I was raised in a cult.

At the time, I didn’t know that’s what it was. I knew I was different. I felt abnormal. And I accepted it. My life was my life, and that’s just the way it was supposed to be.

I was taught to listen and follow. From a very young age, my entire sense of self worth was measured by the approval of my religion and my parents. And if they weren’t happy with me, then I wasn’t happy with me. I needed to do better.

My religion didn’t celebrate holidays. They were considered worldly. Because of this, I wasn’t allowed to attend birthday parties or sing Christmas songs in choir. If another child in my class brought cupcakes for their birthday, I would sit at my desk quietly. I tried to ignore the curious stares of the other children as they ate.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

In choir, the music teacher would have all the kids stand on a small set of bleachers. She would stand in front of them and conduct. She put me in a chair behind her, near the center of the room, where I sat quietly. This happened for a few weeks every year. Sometimes she let me go to the library. Sometimes she made me sit.

The other children watched me the entire time, trying to understand why I wasn’t practicing Christmas songs with them. Maybe the music teacher didn’t notice. Maybe she didn’t care.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

I was different at home, too. My father made sure I knew who his favorite child was. And it wasn’t me. After my parents divorced, he built my brother a bedroom in his new house. I had to sleep in the camper out back. Some weekends I didn’t get to go over at all. My brother did, but I didn’t.

The rest of my father’s new family got to sleep inside, but I didn’t. My childhood was spent being separated from others.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

I internalized these feelings of being different at a very young age. Over time, I began to revel in them. On the surface, anyway.

Fast forward to adulthood, and I’m still trying to belong. I’m still learning to allow myself to be loved.

It’s difficult and scary to say the least. I’m learning I don’t have to belong. If I am true to myself, then the right people will accept me. I don’t need to fight for anyone’s approval.

And that is such a liberating feeling.

I am no longer in the cult, but the psychological effects are still very much prevalent in my life. I struggle with codependency. If Kim changes plans, I wonder what I did wrong. If we go more than a day without talking, I begin to worry she might leave me.

Sometimes I give too much of myself. I ignore my writing because I need her to know I’m there for her. I ignore my family and friends because I need her to validate my worth. And I have trouble allowing myself to believe my wants and needs are valid, and not just selfish. I try to accomplish so much, I become overwhelmed and burned out. Then I feel like a failure when I’m truly an amazing human being.

I am not a failure. As long as I get back up and keep moving forward.

And every day, I’m getting better. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting better.

I’m not going to be relegated to anyone’s camper anymore. I’m learning to accept myself and be happy. I will sing whatever songs I want.

And if I want a birthday cupcake, I’m eating the damn cupcake.

What is something you have had to overcome? Let us know at the bottom of the page.

Image by Goran Horvat from Pixabay