19 VOLUME 6 |ISSUE 3 |2015
Note
[1] Song of Solomon, 2:15.
About the Author
Carrie Buddington is a former
member of The Community
of Jesus, Inc., a Bible-based
Christian community. She
joined in 1970 when she was
a newly converted Christian,
and she raised her three
children at the Community.
She worked in many of their
offices and became a Senior
Sister in the Convent. She
left in 2010 and, having been
denied requests to pursue education while at the Community,
is currently attending Boston College for a bachelor’s degree
in psychology she plans to work toward a master’s degree in
social work. She is a member of the International Cultic Studies
Association and looks forward to being able to assist others
who have left cults to start a new life. As part of processing
what she has lived with for 40 years, she is writing a blog:
mylifecoj@wordpress.com n
This cycle repeated until the last round in 2008 through 2010
(yes, it lasted 2 years), when I finally recognized the pattern,
realized I was cycling and had been the whole 40 years, and was
finally able to admit this honestly to myself. During those last 2
years, I would say to myself over and over again, “I have to find
the truth. I’m dying.” I meant that literally. My migraines were
getting worse. My depression was getting worse. But what I
really feared was that I would lose myself, for good. I was afraid
of sinking into a place of totally giving up my identity. I knew I
was being beaten down. I felt battered to the point of giving up
and dying. I began to have passive suicidal thoughts. I felt on the
verge of a numbing insanity, and fear of that motivated me to be
honest with myself.
In my prayers, for the first time, I admitted to God and myself
that I wanted to leave. I felt like Judas, but I admitted it. This
inner honesty brought a lot of past
and present pain to the surface, like
taking the lid off of Pandora’s box. The
emotional pain was intense, partly
because this was not some foreign
culture and political regime I’d been
forced to accept. This was Christianity,
which I wanted, so I had persevered and
endured. When I was completely broken,
I had accepted that there was no other
life for me outside of CJ. I had locked myself in and thrown away
the key. This made it very hard to find the key, unlock the gate,
and leave. It was possible, but I had to battle the belief instilled in
me that to do so was to turn my back on God. The whole reason
I had allowed myself to be in prison was as an offering to God. To
think about leaving CJ seemed to be the same as leaving God,
which amounted to spiritual suicide. The account of my leaving is
available on my blog (https://mylifecoj.wordpress.com).
Postcult Life
The first year I was out, all I cared about was to be left alone. I
felt like a wounded creature who needed to hide in a cave while
I healed. I was also very busy surviving, learning how to handle
the myriad daily activities that everyone else might take for
granted. Even though I spoke English, I suddenly found myself in
a culture that felt foreign to me.
By the second year that I was out, I could not get CJ out of my
head. I was having nightmares and daily intrusions into my
thoughts. I would startle when I thought I saw someone from
CJ on the street. I searched through my health insurance and
found a very competent therapist. He has helped me to face
my experiences, and to admit just how bad it had really been. I
had experienced the pain but not processed it I had dissociated
myself from it. It seemed less painful to downplay the experience,
to pretend it had been normal, or that my memory was
overblowing it. To speak out about what happened, to speak the
truth in detail, quickened the pain again, but it also released it.
The joy of discovering life again is like finding water after living
in a desert. The experience has been very joyful and freeing. It
also has been scary, especially in the area of making decisions.
Do you know there is a whole aisle in the store of just bread to
choose from? How do I know what I want when I haven’t bought
bread in 40 years? How do I know I will pick the right car to buy?
I have questions about what other people do, what is normal,
what is accepted, and what I want. It’s a journey and as I gain in
self-confidence, this process is less fearful. I have had an unusual
life experience that gives me a different perspective from many
people. I am learning to be comfortable with this difference,
and to realize that what I learn from this experience can be a
constructive contribution to society. Part of the feeling of limbo
I sometimes have is that I am still searching for a community
connection that will be a secure home base for me, while it will
not repeat the poor choice I made previously.
I want to end this article with a positive affirmation of the
strength of human nature to recover from trauma and abuse. It
is never too late to learn to live, and
to pursue full development of our
talents. We are all social beings, and
we develop our personal narrative in
relationship with others. In speaking
out, I hope to be a voice against
acceptance of abuse, and foremost
a voice for the acceptance of
ourselves, and of the variability and
changeability of our life experiences.
I know now that there is always room in life to question, to learn,
to challenge, and to love and any system that stifles individual
development must be viewed with suspicion, as dangerous and
harmful. n
I hope to be a voice against
acceptance of abuse, and
foremost a voice for the
acceptance of ourselves,...
Note
[1] Song of Solomon, 2:15.
About the Author
Carrie Buddington is a former
member of The Community
of Jesus, Inc., a Bible-based
Christian community. She
joined in 1970 when she was
a newly converted Christian,
and she raised her three
children at the Community.
She worked in many of their
offices and became a Senior
Sister in the Convent. She
left in 2010 and, having been
denied requests to pursue education while at the Community,
is currently attending Boston College for a bachelor’s degree
in psychology she plans to work toward a master’s degree in
social work. She is a member of the International Cultic Studies
Association and looks forward to being able to assist others
who have left cults to start a new life. As part of processing
what she has lived with for 40 years, she is writing a blog:
mylifecoj@wordpress.com n
This cycle repeated until the last round in 2008 through 2010
(yes, it lasted 2 years), when I finally recognized the pattern,
realized I was cycling and had been the whole 40 years, and was
finally able to admit this honestly to myself. During those last 2
years, I would say to myself over and over again, “I have to find
the truth. I’m dying.” I meant that literally. My migraines were
getting worse. My depression was getting worse. But what I
really feared was that I would lose myself, for good. I was afraid
of sinking into a place of totally giving up my identity. I knew I
was being beaten down. I felt battered to the point of giving up
and dying. I began to have passive suicidal thoughts. I felt on the
verge of a numbing insanity, and fear of that motivated me to be
honest with myself.
In my prayers, for the first time, I admitted to God and myself
that I wanted to leave. I felt like Judas, but I admitted it. This
inner honesty brought a lot of past
and present pain to the surface, like
taking the lid off of Pandora’s box. The
emotional pain was intense, partly
because this was not some foreign
culture and political regime I’d been
forced to accept. This was Christianity,
which I wanted, so I had persevered and
endured. When I was completely broken,
I had accepted that there was no other
life for me outside of CJ. I had locked myself in and thrown away
the key. This made it very hard to find the key, unlock the gate,
and leave. It was possible, but I had to battle the belief instilled in
me that to do so was to turn my back on God. The whole reason
I had allowed myself to be in prison was as an offering to God. To
think about leaving CJ seemed to be the same as leaving God,
which amounted to spiritual suicide. The account of my leaving is
available on my blog (https://mylifecoj.wordpress.com).
Postcult Life
The first year I was out, all I cared about was to be left alone. I
felt like a wounded creature who needed to hide in a cave while
I healed. I was also very busy surviving, learning how to handle
the myriad daily activities that everyone else might take for
granted. Even though I spoke English, I suddenly found myself in
a culture that felt foreign to me.
By the second year that I was out, I could not get CJ out of my
head. I was having nightmares and daily intrusions into my
thoughts. I would startle when I thought I saw someone from
CJ on the street. I searched through my health insurance and
found a very competent therapist. He has helped me to face
my experiences, and to admit just how bad it had really been. I
had experienced the pain but not processed it I had dissociated
myself from it. It seemed less painful to downplay the experience,
to pretend it had been normal, or that my memory was
overblowing it. To speak out about what happened, to speak the
truth in detail, quickened the pain again, but it also released it.
The joy of discovering life again is like finding water after living
in a desert. The experience has been very joyful and freeing. It
also has been scary, especially in the area of making decisions.
Do you know there is a whole aisle in the store of just bread to
choose from? How do I know what I want when I haven’t bought
bread in 40 years? How do I know I will pick the right car to buy?
I have questions about what other people do, what is normal,
what is accepted, and what I want. It’s a journey and as I gain in
self-confidence, this process is less fearful. I have had an unusual
life experience that gives me a different perspective from many
people. I am learning to be comfortable with this difference,
and to realize that what I learn from this experience can be a
constructive contribution to society. Part of the feeling of limbo
I sometimes have is that I am still searching for a community
connection that will be a secure home base for me, while it will
not repeat the poor choice I made previously.
I want to end this article with a positive affirmation of the
strength of human nature to recover from trauma and abuse. It
is never too late to learn to live, and
to pursue full development of our
talents. We are all social beings, and
we develop our personal narrative in
relationship with others. In speaking
out, I hope to be a voice against
acceptance of abuse, and foremost
a voice for the acceptance of
ourselves, and of the variability and
changeability of our life experiences.
I know now that there is always room in life to question, to learn,
to challenge, and to love and any system that stifles individual
development must be viewed with suspicion, as dangerous and
harmful. n
I hope to be a voice against
acceptance of abuse, and
foremost a voice for the
acceptance of ourselves,...
