Stories told by flowers: Escaping $cientology

No one wants to admit they were sucked in by a slimy, mind-controlling cult. Well, here I am admitting it. Yup. Got sucked right in. Hook, line and sinker. It's an awful thing, waking up one day and realizing you've been had. Really had.

Actually it doesn't quite work that way. The waking up takes a little while. There are clues and hints as you go along that all is not right. But, being the good cultist, you ignore these and keep your head firmly in the ground (or up your butt, peeking out your bellybutton, depending on your "in-ness"). The indoctrination is slow and subtle. At each step of the way, what you're being told about the cult and what you're doing in the cult seem reasonable. Seem reasonable. That's important. You see, if you were really thinking like your usual self, you would clearly see that nothing of what you are told or what you are doing is logical. Big difference.

Think for moment: what would your reaction be if someone said, "We can totally and completely solve all your personal problems. All you need to do is take this free course." Sound too good to be true? That's because it is. But if you're in some emotional pain, or you're young and 'searching' or you like the idea of having THE answers or maybe you just want to be led around by your nose, a free course that claims to be the SOLUTION sounds really wonderful. Let's go, where do I sign? There are many reasons people walk into the clutches of cults like the Moonies or Scientology or Amway Quixtar. And there are very good, well written books on the subject of mind-control as practiced by these cults. I recently read Steve Hassan's Combatting Cult Mind Control and, although his experience was with the Moonies, his description of the techniques used to 'trap' people applied perfectly to Scientology. I highly recommend this well-written book to anyone who has been in a cult, knows someone who's fallen prey, or just wants to understand how a cult works.

Well, this isn't a story about $cientology exactly. It's about a visit to a Caribbean island, I think it was Barbados. And the connection to $cientology is that they have a lovely ship that sails the Caribbean and is used as a 'religious retreat.' What that means is that $cientologists can go live on this ship for a few days or a few months and take courses and get other services. It's very expensive, but it's fun being there. The food is outrageously good. The side trips are wonderful, when you can get 'permission' to go. The ship is called the Freewinds and I made two trips, both at the request of my local $cientology organization.

I was really fortunate on one of these trips to have an opportunity to ride around the island and see lots of different things -- caverns, cafes, beautiful architecture, and incredible views. I'm not big on tourist-type shopping, but I really love the natural things and the people.


The coolest place we went was an orchid garden. A BIG orchid garden. I thought I'd gone to heaven:



My husband Kimball and I are very lucky -- we woke up. Even if it took us a little long to realize how ridiculous $cientology is, the important thing is we got the hell out. We've been 'declared suppressive' because we've spoken out against the cult and none of the people who were our friends are allowed to speak to us. It's such a bizarre experience to walk into a store and see someone you know and like and they won't even look at you. Weird. $cientology cannot allow the 'innies' to have conversations with the folks who have left. The bubble might burst.

Is quitting easy?

There's at least one person who believed it's easy to quit smoking. His name was Allen Carr and he actually wrote a book called The Easy Way to Stop Smoking. It's a very subtle book. It quietly and completely erodes the bubble of blissful denial that a smoker lives in. It tears apart the smoker's self-inflicted brainwashing. It keeps whacking the smoker in the face with stuff the smoker knows is true but has conveniently tucked far far away. Carr points out: Certainly no smoker started out to become addicted. Certainly no smoker said, "I want to be a slave to cigarettes for the rest of my life." I know I sure didn't. When we start smoking, when we're just 'experimenting,' when we're fighting with our parents and teachers over who will be the boss of us, when we're struggling with an identity idea, we certainly are NOT going to stop and say to ourselves, "hey wait a minute, this is nicotine we're talking about here, this is very very addictive stuff and the tobacco companies don't give a flying fuck about whether or not I die from smoking this shit not to mention that it costs a bloody fortune." Carr keeps hammering away, bringing up all the things the smoker wants to ignore. And he should know -- he was a 100/day smoker for 30 years. He speaks from personal experience.
As with any attempt to undo brainwashing, the important thing is to find the key that holds all the pieces in place. Somewhere there's a tiny shift that forces all the other denials and stupidities to crumble. I'm not sure I even know what or when or how, but I do know that reading this book thoroughly undermined any ability I had to delude myself another day.

One hour at a time

When I woke up last Monday I thought, "This is the day I quit smoking forever." Kim made coffee, handed me my cup and I sat down in the dining room. I did not go to the patio where normally I'd chain-smoke through my morning coffee. I also didn't say anything about my decision -- too scary to say it out loud. It's hard to break a 40 year routine. At least it is for me. Maybe there are people who can just say "that's it" to something and change their entire life around and be fine with it. Not me. I'm such a creature of habit, and not very good habits at that. One of the things that's been a help this week has been thinking about how I never ever want to have a first day of not smoking again. Ever. Never. The first day is agony, although every day has been grueling for short periods. The mindless urge to light up a cigarette is so incredibly strong, almost irresistible. Lighting up is ingrained at this point. It's a matter of brainwashing. And I don't mean brainwashed by the tobacco companies, oh no, I did this to myself. You'd be appalled at what goes on in a smoker's mind. Like feeling relief to see other smokers outside by the ashtray; being sure that not coughing means that the 20 cigarettes/day aren't hurting you; thinking of smoking as a reward for hard work; believing that cigarettes make you feel calmer. I used to run a mile every day just so I could say, "See, smoking's not so bad," as I'd light up after my run. And here's the most ludicrous one of all: so what if it kills me? I gotta die some way. But that's exactly what brainwashing is -- thinking that insane things are sane. Denial and denial and denial. Refusing to look. Head up and locked.
I did it to myself. But it took me years and years, it was slow, gradual, insidious. There was a long period of no thoughts at all, just casually lighting up one cigarette after the other, not worrying about it. When you're young you can do that. You can take drugs, smoke cigarettes, drink as much booze as you want, stay up all night dancing and partying. When you're young you don't think about death coming for you. You don't see the stupidity in the things you're doing. You don't wonder about the consequences, what will happen later because I did this today. If you think about it at all, it's only to say, "don't be an old fuddy-duddy, have some fun!" It's a terrible dilemma: young and foolish and full of yourself or careful and self-disciplined and stodgy.
So I'm taking it one hour at a time. When the urge bites me, I take a few deep breaths and say to myself, "I'm free."