When I was a child one of the first fears I remember was that I was significantly younger than my my family. The fear developed because I knew at some point they would eventually die and I would not have them. This fear was compounded because I’m not only the youngest child, but I’m also youngest sibling, cousin, grandchild and great grand child. In theory I may see all of these people pass away and that is a horribly unreasonable and unavoidable fear.
“My family didn’t die, they disowned me”
While most families would have decades to establish what the future brings, I have been faced by the unfortunate reality that my fears have already come true. My family didn’t die, they disowned me.
There is nothing that matters more to me than family. My belief is that family is what makes the world go round. Family means being there for an emergency, it means cooking meals and preparing food, making sacrifices, supporting even when we don’t agree, and being there when things are great and terrible. Perhaps the only thing that I value more than family is being a good person. I never thought those two values would conflict with each other and ultimately cause me lose my family.
During the middle of the pandemic 26 members of my own family made it very clear that they do not share my values, and after some self reflection I’ve found that I am actually fortunate that I no longer share their all of their values as well, even if that does come at the sacrifice of not having them anymore.
“What did I do that caused my family to completely cut me out of their life? I told them I didn’t want to be part of the religion that they have been part of for several generations.”
I broke no laws, I did nothing immoral towards their beliefs, I did nothing wrong toward any one in my family. What did I do that caused my family to completely cut me out of their life? I told them I didn’t want to be part of the religion that they have been part of for several generations.
It wasn’t just their religion, it was my religion, my way of life and I was heavily vested in it. It wasn’t just a religion, it was a lifestyle, a culture, and a closely guarded community where I wasyou allowed to only have relationships and friendships with others followers inof the same faith. My family is still in this cult. A huge read flag of being in a cult is when parents teachteaching their children how to explain to outsiders why itthe religion isn’t a cult. I still remember exactly how to equivocate and at times prevaricate around this topic of Religion vs Cult. This topic is however is for my next post.
This way of life caused me to rely on my family and this cult even more, causing me to look to them and only other members because of the cult as my support system. I was reliant on them for emotional, spiritual, and monetary support. I wanted and craved security. It was an all inclusive deal, you didn’t get to pick and choose what parts of the faith you wanted to live, you were required to live all of it all the time. When I didn’t want to do this any longer, my family friends and fellow cult members abandoned me.
It’s this vested time, energy, and love that I am mourning. I miss my mom and talking with her, I miss her voice, I miss her outlook on life. I miss my dad and his ideas, his eclectic interest and his analytical mind.
My family joined this cult because they feared life. I left the cult because I love life and hate hypocrisy.
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