When I first real­ized that I might’ve been raised in a cult, I imme­di­ate­ly won­dered, How can I be the only one in my fam­i­ly to see this?” I was the fourth gen­er­a­tion in my fam­i­ly to be stuck in this cult, and only a few had decid­ed to ever leave.

Almost three years lat­er, I know that I’m just a pat­tern break­er. And that’s an extreme­ly dif­fi­cult role to play. It means being ostra­cized by peo­ple who claimed to love you. It means accept­ing new truths and new infor­ma­tion, no mat­ter how much it com­plete­ly shat­ters your sense of reality. 

Reli­gion was ulti­mate­ly an emp­ty sense of secu­ri­ty. I thought I knew why humans exist­ed, what my pur­pose was, and what hap­pened after death. And now I don’t. And inter­est­ing­ly, it’s actu­al­ly super free­ing to not know the answers. Because I’d rather have ques­tions that I can’t answer, than answers I can’t question.