I am staring down a long passage. I am looking forward and back. There is seemingly no end to revelations. 

Yesterday, what was there? I remember at one point I stopped at the market to pick up some milk and bananas. I live on milk, bread, cheese and fruit. It's about all I eat. Oh, I added peanut butter to the mix and some organic apricot jam. And a friend gave some nuts. Friend. Strange word in this context. 

I stepped out of my old car. I have an old and a new car. I am one person and two cars. I like this old car. I got out and a man greeted me. I looked up just as he stood parallel to my car door and the market. I did not remember his name, but his friendly eyes peeking out over an immaculate and frightening face mask were familiar. 

Right now, as I write this, there is a slight pain, a discomfort. But I am trying to relax. I am trying not to make much of it. The man responded to me that his name is Jim. I said, "Oh, of course, how could I forget?" He said something conciliatory. I said, "But I should remember, because it's my brother's name." And I was remembering my brother then and that he is probably just about this man's age, or would have been, if he had not died, during this cooties outbreak, sometime last year, I think. I don't remember when it happened. 

How did it come? I said something, it came up, "I'm not there any more. I left last year." I knew him from the restaurant. I know everyone from the restaurant, actually. If I know them at all, it can only be from the restaurant, because there is no other group of people I can encounter, that I will know. I don't have friends. Friends were not allowed. I didn't have the luxury of friendship while working 365 days a year, 14-16 hours per day. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. I was a little surprised. "You are the first person to say THAT to me!" 

Thereupon we were about to say our goodbyes but both of us hesitated and somehow and quite naturally Jim proceeded to invite me to meet him for a sandwich at Subway sometime. He actually said he wanted to buy me a sandwich. I hesitated and looked at him quite directly then, standing a bit closer. I said then, sure. Then he said, when. I said, ok, let's meet later today. He then agreed to meet at six down by the highway at the Subway which is located in an Arco station. 

After getting back in my car I was thinking, "what does he want?" The whole time he was standing there with that mask on and it was disturbing me, almost to the point of being distressed. It was the type of mask that sticks out somewhat. It has a seam down the front, vertically, and it reminds me of the type of mask seen in old paintings of the medieval depictions of the black plague. I must say, that was not pleasant, as I am quite a bit spooked by these sorts of images lately. But Jim's friendly and unpressurized demeanor gave some comfort. I didn't feel any threat. 

I went back to the house and was sitting in my room. I am staying with a friend. I stay here sometimes; I think this might be my third or fourth visit. I have stayed off and on since leaving the restaurant. How I came to stay here? I was walking in the park one day. I had been staying with A. and we didn't get along. He's Indian and he has a propensity to behave towards me as if he has the right to tell me what to do, and I have the propensity to resist being told what to do, from anyone, but especially from someone to whom I am not related, and who is young enough to have been my child. And especially not after having left an extremely controlling and abusive environment recently. I wasn't having it. I felt quite threatened by that sort of behavior. I had just walked out of a cult, after having been involved with them for the last, about 20 plus years. This particular branch of the cult had been my home and my working environment and my family for the last nine years. They run businesses in this small mountain community and are generally respected, even if the conservative Christians among the populace are less than thrilled about having a bunch of Hindus amongst them. 

So, yes, I was walking in the park that day, quite fraught with worry, quite distraught, unable to think. I was texting people I hadn't talked to in 30 or 40 years. Indeed, the day I left, the day I walked out, I had just gathered up some of my things and thrown them in the jeep. Not my jeep, the group's jeep. I was sitting in the house there, in the office, looking through my facebook account and couldn't decide what to do. It had been two days, I had not gone to the restaurant. I had eaten almost nothing, I had not spoken to anyone from the group and they had not spoken to me. It was odd. I had seen no one. I don't even know if they were still sleeping there. It was a shared room. I didn't have my own room. I was in an open area that I shared with someone else. I don't remember who it was. I just remember that they always had their eyes on me. I had no privacy. We were being watched all the time. I remember in the last couple of days there I had found a camera hiding behind the sheer curtain near my bed, pointed at me. I think I remember letting it slide off the window sill to the floor under my bed "accidentally". Why I left was simple. I had found out that what was happening was not right. I had to "find out". I didn't know. I didn't know that I was really being abused. Well, I knew it, but my feelings of guilt were not allowing me to break free. I somehow was being made to feel that it was all my fault, that my problems were causing all the difficulty I was having in the group. 

I used to go home and night and the last several weeks I was sleeping in. I had decided that I would just sleep in and not go in in the morning. I was tired. After six years of this I was done. A few weeks prior to this there had been another incident. Usually it was something simple. Someone would start to needle and I would react. Then they would try to climb on my head and I would again react and the situation would escalate. This time the person started to climb up on top, try to get the better of me and I heard myself saying, "No worries. I'll be leaving soon." 

We were supposed to be there by 6 am. The restaurant would open at six and if we came in at 6:01 or later, it meant that there would not be any breakfast. Then if perchance, we got busy and forgot to clean up the breakfast dishes, there would be no lunch either. Now, the person who was and still is at the center of this cult group, used to say often to the other members that "She is the same age as my own mother. It's really quite something that she stands here and runs around all day and keeps up with all of you, half her age." And I had been asking to have a day off now and again. I broke down in tears one day, which is really not my style, and said that I needed, I demanded, one day per week, one hour per day at lunch time and that I had to be able to leave and go home by 8 pm every day. That never happened. No, I would be there every night past ten. And of course this was my own fault. Right? There were always reasons why it couldn't be arranged. And that is why I started to just say, "Ok, I'm not going in this morning. There's no breakfast, sure. No big deal. I would rather sleep in and starve a little. No problem." That went on for a couple of weeks. But all this was not the reason I left ultimately. That was not enough to get me to leave. In fact, I always had thought that I would never leave. I could not fathom why people would leave. That seems all quite strange to an outsider. To work without pay for six years, more actually, and then to never get a day off, never get an hour to myself during the day, that was "normal". 

That wasn't the reason I left. And it wasn't also the physical abuse. That was happening on a fairly regular basis. I would be pushed, threatened, shoved, pinched, grabbed, yelled at, publicly shamed and so on. And provoked, provoked, provoked. That also, that was not the reason at all. No, it was something else that formed the final straw. The final straw was the incessant gaslighting. To be told every day that I am useless, that without these people, without this person who called herself the "Mother" I would be again homeless, that I am nasty. That sort of psychological torture I had endured for years. But then she turned her tack. And it was getting increasingly difficult to put up with. There were constant scenarios where I was left standing there wondering what the heck was going on. She would say something like, "Remember? I told you that XYZ..." And I didn't remember that. In fact, normally, I remembered something else, something quite different, and mostly opposite of what she was saying to me. Then there were the pills. 

She used to often say to me, "I don't know what's wrong with you." And she would act very concerned. She would say, I don't know what we are going to do about it. And she would allude to my "mental problems". Then one day one of the members of our group came to me and told me that he was taking Prozac and that it was helping him a lot and did I want to try it. He revealed to me that I should tell no one and that "she" had instructed him to tell me. I am not sure exactly how it went down. It was something like this. Then I think I went to her and we agreed that I would take it. She said that the young man would give it to me and instructed me to go to my primary care provider and tell him I  needed to take Prozac. She said she would call him. So from then on I was taking these anti-depressants. And then I started to take anti-psychotics also, because the anti-depressants were not doing it for me. That was weird, because I didn't really want to take an anti-psychotic. That reminded me too  much of my brother Jim, who had lived out much of his life in mental institutions. I just couldn't stand it. I could not think that I am really mentally ill. It didn't make any sense.

She would say, "you know, you are losing your memory. And I don't know what we are going to do. You are not getting any younger. How are we going to take care of someone with Alzheimers?" She used to say this type of thing all the time. She would cite examples of something I had supposedly forgotten. But I had not forgotten anything.  Nevertheless, I always felt insecure and the longer this went on, every  now and again I would think, well, if I WERE to lose my memory, I probably would not really know that I was losing it, would I? I would probably just THINK that I was fine, but I would be getting it wrong ultimately. Maybe I AM crazy. I mean, how can I really know? I would have these types of thoughts. But, really I didn't believe it. But I could not be sure. I couldn't really catch her in the lie. I just had to put up with it. 

Finally, it was all starting to become just too much. I mean it should have been clear to me earlier, but I assure you, I did not have any capacity to form a clear thought. And I am going to explain to you right now why that was. I still had enough intelligence to find a way out of the situation. I think it was my intelligence that made me resist over and over again. I resisted being dominated and pushed around and that is what was getting me in the most trouble. Some of the other members of the group used to observe how I was being treated by the leader, (now I call her  my "handler"), and they would emulate her actions. They felt they could push me, even physically, disrespect me, etc. There was one young man in particular who used to constantly needle, provoke and pick fights with me. On some occastions someone else in the group called him out about this behavior, but he didn't stop. He just kept on pushing and pushing. He used to say things to me when no one else could hear, such as, "Go ahead and hit me. I want you to. I want them to see you hit me. Do it. I want you to get thrown out of the group." This and many other types of things he used to do. But it wasnt' this. It was the gaslighting.

But the word "gaslight" didn't have any meaning for me until the last few weeks I was there. I had started to take my laptop computer with me to bed at night. I would cover up under the blankets and try not to be seen. If anyone would come into the house (my bed was close to the door), I would close it and leave it somewhere under my pillow until such a time as they would lie down and go to sleep. Then I would open it up again. I used earphones, so that no one would hear, and I turned the brightness way down. I slept right in front of the window, so I didn't want to be seen. I used to watch videos online. I would scroll around and just watch little things like cat and dog videos at first, just to relieve the tension, just to relax. Then one day I said, let me see if I am really sick. I started to just surf the net and try to learn about all kinds of mental disorders. I found a few symptoms here and there, mostly irritation, anger outbursts, depression, violence. I had been guilty of some of this, but I was still quite clear that it was by this time all being provoked heavily. I was trying my best to remain calm, but I was tired, I wanted a rest from the constant abuse. I could hardly keep my composure if I was heavily targeted. I really didn't see this as an indication of mental illness, unless you want to call it PTSD. But the P didn't really belong at the front. Because it was ongoing stress, not post stress. 

Not only did I not find any indication of a any mental condition on my part, I started to think that I was really quite ok. But what I did find really shocked me. I found that I was right in the middle of a group of people who were all involved in a dysfunctional marcissistic group phenomenon. It was unmistakabley so. And furthermore, I found out that what I was experiencing had been documented before many times and that there was a plethora of literature surrounding this type of situation. I found one vlog channel online and started to watch those videos. While watching those I realized that this is going to get me thrown out of the group. That caused some trepidation. It may sound odd to anyone who has never experienced it, but anyone who knows what it means to be brainwashed will understand. I thought that I was doing something wrong, otherwise why would I have hidden the computer? No, I thought that this was just me bringing my vibration down. After all, we were a spiritual group, weren't we? There was a way I was supposed to think. I was supposed to be grateful to this woman, my "handler", the cult's leader. She was doing everything for me, right? She was selfless and loving, right?  She was sacrificing so much, right? Wasn't she taking on all my karmas into her body? Isn't that why I was never sick and she always suffered and had to take so many pain meds? And here I was, so ungrateful. Living in her house and eating her food, and then hiding here at night with the computer, looking at these videos... 

Yeah.

But that is the way we think. I found out that there is a name for this. It's called the Stockholm Syndrome. But the thing that really REALLY opened my eyes was the Biderman's Index of Coercion . As I went down the list I found that I had experienced all of it, every last point. When I found that, it was a done deal. I was officially put on notice. This was all wrong; it could never last. 

Biderman's chart was developed, I think, after the Korean War. It was a study of POW behavior and a description of what made them cooperate with their captors, how they came to succomb to the dominance, and indeed explained at least partially why some POWs, after having been released, defected and returned to their captors. I had been brainwashed, indeed. This was the proof. The only thing left, the only thing still needed I received then one day and that became the "smoking gun" that led to my leaving the group. 

Now, reading down the list I see so many things I have not told: How she used to scream at me that we are all killing her, that she is going to "die like this". That was a threat that she would leave us alone, that we would not be able to make it without her. She never let any one of us do the shopping and she would bring anything we might need. If we said we need clothing, she would pick them out. Then if they didn't fit, I would be publicly shamed. If I did not like the things, I would be shamed if I said anything. I had to pretend to like them. Sometimes she would bring a little surprise. She would give expensive jewelry suddenly. One time she ignored my birthday entirely, where normally there would be a little celebration and a cake. One time she bought presents, a lot of presents, and made a huge show of wrapping them all, for everyone but myself, and made me sit there while they all unwrapped everything in front of me. That was the last Christmas I spent with the group. I got a card. If I ever talked to a customer for more than a minute I was scolded. People in the group were also isolated from each other. She used to "diss" people in front of me. And I am quite sure she poisoned their minds against me also. In fact, I know she did. She used to constantly tell me that she was much better than I. She used to emphasize that her state was much higher than ours, that she had reached some kind of enlightenment, and then she would say things to make us feel that we could never achieve that. She used to scream at us that she knew all our thoughts, everything was known to her, or that she ALWAYS would find out everything, even if we didn't tell her. She used to constantly upbraid us for falling short of her expectations. She used to say to us that we were just there because there was a warm bed and food, that we were not making any spiritual progress, that we were just passing our time. 

So, it was all there, and much more. Along with physical abuse and threats, forcing one to go a long time without rest, refusing to give food for petty omissions or small mistakes. And then suddenly giving some expensive and lavish gift. Scapegoating, plenty of that, and the constant gaslighting.

Then one day, she started again, but it turned out differently than it had before. She said to me, "You told B's grandmother not to come here!" I looked at her and then I said, "No." She said, "You know, you are losing your memory... you really don't remember things any more." I said, again, "No." She said, "Ok, well, B is standing right here. Why don't you just ask her?" Then, I am sure she was bluffing. And she did not expect me to do it. But I walked over to B who was standing just a few feet away and said, "Didn't I tell your grandmother that we all would really love to see her? Did I not say that we understood if she didn't want to come, but she was certainly welcome all the time?" and B confirmed this. I said, "Did I tell her not to come here?" and she answered, "No, you didn't say that." 

By this time my "handler" had flown the coup. She disappeared right away. I finished my shift that night and went to my room. But the next morning when I woke up I could not make up my mind to go back. I just lay in bed and thought, "No. No." Around 10 am or so the phone rang and I answered. It was D, my "roomie". He said, "Say, were you planning on coming in today?" (In six years I don't know if I missed more than one day, actually.) I said, "You know,... " but by this time "she" had taken the handset and was saying in a kind of fake sugary tone, "Hey, why don't you come down? Are you coming?.." And I said, "You know I don't really feel like coming." And she slammed the handset down. And I never did go back there to work. I did go back a few times later on, but that is another chapter. Those things happen. It's not always easy to make a clean getaway. 

Well, this got longer than I thought it would be. Actually, this is the thing I was talking about the other day when I said, I really don't want to write what I have to write. But in the  meantime so many other things have happened. And now it's easy to talk about it. Because what has  happened after that makes this pale by comparison. Life is really good. It's just. Things happen the way they are supposed to. Well, I am really not sure if that is true. In a sense it's true. In another sense, there is great injustice. But, for my part, I find that if I look at it from the first angle, I am just much better off on the whole. So, I try to see it that way. 

There is one last thing I want to say about this whole thing. The worst thing, the biggest crime perpetrated on the "victim" of any cult is, I feel, the necessity one has of developing a technique of self-deception called "cognitive dissonance". That is what scars one the most. It is the fact that one is forced to look at the situation through a kind of skewed eye all the time. One has to try always to massage the facts into some kind of coherence. But they don't ever match up. One has to break one's head to understand anything. It becomes a muddle, a confused jumble. One has to constantly make excuses for the abuser/handler. One has to find a way to justify what they are doing and to silence the inner voice that is sobbing somewhere and crying out that "This cannot be right." 

Biderman’s Chart of Coercion

1) Isolation: Deprives victim of all social support (for the) ability to resist. Allows victim to be present at all times to keep home environment stable and non-threatening. Makes victim dependent upon abuser.

2) Control or Distortion of Perceptions: Fixes attention upon immediate predicament; fosters introspection. Eliminates information that is not in agreement with the abuser’s message. Punishes actions or responses that demonstrate independence/resistance. Abuser manipulates through charm, seductiveness, etc. and becomes hostile when demands are not met.

3) Humiliation or Degradation: Weakens mental and physical ability to resist. Heightens feelings of incompetence Induces mental and physical exhaustion.

4) Threats: Creates anxiety and despair. Outlines abuser’s expectations and consequences for noncompliance.

5) Demonstrating Omnipotence or Superiority or Power: Demonstrates to victim that resistance is futile.

6) Enforcing Trivial Demands: Demands are often trivial, contradictory and non-achievable. Reinforces who has power and control.

7) Exhaustion: The abuser uses sleep deprivation to keep victim in a state of confusion. Weakens mental and physical ability to resist. Heightens feelings of incompetence. Induces mental and physical exhaustion.

8) Occasional Indulgences: Provides positive motivation for conforming to abuser’s demands. Victim works to “earn” these indulgences in an effort to increase self-esteem.