I escaped a cult – for years I didn’t even realise I was in one

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled across the livestream for the Victorian parliament’s inquiry into the recruitment methods and impacts of cults and organised fringe groups. It was launched after recent claims by former cult members, including from the Geelong Revival Centre, and as I looked at the inquiry’s terms of reference I felt an unexpected tear escape. I read about the coercive practices organised religious groups can use, their methods to recruit and retain members, and the significant psychological harm they can cause, and found myself nodding along in recognition.

The next day these feelings came flooding back when I read a news story about a child in Queensland who died within a secretive cult, and the efforts of churches to expose coercion with their ranks.

“Good,” I thought, surprised but pleased at this attention being drawn to a reality that has thus far remained largely hidden.

For five years, from late adolescence into my early 20s, I was in a cult. And for decades, I have carried and hidden this early part of my life, feeling great shame that I was gullible enough to be lured into such a group, and even more ashamed of the grievous mental health struggles I experienced upon leaving, as I tried to rebuild my life from scratch.

There is a perception that someone who finds themselves in a cult is different to the rest of us – perhaps more naive or vulnerable. While to some extent this is true, as it was my own early trauma history and psychological vulnerability that made me responsive to the recruitment tactics used, I have also spoken to numerous people who had healthy and safe lives, but still found themselves in these groups.

Many highly intelligent professionals have spoken to me of their time in organised high-control religious groups, and I have come to realise how common some of these groups are. But broadly, societal awareness of their existence is sorely lacking, perhaps led by misconceptions that cults demonstrate their strangest behaviours and beliefs openly for all to see.

In reality, most such groups will have a seemingly normal front, with stranger beliefs and coercion only appearing once you are embedded within the structure of the organisation and have bought into some of their beliefs. That’s when they warn you that changing your mind now would cause distress.

The word “cult” is often used unthinkingly. Cults are social groups that have extreme religious, spiritual or philosophical beliefs and rituals. Devotion to a particular person is another characteristic, and they are set apart from religious groups by the coercion and secrecy which characterises their actions. However, normal religious groups too can have these elements of coercion. Due to their secretive nature, it’s difficult to determine how many cults operate in Australia, though estimates suggest approximately 3000, including some well-known ones such as The Family.

The hardest part of leaving a cult is the recognition that you are in a cult, and for me, this early stage took the longest. I was only able to make my way to this conclusion through anti-cult education resources, which allowed me to see the common patterns across high-control groups.

Being in a high-control group can leave huge mental scars, unrecognised by many, including mental health professionals. You will need to unlearn many beliefs. You will need to learn how to re-enter the world, build new social networks and reconnect with those you have cut off. You will probably need to commence education or a new occupation from scratch, and may find yourself in a financially perilous position.

I had a panic attack the first time I entered the cinema after leaving the cult I was in. For six years, I had unthinkingly obeyed the rule that this was a forbidden space.

Accessing safe and appropriate support when leaving such an organisation is almost impossible. At the time I left, the main resources I was able to find were anti-cult online forums, and a smattering of lived experience groups.

I also realised quickly the acute vulnerability of the cult survivor.

For example, I started seeing a clinical psychologist soon after leaving, only to find myself embroiled in another form of high-control religion as she discussed her staunch Christian views, her engagement with a Pentecostal ministry, and her views that matters such as “demonic entry points” and “soul ties” were what caused my poor mental health after leaving the cult.

While this eventually progressed through to a formal notification to the federal health watchdog, it left me battling on two fronts as the cult used intimidation and threats to publicly reveal my mental health history and weaponised the legal system – including applications for intervention orders – to silence me. This further decimated my mental health, sending me to the brink of suicide.

Recognition of the way these groups operate in plain sight, and the tactics they use, is important to protect vulnerable people from being drawn in. Equally, once someone has entered and left one of these groups, they require a lot of support to name and address the harms they have experienced. At present, none of our systems are set up to provide this support and most cult survivors are left to battle through alone in silence and secrecy, with the burden of shame and fear they carry.

While I left the group more than 15 years ago and have successfully built a happy life, I still often have nightmares about this time.

Religious abuse is a form of trauma that does not easily leave you and should be treated with the gravity it deserves.

Dr Ahona Guha is a clinical and forensic psychologist, trauma expert and author based in Melbourne.

If you or anyone you know needs support, call Lifeline on 13 11 14, Beyond Blue on 1800 512 348.

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