Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 2003, Page 28
insistence on feeling my real feelings. My writings during that period reflected my split
personality, in that they often tried to endorse both viewpoints. Even though I was terrified
of the idea of leaving, it became more and more evident that I was being pushed to the
margins of the church because of my insistence on staying in touch with my feelings.
Finally, late in 1986, after an explosive argument with another church member, I felt there
was no point in continuing to stay in the organization. I knew I could no longer be happy as
a member, and if I stayed I would be merely hanging on grimly, while feeling miserable the
entire time. Therefore, I borrowed some money from an acquaintance and took the bus
home to my family.
Part Three: Triumph of Expression over Repression, 1986 -1992
Following my return to my parents‘ home and to the city where I grew up—Calgary,
Alberta—I had vague plans of applying to study journalism, but I was turned down by the
universities to which I applied. While trying to come up with an alternative plan, I took
temporary jobs as a clerk typist and later as a word-processing operator, because typing
was the only job skill I still possessed after ten years in the Unification Church. I got an
apartment in downtown Calgary and prepared to settle into a life that seemed shallow and
empty compared to the apocalyptic fervor of my former cult life.
But, eventually, unhappy with the routine of my fairly ordinary jobs, I sought out a
conventional counselor (which is to say he was not an exit counselor), and he encouraged
me to return to my original ambition to become a writer of novels and stories. In 1990, I
applied to the highly regarded Master of Fine Arts program in Creative Writing at the
University of British Columbia.
Around the time I made my application to U.B.C., I received a surprising letter from the
woman to whom I had once been engaged by Moon through his arranged-marriage process.
She was someone I had not known before we were engaged, but who I came to love as I
got to know her better. She was from England, and during the time I knew her she lived in
one or the other of England, Scotland, or France. We were never permitted to live together.
(I have called her Eleanor for the purposes of this essay and my book).
Eleanor quit the Unification Church in 1984—two years before I also left, so our ―marriage‖
had never really gotten off the ground. But now, some six years later, she had returned to
the Unification Church in London. Eleanor hoped to revive our relationship by drawing me
back into the church. I agreed to visit her.
During my time in London, Eleanor and the other Unification Church members persuaded
me to abandon my plans to return to school in favor of rejoining the church and emigrating
to England. If I had gone through with this plan, church authorities would have eventually
allowed the two of us to live together, but probably not for a few years. Why would I even
agree to such an arrangement? I suppose mainly because I had not arrived at a complete
resolution of my cult experience, so one part of myself still felt that I should have remained
loyal to Moon therefore, if an opportunity that was at least marginally bearable came for
me to ―go back to Father,‖ I was still vulnerable to being persuaded that I was morally
obligated to go back. As well, I still felt some fondness for Eleanor personally.
Fortunately, when I returned to Canada intending to wind up my affairs, I also returned—
with difficulty—to my senses. I was feeling very uneasy about giving up my plans to study
writing, because this was something I had become more and more excited about. At last, I
called Eleanor and emphatically broke it off between us.
When I finally did return to the university, in September of 1990, I had no intention of
writing about my cult experiences. I felt that that my Unification Church involvement was
behind me, and I should move on with my life. The first poems and stories that I produced
insistence on feeling my real feelings. My writings during that period reflected my split
personality, in that they often tried to endorse both viewpoints. Even though I was terrified
of the idea of leaving, it became more and more evident that I was being pushed to the
margins of the church because of my insistence on staying in touch with my feelings.
Finally, late in 1986, after an explosive argument with another church member, I felt there
was no point in continuing to stay in the organization. I knew I could no longer be happy as
a member, and if I stayed I would be merely hanging on grimly, while feeling miserable the
entire time. Therefore, I borrowed some money from an acquaintance and took the bus
home to my family.
Part Three: Triumph of Expression over Repression, 1986 -1992
Following my return to my parents‘ home and to the city where I grew up—Calgary,
Alberta—I had vague plans of applying to study journalism, but I was turned down by the
universities to which I applied. While trying to come up with an alternative plan, I took
temporary jobs as a clerk typist and later as a word-processing operator, because typing
was the only job skill I still possessed after ten years in the Unification Church. I got an
apartment in downtown Calgary and prepared to settle into a life that seemed shallow and
empty compared to the apocalyptic fervor of my former cult life.
But, eventually, unhappy with the routine of my fairly ordinary jobs, I sought out a
conventional counselor (which is to say he was not an exit counselor), and he encouraged
me to return to my original ambition to become a writer of novels and stories. In 1990, I
applied to the highly regarded Master of Fine Arts program in Creative Writing at the
University of British Columbia.
Around the time I made my application to U.B.C., I received a surprising letter from the
woman to whom I had once been engaged by Moon through his arranged-marriage process.
She was someone I had not known before we were engaged, but who I came to love as I
got to know her better. She was from England, and during the time I knew her she lived in
one or the other of England, Scotland, or France. We were never permitted to live together.
(I have called her Eleanor for the purposes of this essay and my book).
Eleanor quit the Unification Church in 1984—two years before I also left, so our ―marriage‖
had never really gotten off the ground. But now, some six years later, she had returned to
the Unification Church in London. Eleanor hoped to revive our relationship by drawing me
back into the church. I agreed to visit her.
During my time in London, Eleanor and the other Unification Church members persuaded
me to abandon my plans to return to school in favor of rejoining the church and emigrating
to England. If I had gone through with this plan, church authorities would have eventually
allowed the two of us to live together, but probably not for a few years. Why would I even
agree to such an arrangement? I suppose mainly because I had not arrived at a complete
resolution of my cult experience, so one part of myself still felt that I should have remained
loyal to Moon therefore, if an opportunity that was at least marginally bearable came for
me to ―go back to Father,‖ I was still vulnerable to being persuaded that I was morally
obligated to go back. As well, I still felt some fondness for Eleanor personally.
Fortunately, when I returned to Canada intending to wind up my affairs, I also returned—
with difficulty—to my senses. I was feeling very uneasy about giving up my plans to study
writing, because this was something I had become more and more excited about. At last, I
called Eleanor and emphatically broke it off between us.
When I finally did return to the university, in September of 1990, I had no intention of
writing about my cult experiences. I felt that that my Unification Church involvement was
behind me, and I should move on with my life. The first poems and stories that I produced
