Chapter 8

I tried to be good!

No drinking, no smoking, no swearing, no disobeying the pastor, no disobeying your husband, no making friends with people outside the church, no pornography, no sex before marriage, no glorifying of sport celebrities or anyone, no divorce except where the a partner has committed adultery with another, no stealing, no lying, no skipping church meetings, no turning up late for church meetings, no hospital or medicine unless absolutely necessary, no moving to another city unless commanded to by God, say this, don’t say that, do this, don’t do that … and on and on.

I don’t know if it’s my genetic personality or my upbringing and environment but I tend to follow rules and stick to the path. Maybe not so much in recent years because I am deliberately trying to break out of that headspace, but I do feel comfortable within structures; yet even I struggled living inside the small regulatory box defined by the church and was constantly bumping up against the walls and boundaries without even consciously trying to expand the floorspace and grant myself additional freedoms. It was simply impossible, yet I persisted in trying to stay on track.

I first started drinking when I was 21. I didn’t drink often – every few months, except towards the end of 2006 where it became a weekly thing – and every time I did it gave me cause to record it in my diary because of the effort and planning that when into it to try and keep it secret, balancing peer pressure and maintaining friendships whilst making sure I didn’t attract suspicion at home. The other element though was the inner battle, knowing what I was doing was wrong yet trying to understand why I kept doing it.

I wasn’t discovered until several years later in August 2007 thanks to a photo a friend from Sydney had posted on the Internet that some church snitch had found. Normally, people would have been put out of the church (out of “fellowship”) immediately for around 6 months – but not me, which was a remarkable exception to church policy. I suspect this was partly because by that point I had managed to stay sober for almost a year and could demonstrate that I was making an effort … I had even resigned from my job in order to escape peer pressure and end friendships – although to be fair to my coworkers, I didn’t need much convincing to go out for a drink, and why? My diary entry from 27 September 2006:

If only I knew what I was refusing the world for. I turn the world away and I feel like I’m left with nothing – and with that prospect, saying no is pretty damn hard.

Was I weak and spineless? No. The reason it was so difficult was because living within the prison-like boundaries of the cult was contrary to my nature. I was continually having to fight against my instincts to have fun and enjoy life in order to cram myself into that box. Though apparently enjoying life was a sin too.

Whenever a prayer and fast was announced I would try and convince myself I would enjoy going without food for 24 hours (or more for two-day fasts) and doing nothing but praying and listening to sermons from 9-5 on my weekend when I would rather be relaxing after a week at work. My diary is evidence of this struggle. From my diary of 10 September 2006:

If I don’t want to wind up downstairs in this lake of fire then I’m going to have to start making some changes in my life, and soon. Changing jobs isn’t going to do it. Cutting off friends isn’t going to do it. Selling all my possessions isn’t going to do it. Those are all works … my works, things I would do.

Three weeks later I resigned from my job. It continues …

The change must happen here first, in my heart. I’m scared – I don’t like not being in control. But it’s the only way. I can feel the edge of the cliff, I know where it is – I feel the void beyond, just this … dropping away. I know I must go over.

The cult was big on following your heart. Apparently when you receive Salvation and are baptised in water you get a new heart which is meant to be pure, God-given (unlike the one you’re born with?) and is then an instrument God can speak to you through and is always meant to lead you along the right path.

Apparently I never quite got the hang of the whole “follow your heart” thing. Like faith, whenever you screwed up you were to blame. You either didn’t have enough faith or were led by your own thoughts instead of your heart. Because both faith and heart are so vague it was a convenient way to convincingly validate both concepts because it could never be disproved. Ah, I lacked faith therefore a miracle was not performed. Ah I didn’t really listen to my heart therefore I failed. I am to blame.

3 February 2008, just four months before leaving the cult:

I have felt a couple of times over the past few months [...] that I’m a fraud, a fake … that I’m hamming it all up to try and feel spiritual or something.

The walls started to fall, the illusion of freedom through imprisonment, the need to suppress my nature in order to comply with the commandments – it all turned inside out. No longer was the world the dark place outside the castle of the church where dogs roamed, but instead the world became my home and I put on a show for the cult whenever I had to venture outside amongst those Christians at home and church.

It wasn’t simply crossing the line and switching camp. It was years of back and forth oscillation of broken resolve and futile belief. I am fortunate I came out with only a few scratches. Many turn to drugs or go skulking back to the cult because they can’t handle the shame and fear. I often considered suicide as a way to end the war and did reckless things like driving my car at over 200 km/h not caring if I lived or died. Luckily, I lived.

In June 2010, I will celebrate my second birthday.