2001: A tale of heartbreak& woe

A younger version of myself took a liking to a lass whilst at TAFE. After 6 months of pursuit, I finally got somewhere. 

I should have heard the alarm bells when I drove out to her place - her parents away, and quickly discovered all of the relevant propaganda indicating that they were in fact Bible thumpers of the cult variety. 

I noticed it enough to set my expectations really quite low with a thought to letting this go once it didn't go any further. I was there until 5am, then had to endure the 50km drive home, having last slept a few hours the morning before, and was heading home in time to shower, get ready for work, do half a day, then go out to a party. Somehow I used to pull this off without drugs.

But alas, it did. For 6 months. It has hush hush and enjoyable. Then finally, her conscience got the better of her. Her father as it turned out was an elder of said cult, and discovery meant a whole range of unfortunate consequences for her. Admitting to it now would be less severe. So she did. She'd hinted that perhaps if I joined, then we might have some hope of a future.

I was put in touch much more local folks who gave me a "Bible study" of their variety over a period of months. Lovely folks. I was invited out to various dinners then finally allowed to venture out with various young adult groups with a minder. Also all lovely folks. 

During the course  of these social interactions, I wound up for dinner at the home of the elder from the next town over... a home I'd visited before... 

I visited their cult hall a few times, and was alarmed at how quickly my brain screamed "CULT". As a non-baptised person I was given a reasonable amount of room for questions. I noticed however that its adherents however only ever asked prescribed questions and were given prescribed answers. Research away from their sight might it clear  that this  was necessary. Asking the wrong questions might start to cast doubt over your faith or suggest you had been consuming "lies" from non-permitted sources that would lead them into a whole world of pain. 

Excommunication was a very real punishment, and I'd had it explained to me. Mostly so I didn't speak to those at the back who were excommunicated - especially as that's where I preferred to sit. It was closest to the door. 

The more I thought about it, the less I liked it. Once the "Bible Study" had been concluded, I had a choice. My choice was to do nothing. I stopped being involved with these folks, and they didn't contact me. In time I'd occasionally have some elder types who I'd dealt with randomly appear on my door step to "check in". 

Quite some time had passed and  it was now 2001, and the "minder" that I'd spent a lot of time with earlier on, and done some business with popped in to let me know that a friend of ours was getting married. That very lass that had lead me to this point. It turns out that as soon as we had parted company and I'd left TAFE, a teacher had started chasing her. He'd converted quickly, and now they were to seal the deal. 

He'd inquired if I wished to go - he'd got wind from somewhere that I knew her new fiancee as well, and he'd be happy to take me (given I wouldn't be permitted to go alone). I politely declined given any other response would have given away suggestion of something untoward that might have caused her more grief, and asked him to pass on my congratulations. 

I vaguely recall filling the fridge full of wine casks and embarking upon a new journey to seek the answers that laid at the bottom. 

I had a friend who spent too much time in my flat, his computer lived there given I had internet access and needed help paying its bill.  I vaguely recall him coming and going as I emptied casks and kept searching for the illusive answers. Why on earth I was drinking wine was beyond me. I hate the stuff.   If memory serves, I took a liking to rum not long after. 

At some point within a few days, I'm fairly sure that said friend managed to talk me out of this brief journey of self destruction, and I dried out. 

I dragged the wheelie bin inside and filled it full of the mindless library of propaganda I'd amassed from this cult and removed it all from my life. 

I did spend a while on a support forum that was full of previous believers - some forced due to family who had left. Some who were forced out. A small number who were still in but starting to question what was going on. It was cathartic, and reminded me that I'd experienced only the tip of the iceberg. Many suffered far worse. 

I never believed it, even in the two days that I really tried. The voice of reason in my head had never been louder. 

I chased a girl, found a cult, went on a bender, dried out, and moved on with my life. I'm glad I had that over with when I was 21. 

It wasn't all that long before I awoke on the morning of 12th September to news from the US that the World Trade Center had been destroyed by terrorists. My seldom used TV wasn't turned off for 2 days as I was glued to the 24 hour news coverage. The world changed for me, much like it did a lot of people then. Western civilisation was vulnerable to an enemy capable of mass devastation, hell bent on killing Westerners. 

The things that had consumed so much of my time were now no longer important in the grand scheme of anything.  

I chased a girl, found a cult, went on a bender, dried out, and moved on with my life. I'm glad I had that over with when I was 21. I saw footage of people jumping from collapsing skyscrapers to avoid burning to death on the news. It really wasn't much of a year.