Sympathy for a Cult Leader

The real cost of being powerful

I used to identify very strongly as a “cult survivor.”

I ran a whole blog about it called “UnMinding,” where I detailed all the terrible, tErRiBLe mind games that my “cult leader” played with me, and blamed her for all my problems.

I took refuge among other ex-cultists, attending support meetings where we lamented about how we would forever be scarred by our experiences.

I got published in cult-watcher magazines and featured in cult-survivor art exhibits.

I became a cult awareness-raiser, educating (well, warning) people about mind control tactics, narcissism, and C-PTSD…

But eventually, I could no longer keep dragging the past along as I progressed in life. I could no longer carry the weight of the “victim” identity.

I’ve never said it publicly, until now. I’ve left these loose ends hanging far too long.

So here’s me, bringing that whole “cult survivor” chapter of my life to a close:

I am not, and never was, and never will be, a victim.

Nor was I ever a “survivor.”

There was nothing to “survive.” Nothing to be victimized by.

Rather, I just didn’t know what I know now, which is: I’m powerful, too.

I look back at my cult leader Arachne, and now I simply see a very lost, very broken woman who didn’t know what to do with her own power.

And man, was she POWERFUL.

Arachne was intense. She was a genius. She was high-octane.

She glowed like a human light bulb.

She had real spiritual abilities, like bilocation, telepathy, and shaktipata.
She once took my hands and made energy course me so intensely that it felt like Niagara Falls was in my body. (I told that story here.)

But she, like I, found herself glowing white-hot in a realm of zombies who’d wandered in the darkness for so long, that her light made their retinas sizzle and pupils constrict in agony.

Some people saw her and worshipped her on sight, calling her Jesus’s Second Coming. Others called her Satan.
So blinding, was her light.

So she chose to hide, eclipsing herself in obscurity as if it were a fashion choice. She made a secret of herself, only imparting knowledge to people who she thought could handle it.

She thought I was one of those deserving people.
And I was… until I wasn’t.

She was 25 when we met, and I was 17. So the “guru/devotee” dynamic came quite naturally.

She took me under her wing, shared secrets about the universe, coached me through my own bizarre supernatural experiences (like doing telekinesis for the first time, and learning telepathy)…

…and I drank deeply from her font of wisdom, relieved to have finally found somebody who understood the power I’d been hiding, too.

But there was one thing I couldn’t face. One thing that I practically begged her to fix for me, and that was: my sexual trauma.

There was a boy at school. He did something I didn’t want him to do. Let’s leave it at that.

My mind couldn’t leave it alone. I wanted the icky-ness out of my body. I wanted the gross feeling to go away.

So I talked to her about it constantly. She was the only person I could talk about it with.

Arachne was patient and compassionate… at first.

But when she gave advice, I’d reject it. When she offered suggestions, I’d cling harder to my pain.

One day, she finally blew up at me. She lambasted and berated me for 5 hours before hanging up forever.

I don’t remember all the awful things she said. It all slurred together into a tar pit of insults and degradation. It felt like she’d gutted me, taking every secret I’d ever shared with her and throwing it in my face for 5 hours, laughing coldly as I cried.

The one thing I remember her saying was, “You talk about the molestation all the time like it gives you meaning. Why? Do you want him to do it again?”

Ouch.

It hurt.
Got right under my skin like a splinter,
as forbidden truths are apt to do.

Though I never heard from her again, I heard that in my head for many years to come.

me back then: the self-eclipser

When I learned what a “cult” was, and found that Arachne fit the description of a “narcissistic cult leader,” I wielded it like a sword in some imaginary battle.

Like: Hell yeah! She was a cult leader!!!
She forced me to worship her! I had no choice!
How dare she say those awful things about me!
VERBAL ABUSE! PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE! EMOTIONAL ABUSE!!!

I even wrote a whole book about her evil, twisted mind games (which has since been unpublished, LOL).

But a few years into identifying as a cult survivor, I attended an ICSA meeting. Anybody could attend these meetings, so we got a weird mix of actual cult survivors and some ~questionable~ parents of adult children who’d gone no-contact. These parents now reveled in claiming that their child had been “brainwashed” and “inducted into a cult” (when in fact, they were probably just setting boundaries 😐).

Not having been in cults themselves, these parents were known to say some rather ~unhelpful~ things when we, the “actual” cult survivors, were trying to process our trauma.

So at this particular meeting, I cried about how Arachne ended our friendship by verbally abusing me for 5 hours on the phone.

One of the clueless dads blurted, “Why didn’t you just hang up the phone?”

Ouch!!! Again!!!

Were people just allowed to make incredibly logical suggestions like that?!

HOW MEAN!!! 😡😭

And so, my victimhood deepened.

The back cover of that unpublished poetry book. Boy, was I committed to the bit!

But years later, I see now:

That man was right.

I could have just hung up the phone.

In my learned-helplessness brain, that hadn’t even occurred to me as an option.

But now? I have so much genuine, grounded confidence, that I would never let anyone speak to me that way.

In fact, since Arachne, I have hung up the phone on people who were yelling at me. I have walked out on partners and family members who tried to belittle me.

I have changed.
That man was the catalyst.
A mean one, but a needed one.

And Arachne was right, too: I was getting something out of constantly defining myself by the sexual assault.

That’s not to say I enjoyed it, but that the story was subconsciously serving a purpose.

What I actually wanted was an excuse not to be in my full power…
…and the sexual assault became that excuse.

I have forgiven him.

I have forgiven Arachne.

And most of all,
I have forgiven myself
for the self-betrayal of playing small, acting defeated, and forgetting Who I Am.

alicen.grey

A post shared by @alicen.grey

Now,

I am the one reminding people that they, too, can shine unapologetically,
to metamorph corrupt governments
to fill the world with profound, overwhelming beauty
and activate their True Power.

I write and speak with authority.
I talk about human flight, immortality, psionics, and I don’t stammer.
I say what I see and what I gno.

Some people don’t like that.
They whine, they argue, they attack.

In the past, my reflexive response would’ve been to stop talking.

But I am so in-my-power now, that when people get mad at what I say, I genuinely think, “Well if they hate what I’m saying, why don’t they stop reading my stuff?”

Just like: Why didn’t I hang up the phone on Arachne?

When we sleepwalk through life, unconscious of our power, we know not what we do.
And so we viciously attack and crucify those who try to wake us up to our true identity in God.

So I sympathize with the self-disempowered people…

…but I also I sympathize with my “cult leader!”

She didn’t know what to do with all the light in her.
Like the Sun, she scalded people without trying.

Should people like her stop shining?
Or should we shine along with them?

At long last, I choose the latter.

It’s funny.

When I first met Arachne 14 years ago, it was at her cousin (and my then-best-friend) Selene’s birthday party. Her aura was extremely bright. I honestly thought she was God incarnate.

So imagine my shock when, days later, Selene asked Arachne her first impression of me, and Arachne said, “Alicen is so powerful and she doesn’t even know it.”

In a way, that hurt worse than when she pointed out my shadows to me!

“God” pointing out my light, was terrifying. How dare she see potential in me, when I was so helpless and powerless?! How dare this powerful person call me powerful too?!

It felt dangerous. It felt taboo.

But years later, I know it’s true.

So, thank you Arachne, for your brutal initiation.

I know my purpose now. I know my light.

But unlike you,
I choose not to eclipse myself.

---

If you like my work, please subscribe! (Bonus points if you become a paid subscriber!)

Share to help my Substack grow!

You can also support my work with a donation:

PayPal • Ko-Fi • Stripe • Venmo • Cashapp

My Writing, Courses and 1:1 Coaching: www.Alicen-Grey.com

My Music: www.WhenHumansHadWings.com

My Church: www.Immortality-Church.org

My Instagram: @alicen.grey

My YouTube: @alicengrey

My prayer for you: To become all that you dream 🩶