Former Cult Members, What Is Your Creepiest, Scariest Or Most Disturbing Story?

Former Cult Members, What Is Your Creepiest, Scariest Or Most Disturbing Story?

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Former cult members or friends of cult members of Reddit, what
is your creepiest, scariest, or most disturbing story?
And is that what made you leave?My parents were members of a
so-called Islamic cult. Not a real religious group but a
circle led by a fake holy man pretending to be divine.
He'd lead chanting sessions and claim to channel spiritual

(00:20):
power. One night during a dimly lit
gathering, everyone had their eyes closed and deep chanting.
I opened mine and caught him staring right at me.
He realized I was quietly laughing at how absurd the whole
thing was. From that moment he decided I
was a threat. He began turning my parents
against me. He told them he could see the
future, that I would someday break their hearts and destroy

(00:42):
our family. They believed him.
From that day on, 13 year old mebecame an outcast in my own
home. Then he shifted all his
attention to my older brother. Suddenly my brother was showered
with expensive gifts, designer watches, a new Jeep, VIP tickets
while I was treated like a curse.
But it didn't stop there. He convinced people I was

(01:02):
mentally unstable, that I neededto be isolated.
For years. I came home to an empty house,
cut off from everyone. The rumor spread through the
community until people just accepted it as fact.
Even today it still haunts my reputation.
Later that man drained my parents savings, promising
spiritual blessings in return. Through a strange twist of fate,

(01:23):
I ended up taking care of my 2 year old cousin.
And then he spread another lie, claiming I was a danger to her.
My parents believed him again. They treated his sons as their
own and saw me as their enemy. To this day, I've never had a
real conversation with either ofthem.
I've worked for years. They don't know what I do, who I
work with, or even where my office is.

(01:43):
The only thing they ever asked about is payday.
There's so much more that I can't fit here, but I will say
this, I am stronger than anyone ever gave me credit for that
man. That fraud is gone now, and I
forgive my parents, not because they deserve it, but because I
refuse to carry their pain anymore.
If all that couldn't break me back then, what could possibly

(02:04):
break me now? The most disturbing thing about
that cult wasn't just the man himself.
It's that there are many like him out there.
People who pretend to be divine,gaining followers through
manipulation, fear, and fake miracles.
If anyone listening has gone through something like this,
please know your family's sickness is not your fault.
Be kind, be strong, and most of all, be better than them.

(02:27):
Peace Story 21 Morning, the day of another cult meeting, my
mother came into my room to wakeme up.
I didn't want to go. I'd barely slept the night
before and I wasn't feeling well.
I just wanted to stay home and rest, but she insisted.
After a few minutes of trying toget me ready, forcing me into
the same stiff, uncomfortable clothes we always had to wear,

(02:49):
she suddenly lost her patience. She shouted, grabbed me, and
pushed me off the bed. I sat there, stunned and hurt
while she yelled that I'd be punished for rebelling.
Then she stormed out, leaving mebehind.
That moment changed everything for me.
I've been thinking about leavingfor a while, but that morning
made the decision clear. I was done.
Not just with her control, but with the cult itself.

(03:12):
Later she tried to fix me by taking me to therapy, hoping
someone would convince me to return.
She cried to the therapist abouthow there was something wrong
with her daughter, but the therapist saw through it.
They told her to stop forcing meto attend, and for once she
listened, though she never stopped mourning the fact that I
didn't believe anymore. That was about 7 years ago and I

(03:34):
still remember it vividly. It wasn't an easy experience,
but in a strange way I'm grateful for it.
It opened my eyes. It taught me that freedom, real
freedom, is worth standing up for, no matter who you have to
face. Story 3 A friend of mine
accidentally got involved with acult in Iowa.
At first he thought it was just a really close knit church.

(03:55):
Friendly people, strong community, the kind of place
that makes you feel welcomed right away.
But over time, little things started to feel off.
The rules got stricter, the expectations heavier, and he
began to realize something wasn't right.
Eventually, he snapped out of itand decided to leave.
Not long after, he got a job opportunity in Texas and moved
there, hoping to start fresh andput it all behind him.

(04:18):
About a week after settling in, there was a knock at his door.
When he opened it, standing there was one of the cult
members, a woman who had driven all the way from Iowa to bring
him back. She started out calm, pleading
with him to return, but as he refused, she became more and
more emotional, her behavior growing increasingly erratic.
In the end, things got so intense that he had to call the

(04:39):
police to have her removed from the property.
Story 4 Yes, I've been part of acult.
I may as well tell you the storyfrom the top.
Picture this. You're 18, just finishing your A
levels, looking forward to life finally beginning.
Like a lot of idealistic young people, I had this notion that I
wanted to go abroad and do good development work, charity

(05:00):
projects, that sort of thing. I found an organization through
a newspaper advert, signed up ata recruitment weekend in Hull,
and straight after my last exam,jetted off to Denmark for six
months of training. The plan was simple.
I'd train there, then head to Africa to build toilets, teach
about AIDS prevention and generally help people.
You get the idea. The first problem came the

(05:20):
moment I arrived because they forgot I was coming.
I sat in the airport for three hours before finally thinking.
Saw this and taking a taxi to the school, making sure to
charge it to them. A month later we were all put to
work cleaning up the training school.
My friend and I were assigned totidy the library.
While shelving books I came across one called the History of

(05:40):
North Korea. I flipped through it, laughed at
the weak propaganda and tossed it out without thinking much of
it. Then there was the time they
held a sing along set. Fine, whatever.
Except my friends and I didn't feel like going.
We were teenagers, we'd rather do nothing.
A teacher stormed into our room,ordered us out, and was clearly
taken aback when I refused. She didn't quite know how to

(06:02):
handle a grumpy English teenagerwho'd run out of patience for
nonsense. The real turning point came when
I stumbled across a website called Tevend Alert.
It still exists, I think. It detailed all sorts of
accusations about the charity I joined.
Police raids, money laundering, tax evasion, false accounting,
brainwashing, even gun running. Not to mention wage slavery and

(06:23):
horrendous working conditions. I forwarded the link to my dad,
who happened to be a journalist,and asked if it was real.
He wrote back. It's real, get out of there.
Well, that certainly got my attention.
I started emailing the website'screator to figure out how to
leave quietly. Unfortunately, my private e-mail
was published on the site, whichmy employers were monitoring.

(06:44):
The timing couldn't have been worse.
We were about to leave for an outdoor weekend when I was
suddenly pulled off the bus. They took me to an office and
left me alone with a very large,very angry Danish man man named
Renee. He tried to intimidate me for
about an hour, but I wasn't scared.
It might have had something to do with the lock knife in my
pocket, just in case. Eventually he gave up and told

(07:06):
me to leave. I got on MSN and messaged my
mom, who promptly called Renee herself.
She told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't pay for
a flight home immediately, she'dfly over with a press pack and
make his life very difficult. Amazingly, it worked.
They bought me a ticket home on the condition that I wouldn't
talk to the media. Naturally, I broke that promise

(07:26):
the very next day. As a postscript, the Colts
leader eventually went on trial.The school where I'd been
stationed closed down, and the organization itself has since
collapsed spectacularly. And that's the story of how
AT18I managed to escape and helpexpose a Danish cult.
Story 5. A few years ago I became close

(07:47):
friends with an Olympic athlete,someone who was deeply involved
in a well known Hollywood religious organization.
Because of his semi fame, he received VIP treatment at their
celebrity center and I often tagged along.
It was surreal. The lobby was full of
recognizable faces from film andmusic, and once I even got a
warm hug from a major Hollywood actor you definitely know.

(08:09):
My friend eventually convinced me to quit my day job and work
as his assistant. We traveled, went to events,
partied, trained together. It was exciting, strange, and
intense all at once. Meanwhile, his church's
publicity team tried to set him up with various women from their
community, but nothing seemed towork out.
Late at night, we'd have long philosophical talks.

(08:30):
Some ideas sounded wise at first, but the constant push for
money and spiritual levels made me skeptical.
Then one night, he made a cruel,dismissive comment about gay
people. It shifted something for me.
I began to see how judgement andfear often hid behind their talk
of enlightenment. Not long after, he started
crossing boundaries, asking for massages after workouts, then

(08:52):
making increasingly inappropriate requests.
That was my breaking point. By then, he also owed me months
of pay and was sinking into debtfrom his church courses.
So I packed up and left. We never spoke again.
Looking back, I realized I got closer to that world than almost
any outsider ever does. And what I saw taught me that
even the most glamorous organizations can hide deep

(09:14):
manipulation behind charm, fame,and spiritual branding.
If you ever find yourself aroundsomething that feels off, trust
your instincts. No belief system or celebrity
connection is worth losing your boundaries for.
Story 6/2 of my best friends areformer members of a high control
religious group, and one of my old childhood friends is still

(09:34):
in it. One of my friends told me that
their older sibling was abused by members of the congregation.
When they tried to report it to the elders, it was allegedly
brushed aside. Not long after, his entire
family was disfellowshipped, excommunicated, which meant they
could no longer speak to certainrelatives who stayed in the
group. Something similar happened to my

(09:54):
other friend, though not quite as severe.
My former best friend and I wereinseparable growing up, but when
I moved abroad for three years, everything changed.
When I came back he barely spoketo me, it was like he'd built a
wall around himself. The hardest part came recently.
I was at a grocery store with one of my ex JW friends, someone
who was never baptized so he canstill technically talk to

(10:17):
members. We bumped into my old friend's
mother. They started chatting and I was
standing right there beside him,but she didn't even look at me,
not a glance. It was like I didn't set exist.
Apparently she even avoids my mom when they cross paths.
I guess she knows there's no chance of bringing us back, so
in her mind, we're already gone.My old friend has always been

(10:37):
brilliant, One of the smartest people I've ever known.
But he's been sheltered his whole life.
His world is controlled by doctrine where he can go, who he
can talk to, even what kind of education he's allowed to have.
And it's heartbreaking because Ican still see the person he used
to be and all the potential that's been locked away by fear,
obedience and control. If you've ever lost someone to a

(11:00):
belief system like that, you know the grief they sip are
still alive. But you can sit reach them.
All you can do is hope that one day they'll see the world
waiting for them on the outside.Story 7.
Not exactly a cult per SE, but it gives you a good idea of just
how influential religion can be,even over rational, intelligent

(11:20):
people. My parents were deeply involved
in our Christian Church throughout my entire childhood.
We're talking about attending services 3 or 4 times a week,
donating large portions of theirincome, volunteering for
everything. If you remember the church scene
in Borat, that was my church, but times 10.
Don't get me wrong, the church did some genuine good for the
community, but there was a sinister layer of indoctrination

(11:43):
beneath the surface. When I was 15, my parents found
out I was gay. Long story, and they didn't take
it well. Their first response was to turn
to the church for guidance. Following the church's advice,
they basically shunned me in my own home.
I wasn't spoken to, wasn't acknowledged, and was grounded
from every privilege imaginable.The only way to earn my way back
into the family was to seek help, either from a Christian

(12:05):
psychiatrist or from the church elders.
I chose the psychiatrist. The man I met was an ex gay
Christian therapist. One thing he said has stayed
with me all these years. I get it.
Turning away from a sinful homosexual lifestyle is
difficult. I did.
I've been married to my beautiful wife for six years and
have two beautiful daughters. Sometimes though, I still meet

(12:27):
men from the Internet for sex. And then I ask for God's
forgiveness. Needless to say, his version of
help didn't help much, no pun intended.
My parents faith started costingthem their friendships.
Their closest friends at church told them they needed to do
whatever it took to purge me of my choice.
Around the same time my older brother got a tattoo which
caused another uproar. On top of that we were forced to

(12:50):
attend summer sleepaway camps, think Jesus Camp Light, where
they tried to make us wear hoodies.
That said, things like abortion is homicide and homosexuality is
an abomination. Our refusal to comply wasn't
received well. Eventually, all of this became
too much. The church turned on my parents,
making them feel guilty, ashamed, and like they'd failed

(13:11):
both God and their children. They were quietly shunned, just
as they had once been told to shun me.
That was years ago. Things are different now.
My parents and I have a much better relationship, and they've
long since left that church behind.
But it still shakes me to think about how powerful religion can
be, how it can twist logic, divide families, and turn love
into punishment. It's both sad and sickening how

(13:33):
easily rational minds can be controlled by fear Wrapped in
faith. Story 8 Former member here.
For about a year I was part of what called itself a Christian
discipleship program. But in reality it was a tightly
controlled system that used faith as a weapon.
Every mistake, every sin had to be paid for through physical

(13:54):
punishment. Push ups lapse, whatever they
could invent to discipline the body and supposedly the soul.
During my time there, I became close friends with another
member, a guy who smoked constantly.
About seven months in, he got caught sneaking a cigarette
behind one of the dorms you set think he set committed a serious
crime. They woke him up at 5:00 in the

(14:16):
morning and forced him to run. Later that same day, one of the
leaders drove him to an abandoned prison outside town
and made him run laps around it.6, maybe 8 miles in total.
All that just because he smoked one cigarette.
It wasn't even the worst thing that happened there, but it
summed up the whole mentality. Everything was about control.

(14:37):
Break the body to save the soul,crush individuality to prove
obedience. Looking back, I realized how
normalized that kind of treatment had become.
It was instead about faith, it was about fear.
Funny side note, I told my friend, the same one who got
punished about this story being shared online.
He ended up posting his own version 2 confirming it all.

(14:59):
Reading his post brought it all rushing back and reminded me how
far we've both come since escaping that place.
If anyone watching this is in a program or ministry that
controls your body, your mind, or your choices, that's not
faith that sips domination dressed as devotion.
You deserve freedom. Story 9.
I used to be part of what calleditself a discipleship program, a

(15:22):
Pentecostal reformative center in rural Arkansas.
On paper, it sounded like a place for spiritual renewal.
In reality, it was a high control environment that used
faith as a leash. The minimum stay was 13 months.
I lived in the women's dorm withabout 35 other students.
Every morning began the same way.
At 5:30 AM, the lights came on and we shuffled down to the

(15:45):
basement to pray. We knelt in front of folding
chairs and prayed out loud for afull hour while leaders paced
behind us. If your voice faded, if you
paused too long, or if you nodded off, you were punished.
Afterward came breakfast, a reading from Proverbs, and
chores until 9:30. Then we were divided between
class and the shop. In class we studied Scripture

(16:05):
and learned to apply biblical principles to our daily walk.
The shop was more physical. We built crosses, plaques and
small crafts to sell outside bigbox stores.
The ministry called the program free, but we funded it ourselves
by standing outside Walmart's asking for donations.
We were the labor force and the income source all in one.

(16:26):
When work ended in the evening, we had dinner, showers, a short
service and lights out by 10:00 PM.
There was no personal time. You were never alone except in
the bathroom or the shower. We could call family only once a
week, 10 minutes on speakerphonewith a leader listening.
If you said anything unwholesome, the call ended
instantly, and sometimes you lost the privilege.

(16:48):
For months. Letters were censored.
Visitors were rare. Breaking a rule meant being
placed on discipline that could last from two weeks to three
months. During discipline, you ate last,
getting whatever was left. You lost all contact with
family, worked the longest hours, memorized extra verses
and were constantly watched. The shop had no running water or

(17:09):
toilets, just a bucket. You were told the exhaustion
purified you. Medicine and doctors were
forbidden. Illness meant you'd allowed the
devil into your body. The cure was prayer.
I arrived on March 10th, 2919 years old, from a non
Pentecostal background. Naive and hopeful.
After four months of near constant discipline, I broke

(17:31):
down and decided to comply. The alternative was endless
punishment. Once I surrendered, life got
easier. Not better, just smoother.
I was a good fundraiser. Most weekends I brought in close
to $1000 money talked. The leaders claimed not to show
favoritism, but anyone who produced income or looked
presentable suddenly became the poster child of God's work.

(17:52):
They took me to churches and sponsorship events, parading me
as an example of divine transformation.
Pastors would beam from the pulpit.
Look what God's love can do. It felt fake, but I smiled
anyway. Obedience kept you sick.
The ministry later decided to open a diner to raise more
money. They hired a new cook, a young
man I'll call Jay, because he'd once worked in prison kitchens.

(18:14):
Only the good students were allowed to help at the diner.
There were seven of us. At first, we loved the
assignment. We weren't usually allowed
around men, and Jay was charismatic, but his attention
turned quickly from friendly to invasive.
He teased, flirted, brushed against us when no one was
looking. Some girls played along, others
froze. I tried to ignore him.

(18:35):
He noticed it started small, a cornered conversation, a hand on
my shoulder held too long, then escalated.
One afternoon he trapped me in the walk in Cooler.
I fought back, praying out loud,God, please, please help me.
At that exact moment, another girl walked in.
Jay jumped away, yanked up his pants and bolted, shouting down
the hall. I caught Emily with a phone.

(18:57):
He turned his crime into my punishment.
Leaders dragged me to the office.
I showed them the bruises on my arms and back.
They accused me of lying to escape discipline.
Jay said I'd been trying to calla boyfriend.
I didn't even have one. No one believed me.
The other girls stayed silent. Fear kept them quiet.
I was placed on discipline for two months, the longest anyone

(19:17):
had heard of. Jay asked that I keep working at
the diner because she's good in the kitchen, and they agreed.
After that, he changed tactics. Maybe guilt, maybe power.
He started apologizing, telling me he loved me, that God had
brought us together. It made me sick, but I nodded
and stayed small. Resistance only brought
punishment. A few girls eventually left the

(19:38):
program and reported him for assault.
Their complaints were dismissed as spiritual rebellion.
The local sheriff's wife worked for the ministry.
She told the sheriff we made-up stories to avoid discipline.
There was nowhere to turn. I was trapped 500 miles from
home. No money, no phone, no allies.
Each day felt endless. Then, unexpectedly, a New Girl

(19:59):
arrived. Her parents were major donors.
They gave the ministry close to $100,000 every year.
She was immediately granted privileges the rest of us
couldn't dream of. When Jay targeted her, she
threatened to tell her parents. Suddenly, the leadership cared.
Jay was fired. The diner shut down within a
week. For the first time in months, I
could breathe. A few months later, the ministry

(20:21):
announced plans to open a new center in my hometown.
Because I was considered a modelgraduate, they transferred me
there. The new directors, a pastor and
his wife, were kind, genuine people.
Under them, the program finally resembled actual faith.
No more punishments, no screaming, No Fear.
I could heal. I graduated after 14 months in

(20:43):
2011. Stepping into the real world
felt strange. Quiet, unsupervised, free.
And not long after, I met the man who became my husband.
Today, we have a baby boy. The trauma still echoes, but it
no longer defines me. People sometimes ask whether I'd
erase those 13 months if I could.
Part of me wants to, to spare the younger version of myself

(21:04):
the terror. But another part knows that
surviving it made me who I am. It taught me to question
authority, to trust my instincts, and to recognize
manipulation hiding behind holy words.
Every morning I wake up with gratitude simply because I can.
Because I'm no longer being toldwhen to pray, when to eat, or
when to sleep. Because my faith, whatever shape

(21:25):
it takes now, is mine. That sips what freedom feels
like. Story 10.
I don't set no if it technicallyqualified as a cult, but I grew
up in a church group that was pretty close, if not outright
there. My creepiest story is this.
A big church which basically controlled by fear, a network of
smaller ones ran its own college, an unaccredited

(21:47):
so-called Bible college meant for kids from those churches so
we wouldn't have to go to secular schools which they
considered the devil's playground.
The pastor of that main church was treated almost like a God.
Everyone adored him, hung on hisevery word and let him dictate
their lives. Since my family was deep in the
group, there wasn't really any other acceptable option but for

(22:09):
me to attend in that college. Between my freshman and
sophomore year there, everythingimploded.
That pastor, the one who was practically worshipped, was
convicted of essay he was counseling, and for taking her
across state lines, he ended up being sentenced to 12 years in
prison. Here's the part that still makes
my skin crawl. I know for a fact that this man

(22:30):
had keys to every single door oncampus.
He was known for making surprisevisits to the girls dormitories
completely unannounced. That means a convicted predator
had a key to my room and nobody ever questioned it.
No one even dared. My family had already been
quietly distancing themselves from the church, but this was
the breaking point, the final straw that pushed us out for

(22:52):
good. Story 11 When I was a freshman
in college, one of my roommates,my best friend since 3rd grade,
started going to a campus churchgroup called Standing in the
Gap, a branch of Young Life. At the time I was fairly
religious myself, coming from anRLDS background, so I figured
I'd tag along one night to see what he was so excited about.
We went in and it was your typical Bible group for young

(23:15):
people. They started with prayers, hands
raised high in the air, then moved into praise and worship
songs with a live band. The praise leader gave a
message, they passed around a collection plate and wrapped up
with more songs and prayers. Pretty innocent stuff for the
most part. The hand raising threw me a
little but I brushed it off. Some churches just get
enthusiastic. I started going regularly,

(23:36):
rarely missing a meeting. When I did miss a night for
homework or studying, without fail, I'd get a call or visit
afterward asking where I was andsaying they'd missed me.
It was a bit weird, but everyonewas friendly enough so I ignored
the red flags. I got more involved, started
dating one of the girls in the group, and things seemed great.
I thought I was getting closer to Christ, surrounded by people

(23:57):
who cared about me. I even decided to get re
baptized at their upcoming retreat.
After all, I'd been baptized at 8 and barely remembered it.
The night before the retreat, wewere told to attend a mandatory
prayer meeting at the big church.
I figured it was just so the congregation could meet us.
When we got there, though, the room was mostly empty except for
a few members and our leaders. Everyone was friendly enough.

(24:20):
A little too nosy, but I was used to chatty church people.
Then things got strange. During prayer people started
speaking in tongues. In my parents church that was
considered rare and when it did happen someone was supposed to
translate it for it to be of God.
But here it was chaos. The leader noticed how
uncomfortable I was and pulled me aside to explain it as a

(24:41):
special prayer language that came when you were deeply in
tune with the spirit. Then he asked if I wanted to
pray to receive that gift. Not knowing how to respond and
not wanting to back out right before my baptism.
I agree. He put his hand on the back of
my head and started praying, Quietly at first, then faster
and louder until his speech turned into clicks worse and

(25:02):
gibberish. After about 20 minutes he
suddenly switched back to English and told me to start
praying. Freaked out but trying to fit
in, I made-up some nonsense syllables that sounded vaguely
like parcel tongue from Harry Potter.
I remember consciously deciding to fake it and it worked.
He started crying, hugged me, and said welcome to the flock.

(25:22):
I was unsettled, but I'd alreadypaid for the retreat, so I
pushed the weirdness aside. I went home, reflected on it,
and convinced myself this must be normal and that I just
misunderstood spirituality growing up.
The next morning I packed and headed out.
The retreat felt mostly normal, just like our regular
gatherings, but outdoors. Everyone acted as if nothing

(25:42):
unusual had happened the night before.
At about 5:00 PM, we had baptisms at a nearby lake.
There were four of us getting baptized, and it was your
standard ceremony in the name ofthe Father, the Son, and the
Holy Spirit, followed by a dunk.After we dried off and ate
dinner, there was a confirmationservice that also seemed fine
until about 9:00 PM. Once everything wrapped up, they

(26:04):
brought out board games for anyone who wanted to play and
opened a separate room for prayer.
Slowly people started disappearing into that room 1 by
1 until hardly anyone was left. Curious, I went in.
The room was pitch black. Everyone was fully clothed, so
nothing sexual was happening, but it was still surreal.
People were dancing, shouting intongues, laying hands on each

(26:26):
other, claiming to heal illnesses.
Some were prophesying about eachother's futures.
It was loud, chaotic, and unsettling.
Somehow I got swept up in it andprophesied that two people would
get married and have a child. Oddly enough, that actually
happened later. So I guess I'm one for one in my
prophecies. By about 3:00 AM, everyone

(26:46):
collapsed into bed. The next morning, when I brought
it up, everyone acted like nothing had happened.
A few even claimed they didn't remember it at all.
That's when I really started to feel uneasy.
By the end of the semester, people were making plans to meet
up during summer break. I dodged the invitations, saying
I'd be busy visiting my girlfriend or working.
They seemed to accept that, though they still called about

(27:08):
once a week to invite me to Bible study.
When I came back in the fall, things fell apart quickly.
My girlfriend had cheated on me over the summer, and I was
crushed. I went to the youth leader for
support, but he was more upset that I'd slept with her than
that I was hurting. He scolded me, told me to
repent, and said I was on notice.
For three weeks. I was was treated like a Sinner

(27:28):
on probation. Then one of my high school
buddies invited me to his fraternity house for a Halo
tournament and RC car races. It turned out to be a
recruitment event, but everyone was welcoming and genuine, so I
hung out. A few days later they offered me
a bid to join. I wasn't sure, so I asked the
church leaders what they thought.
They said fraternities were evil, that I'd be buying friends

(27:50):
and doing the devil's work. That was my second and final
strike. I pointed out the hypocrisy.
There were sorority girls in thegroup and said if you're going
to be that hypocritical, I'd rather join the fraternity.
At least they admit who they are.
Then I walked out and never wentback.
They tried to convince my best friend, the one who'd introduced
me to the group, to shun me, buthe refused.

(28:11):
He told them he'd work on converting me back, though he
never actually tried. Years later, he was the best man
at my wedding. Joining that fraternity was the
best decision I ever made. Those guys saved me from that
church. They let me find my own path and
my own sense of spirituality. Or maybe just peace on my terms.
Story 12. I grew up in your typical non

(28:32):
denominational Christian household.
Both of my parents were devout but not overbearing, at least
not at first. That's why what happened next
still stands out as one of the strangest turns my childhood
ever took. One evening my dad brought my
older brother and me to a new church service at a place he'd
heard about. Even at 7 years old, I thought
it was odd that this church was being held in a dimly lit single

(28:54):
story office complex. When we arrived, my father took
us up to meet the pastor so he could pray pray over us.
This man stood over my brother and me, laid his hands on our
heads and began speaking in tongues.
I know some branches of Christianity practiced that, but
this was something else. As he spoke, the entire room
joined in, men and women raisingtheir voices, some collapsing to

(29:15):
the floor and what looked like seizure like fits.
When the pastor finished, he turned to my father and said
that he had seen our futures through God's eyes.
If we remain loyal, he claimed, we could achieve anything we
wanted. Then his tone changed.
He warned that now that we had been seen by God, the devil
would use our toys to carry demons into our lives.
That night, my dad threw away almost all of our toys.

(29:38):
He told us he had seen a man's face turn lizard like during the
service and that we needed to rid ourselves of anything that
might harbor evil spirits. The only thing that saved my
brother and me from ever going back was my mother.
When she heard what had happened, she was furious and
forbade us from attending again.My parents eventually separated,
but I believe my father continued to visit that church

(29:59):
for years afterward. Today he lives in a care
facility heavily medicated, distant and dull.
I can't help but think about that night sometimes, and how
easily a place claiming to serveGod managed to twist faith into
something so dark. Story 13.
I worked for a cult. It was disguised as a private
school for wealthy kids who struggled with addiction.

(30:20):
On the surface, it looked like atherapeutic boarding school, a
safe, structured place for recovery.
In reality, it was something fardarker.
The place revolved around a charismatic leader who had an
inner circle of young male students he openly favored and
doted on. The school itself was abusive in
subtle and not so subtle ways. None of us were properly

(30:41):
trained, yet we were expected tohandle serious medical
responsibilities. I was administering medications
within my first week, including PRN Thorazine, a heavy duty
antipsychotic. I had no medical license, no
background in healthcare, just blind trust in a system that
treated faith and obedience as qualifications.
As staff, we were required to live under the same rules as the

(31:04):
students. No freedom, no privacy, no
outside influences. Before long, they began working
to separate me from my family, telling me that I had an
addiction I didn't, and that visiting my family on my time
off was spiritually dangerous. They claimed I was dependent on
my family, that I needed to healmy attachment to them.
After a few weeks, I left. I told myself I just wasn't

(31:27):
strong enough to handle the work, that I'd failed somehow.
But something about the place haunted me.
So I went back, determined to face whatever weakness I thought
I had. That's when I finally saw it
clearly for what it was. It wasn't me who was weak, it
was the environment that was broken, manipulative and cruel.
By the time I left for good, I was not the same person.

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I developed a full blown eating disorder, something I'd managed
to avoid throughout my own adolescence, only to have it
triggered by the control, shame and deprivation that defined
that place. The school eventually shut down
after a string of lawsuits from parents who'd realized what was
really happening behind closed doors.
Many of the former students now have a Facebook group where they

(32:08):
share their stories. From what I've read, most still
struggle deeply with the trauma they endured, the systematic
abuse disguised as treatment. The leader has since died.
It later came out that all of his degrees and awards were
fake. Every credential he'd ever
boasted about was a lie. I took away hard lessons from
that experience about trust, power and the need for safety in

(32:31):
programs meant to serve vulnerable people.
But the scariest moment came oneafternoon with a student who was
actively psychotic. He should have been in a secure
psychiatric facility, not in ourcare.
He had stopped eating and was ona hunger strike, refusing to
attend a group meeting. My supervisor ordered me to
restrain him, even though he wasn't being violent.

(32:51):
I was told to pick him up and carry him to the meeting and
then hold him there the entire time.
I can still feel how wrong that was.
The weight of him, the fear in his body, the silence in the
room. It was the moment I finally
understood this wasn't treatment, it was control, plain
and simple. Story 14.
For a short time I attended whatI'm pretty sure was a cult.

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On the surface it called itself a non denominational church.
Friendly, modern, welcoming. But underneath it was something
else entirely. Behind the altar there was a
narrow hallway. One wall was lined with a low
bookshelf packed with old Benny Hinn tapes.
Halfway down that hall, a smaller corridor branched off, 2
bathrooms on the left and a small room on the right that

(33:35):
they probably used for Bible study.
One night I was back there alone.
The bathroom door was open, the light off, and the only bulb was
one of those old pull cord ones hanging from the ceiling.
I swear the light flickered on by itself.
That moment still gives me chills.
It was probably nothing, but at the time it felt supernatural.

(33:57):
I only went a few more times, but it was enough.
People there told me I had demons living inside me, that I
was being oppressed by them. It scared me so badly I ended up
seeking counseling from other ministers afterward just to
untangle the fear they planted. There was also relentless
pressure to recruit new members.Every week someone would claim
to have had a dream or vision near the entrance.

(34:20):
A chalkboard read Friends Don't let Friends go to Hell, 3
exclamation marks included. One Sunday, a member stood up
and described a dream where demons were attacking the whole
town and the only safe place wasour church.
It didn't sound like faith anymore.
It sounded like control. The biggest sin, according to
them, was doubting their charismatic gifts.

(34:41):
The speaking in tongues, the healings, the miracles, even
joking about it was considered blasphemy.
If someone playfully tapped another on the head and said be
healed, they'd insist you just risked eternal damnation.
That seps when I realized what was really going on.
Their version of faith wasn't built on love or trust, It was
built on fear. Fear of questioning, fear of

(35:04):
thinking, fear of being wrong. I stopped going soon after that.
Looking back, I sip in grateful I got out so quickly.
What they called revelation was really just ignorance wearing a
holy mask. Story 15.
Back in college, I got involved with a Christian campus ministry
during my freshman year. For a while it felt like a good

(35:25):
community, friendly people, lotsof activities, and plenty of
free pizza. By junior year though, I
realized my beliefs had changed.I considered myself agnostic and
decided to leave the ministry. Things ended quietly, or so I
thought. About six months later, I
started dating this girl. Two months into our
relationship, she came over one day in tears.

(35:46):
She told me that one of the staff members from that old
ministry had sought her out. Apparently they told her that I
wasn't a good person, that I didn't respect women and that
she should be careful around me.The wild part?
My girlfriend wasn't even involved in any church group.
She was agnostic like me, so they must have found her through
my social media. Then just happened to run into

(36:07):
her at a coffee shop. She was shaken, not because she
believed them, but because of how invasive it all felt.
It wasn't the first time they'd done something like that,
either. I'd heard stories of them
tracking down people who'd left the group, trying to scare them
back into compliance. Looking back, I realized that's
not faith, that's control, and the best decision I ever made

(36:29):
was walking away from that kind of mindset for good.
Story 16. Anyone remember the Family Radio
group from a few years back? Yeah, I left because I woke up
on May 22nd. Then I started piercing my life
back together. There wasn't a lot of creepy
stuff that happened, but there was plenty that was deeply
disturbing. When you're raising children to

(36:51):
believe they were born only to die, that their entire purpose
is to spread the message before the end of the world, everyone's
in for a pretty messed up ride. I was 24 in a very
fundamentalist church, even stricter than most.
My first real clue came during awomen's gathering.
We were handing out snacks when a grown woman looked at the
chips and said, Oh no, my husband doesn't allow me to eat

(37:13):
potato chips. Allow.
Interesting. After that, the warning signs
piled up fast. People scolded me for reading
liberal magazines, which, by theway, was Reader's Digest.
Later, I was quietly shunned fortrying to lose weight with a
diet drink mix. They told me I should be praying
about it instead, that I just needed more faith.

(37:34):
The final straw was the Pastor Sip's wife.
She told me she could tell exactly where I was in my walk
with Jesus each day by how much makeup I was wearing.
That sips when I knew it was time to go.
Looking back, I realize how small my world had become.
All fear, all judgement, no joy.Leaving was hard, but it was the

(37:55):
best decision I ever made. I got my life back one ordinary
day at a time. Story 17.
My grandfather was a French Canadian Catholic.
He had two brothers. One of them married a Jehovah's
Witness and eventually converted.
They took their faith very seriously when my mom was young.
This would have been in the late1950s or early 60s.

(38:17):
They once chewed her out for sending a Christmas card.
Despite that, my grandfather kept in touch.
They were family, after all. Even after my mom's side moved
to the United States, he still visited his brother's farm up in
Canada whenever he could. That sips where it happened.
One day there was a terrible farming accident.
My grandfather rushed his brother to the nearest hospital.

(38:38):
The doctor said he needed an amputation and a blood
transfusion. His brother was unconscious.
His wife and kids were in town long before cell phones, so the
decision fell to my grandfather.Without hesitation, he told them
to go ahead. His brother survived, but that
choice cost him the relationship.
Afterward, that entire branch ofthe family cut off contact.

(39:01):
They never forgave him for authorizing the transfusion,
something their beliefs forbid. As far as anyone knows, they
never reconciled. It's one of those family stories
that lingers, tragic not becauseof malice but because of
conviction. A brother saved a life, but in
doing so lost a family. Story 18 I was raised as one of

(39:22):
Jehovah's Witnesses. They're not a cult in the
Jonestown sense of the word, butthey're far more controlling
than most churches. Jehovah's Witnesses are
convinced that theirs is the onetrue faith.
Members literally call it the truth.
They believe the end of the world is just around the corner
and that everyone outside the religion lives under Satan's

(39:43):
influence. That mindset creates an US
versus them world where Witnesses see themselves as the
only good people trying to rescue a few others before the
end comes. I eventually left because the
doctrines just didn't make senseto me.
There wasn't one dramatic breaking point, more like 1000
small realizations that something wasn't right inside

(40:04):
the organization. There's a kind of internal
judicial system. If you break the rules.
Things like premarital sex, smoking, accepting a blood
transfusion, you're investigatedby a group of elders.
They decide whether you should be disfellowshipped, which means
everyone you know and love is required to shun you.
Divorce is another example. You're not allowed to remarry

(40:26):
unless your spouse dies or commits adultery.
So when a marriage ends, it becomes a silent standoff.
Whoever moves on 1st gets shunned, and only then is the
other person free to marry again.
The list of potential sins is long.
Sexual misconduct of any kind, celebrating holidays, voting,
smoking or using drugs, even small things, swearing, watching

(40:47):
R rated movies are considered wrong.
Members are expected to fill most of their time reading
church literature, attending meetings several nights a week,
and going door to door. Growing up in that world often
means being completely sheltered.
Many witness kids are homeschooled and rarely interact
with outsiders. Even those who attend public

(41:08):
school can't stand for the national anthem, celebrate
birthdays, join sports teams, orparticipate in holiday events.
Friendships outside the faith are discouraged.
So you grow up in a tiny bubble that revolves entirely around
the organization. I know plenty of people who've
lived that way their whole lives.
Part time jobs and constant preaching.
Convinced the end is any day now.

(41:28):
Leaving was the hardest and bestthing I ever did.
Once you step outside that bubble, you realize how big the
world really is. Story 19.
I grew up Southern Baptist, definitely not a cult, but I've
been to a few churches that cameclose to doing some cultish
things. Take Bible camp for example.
One year they showed us a documentary claiming that Satan

(41:50):
could more easily take hold of people who listen to secular
music. According to the film, those
songs made you more likely to end up in hell.
When it ended they built a huge bonfire and encouraged all of us
kids to throw our secular C DS into it.
Watching everyone toss their music in, some crying, some
cheering was surreal. Then there was the Sunday they

(42:12):
brought a little boy up front who needed a heart transplant.
The pastor had a fancy bottle ofolive oil and poured it all over
the poor kids head. The elders gathered around, laid
hands on him and smeared the oilacross his forehead while
praying loudly. I was about 14, standing there
frozen thinking oh geez is this a cult?

(42:32):
Pretty sure this is something a cult would do.
Looking back, it wasn't malicious, just intense.
But that was the day I realized that even well meaning churches
can sometimes cross a line between faith and fear.
Story 20. This is probably too late to get
noticed, but whatever. I used to attend a very small
Catholic school, maybe 100 students K through 12.

(42:56):
I say Catholic in quotes becausethe church itself wouldn't
recognize it. Apparently the man who ran it
was considered a bit of a loose cannon.
And well, they were right. Officially it was a school that
taught Catholic theology. In reality it was closer to a
cult. We even had visiting prophets,
friends of the principal, who'd share their visions with us.

(43:17):
When the swine flu outbreak happened, one of them announced
that it would kill 1/3 of the world's population.
Fear was basically part of the curriculum.
Science and common sense didn't stand a chance.
In theology debates. The outcome was always
predetermined. The approved side always won.
It was instead education. It was indoctrination.

(43:38):
They also made us do some prettydisturbing things.
One year when I was a junior, myclass had to lead a retreat for
the freshmen and sophomores. Our job convinced them that
dating or even kissing made themimmoral.
Standing up there parroting thatmessage felt awful.
Then there were the protests. We were sent downtown to stand

(43:58):
outside Planned Parenthood holding graphic anti abortion
signs. Even as a naive pro-life
teenager, I knew it was wrong. I remember feeling ashamed but
powerless because saying no wasn't really an option.
Eventually the whole place unraveled.
The principal seemed to fixate on me for reasons I still don't
understand. It became his personal mission

(44:20):
to make my life miserable. Pulling me out of class,
accusing me of disobedience, Isolating me from friends.
It reached a point where I dreaded walking through the
doors every morning. Looking back now, it's obvious
the school wasn't about faith. It was about control.
Fear disguised as holiness. Obedience dressed up as virtue.
Leaving that environment was thebest decision I ever made.

(44:43):
Story 21 I was raised in a cult,though I didn't realize that's
what it was at the time. Leaving wasn't my choice.
My parents made that decision when I was about 13.
I was never physically abused, but I have a sibling who still
struggles deeply because of whatwe lived through.
Somehow I came out mostly OK. The craziest thing I ever saw

(45:04):
happened when I was about 12. A girl my age, who I later
learned had her own troubles, was asked to perform an exorcism
on a 60 year old man. As everyone prayed, he began
shaking, vomiting on the floor and pretending to speak a dead
language. I just remember watching,
terrified, not understanding what was real anymore.
The group itself started small, maybe 10 families who met twice

(45:27):
a week at a house in our suburban neighborhood.
The leader was a former militaryman who called himself a
prophet. Originally it was just a Bible
study, but over time it evolved into something much darker.
They taught that regular Christians weren't truly saved,
only we were. Soon everyone began
homeschooling their kids to protect us from corruption,

(45:48):
especially the teaching of evolution.
We lived in a bubble. Anything could supposedly harbor
demons. Once my parents destroyed some
decorative fan poles because they believed evil spirits lived
in them. They told us to hold our breath
while they smashed them, as if that would stop the demons from
entering us. Eventually they decided that
every bad thought or action was caused by demonic possession

(46:11):
that sips. When the exorcisms began, at
first they looked like group prayers, but they turned into
hour long ordeals filled with shouting, crying, and people
speaking as if they were the demon.
Sometimes people had to be held down.
They performed several of these on me, and when I didn't react
the way they expected, they saidthe demons had too tight a grip

(46:31):
on me. One woman finally left after
being accused of having the spirit of Jezebel.
That was her breaking point. The teachings grew even
stranger. The leader became obsessed with
his personal interpretation of the apocalypse, that true
believers would live through God's wrath instead of being
saved from it. He claimed the end was coming
within a couple of years, and anyone who didn't act like it

(46:54):
lacked faith. Families emptied savings
accounts and sold belongings to prove their devotion.
His daughter, my age at the time, began claiming she could
see angels and demons during meetings.
She described what the angels were doing and quote their
messages. Her mother backed her up.
People treated them like oracles, even asking the angels
questions through her. When someone dared to ask in

(47:17):
Spanish, a language the girl didn't know, he was scolded for
lacking faith and made to apologize.
Eventually, we all stayed up onenight, convinced the apocalypse
was happening. We prayed, chanted, waited.
Morning came. Nothing.
That was the moment a few families began to realize the
truth. After the group collapsed, our
family was left in poverty because of all the reckless

(47:39):
financial choices made to show faith.
My mother still keeps in touch with the leader's family, who
now live quietly on a farm with many children.
I know dozens of people from those years who never fully
recovered. For me, the memories come in
fragments, fear, confusion and asense of lost time.
But I also learned something. Belief can be powerful, and when

(48:00):
it's twisted by control and fear, it can destroy lives.
That's what I took with me when we finally left, the
determination never to let someone else tell me what to
believe again. Story 22.
My cousin is still involved in Scientology.
She's part of the Group C org and has been working as a
secretary there for more than seven years.

(48:21):
She sips in her early 20s now. Her mother, my aunt, can't call
or write to her freely. Any letters or messages she
sends are intercepted and reviewed for how they might
affect her focus on the greater good.
Once in a while, my aunt will manage to reach her by phone
just long enough to say I love you.
Then the line goes silent. My cousin's father has been

(48:42):
involved with Scientology since the early days.
My mom remembers the day he joined back in California.
He was walking down the street when a car pulled up beside him.
A woman got out and asked, Do you have any real friends?
Are you truly happy? She handed him a pamphlet and
invited him to a meeting. He went that same day and never
really came back from it. He was audited to determine his

(49:05):
spiritual level, and from there he dove in completely.
Some of his beliefs grew stranger over time.
Once, while he and my mom were working together, she
accidentally cut her hand. He told her to go back and try
cutting herself again because According to him, No2 identical
events can happen in this world.That moment terrified her.

(49:25):
He also talked about how memberssometimes punish those who left.
He claimed they would find out where a former member worked and
call non-stop from different numbers or file complaints until
the person quit. He said it proudly, as if it
proved loyalty. His views about life and family
changed too. He believed that having children
was a kind of spiritual mistake,that bringing new life into the

(49:48):
world allowed evil spirits to enter.
According to him, that's why some followers chose adoption or
joined only after becoming parents.
The irony, of course, is that hehad children of his own after
converting. It's seps heartbreaking.
My cousin grew up inside that system and doesn't seem to know
anything else. I hope one day she finds a way

(50:09):
out, or at least a way back to the people who still love her.
Story 23 I was part of a programthat, in my view, operated very
much like a cult. It found me when I was at one of
the lowest points in my life. The group had a detailed system
of levels, stages of mastery youwere meant to climb through.
Early on, the lessons focused onbreaking down your sense of

(50:30):
independence. You were told you were
powerless, that control over your life had to be handed to a
higher power. It was worded broadly enough to
attract people of any faith or none.
But the underlying message was clear.
Surrender yourself to the system.
Each of us was assigned A sponsor, someone who had
supposedly completed all the stages.
We were told to contact that person whenever we had doubts.

(50:53):
Their job was to keep us loyal, to reassure us that we were
getting better. That questioning meant we were
in denial. Eventually, I began researching
the movement's history. Its founder, according to
historical accounts, struggled with addiction during
Prohibition and experienced intense religious visions after
years of substance abuse. Psychiatrists of his time

(51:14):
reportedly described him as suffering from serious mental
illness. Despite that, his ideas became
the foundation for a program that's still promoted as the
gold standard for recovery. Many of its principles conflict
with modern psychology and neuroscience.
Yet within the community, if youraise scientific or
philosophical objections, you'reoften told that doubt proves

(51:36):
you're still sick. It's a clever trap.
Disagreement becomes evidence ofthe very condition they claim to
cure. One of the most troubling
aspects to me is that even when someone rebuilds their life and
stays healthy for years, they'restill considered in recovery.
They're told the illness never truly ends and that leaving the
meetings is dangerous. The message is that independence

(51:59):
equals relapse. Their Seps also a legal
dimension. In some places, people convicted
of certain offenses are requiredby courts to attend 12 step
meetings as a condition of probation.
That blurs the line between voluntary religion based support
and mandated treatment. What disturbs me most is how
society often celebrates these programs without question.

(52:21):
Their underlying philosophy thatpeople are powerless and must
rely on a higher power may help some, but it can also discourage
self efficacy and personal accountability.
To be clear, this is my experience and my perspective.
I know many people who say the 12 step approach saved their
lives, and I don't doubt that itcan be positive for them.

(52:41):
But I also believe it's important to recognize that the
model isn't universal, that there are secular and evidence
based alternatives that deserve attention.
In the end, what I learned is this.
Any organization that tells you you're helpless without it, that
you can never be whole on your own, deserves to be questioned.
Story 24. I spent four years in what I can
only describe as a treatment cult, an outpatient recovery

(53:05):
center run by a mother and daughter therapy team.
On paper, it was supposed to help people struggling with
addiction or mental health issues.
In practice, it became a closed system that revolved around
control. Once clients were considered
better, they were offered jobs inside the system as counselors,
office staff, or landlords renting rooms to new arrivals. 2

(53:27):
senior members even owned outside businesses, one in
landscaping, the other in elderly companion care that
primarily employed clients. It kept everyone financially and
socially tied to the program. The entire model was built
around the 12 steps. Everyone was required to attend
the same 6:30 AM meeting, whether or not alcohol was their

(53:47):
issue. About 95% of the attendees were
clients from the center. You had to have a sponsor,
ideally another client, so the staff could monitor you more
closely. We were expected to call our
sponsor and at least three support people every day to
report how we were doing. For me, those calls were awkward
summaries of my day. I've never been great at

(54:08):
discussing emotions. New clients attended three group
sessions a week. Those groups were called
conflict resolution meetings, but they were mostly public
shaming. If you broke any rule and the
rules changed constantly, you'd be humiliated in front of 20 to
30 people. You were told you'd relapse or
destroy your life if you didn't comply.

(54:29):
Every client also had one weeklyindividual session, but whatever
you said there could be repeatedin Group later.
I later learned that several formal complaints were filed
with the state over these privacy violations.
When my grandfather died, I was already in trouble for missing
my daily calls. The therapists made me phone my
parents and tell them that if someone from the program didn't

(54:51):
accompany me to the funeral, they would forbid me from going.
My parents, initially skeptical of the place, ended up paying
for a staff member to fly with me.
I didn't tell them I'd been coerced into that until much
later. Two friends of mine began
secretly dating. Relationships were strictly
controlled. When the therapists found out,
they gave them a choice, break up or leave.

(55:14):
They left, even though one of them had been there since
childhood because his parents were long time members.
Eventually, I decided to leave. I was renting an apartment owned
by another client and working for the landscaping business.
My roommates were newer clients who were away for the weekend at
a mandatory intensive retreat. I told staff I'd join them
later, pretending I was going toa meeting first.

(55:36):
At the meeting location, I excused myself to use the
bathroom and walked out. I turned off my phone, drove to
a theater, and watched a movie, just to clear my head.
When I finally went home around 1, AMI sat in the dark trying to
figure out what to do next. Then came the knocking. 2 police
officers, my primary therapist and another client were at the

(55:57):
door. They said the therapist had told
police I might harm myself. They gave me a choice, return to
the program or be held for a 72 hour psychiatric evaluation.
I went back. Once there, I was treated like a
brand new member, stripped of privileges, watched constantly,
made to earn trust again. Months later, I got a normal

(56:18):
job. When one of my roommates was
expelled from the program, I lethim keep living with me.
That set off another round of harassment, both from staff and
other clients, so I simply stopped showing up to groups and
meetings. My therapist then called my
mother, claiming I was suicidal and urging an intervention.
My mom, by then aware of their tactics, thanked her and hung

(56:40):
up. After that, every friend who
remained in the program was toldnot to speak to me.
That's how they kept control, bycutting people off from anyone
who left. I was lucky.
A few others who'd recently escaped stayed in touch, and we
helped each other rebuild. Still, the isolation hit hard,
and I fell into depression for months.

(57:00):
Over time, I discovered a long discussion thread online, former
clients sharing horror stories about the same center.
Eventually, the lead therapist passed away and many senior
members left. A new male therapist was hired,
and I later heard allegations that he'd had an inappropriate
relationship with a newly recovering client.
That was years ago. Now I've rebuilt my life and

(57:22):
found a legitimate therapy that focuses on empowerment rather
than obedience. Looking back, I realize how
easily vulnerability can be exploited, especially when
people are desperate to heal. If a program demands total
surrender of your privacy, your time, and your independence,
it's not treatment. It's steps, control.
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