Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.
Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.
No need to apologize. Thanks for letting us know. Take care of yourself and your family.
Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.
I'm 70 years old and was in twi from 80-87. As far as I'm concerned, what you're doing here is nothing short of heroic.
Thank you for revisiting this time in your life for our benefit.
The accumulative effect of these postings washed over my heart and soul last night.......I didn't fall asleep until after 3:30am. To be honest, for a couple of hours......I deeply evaluated whether I wanted to continue this thread or not. Even after I posted the pause button........the flickering of flashbacks continued until exhaustion gave way to sleep.....a restless sleep.
Thank you for your words of encouragement and support. I appreciate it deeply.
~~~~~~~~~~
Still on Pause: Introspection These repressed memories had been flickering in my deep subconscious, more acutely, since 1996. At the risk of targeted symbolism, or mixing metaphors......the only way I can describe it is "jason bourne-esque." I knew deep within that somehow who I am and what I had become got altered, indoctrinated. With each new assignment, my skill sets were enhanced by "injections and blue pills" that made me dependent on consistent upgrades. The anguish struggle to find its starting point.....the "why" and "how" it happened was haunting my sleep, my very existence going forward.
Those 10 days of deprogramming captivity were an abduction and intervention......my parents were immeasurably alarmed by the "cocaine of this cult." And further, they believed that my corps graduation would lead to more enhanced addiction. They were absolutely right.....and their love and parental concern for their son drove them to pursue this dramatic episode. But.....to their utter disappointment, I slipped away and ran back to my cult addiction and its "cocaine."
In deviating from the "jason bourne" version, I met with the man (wierwille) who devised and implemented the hyper indoctrination and thus, continued on more assigned operations. Those assignments continued for years......until the poignant flashbacks, the struggle and grappling of self emerged to unravel my past.
The deeper truths of those 10 days of captivity were still allusive to me when I sat with wierwille. I was still addicted to its cause and influence at the time .....and only years later, have I come to grips with the crushing realization of how it all happened. Just like bourne, I volunteered. Each incremental step lead to an outcome I didn't quite expect or endorse. I was deceived step by step......and allowed it to happen.
Who were the real deprogrammers? Twi or "my captors"....??
The accumulative effect of these postings washed over my heart and soul last night.......I didn't fall asleep until after 3:30am. To be honest, for a couple of hours......I deeply evaluated whether I wanted to continue this thread or not. Even after I posted the pause button........the flickering of flashbacks continued until exhaustion gave way to sleep.....a restless sleep.
Thank you for your words of encouragement and support. I appreciate it deeply.
~~~~~~~~~~
Still on Pause: Introspection These repressed memories had been flickering in my deep subconscious, more acutely, since 1996. At the risk of targeted symbolism, or mixing metaphors......the only way I can describe it is "jason bourne-esque." I knew deep within that somehow who I am and what I had become got altered, indoctrinated. With each new assignment, my skill sets were enhanced by "injections and blue pills" that made me dependent on consistent upgrades. The anguish struggle to find its starting point.....the "why" and "how" it happened was haunting my sleep, my very existence going forward.
Those 10 days of deprogramming captivity were an abduction and intervention......my parents were immeasurably alarmed by the "cocaine of this cult." And further, they believed that my corps graduation would lead to more enhanced addiction. They were absolutely right.....and their love and parental concern for their son drove them to pursue this dramatic episode. But.....to their utter disappointment, I slipped away and ran back to my cult addiction and its "cocaine."
In deviating from the "jason bourne" version, I met with the man (wierwille) who devised and implemented the hyper indoctrination and thus, continued on more assigned operations. Those assignments continued for years......until the poignant flashbacks, the struggle and grappling of self emerged to unravel my past.
The deeper truths of those 10 days of captivity were still allusive to me when I sat with wierwille. I was still addicted to its cause and influence at the time .....and only years later, have I come to grips with the crushing realization of how it all happened. Just like bourne, I volunteered. Each incremental step lead to an outcome I didn't quite expect or endorse. I was deceived step by step......and allowed it to happen.
Who were the real deprogrammers? Twi or "my captors"....??
Poignant and profound. Wierwille had figured out (what his god really taught him?) how to manufacture consent at least by the early 1970s.
I've watched the Bourne movies several times each (well, the ones in which Matt Damon played the role of Jason Bourne). I'll never see them the same way now.
Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.
I understand. Something similar happened to me as I was preparing and writing what I did. As much as I'd like to know the rest of the story, I don't want you to suffer pain in the process. We can wait.
As you see from the links, many GSC-posters have added different perspectives and lots of insight to spur on discussion. Many posters have moved on in life and no longer visit Paw's Café......but their pictures are on the walls all around. And to those posters still here....a significant amount of credit goes to them.
Last night was a really tough night for me......the wave upon wave of memories shook me to my core. I haven't explored those deeply personal experiences of my 10-day captivity for over two decades.....not like that. I swore to have "thrown away the key."
All the other timeline stuff is more accessible to my memory banks. I honestly thought I'd just skip the deprogramming episode, but now think that it's an integral part .... and perhaps, the central core....to exposing the cult. Another day or so....and I plan to "go to the depths of titanic on the ocean floor" to share it with you.
The accumulative effect of these postings washed over my heart and soul last night.......I didn't fall asleep until after 3:30am. To be honest, for a couple of hours......I deeply evaluated whether I wanted to continue this thread or not. Even after I posted the pause button........the flickering of flashbacks continued until exhaustion gave way to sleep.....a restless sleep.
Thank you for your words of encouragement and support. I appreciate it deeply.
~~~~~~~~~~
Still on Pause: Introspection These repressed memories had been flickering in my deep subconscious, more acutely, since 1996. At the risk of targeted symbolism, or mixing metaphors......the only way I can describe it is "jason bourne-esque." I knew deep within that somehow who I am and what I had become got altered, indoctrinated. With each new assignment, my skill sets were enhanced by "injections and blue pills" that made me dependent on consistent upgrades. The anguish struggle to find its starting point.....the "why" and "how" it happened was haunting my sleep, my very existence going forward.
.
Jason Bourne-esque is a very apt description of what we experienced and your link to Manipulation of One’s Consent thread fits in so well. Some things came to mind. In the first movie Bourne suffered amnesia after being shot and falling into the sea. Whereas, from vp and other leadership we were encouraged to forget our old way of life. Part of his recovery was remembering / realizing how the Treadstone program changed him – indoctrinated him to another way of life.
As the Bourne story unfolds Jason also realizes he himself consented to become this other person. Yes there were those above him who took advantage of his patriotism – his altruistic or idealistic tendencies; but Jason Bourne does not put all the blame on others. I think that is a healthy way to handle the issues I’ve found in my head. If you don’t do that – it’s only addressing one part of a compound problem....Yeah vp lied like it was going out of style – but I happened to believe whatever he said was true! Sometimes disentangling oneself from a cult can be a very tedious mental exercise as you deconstruct the mindset.
Skyrider thanks for all the insight and experiences you’ve shared…I know revisiting some stuff can be painful…makes me think of when I was in construction – the pain and discomfort of splinters. They hurt like hell and you’re afraid to mess with them cuz it will hurt some more but if you leave them in there they’ll fester and get worse. It’s best to remove them. I used to carry tweezers and even needle nose pliers in my tool pouch.
I understand. Something similar happened to me as I was preparing and writing what I did. As much as I'd like to know the rest of the story, I don't want you to suffer pain in the process. We can wait.
(((krys))).........I know you deeply understand. When you posted on 7/14/2008 -- I got a sense of your deep pain. I included your post on page 1......on this thread. It was that important. That year, 1998, the escalation of those events, my exiting from twi .....was the other bookend.
skyrider, I can totally relate to the personal toll it takes to surface some of these stories. Sleepless nights, dreams in turmoil, digging back in to some of the abuse I had pushed to the corners of my mind. Then I also go through a wave of guilt over why I didn't see it sooner, because if I did maybe I could have started rebuilding sooner. Guilt over being a supporter of these sycophants for many years. Guilt over how much of my life's wages income I've sent to these Pharisees, the hours I slaved away furthering their cause, listening to their every extended stupid rule and regulation, and with each compliant decision I was giving away more and more of my soul. I was a mid-level manager for an organization whose function was to steal people's souls and lives and use them up to further sycophantic whims totally different that what they portray in public.
When I get over the illogical emotion, I know it wasn't my fault. The emotional toll however, is one easy way to see the fruit of the organization. People don't go through this selecting a different church to go to in town from the one they were experiencing.
It's not easy, that's for sure.
What is the alternative though? Keeping the deluded mindset of how fantastic of an apostle, pastor, evangelist, pastor or teacher I was, the overall importance of the positions I held, and all the fake friends I amassed?
Dancing to The Music: No Parents Allowed My parents were shut out of my world.....it felt good at the time. Exuberant youth was coursing thru my veins and I "had the need for speed" (yeah, I know --- Top Gun movie didn't come out until 1986 -- lol)......the faster, the better. Besides, every obstacle in the cult world made it hard to phone home. Even more so than the public phone in the lounge area of my college dormitory years before. At hq, there wasn't even that. The switchboard had to be the "gatekeeper of my personal life"......to connect me to "the outside world." [And, long before the days of cell phones......how did we ever live without them, gasp.] What concerns and alarms must my parents have thought about the strange switchboard/receptionist relay at emporia or hq?
So, here is a rapid-fire background of my years before the deprogramming/intervention:
1979-1980.....Aug--began my interim year at hq
......................way builders/cabinet shop --- main project was osc, side jobs for trustee homes & conference rooms
......................major Christmas party at hq.......area believers waiters/waitresses / open bar
......................began courtship, fell in love, proposed and yes, even vpw announced our engagement at way builder cook-out
Movie References: Injection One of the reasons why movies are so-riveting.......is because they give a stream of activity (week, month, year, life) in rapid succession hitting all the high points, drama, intensity, romance, action-thriller, etc). It's rapid pace helps us to escape the average, generally uneventful days of our lives. All of the mundane realities are skipped over. We desire to see the sequence, how it happened, why it happened, why it didn't happen.......rapid-fire action or high-drama romance......to a "tell your friends to go see it" movie end.
The challenge in presenting this series of posts is.....it's slow moving.
I am starting to re-live those memories.......the colors, the shadows, the voices,.....
Camp Gunnison: April 24, 1981 The sun was shining and my parent and one brother arrived at Camp Gunnison. They had stopped at the front gate and their arrival quickly reached Tom Jenk!nson. Within minutes, I was notified that my parents and brother were on grounds. Of course, this visit was an interruption to twi's campus that saw few visitors on weekends....much less on a Friday afternoon, uninvited. I greeted them warmly and, somewhat puzzled......but hey, they were my parents. My dad said that they'd been in Denver and decided to make the drive to Gunnison to see me.
Tom J. greeted my parents and brother with a handshake and simple conversation. Arlene came around the corner......and she, too, greeted them. A few other corps gathered and more introductions. This was unusual though......corps parents just stopping in to see their son. It was a rarity......I don't remember seeing it at all during my in-residence training. As my parents looked around, the conversation veered to small talk about the many cabins, the lodge, the Gunnison river running adjacent the property line, the fishing........for about 25 minutes.
When my dad asked to take me out for supper in Gunnison, I looked over at Tom J. and he said, "You know, we've got a class tonight......how about breakfast in the morning?" My dad, taken back a bit, paused......and relented, said, "Alright, how about we pick you up at 7 in the morning? By that gate area?" I looked at Tom and he nodded. Seven o'clock in the morning it was.
They got in their car and waved as they drove off. I would see them in the morning.
I had gone out to the Camp Gunnison gate at 6:40am......looking forward to being with my parents and brother. I wanted to be a little early just in case they arrived early; I knew that things about twi made them a little uneasy, so I certainly didn't want them to have to pull in and find me somewhere on grounds. Besides,.....being 10 minutes early was "corps time" and 20 minutes early was "I can't really believe they're here" time. I glanced at my watch, it was within the 10-minute mark....a couple minutes later they pulled up to the gate. My brother got out of the front passenger side, got in the back seat with my mom. I sat in the front seat and dad drove us into town.
Looking back.....I subconsciously remember some of the uneasy body language, my mom's silence in the back seat, the reason why I was motioned to sit up front with dad and not in the back seat with mom.
We ate at a local breakfast/pancake restaurant. My dad encouraged me to "order big"......so I did. The hungry man's breakfast, or whatever it was called.....full plate, the works. The conversation moved quickly with lots of questions about Gunnison, what I did on weekends,....pretty normal stuff. My mom asked about my clothes and wanted to be sure that they bought me some things before dropping me back at the campus. Still was a little early for store openings......so, let's just stop back at the motel room for a little bit. Okay, that sounds good.
Their motel room was on the first floor with an outdoor entrance. No going inside the lobby or down a hallway. We pulled up near the door, got out......my brother unlocked the motel room door and motioned me to enter. Two guys had rushed behind me, pushed me in the room and ..........WHOOMP.....within seconds, four guys were on top of me, I struggled violently as two guys worked to handcuff my hands behind my back, one guy had a pillow over my head to muffle my shouting, another guy with his knee on my upper thighs holding onto my legs. My brother kept telling me over and over...."they aren't going to hurt you, stop fighting it." My mom was nearly wailing with cries of anguish seeing my violent struggles. Within three or four minutes.......my hands were bound behind my back, my legs at the knees were duct-tapped, my ankles tied, and I was gagged and blind-folded. A fifth guy, the driver of the cargo van, was the lookout.....and told them it was "clear" (no one walking by to see the abduction).....he swung the two back doors open (I heard the sounds, couldn't see it), they hauled me out and put me in the van and sped away.
Even though I was blind-folded, I knew we were headed east. I could slightly see from the edges of my blind-fold the shadows registering the sun's light. Two guys hovered over me and pushed me to the floor....anytime I struggled. The gag was removed from my mouth after about 40 minutes into the drive. I yelled obscenities at them. I was pi$$ed off and fighting mad. Obviously, they were being paid to deliver me to the deprogrammers unharmed...... it was most likely a contractual agreement between my parents, the deprogrammers and the thugs. Later, I found out that we were headed to the Wichita area, but throughout the drive laying on the floor, I spotted grain elevators with the names of small Kansas towns. These guys were taking the secondary highways all the way in.....to a rural home where "the intervention" would take place.
I believe the name was DeVos......the resident's homeowner. Their daughter had been in twi and they paid to have her deprogrammed. To help others, they had made their home available for other deprogrammings. I think I was the last one at their house.....for reasons which will become obvious.
Anyways, it took nearly eight hours to get there. Along the way, when I shouted at them and later, needed to pee......they found an isolated turnoff spot. Since I was bound, and they wouldn't untie me [deathly afraid that I'd outrun them and be gone.....my parents told them that I had been in sports all my life]......they gave me a bucket to pee in. Since my hands were handcuffed.....one guy unzipped my pants, and held my penis while I peed. [I still can't believe this happened!!!] I mocked him as I peed. They urinated outside, by the van. Lovely. We stopped a second time. Same routine. All of this, of course.....to not raise any unwanted suspicions by fellow-travelers.
We arrived at the farm house around 4pm or so.....I was tracking time by the sun's altitude by the sliver of sight thru my blind-fold. They unbound my ankles and knees, walked me inside with these five-thugs. Once inside, my hands behind my back were unbound. The house was one-story, sprawling with most-likely four bedrooms, three baths....and a deck out back. I was led to a back bedroom.....plain and non-descript, only a bed and nightstand with lamp. There were ten to twelve people moving around the house....and learned later, the deprogrammers would arrive tomorrow [Sunday afternoon]. I was instructed to attend dinner [big table--probably 10 seats].......and did so, only because I wanted to survey "the lay of the land" rather than stay confined in a bedroom. Thugs were positioned by front door and two guys near the sliding glass door to the deck out back. I didn't eat. I didn't talk. I watched intently and listened......documenting everything sequentially into my memory, because I knew that twi would want a report of this. I was behind enemy lines. My attention was riveted.
Later, that night....I took a shower, the bathroom was across the hallway near this bedroom. The door handle had been removed.....they didn't want me locking myself in the bathroom. Two guys stood near the bathroom door.....left it ajar. I couldn't lock it. No privacy. The thugs seemed exhausted from the day. While I showered, all my clothes were taken away as was my wallet, my watch, and the corps nametag I had in my pocket [I'd taken it off at the gate at camp Gunnison....put it in my pocket, because I thought it would help ease our time together at breakfast.] . New clothes were given to me. New pajamas were on my bed. They were stripping me of my corps/twi identity. And, tomorrow.....the deprogrammers would drill down into this intervention.
It was long past midnight before I fell asleep. I rehearsed the day's events thru my head before exhaustion pulled me into sleep. The bedroom windows had been secured; two thugs sat just outside my bedroom door throughout the night....guarding me from escape. It was a restless sleep. I'd heard the stories of Barry Hill (7th corps) and others...who'd gone thru these deprogramming episodes. Now, I was in one of my own.
.......as I document this account, I struggle with trying to convey to the readers what my thoughts and attitudes were THEN.......as opposed to how they are NOW.
.......at the time, I was mad at myself for "not spiritually seeing it coming." That's what I was taught during the corps indoctrination.
Day Two: Sunday, April 26thThe Deprogrammers Arrive: The Intervention Begins
I had been awake for over an hour and laying there in bed.......before a designated thug asked me about breakfast. I told him, no.....I wasn't going to eat. I wasn't hungry. They brought me a plate of food anyways.....brought in two chairs and the plate was put on one chair. I let it set there until it was cold. The defiant attitude was to show my utter contempt for kidnapping me against my will. Confrontation back and forth until these two thugs left me alone. They were there to guard me until the deprogrammers arrived. Around 9am...(not sure, no longer had a watch or clock in room)....I told them I wanted to take a shower. I just wanted a hot shower to help wash the anxiety away. Something. Anything. To have my own space.
I also wanted my clothes back.....and my wallet. Damn it.
Again, when I showered.....the door was ajar. I took a long shower....getting more agitated by the minute. When I stepped out of the shower and threw on my jeans and shirt.....in a fit of rage, I tried to break the bathroom mirror with the hanging light fixture in the corner. I don't really know what I was thinking.....I was just lashing out at something. Maybe break the mirror and use a shard to cut someone. But the light didn't crack the mirror.....but the commotion sent two thugs rushing in and we wrestled until the three of us tumbled into the hallway. I tried to throw a punch, but was quickly overpowered and another thug joined in. Twisting, struggling, grappling, kneeing......obscenities, the whole works. Now, I'd got their ire up.........but they were paid to "stay in control of the situation." They couldn't throw punches, but I could. I was lugged back to the bedroom, to the floor.
Waiting for the deprogrammers........they left me alone. Two guys outside the bedroom door....kept peering in, watching me.
Close to noon, the deprogrammers....three arrived. Two seemed to be more dominant, the third one......an understudy learning the art of deprogramming. The woman had worked alongside Ted Patrick for a couple of years......until the legal pressure that mounted and followed Patrick's practices, and she separated from him. The other guy was more into the psychological side of dislodging people from cults. This Sunday afternoon, they tried easing into this intervention.......parents are worried, why are you abandoning them, the cult is not your family, etc. Later in the week, I learned that Robert J. Lifton and his works were their guiding methods.
By supper time, they offered to grill me steak, anything I wanted......just ask. I refused. I viewed it as them trying to soften me up and drop down my guard. If I softened and gave in to any of it, I would go down in spiritual defeat.
Another couple hours in the evening, lots of stuff on wierwille. Many of accounts of wierwille raping wow girls, other accusations......I didn't believe them. They were liars. These deprogrammers were the enemy.......spiritually coming after me. Those were my thoughts. That's what I remember hearing from Barry Hill.&nb
Thugs on guard duty.....deprogrammer guy came in around 7:30am. They'd let me sleep in a little longer. I didn't want to be there. Another morning started in defiance. Back and forth jabs, until he left for awhile. When he came back......I was told if I didn't eat, then things were going to get rougher. Things started intensifying and a thug entered.....a scuffle broke out, and I reach for a chair. Another thug came rushing in and they held me down. The deprogrammer left the room.....and quickly, two more thugs came in. They took out the chairs, the little night stand, dismantled the bed frame and left only the mattress on the floor. It remained that way the rest of the time I was there.
Things were escalating, intensifying. No longer was I allowed to use the bathroom If I had to pee......there's the bucket.
The deprogrammers were looking for ways to break my allegiance to twi, the cult.
Mid-morning, my brother (the one who'd been in Gunnison)......came into the bedroom. He implored me to stop fighting, to listen. I hadn't shaved in days, my hair was a mess, no shower.......I'm sure my body odor was not pleasant. I refused to eat. Over two hours.....and my own brother was urging me, confronting me, telling me that if its my fiancé.......they'd pay to help get her out, too. The emotional toll was purely agonizing. Childhood memories, sports, hunting........why was I staying in this cult?
My brother was thoroughly disgusted when he left the room. He left...headed home. Long drive home.
The afternoon session was more on wierwille. Cult leader, deceiver, predator..... The woman deprogrammer was not there the whole day. Maybe, to her motel room or office? Maybe, meeting with other parents to set up a deprogramming intervention? At times, with 5 or 6 guards, 3 deprogrammers, 2 homeowners, and 2-3 other people coming and going.....it started to be a blur of activity.
I have no memory of this evening......I don't remember any intervention session after supper.
Day Five: Wednesday, April 29thThe Intervention
By now, my stomach was growling every couple of hours. I was refusing to eat and hadn't had a bowel movement in several days.
As best I remember, a local pastor came by to "counsel me." The deprogrammers were looking for any method, any strategy to break my allegiance to twi. The pastor would go to passage after passage and read me scriptures. Often, I'd quote the verse to him.....as he would finish reading a verse. In a mocking sort of way, I found it amusing. He didn't quite know what to make of me. He never said it, but I think he was dumbfounded how much scripture I knew. Maybe he thought I was like a moonie or one of those really strange cults. No.....I was in the way ministry, I told him.
This afternoon is a blur/blank in my memory. I think the woman deprogrammer came back......they were tag-teaming me. Each trying different methods and techniques. Sometimes, "good cop/bad cop" strategy. I really started going introvert by now. My brain was shutting down. My stomach ached. I was on a hunger strike....in defiance and possibly, would need to be taken to the hospital
I ran scripture thru my mind, as best I could.......and collapsed into sleep.
Day Six: Thursday, April 30thDrastic Intervention: Mom Arrives
Guards at the bedroom door, still. I hadn't showered in days.
My mom arrived around 9am.......and pleaded with me to eat. I had staked my defiant flag in the ground for many days now.....and was not about to stop. It was gut-wrenching standing toe-to-toe with my own mother. How could I relinquish my allegiance? my love for the scriptures? leave my fiancé? It was more than just my allegiance to twi........my fiancé, my corps friends, my time at hq, I was intertwined into so many relationships and experiences. This wasn't just some weird cult selling flowers on a street corner........we went deep into biblical research and everything. Hebrew & Aramaic. How could she, my mother, possibly understand the world I was living in.
She left the room......and about 15 minutes later, she came in with a bowl of oatmeal. Four of the thug-guards followed her. They held me down and force-fed oatmeal down my throat. I thrashed my head back and forth. I struggled on and on. My mom and others telling to me to stop fighting,.....it seemed to last ten minutes, but it wasn't. The big guy gripped my head tightly, and my jawline......I kept trying to grit my teeth....but as my mother started crying, deeply.......I gave in. I stopped fighting, opened my mouth.....and swallowed the food.
Those four of five minutes of intense, guttural, emotional anguish....and hurting my mother to her core.....has haunted me for decades. My mother who, in so many ways had all the same qualities of most rural farm-wives (and mothers).......would go to such lengths of intervention to help her youngest son, brings throngs of hurt and remorse to my soul.
For years......and often during the holiday times, I was haunted by these memories.....of what I did, what I put my own mother thru to try and save me from myself. If I pondered it too much, deep into the night.......I'd go into this deep, sobbing, rhythmic anguish, this very dark hole.
That afternoon......the man deprogrammer came in. Less intense. About an hour or so. Then, my mother came in and we spent some time together. I decided for my mother's sake......to shower, shave and eat the dinner meal at the table. Concessions were made.......and my mother sat next to me at the table. After supper, we stepped outside on the back deck. I breathed in fresh air. Guards stepped outside too......stationed some thirty feet away in case I decided to bolt.
I was extremely tired after the meal, the long day......the emotional turmoil.
When I met with wierwille weeks later, and described the sequence of these events and the dramatic turning point on day 6.....he said, yep that was the right thing to do in the situation. The intensity built and built.....and, "God was working in you to get thru this. This kind of stuff is there in the scriptures, son."
Day Seven: Friday, May 1stSoftened Intervention: Dad Arrives
Everything changed......I ate breakfast and showered. No long sessions on cult indoctrination or thought reform.
My mom spent about an hour with me......and told me that dad was on his way. He'd be there by before supper. The whole day was systematically designed to start building the parent/family relationship back into proper order. The deprogrammers were setting the stage to wrap this thing up. IMO.....they'd put in the time, done their job, pocketed the money......and were ready to go to the next intervention. It was Friday.....it'd been a long week.
I was given a couple of books to read...if I wanted.
My dad arrived around 3:30 - 4:00pm.....I remember this, because after our initial awkward greeting.....we ate supper. I think its a Midwestern thing......supper (dinner) is served around 5:00 - 5:15pm. [Wasn't that the way it was done at hq?]
After supper, we again......stepped out on the back patio. It seemed like they were "extending my leash" and allowing me more gradual freedom.....monitoring my actions, reactions, and progress. Any psychologist would probably be able to label all the baby-steps, the labels, the reasoning.....
That night, the intervention was movie night. It was gently suggested to me to sit between my dad and mom during the movie. We watch Rio Grande......starring John Wayne. You can never go wrong with a John Wayne movie.......even something my dad would like. I refused to cop an attitude with my parents. The conflicts were raging from side to side in my mind.........twi or my family? my future or my past? My parents were doing all of this for me? How many other parents would go to these lengths to help their child? Spend this money? Fight this hard? Go thru this emotional hell for a son in his mid-twenties?
When I went to the bedroom, I was convinced what choice I was going to make. I knew the pain it would cause. I could only imagine the hurt and heartbreak that it would heap upon my parents.....and me, for a long, long time. Probably, a chasm that would exist for the rest of our lives. It was absolutely heart-wrenching......and yet, as soon as this ended, I was going back to my fiancé......my future.
I knew I'd come to a crossroads.....and I couldn't have both.
Day Eight: Saturday, May 2ndIntervention: Family Time
Saturday morning was "family intervention"......bringing the family back together. My dad, my mom and me.....the "counselor" went to great lengths to build the strength of the family, our family, why its so important. He encouraged openness.....trying to get each of us to open us together. Dad? Mom? what would you like to say? How do you feel? Then me.....what do you think? It was a whole morning of parents/child reconciliation. A deep dive into thought-provoking realities and relationships.
The afternoon session was softened even further. We walked outside.....looked around the backyard a bit. Spending time with dad. Spending time with mom. Spending time together......then supper, together. A nice meal.
The turmoil that was racing thru my mind.......it seemed as if I'd crossed into a rubicon of different dimensions. I'd stopped thinking about the corps program, or wierwille, or twi........it was about the essence of relationships, the essence of humanity. About me. I had given my heart to my fiancé. Our lives together. This was bigger than the cult.....this was my life, wanting to be with her. Wherever she was.
At times, the blurred realities of cult structure and cult culture.......maybe I didn't even understand it myself. Maybe I'm deeply confused. It was so deeply personal. I'd woven all these memories into my heart with this woman, who happens to be in twi.......maybe, all this "spiritual" stuff isn't all that "spiritual?" How did all this get so complicated? And now.....this intervention? Was I now supposed to doubt the very essence of love that I felt in the depths of my heart?
I pondered.....into the night.....searching into the deep crevices of my heart. This intervention was more than them trying to break my allegiance to twi. To me, it had forced me into the abyss of my soul. This was......the deep, "searching to the bottom of the ocean's floor".......who am I and what do I want.
Day Nine: Sunday, May 3rdIntervention to Half-way House
The deprogrammers had gone the night before. Plans were to leave the house.
Around 9am or so, I was told that we were headed to the airport. My parents had arranged for me to spend time at a half-way house in Iowa City, IA. My parents had hopes that this intervention had worked, their struggle to release me had paid off.......and soon this episode of travail would cease and be washed from memory. I was reserved in my demeanor.....of which, I presumed they took that as progress.
At the airport, I would be parting ways with my dad.......he would drive home; my mom would ride in the plane with me to Iowa City. My uncle owned this plane and one of his employees would pilot this flight. Again, not commercial travel......to keep distance as best possible, just in case. The time, effort and expense that went into this intervention, and forthcoming re-hab, only seemed to exemplify the lengths of forethought and preparation to do all of this. It was gut-wrenching......the slow-motion, churning emotional turmoil of seeing all this......having planned classes, meetings, events, understanding what effort it takes to pull off something of this magnitude.....knowing deep within, that I was headed back to twi, and my fiancé....just biding my time for the right moment.
As we stood in the lobby, waiting for the plane.....I asked my dad for some coin change for the vending machine. They had given me back my wallet with my driver's license in it.....but not one single dollar. I had no money and thought some a couple of dimes and/or quarters would be needed to make a phone call [and I was right]. My dad embraced me with a long, hug good-bye and my mom got aboard the plane seated next to me. We flew to Iowa City.....someone from the re-hab place was there to drive us to my next "house." I carried my luggage, with new clothes.....six or seven new shirts, jeans, etc. everything different to erase the cult-memories from my life..... into the house, up the stairs into my newly-assigned room. Across the hall was another "cult guy" (I believe hare krishna) who'd been there for like three weeks. He greeted me and extended his hand.
I was told to unpack my bags, put things in "my" dresser and closet......and in 10 minutes we'd have a meeting downstairs in the family room to go over schedule and new guidelines. As I stood at that dresser and looked in at myself in the mirror, I listened to the voices downstairs. I waited for another couple of minutes to pass.....then, went quietly down the stairs, peeked around the corner....slipped across the small hallway and out the side door. Only the clothes on my back and the coin change in my pocket. This was the first time I'd been alone, without someone closely monitoring my ever move and confined........it was frighteningly exhilarating. I was paranoid of "them" chasing me down, somehow--someway. My legs felt slow to respond; I'd been confined for that length of time with no exercise. A car turned the corner towards me. Was it one of them? I turned into an alley....anything, to keep out of view. Another two blocks and I spotted railroad tracks that crossed over a river.....I followed the railroad tracks, no car could follow. On the other side was a commercial strip with a denny's restaurant. I went in and reached into my pocket for the change and made a collect call to headquarters.
The receptionist, Adele, answered the phone and when I told her my name, she accepted the collect call immediately. Everyone there was praying for me. I was on the prayer list in the OSC prayer room. She put me thru to Howard Allen. He told me to stay put and an 8th corps guy in Iowa City would be there in fifteen minutes to pick me up and drive me to Des Moines to the limb to spend the night
Day Ten: Monday, May 4thFlight to Headquarters
In the morning, my flight was around 8:30am and headed to Dayton......and there was my fiancé waiting for me, with tears streaming down her face. Twi's security guys, linder and brooks, were there to take us to hq.
~~~~~~~~~
Seven years passed before I saw my parents again.......to begin the slow process of any semblance of reconciliation.
Sideswiping The Iceberg Sitting in that corps meeting, it was clearly apparent that we'd scraped the iceberg. My wife and I listened to martindale sound the alarm, but cautioned us from panic. Yes, there would be a sideswiping of every corps' salary beginning March 25, 1998, but the trustees wouldn't be held accountable for this series of errors. Had others cautioned them? Couldn't anyone, anyone at all, summon the prospect that there'd be danger in these icy waters.....traveling at this speed, at night?
My tie was already loosened as I sat there listening to martindale. Maybe, to him, a ten percent cut was reasonable and justifiable, but when you go thru your monthly budget to determine your "need-basis" living......how do you square that with a ten percent cut? And further, the accumulative burden of the bribery letter and the gift-policy mandates AND.......NOW, this cut? I slapped my pen on the table. My wife stared over at me.....I didn't care. I stood up, took off my sports jacket (yeah, by now....I'd stopped wearing a suit to this two-person, conference call) and hung it on the back of my chair and plopped back down. The days of taking detailed pages of corps notes had passed......they'd fax us the long-form policy within a couple of weeks.
Yes, it was personal......it was MY life. Just like six months ago, when Peggy died and the funeral that followed. And, like when I went alone to see the movie, Titanic. The happenstance of life's series of decisions, actions, and emotions affecting loved ones and others rippling out to the future......and decades later, rippling back haunting one's past. Disrupting one's sleep. Peggy was dead....she had come to Oklahoma to run a twig fellowship, lured in knowing that she'd be helping rod and jo mart!ndale, craig's parents. Every decision along the way led to this outcome of Peggy's death in my state. Not just one thing, but the connectivity of it all. Just as everyone aboard the Titanic was connected.... as corps, being sideswiped by "the money iceberg."
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higherground30
Skyrider Thank you very much for sharing these hardhitting personal life stories. Im ready to give my background in the next couple of days in the new member area Oh and btw Happy new year
skyrider
The Pregnancy Policy What kind of board of directors legislates pregnancy policy to their employees? Forget diving into all the details......what gives them the right to insert when a couple s
potato
skyrider, thanks for sharing all of this. 1989 was the year TWI sucked me in, although I'd taken PFAL in 1985. I was advanced class grad twice over by mid-90s, and the later 90s were such a nightmare.
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skyrider
Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.
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Rocky
No need to apologize. Thanks for letting us know. Take care of yourself and your family.
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JayDee
I'm 70 years old and was in twi from 80-87. As far as I'm concerned, what you're doing here is nothing short of heroic.
Thank you for revisiting this time in your life for our benefit.
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skyrider
The accumulative effect of these postings washed over my heart and soul last night.......I didn't fall asleep until after 3:30am. To be honest, for a couple of hours......I deeply evaluated whether I wanted to continue this thread or not. Even after I posted the pause button........the flickering of flashbacks continued until exhaustion gave way to sleep.....a restless sleep.
Thank you for your words of encouragement and support. I appreciate it deeply.
~~~~~~~~~~
Still on Pause: Introspection These repressed memories had been flickering in my deep subconscious, more acutely, since 1996. At the risk of targeted symbolism, or mixing metaphors......the only way I can describe it is "jason bourne-esque." I knew deep within that somehow who I am and what I had become got altered, indoctrinated. With each new assignment, my skill sets were enhanced by "injections and blue pills" that made me dependent on consistent upgrades. The anguish struggle to find its starting point.....the "why" and "how" it happened was haunting my sleep, my very existence going forward.
Those 10 days of deprogramming captivity were an abduction and intervention......my parents were immeasurably alarmed by the "cocaine of this cult." And further, they believed that my corps graduation would lead to more enhanced addiction. They were absolutely right.....and their love and parental concern for their son drove them to pursue this dramatic episode. But.....to their utter disappointment, I slipped away and ran back to my cult addiction and its "cocaine."
In deviating from the "jason bourne" version, I met with the man (wierwille) who devised and implemented the hyper indoctrination and thus, continued on more assigned operations. Those assignments continued for years......until the poignant flashbacks, the struggle and grappling of self emerged to unravel my past.
The deeper truths of those 10 days of captivity were still allusive to me when I sat with wierwille. I was still addicted to its cause and influence at the time .....and only years later, have I come to grips with the crushing realization of how it all happened. Just like bourne, I volunteered. Each incremental step lead to an outcome I didn't quite expect or endorse. I was deceived step by step......and allowed it to happen.
Who were the real deprogrammers? Twi or "my captors"....??
Manipulation of One's Consent
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Rocky
Poignant and profound. Wierwille had figured out (what his god really taught him?) how to manufacture consent at least by the early 1970s.
I've watched the Bourne movies several times each (well, the ones in which Matt Damon played the role of Jason Bourne). I'll never see them the same way now.
Skyrider, thank you for sharing this insight.
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krys
I understand. Something similar happened to me as I was preparing and writing what I did. As much as I'd like to know the rest of the story, I don't want you to suffer pain in the process. We can wait.
Edited by krysto add some things for clairty
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skyrider
Still on Pause: Prep Time
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T-Bone
Jason Bourne-esque is a very apt description of what we experienced and your link to Manipulation of One’s Consent thread fits in so well. Some things came to mind. In the first movie Bourne suffered amnesia after being shot and falling into the sea. Whereas, from vp and other leadership we were encouraged to forget our old way of life. Part of his recovery was remembering / realizing how the Treadstone program changed him – indoctrinated him to another way of life.
As the Bourne story unfolds Jason also realizes he himself consented to become this other person. Yes there were those above him who took advantage of his patriotism – his altruistic or idealistic tendencies; but Jason Bourne does not put all the blame on others. I think that is a healthy way to handle the issues I’ve found in my head. If you don’t do that – it’s only addressing one part of a compound problem....Yeah vp lied like it was going out of style – but I happened to believe whatever he said was true! Sometimes disentangling oneself from a cult can be a very tedious mental exercise as you deconstruct the mindset.
Skyrider thanks for all the insight and experiences you’ve shared…I know revisiting some stuff can be painful…makes me think of when I was in construction – the pain and discomfort of splinters. They hurt like hell and you’re afraid to mess with them cuz it will hurt some more but if you leave them in there they’ll fester and get worse. It’s best to remove them. I used to carry tweezers and even needle nose pliers in my tool pouch.
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skyrider
(((krys))).........I know you deeply understand. When you posted on 7/14/2008 -- I got a sense of your deep pain. I included your post on page 1......on this thread. It was that important. That year, 1998, the escalation of those events, my exiting from twi .....was the other bookend.
Between those two dramatic "bookends" ...... were the books, the unfolding chapters of my cult experience.
And.....thanks for your deep sentiment, "We can wait." You, of all people, know this oh-so-well.
For all.... there's a great book out there that's related reading (while you wait on me).....a great read.......Undertow.
.
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chockfull
skyrider, I can totally relate to the personal toll it takes to surface some of these stories. Sleepless nights, dreams in turmoil, digging back in to some of the abuse I had pushed to the corners of my mind. Then I also go through a wave of guilt over why I didn't see it sooner, because if I did maybe I could have started rebuilding sooner. Guilt over being a supporter of these sycophants for many years. Guilt over how much of my life's wages income I've sent to these Pharisees, the hours I slaved away furthering their cause, listening to their every extended stupid rule and regulation, and with each compliant decision I was giving away more and more of my soul. I was a mid-level manager for an organization whose function was to steal people's souls and lives and use them up to further sycophantic whims totally different that what they portray in public.
When I get over the illogical emotion, I know it wasn't my fault. The emotional toll however, is one easy way to see the fruit of the organization. People don't go through this selecting a different church to go to in town from the one they were experiencing.
It's not easy, that's for sure.
What is the alternative though? Keeping the deluded mindset of how fantastic of an apostle, pastor, evangelist, pastor or teacher I was, the overall importance of the positions I held, and all the fake friends I amassed?
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skyrider
Dancing to The Music: No Parents Allowed My parents were shut out of my world.....it felt good at the time. Exuberant youth was coursing thru my veins and I "had the need for speed" (yeah, I know --- Top Gun movie didn't come out until 1986 -- lol)......the faster, the better. Besides, every obstacle in the cult world made it hard to phone home. Even more so than the public phone in the lounge area of my college dormitory years before. At hq, there wasn't even that. The switchboard had to be the "gatekeeper of my personal life"......to connect me to "the outside world." [And, long before the days of cell phones......how did we ever live without them, gasp.] What concerns and alarms must my parents have thought about the strange switchboard/receptionist relay at emporia or hq?
So, here is a rapid-fire background of my years before the deprogramming/intervention:
.
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skyrider
Movie References: Injection One of the reasons why movies are so-riveting.......is because they give a stream of activity (week, month, year, life) in rapid succession hitting all the high points, drama, intensity, romance, action-thriller, etc). It's rapid pace helps us to escape the average, generally uneventful days of our lives. All of the mundane realities are skipped over. We desire to see the sequence, how it happened, why it happened, why it didn't happen.......rapid-fire action or high-drama romance......to a "tell your friends to go see it" movie end.
The challenge in presenting this series of posts is.....it's slow moving.
I am starting to re-live those memories.......the colors, the shadows, the voices,.....
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skyrider
Camp Gunnison: April 24, 1981 The sun was shining and my parent and one brother arrived at Camp Gunnison. They had stopped at the front gate and their arrival quickly reached Tom Jenk!nson. Within minutes, I was notified that my parents and brother were on grounds. Of course, this visit was an interruption to twi's campus that saw few visitors on weekends....much less on a Friday afternoon, uninvited. I greeted them warmly and, somewhat puzzled......but hey, they were my parents. My dad said that they'd been in Denver and decided to make the drive to Gunnison to see me.
Tom J. greeted my parents and brother with a handshake and simple conversation. Arlene came around the corner......and she, too, greeted them. A few other corps gathered and more introductions. This was unusual though......corps parents just stopping in to see their son. It was a rarity......I don't remember seeing it at all during my in-residence training. As my parents looked around, the conversation veered to small talk about the many cabins, the lodge, the Gunnison river running adjacent the property line, the fishing........for about 25 minutes.
When my dad asked to take me out for supper in Gunnison, I looked over at Tom J. and he said, "You know, we've got a class tonight......how about breakfast in the morning?" My dad, taken back a bit, paused......and relented, said, "Alright, how about we pick you up at 7 in the morning? By that gate area?" I looked at Tom and he nodded. Seven o'clock in the morning it was.
They got in their car and waved as they drove off. I would see them in the morning.
My dad was always on time.
.
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skyrider
Day One: April 25th The Abduction
I had gone out to the Camp Gunnison gate at 6:40am......looking forward to being with my parents and brother. I wanted to be a little early just in case they arrived early; I knew that things about twi made them a little uneasy, so I certainly didn't want them to have to pull in and find me somewhere on grounds. Besides,.....being 10 minutes early was "corps time" and 20 minutes early was "I can't really believe they're here" time. I glanced at my watch, it was within the 10-minute mark....a couple minutes later they pulled up to the gate. My brother got out of the front passenger side, got in the back seat with my mom. I sat in the front seat and dad drove us into town.
We ate at a local breakfast/pancake restaurant. My dad encouraged me to "order big"......so I did. The hungry man's breakfast, or whatever it was called.....full plate, the works. The conversation moved quickly with lots of questions about Gunnison, what I did on weekends,....pretty normal stuff. My mom asked about my clothes and wanted to be sure that they bought me some things before dropping me back at the campus. Still was a little early for store openings......so, let's just stop back at the motel room for a little bit. Okay, that sounds good.
Their motel room was on the first floor with an outdoor entrance. No going inside the lobby or down a hallway. We pulled up near the door, got out......my brother unlocked the motel room door and motioned me to enter. Two guys had rushed behind me, pushed me in the room and ..........WHOOMP.....within seconds, four guys were on top of me, I struggled violently as two guys worked to handcuff my hands behind my back, one guy had a pillow over my head to muffle my shouting, another guy with his knee on my upper thighs holding onto my legs. My brother kept telling me over and over...."they aren't going to hurt you, stop fighting it." My mom was nearly wailing with cries of anguish seeing my violent struggles. Within three or four minutes.......my hands were bound behind my back, my legs at the knees were duct-tapped, my ankles tied, and I was gagged and blind-folded. A fifth guy, the driver of the cargo van, was the lookout.....and told them it was "clear" (no one walking by to see the abduction).....he swung the two back doors open (I heard the sounds, couldn't see it), they hauled me out and put me in the van and sped away.
Even though I was blind-folded, I knew we were headed east. I could slightly see from the edges of my blind-fold the shadows registering the sun's light. Two guys hovered over me and pushed me to the floor....anytime I struggled. The gag was removed from my mouth after about 40 minutes into the drive. I yelled obscenities at them. I was pi$$ed off and fighting mad. Obviously, they were being paid to deliver me to the deprogrammers unharmed...... it was most likely a contractual agreement between my parents, the deprogrammers and the thugs. Later, I found out that we were headed to the Wichita area, but throughout the drive laying on the floor, I spotted grain elevators with the names of small Kansas towns. These guys were taking the secondary highways all the way in.....to a rural home where "the intervention" would take place.
Anyways, it took nearly eight hours to get there. Along the way, when I shouted at them and later, needed to pee......they found an isolated turnoff spot. Since I was bound, and they wouldn't untie me [deathly afraid that I'd outrun them and be gone.....my parents told them that I had been in sports all my life]......they gave me a bucket to pee in. Since my hands were handcuffed.....one guy unzipped my pants, and held my penis while I peed. [I still can't believe this happened!!!] I mocked him as I peed. They urinated outside, by the van. Lovely. We stopped a second time. Same routine. All of this, of course.....to not raise any unwanted suspicions by fellow-travelers.
We arrived at the farm house around 4pm or so.....I was tracking time by the sun's altitude by the sliver of sight thru my blind-fold. They unbound my ankles and knees, walked me inside with these five-thugs. Once inside, my hands behind my back were unbound. The house was one-story, sprawling with most-likely four bedrooms, three baths....and a deck out back. I was led to a back bedroom.....plain and non-descript, only a bed and nightstand with lamp. There were ten to twelve people moving around the house....and learned later, the deprogrammers would arrive tomorrow [Sunday afternoon]. I was instructed to attend dinner [big table--probably 10 seats].......and did so, only because I wanted to survey "the lay of the land" rather than stay confined in a bedroom. Thugs were positioned by front door and two guys near the sliding glass door to the deck out back. I didn't eat. I didn't talk. I watched intently and listened......documenting everything sequentially into my memory, because I knew that twi would want a report of this. I was behind enemy lines. My attention was riveted.
Later, that night....I took a shower, the bathroom was across the hallway near this bedroom. The door handle had been removed.....they didn't want me locking myself in the bathroom. Two guys stood near the bathroom door.....left it ajar. I couldn't lock it. No privacy. The thugs seemed exhausted from the day. While I showered, all my clothes were taken away as was my wallet, my watch, and the corps nametag I had in my pocket [I'd taken it off at the gate at camp Gunnison....put it in my pocket, because I thought it would help ease our time together at breakfast.] . New clothes were given to me. New pajamas were on my bed. They were stripping me of my corps/twi identity. And, tomorrow.....the deprogrammers would drill down into this intervention.
It was long past midnight before I fell asleep. I rehearsed the day's events thru my head before exhaustion pulled me into sleep. The bedroom windows had been secured; two thugs sat just outside my bedroom door throughout the night....guarding me from escape. It was a restless sleep. I'd heard the stories of Barry Hill (7th corps) and others...who'd gone thru these deprogramming episodes. Now, I was in one of my own.
Sh!t.......I should have seen it coming.
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Rocky
Hindsight usually is 20/20.
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skyrider
.......as I document this account, I struggle with trying to convey to the readers what my thoughts and attitudes were THEN.......as opposed to how they are NOW.
.......at the time, I was mad at myself for "not spiritually seeing it coming." That's what I was taught during the corps indoctrination.
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skyrider
Day Two: Sunday, April 26th The Deprogrammers Arrive: The Intervention Begins
I had been awake for over an hour and laying there in bed.......before a designated thug asked me about breakfast. I told him, no.....I wasn't going to eat. I wasn't hungry. They brought me a plate of food anyways.....brought in two chairs and the plate was put on one chair. I let it set there until it was cold. The defiant attitude was to show my utter contempt for kidnapping me against my will. Confrontation back and forth until these two thugs left me alone. They were there to guard me until the deprogrammers arrived. Around 9am...(not sure, no longer had a watch or clock in room)....I told them I wanted to take a shower. I just wanted a hot shower to help wash the anxiety away. Something. Anything. To have my own space.
I also wanted my clothes back.....and my wallet. Damn it.
Again, when I showered.....the door was ajar. I took a long shower....getting more agitated by the minute. When I stepped out of the shower and threw on my jeans and shirt.....in a fit of rage, I tried to break the bathroom mirror with the hanging light fixture in the corner. I don't really know what I was thinking.....I was just lashing out at something. Maybe break the mirror and use a shard to cut someone. But the light didn't crack the mirror.....but the commotion sent two thugs rushing in and we wrestled until the three of us tumbled into the hallway. I tried to throw a punch, but was quickly overpowered and another thug joined in. Twisting, struggling, grappling, kneeing......obscenities, the whole works. Now, I'd got their ire up.........but they were paid to "stay in control of the situation." They couldn't throw punches, but I could. I was lugged back to the bedroom, to the floor.
Waiting for the deprogrammers........they left me alone. Two guys outside the bedroom door....kept peering in, watching me.
Close to noon, the deprogrammers....three arrived. Two seemed to be more dominant, the third one......an understudy learning the art of deprogramming. The woman had worked alongside Ted Patrick for a couple of years......until the legal pressure that mounted and followed Patrick's practices, and she separated from him. The other guy was more into the psychological side of dislodging people from cults. This Sunday afternoon, they tried easing into this intervention.......parents are worried, why are you abandoning them, the cult is not your family, etc. Later in the week, I learned that Robert J. Lifton and his works were their guiding methods.
By supper time, they offered to grill me steak, anything I wanted......just ask. I refused. I viewed it as them trying to soften me up and drop down my guard. If I softened and gave in to any of it, I would go down in spiritual defeat.
Another couple hours in the evening, lots of stuff on wierwille. Many of accounts of wierwille raping wow girls, other accusations......I didn't believe them. They were liars. These deprogrammers were the enemy.......spiritually coming after me. Those were my thoughts. That's what I remember hearing from Barry Hill.&nb
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skyrider
Day Three: Monday April 27th The Intervention
Thugs on guard duty.....deprogrammer guy came in around 7:30am. They'd let me sleep in a little longer. I didn't want to be there. Another morning started in defiance. Back and forth jabs, until he left for awhile. When he came back......I was told if I didn't eat, then things were going to get rougher. Things started intensifying and a thug entered.....a scuffle broke out, and I reach for a chair. Another thug came rushing in and they held me down. The deprogrammer left the room.....and quickly, two more thugs came in. They took out the chairs, the little night stand, dismantled the bed frame and left only the mattress on the floor. It remained that way the rest of the time I was there.
Things were escalating, intensifying. No longer was I allowed to use the bathroom If I had to pee......there's the bucket.
Nope. I refused to eat lunch.
The whole afternoon session was on thought reform and the psychology of totalism.
Another ninety minutes into the evening.....and they left me alone.
My stomach growled some as I lay in bed. I hadn't eaten since Saturday morning.
Another night of restless sleep......and no deep sleep.
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skyrider
Day Four: Tuesday, April 28th The Intervention
The deprogrammers were looking for ways to break my allegiance to twi, the cult.
Mid-morning, my brother (the one who'd been in Gunnison)......came into the bedroom. He implored me to stop fighting, to listen. I hadn't shaved in days, my hair was a mess, no shower.......I'm sure my body odor was not pleasant. I refused to eat. Over two hours.....and my own brother was urging me, confronting me, telling me that if its my fiancé.......they'd pay to help get her out, too. The emotional toll was purely agonizing. Childhood memories, sports, hunting........why was I staying in this cult?
My brother was thoroughly disgusted when he left the room. He left...headed home. Long drive home.
The afternoon session was more on wierwille. Cult leader, deceiver, predator..... The woman deprogrammer was not there the whole day. Maybe, to her motel room or office? Maybe, meeting with other parents to set up a deprogramming intervention? At times, with 5 or 6 guards, 3 deprogrammers, 2 homeowners, and 2-3 other people coming and going.....it started to be a blur of activity.
I have no memory of this evening......I don't remember any intervention session after supper.
Day Five: Wednesday, April 29th The Intervention
By now, my stomach was growling every couple of hours. I was refusing to eat and hadn't had a bowel movement in several days.
As best I remember, a local pastor came by to "counsel me." The deprogrammers were looking for any method, any strategy to break my allegiance to twi. The pastor would go to passage after passage and read me scriptures. Often, I'd quote the verse to him.....as he would finish reading a verse. In a mocking sort of way, I found it amusing. He didn't quite know what to make of me. He never said it, but I think he was dumbfounded how much scripture I knew. Maybe he thought I was like a moonie or one of those really strange cults. No.....I was in the way ministry, I told him.
This afternoon is a blur/blank in my memory. I think the woman deprogrammer came back......they were tag-teaming me. Each trying different methods and techniques. Sometimes, "good cop/bad cop" strategy. I really started going introvert by now. My brain was shutting down. My stomach ached. I was on a hunger strike....in defiance and possibly, would need to be taken to the hospital
I ran scripture thru my mind, as best I could.......and collapsed into sleep.
Day Six: Thursday, April 30th Drastic Intervention: Mom Arrives
Guards at the bedroom door, still. I hadn't showered in days.
My mom arrived around 9am.......and pleaded with me to eat. I had staked my defiant flag in the ground for many days now.....and was not about to stop. It was gut-wrenching standing toe-to-toe with my own mother. How could I relinquish my allegiance? my love for the scriptures? leave my fiancé? It was more than just my allegiance to twi........my fiancé, my corps friends, my time at hq, I was intertwined into so many relationships and experiences. This wasn't just some weird cult selling flowers on a street corner........we went deep into biblical research and everything. Hebrew & Aramaic. How could she, my mother, possibly understand the world I was living in.
She left the room......and about 15 minutes later, she came in with a bowl of oatmeal. Four of the thug-guards followed her. They held me down and force-fed oatmeal down my throat. I thrashed my head back and forth. I struggled on and on. My mom and others telling to me to stop fighting,.....it seemed to last ten minutes, but it wasn't. The big guy gripped my head tightly, and my jawline......I kept trying to grit my teeth....but as my mother started crying, deeply.......I gave in. I stopped fighting, opened my mouth.....and swallowed the food.
Those four of five minutes of intense, guttural, emotional anguish....and hurting my mother to her core.....has haunted me for decades. My mother who, in so many ways had all the same qualities of most rural farm-wives (and mothers).......would go to such lengths of intervention to help her youngest son, brings throngs of hurt and remorse to my soul.
That afternoon......the man deprogrammer came in. Less intense. About an hour or so. Then, my mother came in and we spent some time together. I decided for my mother's sake......to shower, shave and eat the dinner meal at the table. Concessions were made.......and my mother sat next to me at the table. After supper, we stepped outside on the back deck. I breathed in fresh air. Guards stepped outside too......stationed some thirty feet away in case I decided to bolt.
I was extremely tired after the meal, the long day......the emotional turmoil.
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Day Seven: Friday, May 1st Softened Intervention: Dad Arrives
Everything changed......I ate breakfast and showered. No long sessions on cult indoctrination or thought reform.
My mom spent about an hour with me......and told me that dad was on his way. He'd be there by before supper. The whole day was systematically designed to start building the parent/family relationship back into proper order. The deprogrammers were setting the stage to wrap this thing up. IMO.....they'd put in the time, done their job, pocketed the money......and were ready to go to the next intervention. It was Friday.....it'd been a long week.
I was given a couple of books to read...if I wanted.
My dad arrived around 3:30 - 4:00pm.....I remember this, because after our initial awkward greeting.....we ate supper. I think its a Midwestern thing......supper (dinner) is served around 5:00 - 5:15pm. [Wasn't that the way it was done at hq?]
After supper, we again......stepped out on the back patio. It seemed like they were "extending my leash" and allowing me more gradual freedom.....monitoring my actions, reactions, and progress. Any psychologist would probably be able to label all the baby-steps, the labels, the reasoning.....
That night, the intervention was movie night. It was gently suggested to me to sit between my dad and mom during the movie. We watch Rio Grande......starring John Wayne. You can never go wrong with a John Wayne movie.......even something my dad would like. I refused to cop an attitude with my parents. The conflicts were raging from side to side in my mind.........twi or my family? my future or my past? My parents were doing all of this for me? How many other parents would go to these lengths to help their child? Spend this money? Fight this hard? Go thru this emotional hell for a son in his mid-twenties?
When I went to the bedroom, I was convinced what choice I was going to make. I knew the pain it would cause. I could only imagine the hurt and heartbreak that it would heap upon my parents.....and me, for a long, long time. Probably, a chasm that would exist for the rest of our lives. It was absolutely heart-wrenching......and yet, as soon as this ended, I was going back to my fiancé......my future.
I knew I'd come to a crossroads.....and I couldn't have both.
I chose my fiancé....and thus, twi.
.
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Day Eight: Saturday, May 2nd Intervention: Family Time
Saturday morning was "family intervention"......bringing the family back together. My dad, my mom and me.....the "counselor" went to great lengths to build the strength of the family, our family, why its so important. He encouraged openness.....trying to get each of us to open us together. Dad? Mom? what would you like to say? How do you feel? Then me.....what do you think? It was a whole morning of parents/child reconciliation. A deep dive into thought-provoking realities and relationships.
The afternoon session was softened even further. We walked outside.....looked around the backyard a bit. Spending time with dad. Spending time with mom. Spending time together......then supper, together. A nice meal.
The turmoil that was racing thru my mind.......it seemed as if I'd crossed into a rubicon of different dimensions. I'd stopped thinking about the corps program, or wierwille, or twi........it was about the essence of relationships, the essence of humanity. About me. I had given my heart to my fiancé. Our lives together. This was bigger than the cult.....this was my life, wanting to be with her. Wherever she was.
At times, the blurred realities of cult structure and cult culture.......maybe I didn't even understand it myself. Maybe I'm deeply confused. It was so deeply personal. I'd woven all these memories into my heart with this woman, who happens to be in twi.......maybe, all this "spiritual" stuff isn't all that "spiritual?" How did all this get so complicated? And now.....this intervention? Was I now supposed to doubt the very essence of love that I felt in the depths of my heart?
I pondered.....into the night.....searching into the deep crevices of my heart. This intervention was more than them trying to break my allegiance to twi. To me, it had forced me into the abyss of my soul. This was......the deep, "searching to the bottom of the ocean's floor".......who am I and what do I want.
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Day Nine: Sunday, May 3rd Intervention to Half-way House
The deprogrammers had gone the night before. Plans were to leave the house.
Around 9am or so, I was told that we were headed to the airport. My parents had arranged for me to spend time at a half-way house in Iowa City, IA. My parents had hopes that this intervention had worked, their struggle to release me had paid off.......and soon this episode of travail would cease and be washed from memory. I was reserved in my demeanor.....of which, I presumed they took that as progress.
At the airport, I would be parting ways with my dad.......he would drive home; my mom would ride in the plane with me to Iowa City. My uncle owned this plane and one of his employees would pilot this flight. Again, not commercial travel......to keep distance as best possible, just in case. The time, effort and expense that went into this intervention, and forthcoming re-hab, only seemed to exemplify the lengths of forethought and preparation to do all of this. It was gut-wrenching......the slow-motion, churning emotional turmoil of seeing all this......having planned classes, meetings, events, understanding what effort it takes to pull off something of this magnitude.....knowing deep within, that I was headed back to twi, and my fiancé....just biding my time for the right moment.
As we stood in the lobby, waiting for the plane.....I asked my dad for some coin change for the vending machine. They had given me back my wallet with my driver's license in it.....but not one single dollar. I had no money and thought some a couple of dimes and/or quarters would be needed to make a phone call [and I was right]. My dad embraced me with a long, hug good-bye and my mom got aboard the plane seated next to me. We flew to Iowa City.....someone from the re-hab place was there to drive us to my next "house." I carried my luggage, with new clothes.....six or seven new shirts, jeans, etc. everything different to erase the cult-memories from my life..... into the house, up the stairs into my newly-assigned room. Across the hall was another "cult guy" (I believe hare krishna) who'd been there for like three weeks. He greeted me and extended his hand.
I was told to unpack my bags, put things in "my" dresser and closet......and in 10 minutes we'd have a meeting downstairs in the family room to go over schedule and new guidelines. As I stood at that dresser and looked in at myself in the mirror, I listened to the voices downstairs. I waited for another couple of minutes to pass.....then, went quietly down the stairs, peeked around the corner....slipped across the small hallway and out the side door. Only the clothes on my back and the coin change in my pocket. This was the first time I'd been alone, without someone closely monitoring my ever move and confined........it was frighteningly exhilarating. I was paranoid of "them" chasing me down, somehow--someway. My legs felt slow to respond; I'd been confined for that length of time with no exercise. A car turned the corner towards me. Was it one of them? I turned into an alley....anything, to keep out of view. Another two blocks and I spotted railroad tracks that crossed over a river.....I followed the railroad tracks, no car could follow. On the other side was a commercial strip with a denny's restaurant. I went in and reached into my pocket for the change and made a collect call to headquarters.
The receptionist, Adele, answered the phone and when I told her my name, she accepted the collect call immediately. Everyone there was praying for me. I was on the prayer list in the OSC prayer room. She put me thru to Howard Allen. He told me to stay put and an 8th corps guy in Iowa City would be there in fifteen minutes to pick me up and drive me to Des Moines to the limb to spend the night
Day Ten: Monday, May 4th Flight to Headquarters
In the morning, my flight was around 8:30am and headed to Dayton......and there was my fiancé waiting for me, with tears streaming down her face. Twi's security guys, linder and brooks, were there to take us to hq.
~~~~~~~~~
Seven years passed before I saw my parents again.......to begin the slow process of any semblance of reconciliation.
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Rocky
Could this be the first record posted to gsc of someone's ordeal with deprogramming?
Hope you're keeping your peace as much as possible as you recall and set it out in type.
Again, Skyrider, thanks for sharing your story.
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skyrider
Sideswiping The Iceberg Sitting in that corps meeting, it was clearly apparent that we'd scraped the iceberg. My wife and I listened to martindale sound the alarm, but cautioned us from panic. Yes, there would be a sideswiping of every corps' salary beginning March 25, 1998, but the trustees wouldn't be held accountable for this series of errors. Had others cautioned them? Couldn't anyone, anyone at all, summon the prospect that there'd be danger in these icy waters.....traveling at this speed, at night?
My tie was already loosened as I sat there listening to martindale. Maybe, to him, a ten percent cut was reasonable and justifiable, but when you go thru your monthly budget to determine your "need-basis" living......how do you square that with a ten percent cut? And further, the accumulative burden of the bribery letter and the gift-policy mandates AND.......NOW, this cut? I slapped my pen on the table. My wife stared over at me.....I didn't care. I stood up, took off my sports jacket (yeah, by now....I'd stopped wearing a suit to this two-person, conference call) and hung it on the back of my chair and plopped back down. The days of taking detailed pages of corps notes had passed......they'd fax us the long-form policy within a couple of weeks.
Yes, it was personal......it was MY life. Just like six months ago, when Peggy died and the funeral that followed. And, like when I went alone to see the movie, Titanic. The happenstance of life's series of decisions, actions, and emotions affecting loved ones and others rippling out to the future......and decades later, rippling back haunting one's past. Disrupting one's sleep. Peggy was dead....she had come to Oklahoma to run a twig fellowship, lured in knowing that she'd be helping rod and jo mart!ndale, craig's parents. Every decision along the way led to this outcome of Peggy's death in my state. Not just one thing, but the connectivity of it all. Just as everyone aboard the Titanic was connected.... as corps, being sideswiped by "the money iceberg."
The titanic struggle was at our doorstep......
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