is the easy thing to do in the moment. This is something I am grateful I finally learned, and something I teach my own children.

When I feel close and comfortable enough with someone, and if the topic of one’s earlier years comes up, I will share a little of my background. I've seen many different reactions to my story. Some I could tell right away were uncomfortable. Others were simply surprised and curious. A…

It felt so freeing just to have quiet.

No screaming. No arguing. No life or death problem that needs to be solved. No abuse. No hitting. Nobody trying to escape and then come back. Not being told you are the devil incarnate. Not being disowned for the 100th time. No psychological torment. No church services filled with rebuke at 6am and 7pm every day.

None of it.

Gone.

It was as if I could finally hear myself breath and think for the first time in my life. I was so happy to just have quiet and no stressful drama that culminated in hours of meaningless discussions just meant to build up one person’s ego.

Happiness can come in the smallest, most inconspicuous ways. For me, it was being able to wake up in my own apartment and know that I wouldn’t have to deal with all the stress that came with living in the same home as my father. I now had a new home, one that was mine and could be made as I saw fit. It finally felt like I was free, even though it would be years before I truly could be.

Finding happiness in just having a normal day was something that felt so pure but had an ugly side. It can lead to a habit of complacency. Looking back, I realize that being satisfied and being complacent are two different things. Satisfacton in your life means that you aren't generally expecting anything more. Complacency means that things are good enough for you to keep up the status quo, but it doesn't mean that you are completely satisfied. You can be complacent and dissatisfied at the same time, and the complacency only leads to more dissatisfaction.

I have some regret that I was too complacent with how things were and didn't more fervently strive to better myself or my situation. For example, I was working a job I knew wouldn't be a job I wanted to be in for the next ten years. Or even five years. But, the money was okay and in general I was just happy to have the basic things in life we all take for granted, so I stayed in that job longer than I wanted to or should have. I should have left and pursued my future more aggressively. But instead, I became complacent.

The habit of complacency can affect us all and can show up at any moment and very easily. If you are happy and satisfied with your life, then great! You are not complacent. But if you are just feeling "okay" about things and stay in your situation because it's the easy, familiar thing to do, you might be complacent. And that can lead to regret down the road and missed opportunities.

Enjoying the peace and quiet of a normal day in the beginning was okay. I had a right, I feel, to be complacent after I first escaped a cult I was born into. But years later, there were no excuses left, and I let my complacency fester into something that had a negative impact on my life. If I could go back and do it over again I would rid myself of this and at least try to do things that would bring more benefits to myself and my family.

In life there are no redos.

But I can help others along the way and end the complacency. In fact, that is a lot of what this entire experiment is about.

Growing up always fearful for your well-being isn't fun. There are different ways you can react to this environment. Some, like my brother Alex, didn't take all the shit that's coming their way and let it be known that what's going on, and the way they are being treated, is bullshit. This can cause a lot of pain in the moment, but doesn't make you anyone's...how shall I put it nicely...well, it doesn't make you feel as used and abused.

Others, like myself, just take it and hold things inside as a way to get by. Handling such enourmous stress and conflict isn't fun, and it can be easier in many ways to just take it and deal with all the shit that comes your way. Watching Trump's administration reminded me a lot of my childhood and the people around my father. Doing and/or saying nothing is in many ways less painful in the moment, but the long-term reprucussions are worse.

I've learned this and still struggle with it.

People have said I'm patient. You would have to be growing up in my family. But it goes beyond patience, and almost borders on masochism. How much abuse are you willing to take before you let out all of your anger, frustration, and despair?

I am patient, though, and it is because of how I grew up and probably my personality. And my choice to just take it and try and let it go. But what I've found is, it isn't always possible to really let it go, and it can come and bite you in the ass at the worst possible time.

All of the anger, self-loathing, sadness, and disappointment will break through sometime. In my life, there have been a few times this has happened and it's never actually been at the right time. I should have took this out on my father and those enabling him when I had the chance, not on my friend who didn't want to drink with me until 3 in the morning.

That's what happened, though, on a few occassions in my life I can luckily still count on one hand. Something would happen to me that I have a right to be upset about. Someone stole my shoes at a bar. My landlord never fixed something that broke in my apartment after they said they would. My friend said they would stay out with me on my birthday and didn't.

All reasons to be disappointed, but not reasons to let my past surface and say things I would regret. Essentially, I was wronged and had a right to be upset, but my poor response led to me being the one apologizing. I can now recognize that it wasn't the specific instance that led to my response, but it was because of a lifetime of holding things in and dealing with stuff I shouldn't have had to deal with. Especially not as a 9-year old kid. But I did, and I held the frustration and anger inside, and it came out at the wrong time decades later.

I haven't overcome this completely, but I am aware of it and try to do better. I need to pick and choose when I can be justified in the wrath I express, and when it is simply a manifestation of decades of abuse. It's not easy, but I'm learning and trying.

If I could go back and tell my 9-year old self to get angry at the abuse I endured - to follow my brother's example - I would. But I can't, and now I have to live with the effects.

The thing about growing up in a cult is you have no idea about what the outside world is like. I recently watched a Netflix series called Unorthodox. It’s about a young girl who grew up in an orthodox Jewish family in New York.

One scene in an episode had her in a club for the first time in her life. She didn’t know the music. She didn’t know how to dance. She’s never drank before. Everything was completely alien to her. Even though she grew up in modern day New York, she had no idea how to behave in any social situation outside of the customs and beliefs she knew.

I could relate so well to this. It’s exactly how I felt when I left the cult I grew up in and experienced life outside for the first time. There were so many unknowns and I still think today how much this has affected my life and choices.