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zephyr-94 · 5 years

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barista!jaemin

inspired by the one and only, puff live!

a/n: this is my first ever fic omg pls spare me with my low writing skills cause ive literally never done this fjskdjdhjdks okay i just love na jaemin periodt. (after writing: ITS VERY JUMPY AND LENGTHY I DIDNT PLAN TO MAKE IT LIKE THIS DJSKJSJSS)

so like your aunt owns a cafe which is in the middle of the city

and you live a lil outside just cause you know, school n shit

you visit her so often cause its a small cafe and it calms you down whenyou need a short break from everything

its weird thats its in the middle of the city but its still calming right?

well okay so like you know those small streets down the neighbourhoods?

the ones you dont really go unless you are rlly feeling adventurous n shit, your aunt’s cafe is in one of those streets

okay longass context down

and at school, you are in a photography club,,, or technically you just learn photography from your teacher after school but its not a whole club extravaganza

just cause your school kinda demands an extra curricular after the first year

but it feels really suffocating to be forced to do smth as a group/with people you arent as familiar with,,,,

so you “signed up” for the smallest club: [photography theory]

it was about time you start doing your hobby-ish thing at school and the tutor was cool with you being practically the only student in the club lmao so everything was going well but

youve never rlly done anything big yourself and your school friends havent pushed you to do smth either

so you were kind of looking to at least take part in one out-of-class project initiated by students maybe

and theres this big school newspaper club/writers’ club,,,, and you find out that they are like !! photographers & stories wanted !!

and you ?? at first but apparently its a project where like students get to submit their fav pic & write a mini article about “your place of comfort”

cause the topic of the month is mental health/dealing with stress and the newspaper club wants a students’ view on it, instead of just “meditation” as a topic

then you just have that cafe in your mind like,,, how you would love to shoot the street light shining into the cafe from afar and how calm that place makes you feel,,,

basically you just love your auntie’s cafe lmao

so then you go on about maybe joining it,,, but then you be indecisive cause youve never actually taken a photo professionally you just have a prolonging passion for it,,,

and your teacher is like “y/n idk why you are contemplating no ones gonna judge you just try smth new, go take the chance if you are feeling like it”

we love a supportive johnny, oh yes your english teacher is your photography “club” tutor,,, self proclaimed club

actually there have been many opportunities in the past with taking photos for projects like this one but you just stayed away cause it didnt “motivate” you to take photos for it

so johnny’s words kinda pushed your back n you felt like this was the right thing :))

so then you visit your auntie on the weekends asking maybe if you can take pics & ask her a couple questions about this place

and shes like ofc!! wanna see how you capture this place :))

so then you do this whole process and you submit the article & photos,,,,,

which ends up getting a whole page???

and you are like wh a t

newspaper club: oh you submitted many such pretty pictures & your comment felt very genuine

and you :)) but damn a whole page,,,, you is a lil anxious djskdjdh now the entire schools now going to know you

johnny the hype man teacher: see i told you it was going to turn out nice

and then kaboom, your article lowkey blows up lmao

your auntie is calling you up like “y/n!! so many customers came today!! and a lot of them are wearing the same uniform as you, they must be the students from your school!!”

and shes so happy so you are happy af

but then you remember like,,,, shes never had a part timer,,,,,

and she continues to manage the place by herself after it gets popular among the students,,,,

?? auntie,,, you never take a break ??

shes like maybe ill think about hiring someone?? and you are like, that would be good for you :)) i will be less worried about your health!!

whoop guess who got hired

and after youve had that^ conv, you had constant classes n group projects n shit so you literally had no time,,,

two weeks later, kinda highkey stressed

you decide to go make a quick visit to auntie before going to the library to study

and you peek,,, to see not your auntie,,,,

but a boy??

just standing behind the counter,,, no auntie to be seen but a beautiful boy???

before the opening hours,,,, he?? must be the part timer,,,

and once he notices you by the door,

he just smiles at you,,, so brightly,,,,

wow youve never seen such a pretty face,,,

you actually like forget to open the door you are just staring from outside the cafe,,,,

and he just waves,,, and you snap back to reality like oh shit did i just stare at someone for a solid minute

welp that was embarrassing djkdjdfj

he opens the door for you and goes “hey you must be y/n :))”

“the only person who comes before 9am, thats you isnt it?”

and you just ?¿ confusion??¿

“auntie told me about it :)) hi, nice to meet you, im jaemin!!”

you are still confused but you just shake hands next to the counter,,,

and as you take a seat

jaemin just makes a smol run to the other side and hes like

“you came just in time, i want you to try my latte!!”

jaemin serves a cup of latte with a leaf art

this boy just served a latte first thing after shaking hands i-

you take a sip from the cup

and you are like,,, so auntie hired an experienced boy,,,,

“its really good,,,” it has the same comforting taste you always love

and jaemin just has the biggest smile :)))) you know his smile where the ends just curl in, yes that one

him beaming like that just makes you giggly inside,,,,

you ask him “so uh um im guessing you are the part timer??”

“yes!! i didnt introduce myself properly did i! i started working here two weeks ago :))

ive been coming here for quite a while now so im happy i got the chance!!”

and you ?¿ “ive never seen you here??” you are the most frequent customer youve gotta have seen him before fjsksj

hes like “oh um i always came at 9pm on a friday, after everyone leaves and the whole neighbourhood gets quiet”

you just :o

and come to think of it, you’ve never visited here on a friday night,, cause you know, friday evening is your im not doing anything tonight kinda me time lmao

inside you are kinda happy that someone who knows this place got hired like its a special place to you so

tbh you were kinda anxious even though you trust your aunt,,,,,

and jaemin hurriedly goes “oh and also auntie is taking a break today, shes out to the market so im gonna take over until she returns in the afternoon”

djskdj auntie why didnt she tell you lmao

“im sorry if you needed anything specific from her,,, you should stay for a while until she comes back maybe?”

and you are like,,, “oh that would be great,,, but unfortunately i have to go to the library,,,,”

jaemin: ): he pout

“im so glad you came today tho!! i wanted to see you :) auntie has told so many thing about you”

“wait,, what has she told you,, omg”

apparently shes told jaemin

a) reason why this cafe recently became a popular hideout cafe for students because you wrote a school article bout it

b) that you do photography

c) and that this cafe is your break time so you never study here and auntie loves listening to you talk about school n what not

and then you are like !!

“wait so then you dont go to our school ,,,um are you also a student?”

and you panic a little cause i mean you just met him but you literally know nothing and you mightve assumed things fjsksj

and jaemin tells you “ah yes i go to a hospitality school downtown” “ohh”

and from there he just starts talking about his school and what he studies

he asks you about school but jaemin is extra excited about his hospitality course hes all !! :))!!

and you are so hooked on jaemin talking about his school you forget an hour passes by,,,,

[time to open the cafe]

then the customers start coming in

and you are like “oh sorry ive just bothered you during the preparation time,,,,, it was nice meeting you!! gotta go now :))”

and you rush out cause all you planned to do was give your auntie a little visit

also you dont want to bother jaemin cause its hes gonna handle the place alone for a couple hours

you wave a smol see you soon and

jaemin just does a little chuckle,, and hes like waving so widely fjsksj does he know other people can see him

and thats how your first day with jaemin went

later that day you return home thinking like,,, did you just get so excited to converse with someone who you juSt met,,,

na jaemin’s power

and jaemin on the other hand, is thinking about how beautiful you looked today

just that short while but it made him so happy

hes thinking about you all week uwu

so next week you visit again, expecting to see your auntie

and maybe also that gleaming boy

peeking through before the opening hours

the moment jaemin realises you hes like “y/n!!” what a shining boy

and aunties like “oh y/n right you met him last week when i was out right”

that morning you just talk to auntie about what shes been missing on after you went on a busy week

mind that jaemin is literally just listening to you & auntie talk

and he enjoys it cause you talk so comfortably in front of her :))

you decide to stay the whole day to give yourself a break

which meant you moved to your usual spot by the window

and auntie serving you (free) vanilla latte

you take out your camera and just start adjusting the lenses, trying to find the right frame

customers come and go so you dont get to talk to jaemin a lot that day

but its not like you came here for him,,,, right?¿??¿??

while you were thinking all that

jaemin was asking about you all day like

“so y/n’s favourite is vanilla?”

“does y/n prefer a latte over cappuccino?”

“i want to serve y/n something,,,, what would be the best??”

auntie: how many times did he mention y/n today omg

and as auntie answers

jaemin is thinking like

i wanna see y/n smile

and the entire day your auntie is like !!he :)))))

lmao same auntie same

so when the peak hours finish she goes

“i can take care of everything now, go talk to y/n”

and jaemin just smiles brighter than ever

so when he comes around, you startle

but it puts a smile on your face

because hes brought your favourite cake and just a smiling jaemin in front of you uwu

you both get to know more about each other like

how theres this two boys named chenle & jisung in the preparatory course whom he adores to death

or like

theres this jeno boy whose jokes suck jeno i love you

with a bonus of

you talking about how johnny’s english class is nothing but a comedian’s lesson

so that day went great

and now that you are comfortable

you visit the cafe to talk with jaemin more

even when you have a chill no stress week

it just makes you feel lighter by coming to the cafe now

and your auntie is hella happy that you two are getting along so well

it continues for weeks

just you and jaemin talking from time to time when the peak hours are over or before the cafe opens

you became best pals basically

he encouraged you to join more school projects cause hes sure your photography is worth the chance

you giving him daily support when he feels like he isnt doing the best for his course

sometimes when your aunt had to leave for a couple hours near closing time

you two just stayed there talking for a couple hours giving comfort to each other

late night lattes and cakes

also one time you got so excited from the bestest grades you got you might have hugged him without thinking oops

and one day, jaemin’s friend renjun is there when you come after school

and hes like “hi uh dont mind me im just here a bit because jaemin has to go somewhere after this and i dont want him to be late”

so you just,,, chill as jaemin kinda rushes

and when he goes to the storage room, you just see renjun getting along with the auntie lmao

auntie: “so i got offered this contract with the new type of beans? and idk if i should take it because that would mean i have to go out of the city,,,,”

renjun: “for how long?”

auntie: “two weeks maybe”

renjun: “oh thats fine, dont worry about it. jaemin can take over that. next two weeks right? his mandatory work experience ends this week”

so thats how renjun signed jaemin up to work alone for auntie without his consent

and aunties like “y/n!! it would be so much for just jaemin, you should help him :) your break starts next week right?”

so you also got signed up to this thing

fast forward to first day of break

aka the first time you “work” there

you are nervous and jaemin can feel it

“dont worry y/n, ill do all the talking and coffee, you just have to serve & clean!!”

so you try to calm down a bit

not to mention that you are also nervous cause its only jaemin and you in the room

but then he sees you fumbling with tying the apron and

jaemin says “here, give it, ill do it for you” while smiling a little

and from the back he wraps the apron around your waist,,,

and hes so close to you,,, your heart is fluttering

okay heart stop beating so fast pls thank you

and little do you know,,, jaemin is flushing a bit behind your back,,,

you are both the cutest mess

and you break the silence with a smol

“thanks :))”

trying to contain yourself from screaming

adapting to the serving side & keeping youself busy

you dont realise jaemin is literally admiring you the entire time as you get used to the job,,,,

here and then you forget how close you might be standing next to jaemin,,,

you kinda also realise how rEALLY attractive he looks serving everyone with a huge smile 24/7

and the way some customers are obviously attracted to him,,,,

but what you dont know is he is literally taking this chance to highkey flirt with you lmao

waves (sometimes winks) across the room

causally hovers over you when you cant find/reach smth

beaming the biggest smile every minute he gets to himself

and at first you panicked like ?!????

cause was this jaemin boy holding back for a whole month

is this his nature yes

but it makes you so happy to see him smiling all the time beside you

so jaemin yes its working

you gotta admit tho his flirty-ish behaviour grew on you this entire week djskjssj

a week of giggly smiles uwu

but the week after was unexpectedly the busiest of the busiest

you two forgot national holidays collided with the weekends and for some, it was a week off,,,,,,

so the week rushes by so quickly compared to the last one

it kind saved you tho cause your heart cant take more of that flirty behaviour

and finally,

the peak days are over,,,

and you realise its been a while since the cafe was just you,,,, and well jaemin but just no customers

the silence with faint sounds of cups cluttering,,,, you missed it

so then you go sit on the high chair

just admiring jaemin organise the shelves

he starts to prepare a new cup of coffee then realises you smiling at him “were you in awe at how effortless i look right now??”

you chuckle at his remark,,,

(needless to say that your are chuckling to hide how your heart is melting at his smirky smile)

so you twirl a bit shyly,, and avert the gaze to the familiar wood of the counter

asking him “do you remember the day we first saw each other, me sitting here and you serving the latte?”

“ofc, its the day i met an angel”

oh so confidently na jaemin really just said that

you quickly look up at him like !!!?!???!

and thats how he earned a first kiss (or rather a peck) from you

leaning over the counter and pecking you, a whole blushy mess

then comes a clink by the door

you juMp,,,,,,,

oof the customer may or may not have seen you two

you both rush around flushed like a tomato lmao

spending the rest of the day like nothing happened oops

and after the day ends, you two close the cafe

as you starting walking you are caught off guard when

jaemin just takes your hand,,,

“look y/n!! the stars are so pretty!!”

and starts swinging your arm like a tall child,,,

your heart is skippingnsjsjsjs

then at the corner, jaemin turns around and goes

“this is actually the place i first saw you”

and you ??¿?¿¿

“i saw you taking the photo of this night light shining into the cafe”

still hand in hand, jaemin steps a little closer

and takes his free hand to cup your face, kissing you,,,,

you smile into him as he kisses so softly, thinking

maybe the day i took that photo was a friday night

and melting into the kiss, you really think you are dreaming,,,,,

under the lights you once wished capturing a sparkling moment with the cafe in the back

its now you and jaemin in the frame,,,,

the boy who had you forgetting to breathe a month ago

whos now serving your favourite latte with a bonus of pecks on the cheek,,,,, (maybe on the lips if theres no one watching)

anyways

jaemin brings light to your life and you have never been this happy until you met him uwu

and it goes both ways, jaemin cant live without you now,,,, you are the best thing thats ever happened to him

(thank the heavens & your auntie)

oh and also johnny for pushing you to submit that article lmao plus huang renjun for that involuntary sign up

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scripturient-manipulator · 4 years

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Oo i have 2 questions (idk if this is anamous I hope it is 😬) So 1 what made you want to become a therapist because I think I might want to be one, what is it like? 2. Mental health question! I think I might have schizophrennia (weird I know lol) ive looked really deep into it and this was made very educatedly lmao. Im still a minor though and and mental health services where i am suck and 2 no one takes me seriously as a minor (which is silly) do you have any advice on what to do?

It wasn’t anonymous, so I adjusted things until it was! Don’t worry, I didn’t look at your username so now I don’t know who sent this either :)

1. I adore learning about mental illness. My own surfaced before I really knew what mental illness was and learning about it just spurred me on. The brain is so weird, it can do so much stuff, it’s ingenious in how it tries to protect itself and deal with the trauma it’s been given.

Being a therapist is tons of fun! It genuinely is, I adore my clients and being able to be that person who helps them when sometimes they’ve never had someone who didn’t take advantage of them, or who actually believed them about an awful thing(s). I like being that person. So many people just need to be heard, to be given hope or to be shown that someone has hope for them. I like being able to delve into the most horrible, shameful moments and fears of someone’s life, the habits they can barely bring themselves to admit to me and be that person who says “that’s okay. I still like you. You’re going to be alright because together we’re gonna make sure you are.”. It can be tough though. Therapists have to take care of themselves, especially if they have clients who have been through trauma. And there are things you’ll hear that you can’t tell anyone about despite it being utterly horrific and you can’t believe it’s neither ethical or legal for you to speak of?? That’s the hardest part for me. But that’s where having coworkers helps, or being able to talk to someone else who works with your client. You learn some truly incredible ways that people have protected themselves, when a good time to challenge someone is and when it’s absolutely not. The first time someone cried in a session with me I got scared because my technique worked “too well” despite the rush of being able to reach them. You get to know people deeper than sometimes anyone else in their life does, but that also means that you carry secrets to your grave sometimes. You have to know how to turn your professional brain off and look after yourself, and you’ll learn that in your Masters program. And there’s so many ways to help people, I’m actually working on a new way myself using tabletop games like D&D! It’s an incredible job, it truly, truly is.

2. As for your possible schizophrenia, you are a minor. It’s very rare for a minor to be diagnosed with schizophrenia simply because there’s so much other stuff your symptoms could be, and it doesn’t usually occur before your mid-20s. It absolutely can, but it’s less likely; it’s called early-onset schizophrenia for teenagers for a reason, because it’s earlier than usual. Or, you could be in my boat where you have the symptoms like schizophrenia but not enough/at the intensity/at the duration to be diagnosed with it! That’s a fun one.

I don’t think it’s silly that you think you might have it, at my job right now I actually work with lots of people who have schizophrenia! It’s something that other mental illnesses get confused with, it can be the label slapped on someone who doesn’t have schizophrenia, it might be schizoaffective, schizotypal, or one of the subsets that didn’t make it into the DSM-V. It’s a very complicated diagnosis, and it’s also a very weighty one; to diagnose someone with schizophrenia impacts their life in a lot of ways from how jobs look at you to what housing will take you to college acceptances, how DSS looks at you if you come to them, how the court system treats you if you get tangled up in that- my guess is that one of the things holding your professionals back is the fear of putting something so heavy on someone so young because that shit sticks with you, trust me. Plus you need a medicine regime to handle schizophrenia fully and that’s a lot of drugs to put into an adult, much less a teenager so that’s likely a fear of theirs too.

I feel you on bad mental health resources though and not being taken seriously, that was the story of my life when I first got into therapy (who doesn’t send someone to the hospital after an aborted suicide attempt??). So write down all the reasons you think you have schizophrenia, and if you take reasons from anywhere, write down what research you did and where you found it. Does your family have a history of psychotic disorders? If they do, absolutely put that down as well. Presenting it in a composed method like that should at least get the conversation started in a serious way. Should you need to put in that much effort for a professional to listen to your concerns? No, if I was your counselor we’d be delving into possibilities as soon as you brought up that you were worried. But since it’s the situation you’re in, that’s what we have to play with.

Message me again if you need to! I’ll absolutely talk more about being a therapist and being mentally ill at the same time and I’d love to hear if you’re able to get someone to listen to you :)

#Anonymous

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

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tw: SA of minors by adults, creepy behavior by adult toward minors, stalking mention, very abusive, violent and dangerous abuser.

looking for: someone to listen

im finding out more and more about my abuser which validates I know I went through abuse by her but it scares me bc she apparently had hooked up with a minor when we were YA after high school sometime I think. she had abused many exes ive spoken with including ex-friends who really hate her now and im in touch with a couple of her exes. she downplays the violent and scary abuse and stalking she's put people through by acting like "everyones toxic, so what" kind of mindset about it... she really traumatized a certain ex of hers by literally man handling her ex and showing up in the middle of the night to try to break into the house, and SA'd her ex multiple times bc the victim kept going back obviously as we do as abuse victims.... I went back to this abuser multiple times as well...super scary. ive been speaking with victims. she's been stalking me with her friends. I regularly talk to some of these victims and thankfully have good relationships with them, they believe me that I was abused by her of course bc they were too. idk what to do about a stalker who literally knows and admitted to the fact that she knew she abused me since the beginning when we first met. I know looking back at my interactions with her over the years I had good intentions, my thoughts and intentions were not malice or manipulative but simply confused... but she tried manipulating me into a situation to try to SA me, like not telling me she wanted sex but trying to get me to have sex by manipulating the circumstances so she could get what she wanted for her own pleasure and I ended up feeling trapped and it happened but I didn't and couldn't consent... and she did end up SA me bc im displaying symptoms of SA and symptoms in relation to her but I have no memory of the SA. there was another person she kept trying to fuck but the person didn't want to have sex, and she kept manipulating the circumstances by making the victim drink more to see if she's trying to fuck but thats rape... and she admitted to it but she makes excuses like "people change their minds" and "if she didn't want it she would've stopped me" like what.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. Experiencing trauma like this can be devastating, and it's important to acknowledge that what you went through is valid regardless of what your abuser has done against others. But it certainly can create a sense of unity, solidarity, and belonging to have a support system of other survivors who were victimized by your abuser, and it can be incredibly meaningful to surround yourself with people who believe you.

It can be incredibly challenging to deal with abusers like this, who avoid accountability, downplay the gravity of their actions, and manipulate people in order to take advantage of them. It sounds like there are unfortunately multiple instances of your abuser doing these things, and it's important to note that repeated trauma can have a cumulative effect, making it more difficult to heal from, though not impossible.

I think it's also important to just say that regarding the idea that "if she didn't want it she would've stopped me", it sadly neglects other cues like body language, and other factors like fear and intimidation, which can all make it harder for someone to feel comfortable withdrawing their consent. Verbal consent is not the only kind of consent, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to reaffirm that.

If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist can help you process your experiences and develop some healthy coping mechanisms that you can take with you along your healing journey.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw sa #tw r #tw csa #tw child abuse

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eyecicles · 5 years

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i'm autistic...i've known for about 6 years now, and i was diagnosed pretty late (17) and in secret. my mom doesnt believe in autism, calls it "all in my head", and she doesnt take the resulting depression and anxiety seriously either. she yells at me for everything i've come to learn has to do with my autism, and claims to have read and researched everything but i know she hasnt (or if she has, its been 1 or 2 unreliable articles) /1

whenever i break and tell her she’s yelling at me for something outside of my control (for example, being uncomfortable with sudden changes in plans or making eye contact) she starts talking about how if i keep saying it to myself i’ll never get better and i should acknowledge the problem and stuff like that. she doesnt want me to go to therapy and if i must, its gonna be someone she picks out and i really dont want to go there

im kinda scared of therapy as it is because ive lived my whole life this way and im worried that i’ll lose bits of my personality if i start to change (even if its for the better) and i dont want to go but i also know that i should, and i also really want an official diagnosis from someone whose opinion actually counts (because mine sure as fuck doesnt) so that my parents could get off my back about these things. im really confused about how to explain shit to them

and how to approach this whole thing because im so tired of having to constantly adapt to every new thing she insists on especially when im not mentally ready for it. she doesnt take my mental health seriously or considers it a priority and then tries to act like she cares (she does care, i know that, but her approach is all wrong) but refuses to take my opinion on it anyway, even tho im clearly the one suffering most. ive even told her (after a long time) that she hurts me but she wont stop

im sorry to dump this all on you but none of my friends have problems like this and my family doesnt believe in MIs because of the stigma around them here, and i dont know who else to ask for advice from. if you could give me anything at all, i’d appreciate it so much

_____________________________________________________________

Hmm, I don’t exactly know what you mean with "diagnosed in secret”. You don’t have access to any papers or anything else you could use as proof?

Asking the people who diagnosed you for something like a certification would be your easiest option, of course. But if that’s, for some reason, not possible, I would advice you to either talk to someone from an autism counselling centre (if that’s a thing where you live) or your doctor. They will help you find out how to get an official diagnosis, because I definitely think that would be your best course of action.

I unfortunately know a lot of parents who treat their autistic child like your mother does. And some of them refuse to accept the truth even when they’re confronted with hard facts and actual evidence, like a professional diagnosis. I think what helped a lot of people is talking about autism in a way that humanises us. Showing them interviews, videos or books by other autistic people in similar situations, with similar struggles, or just talking about as neutral as possible. No method is infallible, sadly, but I found that normalising or talking about the more positive aspects of autism will sometimes change the minds of parents with autistic children. Sometimes only to some degree and very slowly, but it’s still better than nothing, I suppose.

My parents were quick to accept that I’m autistic, but they’re pretty much like your mother when it comes to mental illnesses. It’s a very tricky situation and a topic I’m trying to avoid with them. I personally don’t think that changing the perspectives of one’s parents should be anyone’s main focus though, even if their words still hurt. Self acceptance and getting the help you might need are infinitely more important in the end.

I understand your concerns about therapy, I really do. Almost every autistic person has a comorbid diagnosis (I think it’s about 90%), or several, and getting the right kind of therapy is often unavoidable if we want to get better. But that’s also why it can be important to get an official diagnosis: regular therapy, with someone who doesn’t know a whole lot about autism (because let’s face it: even mental health professionals mostly know jack shit about autism if they didn’t study it) is often times almost completely fruitless. A good therapist won’t try to change your personality and autism symptoms by the way.

I know you said that your mother would want to pick your therapist, but it’s not for her to decide. Especially not when you’ve got the diagnosis, because the psychologists in charge will recommend you therapists that are well-versed in autism and the unique struggles we face. If you have still concerns about your mother, you can and should bring this up with those people as well! They will know how to best handle situations like yours, since it’s sadly not that uncommon.

The first step is usually the hardest. But to me it sounds like you desperately need to change something about your situation - you can see yourself that you won’t convince your mother the way you tried. But a diagnosis and therapy can help you in so many ways you might not even be aware of yet. It’s of course not a magical remedy to all your problems, but I think the fact that you reached out to me already shows that you’re on the right path. You seem to fully realise yourself that it can’t go on like that. Which is great!

So yes, my advice would be to first talk to someone from an Autism Centre of Excellence (or however it’s called where you’re from, it should be easy enough to find online) (you can usually e-mail them as well, if you don't want to call) or a doctor.

Another thing: if you haven’t already, I think it could help to check out the autism community online. There are many people in similar situations, with similar concerns, and just reading about other autistic people’s experiences online helped me a great deal. You can for example check out the #actuallyautistic tag on tumblr, or this blog. If you like, you can of course ask me more questions, of course.

I wish you the best of luck, anon!

#answered ask #anon #not dn

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 5 years

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Erica Heftmann breaks free from the control of the FFWPU / UC

Dark Side of the Moonies by Erica Heftmann (Penguin Books 1982)

Erica Heftmann was born in Washington, DC, in 1952. She believed she was born again in 1974 to Korean parents — the Lord of the Second Advent, Reverend Moon, and his wife, Hak Ja Han. She was deprogrammed from the Moon cult and became interested in the issue and power of mind control. In the 1980s, because of her research and expertise in that field, she was in demand as an adviser to mental health professionals, clergy, legislators, educators, legal and medical practitioners, law enforcement agencies, mind control victims and their families throughout the world.

Contents

Part I – Heavenly Deception

Part II – Free Will But No Choice

Part III – Return to Reality

Part IV – From the Outside Looking In

1 The Technology of Mind Control 2 Deprogramming Therapy 3 Judiciary, Legislature and the ‘Cryptocracy’ 4 Critical Judgement

Notes

Dark Side of the Moonies is the disturbing account of one person who gave up her own mind, her whole life to a man she thought was the messiah.

Since her liberation from the Moonies, she has come to understand the power that was used to control her. In revealing the hidden life of one cult, Erica Heftmann exposes the startling force cults are exerting in society – and the grip they have on many people.

I was a Moonie. When I regained my mind and could look back at the horror of it, I realized that my freedom was conditional. I was haunted by the need to understand how and why I had been transformed into what I hated most. Now I would be an ex-Moonie. My innocence would never return. … I had to live with the ignorance and prejudice of a public that believes I was somehow pre-disposed to becoming a cult member while they are immune. People think cults are something to laugh at, groups of religious half-wits who would never have made it in life anyway and are better off where they are. I was there … to further incredible schemes of political and economic power.

I am setting out my story and my explanations of it. I do this for the sake of others who have suffered agonies so profound as to make my cult experience seem like a holiday. I wish that I could bring voice to the countless others... I write this for people under mind control, especially those I love who are mentioned in these pages. Do not be afraid to use your own minds; you need no greater masters.

In this era we are learning about the plight of the handicapped, the minorities, those who have been denied the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We must learn about all unfortunates because we are responsible for depriving them by our failure to listen, to understand, to allow them the right to help themselves. Those who are able and refuse to help are the true unfortunates. They do not know how precious life is.

Erica Heftmann 1981

page 1

Part I – Heavenly Deception

On the last day of 1974 I nudged my way through the bustle of downtown Los Angeles with a lot on my mind. It wasn’t only taking inventory of the past year. It was the pattern I saw emerging. Breaking away, testing new ground, retreating. Every path led to the same edge and, feeling I couldn’t make it across, I would go back to find another path. I had come to know the edge pretty well.

I was surprised to hear the stories that circulated about me because I considered my life to be too ordinary. My measuring standards were not set by my peers but by the characters that peopled my books and travels.

Adulthood was edging me away from my mother and an older sister I adored. My father and brother had removed themselves from the family during my late childhood but what was left was stable. Mom was always patient, comforting, totally involved in her two girls.

I had a short romance with formal education. After two terms at university I declared myself graduated, having learned everything I felt the institution had to teach me: how to find a book in the library and how to sit down to coffee with an interesting professor.

With full sails and no rudder, I went to Europe taking every precaution not to be a hippie, annoyed that of all the times I could have been born on this planet I had to co-exist with a counter-culture that popularized doing one’s own thing. I picked my way carefully to avoid the throngs of stereotyped individuals who faced me at every turn. …

My mother was not easy to rebel against because I felt she was usually right. How could I break away and establish my own identity if there was no risk involved? She was always there to fall back on, to soften the blows. … Maybe you’ve been on your own for a few years but the world has just been your playground.

Wait a minute. Don’t be that hard on yourself. Someone puts you on a speck of cosmic dust whirling through space without asking your permission and then just as rudely and abruptly and inevitably takes you away. While you’re here you’re given a set of problems and a set of rules for solving them. Like someone leaving a kid to amuse himself with square pegs and round holes. ’Bye kid, see you in eighty or ninety years. No, Erica, I don’t blame you one bit for stepping back to take a look at it all. People are manipulating and killing each other and for what? Do they even enjoy the spoils of their exploits? Why waste your life trying to set things up for them to destroy when you have enough sense to realize that there’s something else in this existence to do?

Lonely, confused and worried about fulfilling my potential, I had escaped the forced gaiety of the office New Year’s party. Everyone making crass jokes about resolutions and getting drunk to forget them.

On the last working day of the year, all the desk calendars in the office buildings were collected and released into the wind from the roofs. They fluttered down like ticker tape. Now as I walked the last couple of blocks to the bus stop, I stared at them cluttering the pavement. Some pages had little notes jotted on them. OCTOBER 15/meet Dave for lunch. Or 2:00/REGIONAL MEETING. Giving in to a wave of melancholy, I couldn’t help but see the metaphor days lying in the gutter, accumulated so quickly and then forgotten.

A big commuter bus moved away from the kerb and blasted a clump of pages into an open drain with its exhaust. So it’s come to this, has it, I tried joking with myself.

I looked up about the same moment that I felt someone gazing at me. A pair of blue eyes much like my own. A young woman just a few paces away was watching me. She was wholesome looking, rather tall, and had a short, dark-haired young man with her.

In my memory, it is etched that I was the one to start the conversation but I know that this is not the way it happened. There was just something so familiar and so welcoming in her eyes that I felt myself reaching out to make the first move.

All I needed for an introduction was to know that they were foreigners. How well I remembered the feeling of being a newcomer to a city and how comforting it was when strangers had stopped and talked with me.

The girl’s name was Ingrid and she was from Switzerland. The one she towered over was Antonio, a Peruvian. I asked how such an unlikely combination had met They explained that they were touring with an organization called International One World Crusade. This was their last stop in America and within a week they would push on to Japan.

Ingrid had spent all of her time in Los Angeles cooped up in the kitchen cooking for the others. On her first opportunity to get out and see the sights, she was delighted to meet someone. They chatted on. Out of the corner of my eye I was searching for a coffee shop we could dive into. I made the suggestion. It was one of those magical meetings that happens when one travels and I could tell the feelings were shared all around. My bus didn’t stop running for a few hours.

‘We’d love to,’ Ingrid said, ‘But we are just on our way back for an evening meeting. Would you like to walk with us? You could see our headquarters office and meet some of the others.’

Something flickered in me, making me want to bolt, no matter how friendly they were. Something about not being on neutral turf. I noticed it at the same time I realized that I was already walking with them in their direction. …

page 187

Part III Return to Reality

Up late this morning. At 6.00 I should already be in the lodge with Paul to correct reflection books. Paul is the best assistant I’ve ever had and this is by far the most successful workshop since the old days with Alex. Yesterday Mr Kadachi gave the VOC lecture so that we could have some time to catch up on our reports but we scrambled up onto the roof of the lodge to talk instead.

I think it is important to develop a good subject-object Foundation for the Abel position we hold collectively. …

Paul is still having Chapter Two problems about his old girlfriend. I am glad he is confiding in me. I remember all the times Kathy and I kept him away from Lisa and occupied when the centres used to come up for weekend workshop. I thought Lisa’s transfer to MFT would solve a lot. They were both trying hard to overcome and by all external appearances they had but now I’m finding out that Paul is entertaining hopes of being blessed with her. It isn’t good to think about the Blessing, especially trying to second-guess Father. Paul keeps insisting that Spirit World prepared them for the Family because they had been sweethearts since high school. . He is suffering so much and so much wants to please Heavenly Father.

We must be a good combination because we’ve been having such fantastic results with our workshops. We work as a unit. Father was right that if you serve someone well enough, you make him dependent on you. He opens up to you and gradually the power shifts its balance point. If you are a good object, it is much more important than being a mediocre subject. …

I have finally learned how to handle sleep. Imagine how much time is wasted in the Fallen World. Midnight is just the beginning of the evening for me. Paul covered for me for fifteen minutes yesterday during discussion and made me sleep. On the way down the hill with the class, he whistled for me when they passed the dorm and I was out the back way and down to the lodge before them. I had only had forty-five minutes of sleep the night before and during the past weeks it has been usually two hours, sometimes three. That fifteen minutes was like a whole night I got up completely refreshed. I think I’ve finally broken through.

I must apologize to Mr Kadachi. I was so upset with him because he slept during the day and pulled staff meetings as late as 3.30 in the morning — never before 2.00. The meetings were late only because he was reading or playing with his lizards. When he had us as a captive audience he would put off staff matters and expound on some recent theory about the Restoration. I contradicted one of his theories and still feel horrible about it but it did bring the meeting to a quick close. No one else would dare stand up to Kadachi-san. …

The day sailed by with its own effortless momentum. In the afternoon I was called into the kitchen for a phone call. Mr Kadachi was pacing. I picked up the receiver.

‘Erica? I was afraid I wouldn’t get through to you. They gave me the usual runaround.’

‘Well, Mom, sometimes I’m busy and can’t get to the phone.’

‘Too busy to take a call from me?’

I rolled my eyes up. How would she like it if I interrupted her at work?

‘I’m here in San Bernardino and I hope you won’t give me some story about being too busy to see me today. We have a date, you know.’

Did we? It seemed that I was always trying to get out of some engagement and I kept postponing these visits with promises. Guess she finally caught up with me. Kadachi was at my side poking around in his lizardarium. I placed my hand over the receiver.

‘She says she’s in San Bernardino and wants to see me today.’

‘You have a workshop to look after. Tell her to make it another time.’

I uncovered the receiver. ‘I have a workshop to look after. Could we make it another time?’

‘Erica, I’ve driven all this way.’ She sounded a bit frantic. ‘Are you going to make me turn around and go back? I’m leaving for New York tomorrow, remember, and I want to see you before I go.’

‘She’s insisting. She says she’s driven all this way and wants to know if I’m going to make her turn around and go back. She’s leaving for New York tomorrow.’

Kadachi gave me a look that revealed nothing and turned back to his lizards. How could I be so weak as to have to bother him and get him to tell me what to do?

‘Look, Ma, I’m going to have to go now. My class is starting.’

Click

I was hardly out the door when the phone rang again. It took three calls before I was reluctantly given permission to go. I wasn’t pressuring either side, they just fought it out with me as the transmitter of information. The condition was that I be back for evening discussion. I wouldn’t have missed that for the world anyway.

By the time she and my step-father Chuck arrived, I was bathed and had styled my hair with a blow-dryer I found in the sisters’ cabin. I also found a ‘good’ set of clothes I’d never seen before. They fit and I looked very nice when I sized myself up in the mirror.

I ran down the steps of the lodge to meet them. The guard at the gate had already informed me of their arrival. After quick hellos I found myself in an argument. I wanted them to come inside and meet my friends. They replied flatly that they were not interested in coming in, only in seeing me.

‘You say you’re interested in what I’m doing. How are you ever going to find out if you don’t see for yourselves? You just keep reading those negative articles.’

They could hardly conceal their discomfort and my mother couldn’t pass the opportunity for some hostile remarks so I decided that it was better to leave right away. Then, at least, I could return earlier. Paul was thrilled about taking over for a while and I was looking forward to the meal so it wasn’t a bad arrangement after all. I told them to wait a moment on the landing. I searched for Kadachi to say goodbye. His wife told me he had locked himself in his room at his cabin. I would probably return before he emerged from his meditation.

I slid in the front seat between my parents and chattered the whole way down the mountain. I told them about Roy’s close scrape with his parents. They had tried to kidnap him but he escaped. He was sorry for hurting his father in the tussle on the ground but not sorry enough to speak with them. I usually handled Roy’s calls. They simply would not understand that he had been transferred. They thought we were hiding him. No one at camp even knew where he had been transferred to.

‘Imagine parents trying to do something like that to their own child!’ I gasped.

Chuck dropped us off at a small restaurant in town while he went to see about getting something fixed on the car. I ordered a large meal and wolfed it down. Mom didn’t touch what she had ordered. She said that she was coming down with flu and had lost her appetite. If my stomach had been able to stretch, I would’ve eaten her meal as well. We didn’t talk much. These days we had little in common. I couldn’t see the point in pretending to be interested in the Fallen World and she refused to take an interest in the Restoration. She kept glancing at her watch, obviously worried about Chuck taking so long.

When he arrived, he said he wasn’t hungry either and they wanted to beat the traffic back to town. They still had to pack for their trip. He hastily paid the bill and we went out to the car. The lot was dark and the car was at the rear of the building. I instinctively sized up the lot for fundraising. Hard habit to get over. Good thing I was going back to camp instead of out blitzing.

I was grabbed from behind and thrown forward. It happened so quickly that I was in the back seat between Chuck and a strange man before I caught my breath. My mind jammed. My mother was in the driver’s seat revving the engine and another person sat in the front seat on the passenger’s side. We took off as the doors were being pulled closed.

It was several moments before I could speak. My mind snapped into the witnessing mode. I politely extended my hand to the man on my right to introduce myself.

‘How do you do? My name is Erica.’

He reached under the seat and brought out a bouquet of flowers. Presenting them, he said, ‘Very well, thanks. My name is Dana. Here, these are for you.’

Dana! I couldn’t believe it. Dana Stevens? It must have been ten years since I’d seen him — he’d been living in Paris for that long. He was a dear friend of the family, someone I had been infatuated with as a child. Mom had told me that he had come back a few weeks before to get married.

I could not recognize him in the dark but there was no mistaking his style. I looked at the person in the front seat. A woman. She must be his new wife.

‘Mrs Stevens, do you mind if I embrace your husband?’ I threw my arms around Dana’s neck. It was totally unprincipled but my mind was jilted and I was too happy to see him to care about Principle for that moment.

My mother had the wheel gripped firmly. ‘I’m sorry, Erica. You didn’t show up at Dana’s wedding so we’re going to have another reception party now just for you.’ I believed her even though I still felt a panic. I had no time to be part of a practical joke. They would worry back at camp, especially Kadachi. I pleaded for her to stop and let me phone them at least. My mother could always out-insist me, especially when I became hysterical. I thought of leaping from the car, disregarding the danger, but I was flanked by two strong men. Roy had told everyone to carry matches with them so they could set fire to the place if anyone ever took them by force. A lot of good that would have done me. I was no longer in the mood for conversation and numbly rode the rest of the way in silence. My mind was blank as if I had been unplugged.

We pulled off the freeway somewhere in Long Beach and, after circling around some residential streets, pulled up at a modest house with several cars parked in the driveway. They surrounded me on the few steps into the house and then, with some other people, formed a corridor so that I had no choice but to go past them to the rear of the house. I didn’t know how many people were in the house or who they were. It didn’t look like a party.

I entered a small bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was tiny, carpeted and bare except for a blanket and a pillow. There was a piece of plywood covering the one small window. Through my mind flashed the story of The Collector. It was clear to me that I was going to be held prisoner for someone’s pleasure but I had no idea for what purpose.

The sight of the blanket and pillow made my heart stop. I knew this was the end of the line. When I looked up I saw half a dozen strangers standing around me. The door was shut. It was explained to me that I would have to speak with these people. Disbelief clogged my mind. They wanted to talk to me about the Movement. How could they talk to me about something they knew nothing about? I understood then that I would stay in that room until I converted them all or died — there would be no way to escape unless I could befriend one of them and gain sympathy to be set free. I wondered how that tiny room would look after the first year. I would know every crack on the ceiling, every sound from the outside. I looked for Dana. Surely he would help.

‘Can I see Dana please?’

‘I’ll see if I can find him for you. In the meantime, why don’t you make yourself comfortable?’ It was a woman who spoke. She was thirty-ish, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. She looked nervous, which gave me confidence. She left the room and two or three of the others trailed out with her.

Dana appeared at the door. His shirt was unbuttoned and he had a beer in his hand. He looked at me with mild surprise as if he couldn’t fathom why I might want to speak with him.

‘Dana, what do you think you’re going to prove with this? I’m going to be missed at camp by people who care about me. What sort of a kangaroo court do you intend to hold? You’re holding me prisoner. You can’t do that.’

Spectacularly unimpressed with my plea to his sense of justice, he suppressed a belch and scratched his chest. ‘I’m not the one who made the decision, you know. Your mother wants you here. It can’t hurt to listen.’

‘Listen? Under these conditions? Why didn’t you just arrange to have these people, whoever they are, come and meet me in a coffee shop somewhere? I would discuss anything with anyone at any time. That’s my job.’

‘Well, your anywhere and anytime and anyone seems to be here and now with these folks, doesn’t it?’

The years had changed him. I remembered the late-night talks, how, he had made my head spin with his unconventional ideas. He was the one who first infected me with the idea of breaking free. Now he had sold out like the rest of them, even getting a beer belly. There would be no point in talking to my mother. I knew how she was once she made up her mind about something. I asked to see Chuck. I knew he would not be able to conceal anything. His face always gave him away. He had always listened to my ideas with endless patience and took my troubles to heart. He supported and nurtured my individualism with pride, even the things that must have been hard to swallow. Surely he would understand me now. Yet when he came in and sat in the same place that Dana had been sitting, I wondered if I was going to come up against the same stone wall. Maybe they had some kind of routine worked out. We were no longer on the same team. God had divided us.

He didn’t give me the chance to wonder long. He took me in his arms. ‘We had to do this, honey.’ His voice broke and he cried, unable to speak for a while. ‘It’s a horrible thing to have to see you here like this. We want you to be free. I know that’s a hard thing to understand, that we’ve locked you up to free your mind. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t love you. All we want you to do is to listen to these people. They’re good people, honey, don’t be afraid. You know your mom would never let anyone hurt you. That’s why she wants you away from that group. We miss our girl — the one who’s so free, the one who was never afraid to stand up for what she believed.’

Now it was my turn to force back the tears so I could speak.

‘Will you stay with me?’ I was terrified of the thought of them leaving the next day for New York.

‘Of course we’ll stay with you.’ It was my mother. She must have been listening at the door. I didn’t hear her come in.

‘You aren’t going to New York?’

‘No, that was just a story to get you to come with us. We were so afraid that you would cancel again and now that we brought Sara out here —’

‘Sara? Is she that lady? The one in the shorts.’

My mother held a handkerchief for me to blow my nose as she had done when I was a child. ‘Now the other side, blow hard, you can do better than that.’ I laughed through the tears until Sara walked in with some others and my panic returned.

I decided to size up my captors. Mom and Chuck left the room. The others sat around me in a semi-circle. Danny had been in the Children of God. He said he’d been deprogrammed by Sara.

Doug had been in the Family. As soon as I learned this I tried to see the brother in him. Sometimes he revealed it but he had been in the Fallen World too long. The brother in him was only a flicker. Perhaps he would be the one I would befriend if I could convince him of Principle. He could help me escape back to Father. Would that make him my spiritual son? He did not want to talk about his spiritual parents or his missions. He said they were not important. What else could there be to talk about if we were going to talk about the Family?

Jill had been in the Family too, but not long enough to know very much.

I didn’t know quite what to make of Sara. She seemed to try to blend into the background and quite succeeded — all but those eyes of hers. Every time she caught my glance she pinned me to the spot.

Something was rattling around loose in my mind trying to find where it belonged. Maybe my whole mind was rattling around loose. I felt fatalistic — the controls were jammed on automatic pilot I felt almost... well, sportive, gay... having the burden of the destiny of mankind lifted from me temporarily. The ball was for once in somebody else’s court. A funny thought lifted the corners of my mouth. Old girl, you only get kidnapped once in life, that is, unless you’re terribly unlucky. You may as well have a good time. After all, you’ve got a captive audience.

I made myself comfortable. ‘It looks like we’ll be here for a while,’ I remarked breezily. ‘If you want to do your job properly, you’ll need some background information on me. I guess I’d better tell you about myself.’

Danny stretched out and groaned, then unclasped his hands from behind his neck and drew himself up on one elbow. ‘The only thing we need to know about you is already obvious. You’re brainwashed.’

‘You watch too many movies. Who do you think you are, Clint Eastwood? Where did you get this brainwashing stuff?’

‘Well, Queen-for-a-Day, what happened to your humility, love, understanding for mankind and all of that? If you were a real disciple of Christ, you’d be praying for me and setting a good example. I guess your dignity and integrity only work when you’re plugged into your little messiah.’

Doug shot him a look to keep quiet. Interesting. They were not united so I was bound to triumph. First rule of Principle. Unity forms the Foundation. I had the knowledge of Principle on my side, they had nothing, not even unity. Evidently Doug remembered something of it in trying to keep Danny in line.

Danny rolled onto his back and addressed the ceiling. ‘All right, go ahead and give us your testimony. I probably know it word-for-word already. I’ve heard enough of them and they’re all the same. Don’t tell me, let me guess — you went to India, came back and read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, had an abortion, became a militant feminist —’

Doug cut in, ‘Don’t mind him. Sure, I want to hear your story. It’s hard to be a Moonie. You wouldn’t be where you are unless you were a good person but don’t tell me that you joined because you realized it was the truth. None of us joined because we understood what they were teaching us.’

I began my story. To my surprise, it didn’t come out like I had planned it. It wasn’t my usual testimony. I told them about my life before, about the things I had loved and believed, things I had forgotten until then. I must have talked for two hours. Sara was pacing outside. Jill left for a while and when she came back in she asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

‘No thanks,’ I answered. ‘I had dinner with my mother.’ My mind drifted back to the camp for a moment. It seemed universes away. I wondered where I was. Whose house was this?

‘Is this Sara’s house?’

‘No,’ Jill answered. ‘It belongs to a woman named Alice.’

‘Can I see her?’

A woman was brought to the door. She hesitated before coming in. She was a friendly looking, middle-aged lady, the kind I’d seen by the hundreds on the lots, motherly, middle-class. I thanked her for letting us use her house. It seemed to me that it must have been a great inconvenience to have so many people in her home for such a long time. I indicated the boarded window. I was sorry for my being the cause of her house being turned upside-down. Tears formed in her eyes.

‘Honey, your parents love you very much. Everyone here is very concerned for you. We all want the best for you. Everything will turn out all right.’ She hesitated and phrased her question shyly. Jill says that you don’t want anything to eat. Can I bring you something else? Something to drink? How about a glass of warm milk?’

Warm milk, yech. I always hated it and gagged on it but I didn’t want to refuse her hospitality. For her sake I gratefully accepted. I was glad I did when I saw the look on her face. She couldn’t have been more happy if I’d given her a million dollars.

While she was fetching the milk, the conversation turned away from me and the kids talked among themselves. I couldn’t hate them. I wished that I could have joined in the conversation but it was as if they were speaking another language, things I hadn’t any knowledge of. Danny was sprawled out comfortably. Jill was teasing him and heaved the pillow at him. He propped himself up with it and turned to me.

‘So, this Moon is the messiah, eh?’

The devil himself couldn’t have been more satanic. What a way to talk about Father! It slashed my heart to hear him referred to as ‘Moon’. I would have to educate this guy if we were going to be able to talk at all. He would have to learn to call him Reverend Moon.

‘History will show if he is the messiah or not Reverend Moon has —’

‘I know, he has the potential of becoming the messiah but now he is in the John the Baptist position. I’ve heard it all before. Why don’t you just come out and say it. It will save us a good twenty-four hours. Don’t give me all the PR lines. I know you believe he’s the messiah.’

‘Well, I have to define what messiah means.’

‘Yeah, he has to be born in Korea between certain years — where’d you get all this information anyway? I could tell you that the messiah has to be 5’5”, have blue eyes and be born in Los Angeles in 1952. How’s that grab ya?’

‘God has revealed certain things to me.’

‘What’d He do, call you on the phone?’

‘Don’t you believe in God?’

‘Don’t try to get off the subject by attacking me. Yes, I believe in God but my God doesn’t go around talking to me. Just answer a simple question: did God call you on the phone?’

‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘Does that mean no?’

‘No, God did not call me on the phone. There, are you satisfied?’

‘Did He send you a telegram?’

Doug broke in. ‘What he means is how does God communicate with you. You said that God revealed certain things to you. How did you receive them?’

How did I receive them? I just knew. ‘I just knew.’

‘Maybe you just knew wrong?’

‘Divine Principle clearly outlines the qualifications for the messiah.’

‘Great, who wrote the Divine Principle?’

‘It was revealed by God.’

Doug looked at Danny. ‘You getting dizzy yet? I told you the Moonies have everything tied up and you can go round and round for ages without getting anywhere.’

Danny sat up and looked at me. ‘It’s no different than my group. We believed our leader was the end-time prophet Why? Because his doctrine said so. I thought God revealed it to me too.’

‘Well, you were misled. Divine Principle talks about that. You were in a cult’

‘And you are in one.’

Alice came in with the milk and my mother trailed in after her.

‘Are you getting sleepy? I brought you some things to sleep in.’ She produced a nightgown and slippers. My eyes popped out of my head. A nightgown no one had worn before. It was so beautiful, so elegant, and slippers. I couldn’t wait to put them on.

‘Where can I change?’ Surely I wasn’t expected to change in front of the men. I had heard that men in deprogrammings humiliated and raped sisters.

Danny and Doug stood to leave.

‘Good-night, Brothers.’

Doug said good-night but Danny couldn’t resist getting in one last little dig. ‘In case you didn’t know, we are not biologically related. Brothers is also not a common slang term — it’s a Moonie word. The sooner you stop talking like a Moonie, the sooner you’ll stop thinking like one. Do me a favour, hey? Every time you use a Moonie word and I stop you, try substituting an English word.’

‘Okay, good-night, Clint Eastwood. How’s that?’

He tossed the pillow at me.

Sara and I were alone. She was cautious but wanted to know how I felt, what I needed, what my fears and anticipations were. There was nothing about her or any of the others that would cause me to distrust them. I could see that they were sweet and honest people, just misled and being used by satanic forces. Mostly, my mind was on sleep. The opportunity to sleep away from masses of people, in clean bedding, in a quiet house, in my own nightdress, close to my parents — it was too much of a luxury to put off.

Sara asked if I would mind if she and Jill slept in the room with me. I laughed. Would I mind having only two sisters in the room with me? I was under the covers in a flash and the light was turned out. They left the door ajar. They were going to sit in the kitchen for a while and come to sleep later. Mom came in to say good-night. I made her promise me one last time that she would not leave for New York that she would be there when I awoke in the morning. I don’t remember if she left before I fell asleep.

With the window boarded over and no sunlight, I had no idea what time it was. By habit, I was completely awake. From totally off to totally on in a millisecond. I tried to fall asleep again but it was useless. I’d have to get up sometime and face the music. This was Sunday. I had probably missed Pledge. I couldn’t muster my thoughts to say a proper Pledge but I started in on a short prayer. Security and anxiety were marbled in my heart As long as we talked about Principle, I would be safe. They were not united and they did not have God’s truth. There was no way they could harm me. It would just be a matter of time. Sara came in.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. I just came in to find my brush.’

‘It’s okay, I just woke up before you came in. What time is it anyway?’

‘Ten o’clock. Bet you’ve never had such a good sleep in the cult.’

Cult! That word hurled frustration, fear and anger at me. I stood up quickly and began to fold my bedding.

‘You want to take a shower?’

‘Yes, thank you. If I may.’

Sara showed me across the hall. What a luxurious bathroom. I felt like a princess. A fresh set of towels were set out for me and everything was spotless. A new toothbrush and a new tube of toothpaste, a hairbrush, even some cosmetics. I turned the shower on full blast. Sara yelled through the door.

‘There’s plenty of hot water. Let’s forget about the cold shower conditions, okay?’

‘Okay!’ How did she know about conditions? She obviously didn’t know very much. I couldn’t set a condition without clearing it with a central figure anyway. I stepped into the shower. Ah, I would have a hard time stepping out again. I watched the steam escape through a small window. I remembered in The Collector that the woman had thrown a note out the window in hopes that someone would pass by and read it. Maybe I could do that. But what good would it do? I was in the Fallen World now. Even if I could squeeze out the window and run away, to the police maybe, they’d just bring me back here. In Satan’s world who would help a Family member? I would have to work it another way. I didn’t have enough mental power to consider the future anyway. It was all I could do to concentrate on the present I was being bombarded with new-old sensations, the things in the bathroom, the cleanliness, the newness, the freshness, the comfort and security. I was reluctant to turn off the shower. My mother came in and talked to me through the shower door. She wanted to know if I needed shampoo or anything else. If nothing else, it was overwhelming to be with her in circumstances that seemed so normal. It was like being on holiday. Maybe I could postpone the inevitable confrontation. I felt a surge of energy and wanted to crow with pleasure. Sleeping until ten o’clock!

Mom brought me some clothes to change into, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It felt deliciously wonderful and forbidden to wear them. I asked permission to keep the slippers on. She gave me a queer look

The bedding was put away and the room was bare again but for one blanket and a pillow. As I dried my hair with a towel, Danny asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I wasn’t in the mood for eating. We decided on coffee.

He brought it in and went out again for his Bible. Doug carried in a small case of papers. They wanted to talk about fundraising. Fair enough. Doug had been on MFT. I couldn’t understand why he asked me questions he already knew the answers to — questions about the Economic Restoration. It was as boring as giving lecture to answer him.

They couldn’t do anything to dislodge the truth. After all, they had nothing better to offer. Nothing better than beer, cigarettes, divorce — the Fallen World. I remembered how Larry had told me that even if God did not exist and if Father wasn’t the messiah, the gathering of dedicated people giving endlessly of themselves was bound to be the best thing yet.

‘Why do you lie on the streets when you beg money from people?’ Sara entered into our discussion.

‘I don’t lie. I never did. Lie about what?’

‘Lie about where the money was going.’

‘Everyone knew I was from the Unification Church. We even wore —’

‘— badges issued by President Salonen,’ Doug. ‘But most people didn’t understand that you were a Moonie. If they ask you outright if you are raising money for Reverend Moon, you deny it, don’t you?’

‘Never! I’m proud of Father. Why would I conceal the truth?’

‘You lied to Tom Evans.’ Now my mother. Okay, I made a sales pitch in the gallery of someone who worked with my mother and by the time I realized who he was I couldn’t retract what I had said.

‘Okay, so I lied once.’

‘Once!’ Everyone cried out in unison.

I was not hurt for myself. I was trying to shield Father from their attack. Nothing they could say or do to me would worry me, but they must not blaspheme.

Sara said, You don’t even know when you’re lying and when you’re not. You weren’t like that before. Somebody taught you a little trick called Heavenly Deception.’ Danny chimed in, Yeah, we did the same thing in the Children of God but we called it Spoiling Egypt.’

Sara continued ‘And in Scientology they call it Fair Game and in the Divine Light Mission they call it something else and I call it a con game. How could you tell people the truth about where the money was going when you don’t even know yourself? What about your little 40-day condition that was extended? Where did that money go?’

How did she know about that? I told her what I had found out. The money went to buy some land.

‘That land was already paid for, honey. The money you raised went straight into Moon’s pocket for some little private business deals. Wake up, Erica, you’ve been had.’

I turned to Doug. ‘You know the importance of fundraising. It is to pay indemnity. We have to restore tribal, national and other levels.’

Doug turned to his case of papers and fished out a page from Master Speaks. He read to me from it that Father said all of that indemnity was paid already. I demanded to see the page. Master Speaks. The first thing that hit me seeing it was the format of the page. The familiarity of it energized me. He snatched it back.

‘Don’t space out on me. I know you are visually programmed. The sight of the thing reinforces your programming. Just read these lines.’

I read them. How did I know the paper wasn’t a forgery. ‘Mother, how could you want me to believe people as low as these. Look at Sara. Look at the way she’s dressed, the way she speaks.’ Sara stiffened.

‘Please don’t smoke in front of me either,’ I demanded. How satanic to fill the room with smoke. She didn’t say a word, just stubbed out her cigarette and put the ashtray outside the door.

‘I won’t smoke in front of you if it bothers you but I’ll tell you this, you spoiled brat, it’s not the smoke that bothers you. It’s this holier-than-thou little goodie-two-shoes routine of yours. Why don’t you come back down to earth with the rest of us mortals. You can’t even answer simple questions. How thin your perfection is when you’re outside your self-centred cult. You think you’ve become more God-like? Is God so arrogant? You think you’re saving the world with Moon’s money? What do you know about responsibility? Do you tend the sick, the poor, do you ever pay income tax?’

‘I’m a missionary without income. I have nothing to pay tax on.’

‘Maybe, but you have to file every year with the government anyway. When was the last time you filed?’

‘Okay, so I didn’t file last year, big deal.’

The morning dragged on. They kept talking from man’s point-of-view. I kept talking from God’s point-of-view.

We broke for lunch and, while we ate at least, the crew eased up on me. As soon as I put my plate down, Danny looked over at me through narrowed eyes.

‘So, Moon’s still the messiah, huh?’

I had to fight to keep the food from coming back up. There was just no point going on like this. We could discuss until Satan’s restoration and they still wouldn’t make sense.

‘You can say what you want but you’ll never make me lose my love for Father.’

‘Erica, when we point things out, just assess them as they are, at face value. If the Bible says one thing and Doctrine X contradicts it, then that doctrine is wrong if it claims to be harmonious with the Bible. You click off when anything threatens Moon. You have no ego, no mind of your own. You’ve got two possibilities: a) Moon is the messiah, b) Moon is not the messiah. If it helps you, let’s not say Moon, we’ll say Mr X instead. Now, he’s either the messiah or he’s not. He can’t sort of be the messiah, agreed?’

It took us a long time to get on equal footing. Finally he got me to accept, for the sake of argument, the hypothetical.

‘If he is the messiah, we can all pack up and go home. If he’s not the messiah and has claimed to be, then what is he?’

I couldn’t fill in the blank.

‘If he’s not the messiah and he’s claimed to be, then he’s a fraud. Now, how can we determine if he is or not? Glad you asked that question, folks. Let’s make it really easy on him and not even use the acid test. We’ll just let him cut his own throat. He says that God is eternal, absolute and unchanging, further that he is the second Christ. It follows, seeing as God doesn’t change His mind, Moon must jive with what the first Christ said about Christ’s mission.’

This was not so difficult to accept as the initial point. Once he got rolling, I could follow him after a fashion. As soon as he pulled out the Bible to substantiate what he said, to prove that Jesus and Father did not agree, I was hopelessly lost again. Every time he made a point, I would do a quick scan through Purpose/Fall/Restoration.

I was aware of the binary functioning of my brain. Each question entered and was shuffled off down yes/no corridors until it met the proper answer or a dead end. Something like a pinball machine. I worked the flippers like mad but the balls just rolled down the chute. Danny would send the ball shooting out again and I made the same scan through Principle with the same result. Sometimes a phantom answer would appear but it would vanish either before or after the question passed through. I couldn’t hold both a question that didn’t compute and a phantom answer that didn’t compute. One of them faded as I concentrated on the other.

Danny was well versed in the Bible. If only Kadachi or Alex could have been with me. Surely they would know the answers. There had to be Divine Principle reasons why the Bible was wrong, I just didn’t know them. After a while my attention scattered. When we talked about the Family, I felt my mind become agile again but as soon as Danny started up with his Bible, my brain felt like cotton and my eyelids started to droop.

Some people came in the room quietly like they were entering a theatre after the show had started. I felt like I was on the operating table in an arena for medical students. Bright lights and someone saying, ‘Here we see the soul exposed, badly lacerated. The heart is bleeding and the mind is twisted. Some of this will be corrected through surgery but the patient will probably never be healthy again.’

One of the visitors, a middle-aged man with a kind face picked up Danny’s Bible and leafed through it. I braced myself for a raging born-again argument ‘You believe you’re doing God’s will, don’t you?’ Probably next he was going to ask me if I knew God’s will by telephone or telegram. I set my jaw. It’s too long a story to explain — if I told you that I know God when I see Father, you’d never understand.

‘You’d do whatever Moon asked you to, wouldn’t you?’ ‘He would never ask me to do anything that was not the will of God.’

‘What if he asked you to kill your mother?’

‘ — ’

‘Why don’t you answer me?’

‘ — ’

‘Forget about answering that question. Your silence tells me what I really wanted to know: you actually have to sit and think about whether or not you’d kill your mother if a man told you to. A man, Erica, not a god, and you are under his control.’

He snatched up the Bible. The sound of the turning pages was like trees falling in the forest.

‘“If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his own family, he has disowned the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” The Bible says to help the poor, to help other people. Jesus didn’t tell his followers to give Him their possessions. He told them to distribute them among the needy. Do you believe that is a good thing to do?’

I nodded.

‘Well, then, that makes you better than True Father, doesn’t it? You want to give to the poor and your messiah only wants to take everything for himself.’

I was too weary to begin to explain to him the meaning of the Economic Restoration. When Jesus was on earth, it was the mission of the messiah to serve mankind. For the Second Coming, it became the duty of mankind to serve the messiah.

He wouldn’t let go of that point. That makes you a better person than your Master of the Universe, doesn’t it?

‘You have more compassion than he does. You don’t see anything wrong with him keeping everything for himself?’

I thought back to Father’s visit that had left me so desolated. I remembered that the brothers and sisters from the centres drove through the night to get back to their centres and sleep only an hour or two before having to drive back for Father’s morning address. Meanwhile, Father was sleeping in silk sheets. He could have at least let them sleep in the garage. One driver fell asleep and his van had gotten into an accident.

I began to cry. The man holding the Bible was looking at me waiting for an answer. I couldn’t speak. He put the Bible down and cradled me. So long I had been giving, giving, giving everything I had. He rocked me gently and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, baby, we’re right here. Don’t be afraid. We’re all going to see you through this, doll.’ He didn’t try to hush me, he just let me cry. I tried picturing True Father in my mind but I could not see him comforting me like this. I couldn’t believe that even in the Spirit World he was beside me. All I knew was the here-and-now of things and their realness. Fear gripped me — so this is how Satan would win me — with confusion, with trying to soften the warrior in me.

I heard myself make the man promise he would come back the following day. When he went to the door, I got up and extended my hand, Moonie-style, to shake hands with him. He grabbed me in a bear hug and ruffled my hair, ‘You’re gonna be all right, kid.’

With the others, discussions went on without either side gaining. I retreated under the blanket. Only my head showed, propped on the pillow. Doug and Sara and Jill continued. They would go through a point and ask me to clarify my side of it. I had just not studied enough, not read enough Master Speaks. There were answers to these things but I did not know them. The things they asked me didn’t matter. I believed in Father.

Sara asked me, ‘What I want to know is why you need so much proof to get out of the group. Lord knows you didn’t need any proof to get into it If I ask you if two plus two is five, do you need to look it up? No! You just use the common sense you had as a child. So why, if I show you things that don’t add up by Moon’s system, can’t you see it?’

Danny came over and ripped the blanket off me. ‘It’s the dead of summer, you know. The rest of us are sweating. What are you, a foetus? Sit up and join the human race.’

I grabbed the corner of the blanket and we each tugged our end of it. ‘Well, I see you have enough strength to fight for your baby blanket, don’t you have enough strength to fight for your mind? We’ve been sitting here hour after hour force-feeding you. Where’s your interest? Some disciple you are. Let’s assume that Moon is the messiah and we’re satanic. Don’t you have a lot to learn from us? You should be picking our brains for all we’ve got, go back to your cult and show them the blueprint of the opposition. You’re a lousy Moonie, I’ll say, and you’re not much of a human being. Your brain doesn’t work. We ask a simple question and you either space out or tell us something Moon said. I think we might as well just cover you up with this blanket and stick you six feet under, babe.’

He smiled. ‘But it’d be a shame, ’cause I know you’re in there, somewhere. I know because I’ve been through it. I’m only tough on you because someone’s gotta do it, otherwise we’d sit here playing games. Honest, I’m really a decent guy.’ We both started laughing. ‘We drew straws to see who would play the part of the heavie. Doug and I were arguing about it, weren’t we bro? We both accused the other of getting the part last time. I’ll tell you what, you think he’s sweet? He can be a worse son-of-a-bitch than I.’ That was signal for them to start rough-housing. We all needed a break. I went to the bathroom.

I closed the bathroom door. I’d had chances to be alone for a few moments like this in the Family but it wasn’t the same. I was never alone-alone. I looked at myself in the mirror, something I so rarely did that I knew Father’s face better than I knew my own. I noticed my locket. It had been given to me by Maria and was engraved: ITPN. In True Parents’ Name. Kadachi-san explained to me that it was blasphemy to abbreviate Parents’ name even in that much-used phrase that we signed our letters with. I wore it with some embarrassment but refused to take it off because it was given to me by my spiritual child. Maria got kicked out of the Family. Dr Baum ordered me not to talk to her anymore, even when she called up desperate to be allowed back into the Family. She was so exhausted after Yankee Stadium that she had stayed in bed for three days and Dr Baum turned her out for a problem of attitude. It tore me in two to have to refuse to come to the telephone when she called up pleading.

I unlocked the chain. That same chain had once held the cross given to me by Father Peter. Reverend Kropf made me remove it because the cross was a symbol of Satan’s victory. Inside the locket were pictures of Father and Mother. I looked at them.

I had heard that deprogrammers were likely to deface pictures of Parents and nothing could be worse, but I liked them all — even, perhaps especially, Danny. Deprogrammers could torture brothers and sisters but we had to protect Parents to the death. I removed the pictures and swallowed them to save them from harm. Everything was out of focus in my mind. As we talked in the room, the obvious Principle answers were in my mind. They were my mind. But at some point, I don’t know when, a second answer started to appear, a phantom that would hover and then disappear like the tiny stars you can only see if you look slightly away from them. The two answers would passively cancel one another and only the question would remain until I could no longer remember it. I looked at the locket in my hand. I was of two minds, two hearts. It seemed a millstone around my neck. I left it on the toilet tank.

‘Let’s talk about this messiah of yours,’ Sara. ‘Do you know anything about his past?’

I did. He had seen Jesus when he was sixteen, had been in prison before he began his ministry.

‘Did you know that the university where he claims to have gotten a degree in electrical engineering has no record of him? No record by either name. His real name isn’t Sun Myung Moon, you know. He changed it from a name that means shining dragon — sounds more like the Beast than the messiah. He’s been married before, arrested for indecent acts. He’s a common thug, a businessman, a criminal. He’s a pimp and he’s got kids like you out on the street hustling for him. He even claims to be a Jew, doesn’t he?’

‘Well, a descendant of the House of David. I guess that would make him a Jew.’

‘Funny since he claims that the Orientals are descendants of Japheth and the Jews of Shem. How do you feel about him saying that the six million who died under Hitler died because it was God’s will. This coming from a Jew.’

‘You answer that yourself. You’re the guys who claim to have all the answers.’

‘Sit up,’ Sara urged. ‘Come on, don’t cop out now. You should be defending your faith. There’s nothing wrong with thinking about things. Think! If you’re trying to find the answer in the DP, you won’t find it because the answer is just not there. Two and two will never equal five.’

My mind was elsewhere. I looked at the stack of papers. The reverse of an article we had just read was on the top of the heap. It showed a reproduction of a painting of Jesus on the cross. It was exquisite. It reminded me of the fresco I used to study in the Greek Orthodox cathedral Jesus of infinite tenderness and dignity, Jesus who by His deeds gave meaning to life. Across the stack on another part of the floor was a picture of Reverend Moon. His pudgy, glistening face peered up at me. My eyes went from one to the other, from Jesus to Reverend Moon and back again.

Sara and the others seemed at a standstill. Sara picked up the Bible and leafed through it. She stopped at a page in Genesis and handed the book to me. ‘Read that. Start with Genesis 2:24.’

I read aloud: ‘Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh. And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed. Now the serpent was more subtle than any other —’

‘Stop right there,’ said Sara.

I looked up at her.

‘Don’t you see it? Adam and Eve were husband and wife before the Fall, not brother and sister; husband and wife, one flesh. They did not fall because they had sex before becoming perfect. And further, Lucifer fell before them because it says that Eve was tempted by a serpent, not the Archangel.’

I looked back at the page. My vision sharpened with an almost audible click. My face burned, my blood was pounding through my body. I looked back up at her. Sara was waiting.

What happened next happened clearly, frame by frame, but was all contained in a split second.

What was spectacular was not the question nor the answer but a total sensation that I had to acknowledge and identify. Doubt, I called it. Doubt. Perhaps I could entertain the possibility that what they were saying was true. I felt myself peering over a cliff. The abyss was so without light and without bottom that the shock weakened me. I feared I would fall and equally feared remaining on the edge. But no sooner did the shock seize me than I found myself on the opposite side.

The split second came as I was handing the Bible back to Sara. ‘Well, then, what was the Fall?’

‘I’ll tell you my interpretation but there are many. Everyone in this house would tell you something different and some don’t even have an opinion or couldn’t care less. That’s all okay. That’s what life’s about.’

It never occurred to me that people could have different opinions or no opinion at all. I was sure that these people would try to destroy the Divine Principle and then unveil their truth. Subconsciously, I must have believed that it would be the antithesis of goodness and that ... what a totally astounding idea that I could choose what I wanted to believe. This last idea came as Sara explained that there was no rush on truth, that I would have the rest of my life to think about things. Still, most of my mind believed that the non-Family force had the scoop on the Fall.

Sara handed me back the Bible and pointed to Genesis 3:5. It read: ‘For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’

She stated simply, ‘If you are tempted to place yourself in the throne of power you lose your innocence and you learn the true nature of good and evil.’

At dinner-time my face was still burning. The message came in from the kitchen to find out what I wanted to drink with dinner – milk, juice, water, coke.

‘Make it a gin and tonic.’

‘Getta load of her,’ Danny nudged Doug. ‘Queen-for-a-Day is having herself a drink. Hey, no drinking on the job.’

‘Well then, we’ll take a break — and while we’re at it we can call a truce until dinner’s over. What do you say? I won’t call you Clint Eastwood and you won’t ask me if Reverend Moon is the messiah.’

I felt frisky and in a mood for celebrating something but I had nothing to celebrate. I didn’t want to cope with anything. I concentrated on my dinner.

‘Compliments to the chef!’ I called out. ‘Must’ve been you, Mom, no one cooks like you.’

Different sensations were rushing me, things I’d never known could be sensations — like spontaneity. Not checking the catalogue in my brain before or after a thought or action. Sara sat next to me with her plate.

‘Yeah, your mom is a great cook. I’ll tell you, she’s a great lady. Sure it was easy for you to make the choice between your family and the cult because you never lose your family so it’s not a real choice. You can cut them off, mistreat them, but they always love you. Moon wouldn’t know you if he tripped over you. You couldn’t get through to him on the phone now if you wanted him to come and rescue you. But your real parents? They’d go through anything to rescue you and believe me, they already have. I know you couldn’t have looked your mother in the face and told her that Mrs Moon is your True Mother. You’ve got a lot to learn about parenthood. You know how Moon is always saying that his members are more loving than anyone else and they have ‘Parental Heart’ — honey, you could never fathom what real caring is. You’ve been in a make-believe world. Moon used you. Your parents never stopped caring, never gave up on you.’

My tears were hot They had nothing to do with what she was saying. The thought of my mother’s love made me feel that I could love myself, forgive myself, cleanse myself of the never-ending guilt I had felt in the Family. For once I could feel that I had given of myself, that I was a good person. No matter what Sara said, I was not a spoiled brat. I was sincerely trying to do the best thing. I felt the two of me, one pitiful and the other pitying.

Doug joined us. He had a VOC lecture book in his hand. ‘You know, what really gets me is how you went on and on so self-righteously about Moon being against communism. What do you or anyone else in the group really know about it? Did you know that Moon uses the identical methods of indoctrination? You have the world so sharply divided between Satan and God, black and white. Do you think that fascism is any better than communism? Was Hitler any better than Stalin? I can see the Moonies on trial saying, “I was only following orders”. What about democracy?’ He paused and fished in his case for some papers.

‘You need only one error in the Divine Principle to make it false. We’ve shown you hundreds. It’s a strange thing about mind control — if you demolish most of the doctrine and leave just a tiny bit standing, the mind hangs onto it.’

Evening brought another guest. Mom had been talking about a young man who had been deprogrammed from the Divine Light Mission. She was glad that he had been able to arrange the time to come and talk with me. He talked about his job, asked how I was feeling, stayed away from heavy subjects. It was hard for me to remember how conversations were supposed to go. By the time he got to the end of a question, I had forgotten the first part of it. He sensed that I was bleary.

He set up a tape recorder for me to hear a speech by his former guru. A man with a funny accent was saying something like: when you have evil thoughts, push them out of your mind. Because your mind troubles you, give it to me. It won’t trouble me.

The young man rolled his eyes ceiling-ward. We all laughed yet it was a frightening tape. How could you be told what and what not to think? Imagine someone telling people not to use their —

Father ‘I am your thinker. I am your brain.’

Lectures: Have no give and take with negative thoughts.

It suddenly wasn’t so funny. Change the accent a little and —

The young man nodded when I looked up at him with this realization spilling out of me. The room was filled with people. Such a small room, so many conversations like a cocktail party. No one noticed the crucial understanding in that exchanged glance. It didn’t matter. In the Family everything had to be noticed, examined, accounted for and nothing belonged to me. It was always public knowledge, any private thought. This understanding was for me alone, accountable to me, a me exists. In the Family everything was given equally ultimate significance. Things do have different values. So no one noticed me. So what.

I was resting my head in my mother’s lap and she stroked my hair distractedly. She was engrossed in a conversation with Doug. Jill and Sara were laughing about something in the corner. The others were getting up to go into the kitchen. The young man from the Indian cult stretched out between my mother and the wall.

Why hadn’t Father told us about these other groups — so many of them? Sara had read me the testimonies of people I thought were all ex-Family members. Turns out they were from several other groups. All else aside, Father should have explained to us the truth about cults and mind control for our own sake.

‘Would you like to go out with me sometime?’ The young man had a nice smile.

I laughed. ‘Under the circumstances, that’s a very tempting offer.’ The escape I had wanted. I was surprised when I found myself telling him to call me at my mother’s house to arrange a date. Would I be living there?

‘Wherever you are, I’ll find you. All the employees where I work are going to Disneyland for an evening, you know, when they close the park down for a private party. Would you like to do something like that?’

Be anonymous again? Be a part of life with no one looking over my shoulder? Laugh at simple things?

How had it happened? It seemed that as soon as I entertained the possibility of something other than Principle, my prison vanished. I was free. Confused but free.

What about True Parents? I loved Father and could see him accusing me of being Judas. I pictured the photos from the locket. I visualized the image of Parents deep inside me. They would stay there until I dealt with them later. I would deal with everything later.

Before I fell asleep, Jill came in. She sat down where I was snuggled under the covers. ‘Know what I did the other night? I went down to the ocean. I kicked off my shoes and walked along the shore. I found a place to sit and I just sat there feeling the wind on my face, listening to the waves, smelling the salt air, letting the feeling of the sea surround me. I thought to myself: I am free. I can think anything I want.’

I was jealous of her. How wonderful to go to the sea. To sit at the shore and belong to no one. That most sacred and private place between me and me had been violated. I wanted the salt air to cleanse me, renew me.

What do you do when a huge section of your life is spliced out and the two ends fit neatly back together as if that time had never been — when you wonder where that lost time went but you’re still in it like a phantom — when you wonder who that other person in the time spliced out was but at the same time realize that that other person is the most familiar core of what you are made of — when you are relieved to the point of euphoria and terrified at the same time (both for no apparent reason and for endless reasons) — when you can’t go back to being that old self at the past end of the splice and certainly aren’t the self you haven’t been yet at the future end — and the reality of the matters at hand is so crushing that it requires the equivalent of a session of parliament in your brain to decide if you want a cup of coffee and when none of that really matters because everything emanates a calm like the warbling of birds after the bombing has stopped and you know the bombs will never fall again.

Another good night of sleep. In the morning we breakfasted and talked. I was aware that I no longer had any opinions about anything. I was blank. The blast had taken everything out by the roots. I was amazed that Danny and Doug disagreed on various things. The outside world was now my world and it was not united. Doug was talking to me about switching over from my absolutist frame of mind. He said that the doctrine wasn’t so important but the way I thought. Not which things were painted black and which were painted white, because these varied from cult to cult. All ex-members, he said, had to get away from thinking in black-and-white terms and start looking at the shades of grey. I was miles ahead of him. I was dealing with technicolour. Let out of a dark hole into the blazing sunlight, the eyes of my mind winced closed.

I didn’t want to leave the deprogramming room for the time. I didn’t feel deprogrammed. I was to learn that deprogramming only starts the mind thinking again, asking questions. It doesn’t provide the answers.

I was brought into the living room. The team was relaxed, limbs draped over the furniture, every comment followed by a soft round of chuckles. The world had never looked so wholesome, so inviting. It seemed that milk and honey, or sunlight or some tangible substance of peace was flowing out of everything.

Dana and his wife stopped by. They were on their way back to France. Dana told me a little bit about the concerts he was doing. His wife told me about her dress when I admired it. Alice showed me pictures of her children. Tears still formed in her eyes when she looked at me and several times she put her arm around me to say what she couldn’t find words for. She promised me that I would have a wonderful life. I hoped I didn’t look to her like someone who needed a glass of warm milk. The drifts of conversation carried jokes and casual swearing I found offensive. It was all too much for a mind that was racing nowhere fast. I wandered back into the deprogramming room and curled up on the floor with the pillow. Danny followed me in and plunked himself down.

‘Wanna talk?’

‘Sure.’

I didn’t, really. I just wanted to absorb the racing.

‘Spit it out.’

It wasn’t a matter of spitting, it was a matter of running to all the vast frontiers of my brain at once with a sieve to catch evaporating thoughts. It came out something like this:

‘Dan, I want you to watch me. I think I might be too clever, like I might be fooling you — or me — or something. I want to be deprogrammed or not deprogrammed. Maybe you know what I mean.’

‘Sorry, lady, I know what you’re going through but I can’t help you. You have to do this one alone. The ball, as they say, is in your court.’

‘What did you do after you left the Children of God?’

‘Why, so you can do the same? Sorry, I ain’t gonna be your new messiah. Besides, I don’t think you’d want to do what I did. When I found out that Moses David wasn’t the end-time prophet, I got sick. I just started to vomit. I was in bed shivering and sweating and Sara stayed up with me. It was a long time before I could go back and understand what had happened. I floated a lot. Floating means when you snap back into your programme. You’re probably not far enough out to snap back into it but when you do — it’s an eerie feeling —’

‘Like being back in the cult but not being there? Like phantoms?’

‘Like phantoms.’

Danny stood up and moved for the door. ‘Piecing things back together takes a long time. You have to learn to be patient with yourself — like when you get your leg out of a cast, you can’t run on it right away.’

I could hear the others laughing in the living room. I stared at the carpet. My senses were like bees out of the hive. I could see the carpet. The blue was so intense I could almost hear it. I could take the feel of it under my hands. I could feel my heart beat. A few moments, a few precious moments of awareness. I would have a lifetime of them. Cradling myself I thought no one, no one can ever take this away from me. Yet hadn’t someone already done that? Yes, I would have to have patience even to find the place to begin again.

‘Honey?’ My mother was standing at the door. ‘Can you come here for a minute? We want to ask you something.’ In the next room Chuck was sitting on the bed. Mom shut the door. The floor was piled high with a tangle of clothes spilling out of half-open suitcases. My mother sat on the edge of the bed, choosing her words gingerly.

‘How do you feel?’

‘Like Lazarus. Whatever the question, the answer is probably going to be “why not”?’

‘Erica, we have to decide what you’re going to do now. You know that you have all the time in the world and that we’re always here for you but Sara thinks it would be a good idea for you to go home with her for a while. Some time to rest and learn some more. She has answers we simply don’t have. There is so much more you have to sort out for yourself.’

The thought appealed to me. Of course, just like the ladies in nineteenth-century novels who took a cruise or sojourned at an auntie’s when they were grieving. But on the heels of this came an image of Sara’s house. So many new things to cope with. She would have friends visiting. The thought of having to face anyone new was staggering. Of having to fill my time. If only I could hide away, but where? I didn’t want to see anyone I knew, not even my sister, until I was better. Before I could finish the thought, a tidal wave of tears tore everything loose. They were not tears of self-pity, frustration or grief. They were not tears of relief. They were tears I was born with. I wanted to cry to the bottom of them so I would never have to cry again. I don’t know how long we were there, Mom and Chuck crying too before Sara poked her head in the door.

‘Mind?’ she abbreviated.

Mom and Chuck exited. Sara curled up on the bed.

‘Enough clothes for the first six months, eh? I’ll say. It’s been what, two or three days? You sure don’t travel light ’ I found a sleeve of something to mop my face with.

‘Coming to New York with me?’ Sara never cut any fancy footwork, never introduced a subject. She searched my face. The invitation was sincere.

I grinned. ‘When do we leave?’

pages 228-236

When you hurt yourself somehow, fall down or get in a fight, you walk away thinking you’re feeling pain until you wake up the next morning and the soreness has set in and you puff up and turn every colour of the rainbow. I was going along for a while thinking, jeez, there’s not much to this when the shock wave returned from its journey of reverberation and smacked me. I was so bottomed-out physically that I didn’t get to the mental problems for a long time.

Most of the first month I slept I’d get up at ten and be back in bed by three in the afternoon. It was hot and humid. I shared Sara’s bedroom, a converted attic. There were windows at both ends under the eaves and the heavy summer wind passed through the room. Whenever I closed my eyes and put my head on the pillow, I felt I was falling into a thick darkness with such a strong force that there was no way to hold back. Sleep locked me into a blackness violently swarming with images. I would wake up screaming or imagining that I had screamed. No matter where she was in the house, Sara would hear me make the slightest stir and would appear at my side to put on the light, smooth down the covers and listen to me until I was quiet again.

It was during that time that I became familiar with a nightmare that recurred for years. A black ocean devoid of life. No matter how far inland I was, the waves would find me and suck me out to the depths. It was not the water that frightened me because I could breathe in it. It wasn’t a fear of sharks or sea monsters. Not even a microbe lived in the sterile inkyness. It was the power and vastness of it.

I was extremely sensitive to light and sounds. Crowds made me dizzy; the faces would blend and I’d grow faint. My memory and attention spans were useless. I couldn’t read or converse for more than a few minutes without getting completely worn down and needing a rest Reading a newspaper article could take an hour. How would I ever catch up on the world since my Rip Van Winkle sleep in the cult? I even had to learn about the things I’d not been isolated from but merely blanked out of my perception like the changes in clothing styles.

Sara had to keep reminding me to think for myself, to not look to her for opinions, to not soak up whatever I heard. But she had little trouble getting me to try new things. Boating, skating, concerts, dancing, water-skiing — but not all things came easily. Remembering how I had served Kadachi-san and all the guests at headquarters house soft drinks and had never been allowed to drink something so fine myself, I swore I’d drink the stuff until I burst In the cult I had served from bottles and didn’t know that drink cans had since changed and were manufactured with pop tabs. I saw the cans in the fridge and balked. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to figure out how to open one and didn’t venture to try for several months. I never knew when I would excel and when I would fail, when the next step would be on rotten floorboards or on no floor at all. I glossed over with what I hoped was a sophisticated appearance by remembering things from the old Erica.

Sara read me as if I had neon signs flashing what I needed. When something needed to be resolved, she never hesitated to draw me into discussion but dancing the polka at Polish weddings, sitting on the front stoop eating watermelon, taking a martini break from a shopping spree, washing the dog and chasing each other around the yard with the hose — these did more for me than years of psychotherapy ever could have.

I shuddered to think if I had been institutionalized instead of deprogrammed I would have been in a hospital for years getting worse. Sara knew what she was doing. She had first gotten involved when her brother fell prey to a nomadic cult and disappeared. He got arrested hundreds of miles away and when they went to claim him, they found a total stranger who spoke in Bible verse, wore a long robe and had been surviving by scrounging food from garbage tins. After straightening him out, handling a Moonie was a piece of cake.

She took me out to meet people — seemed like she knew everyone in the whole state. We gave talks about mind control. We’d pull into a small town, talk to the school kids, the local paper, the service club luncheon and then have the whole town turn out in the evening to hear us speak at the church. What a welcome to the Fallen World! Total strangers listening to me with tears in their eyes, pinching my cheeks, giving me their addresses in case I ever needed them for anything. The warmth and attention were wonderful but I started to feel like a circus exhibit.

Sara started doing deprogrammings at home. It was my turn to say: I’ve been in your shoes. Every time I watched a deprogramming, another huge burden was lifted. They didn’t all break out of mind control in the same way. Kara from Ananda Marga let out screams that shook the house and Billy from The Way calmly balanced his Bible on his knee, took off his spectacles to wipe them and observed, ‘Well, it certainly appears that I’ve been deceived.’ Some said nothing but flushed in stunned silence. It was always miraculous to see the real person suddenly rush into the robot shell.

We worked together on floating until each person learned to handle it alone. We recognized the symptoms in one another instantly and instinctively. Sometimes the eyes would glaze over or the person would drop out of conversation. My own mind was like a minefield. I never knew when I’d trip an explosion. Sometimes I’d catch it like a contact high from one of the others, sometimes a phrase, a snatch of a song, maybe an unresolved bit of doctrine and always parking lots. Going to stores was a trial. I’d automatically check the lot for the flow, for the clues from Spirit World. If no one else was around, I’d work myself into a panic. I’d think what if, what if. If they are right, I’ve been deceived by Satan. My mind would start pacing and sniffing its old haunt, Purpose/Fall/ Restoration, and I’d snap back, or only half snap back and be spread between here and nowhere.

The thing to do was trace the floating back and resolve the problem that had triggered it In the cult they told us to cut off doubt Sara encouraged it Challenge, weigh, delve, decide. In the cult they told us that everything about the other world was evil. Sara told us not to destroy our good memories and benefits from the cult, people we loved, things we had learned and overcome.

Floating was only the punctuation, not the constant

The constant was exhilaration. The intensity of it was sure to illuminate the rest of my life. Every time I encountered something, I considered it as if I had never known of it before. There is an essence one can sometimes feel for a quiver of a moment when he looks at the stars. I felt that all the time. The smallest thing was not without its glory. Being able to sit down without permission, without guilt Buying a postage stamp with my own money and being able to send a letter of my very own thoughts to anyone. Feeling the wind, seeing the buildings, smelling the earth, letting my imagination run free. And being able to say no.

This expanding, more than anything else, combated floating. I simply could not fit back into that narrow mental slot. When I realized that, I knew that even though I was not completely healed, it was time for me to get back into the world.

I was prepared to enter society at the bottom rung, having been used to meeting handicaps that I never knew I had until I found myself in a situation for which I was not equipped. It took me a long time to realize that part of my handicap at this stage was being too advanced. By having met my weaknesses and shortcomings I had become stronger and wiser than most people who simply refused to admit to human frailty. I kept thinking I was wrong because I didn’t fit in but it was still the same old world that didn’t make sense.

There were practical problems that hit me left and right How to explain that blank in my resume when applying for a job. Say that I was off on independent study in some remote place or tell the truth and risk losing out on the job? Getting a driver’s licence, opening a bank account, getting references to rent a flat — meeting new people, especially dating, I always wondered if I should tell the story or not If I didn’t tell it, I would remain a stranger and if I did, I’d have to tell the whole thing knowing that when I’d finished, the person was not likely to have changed his view that cults are harmless groups of people who are better off where they are. When I was speaking to groups in New York, the people had been friendly because they pitied me. Now I was learning that no one really understood.

One of my old friends invited me to a high school reunion party. I mingled: a singer, a local politician, a craftsman, a journalist One woman arrived late. The talk quieted down as she made her entrance and hellos. ‘Sorry I’m late, guys. You’ll never believe what held me up. I stopped at a gas station and some Moonie came up trying to sell me flowers!’

The whole room burst into laughter. I looked down at my drink. The girl I’d been talking to turned to resume the conversation. ‘And what have you been up to since I last saw you, Erica?’

The thing that got me most upset was when people asked why I had become a Moonie and then didn’t notice at all how uncomfortable I was in answering. They’d never think to ask in casual conversation, tell us about how you became a quadriplegic in your motorcycle accident or tell us about watching your best friend get blown to bits in Vietnam and, oh, pass the chips, won’t you?

I found out that my brother had tried to foil the deprogramming. He thought my mother was over-reacting and shouldn’t treat me like a baby by bailing me out of trouble. He thought it was a fad, a phase I’d pass through. He wanted to phone me at the camp to tip me off to get out before she came to get me. Luckily, he wasn’t motivated enough to follow through. When I saw him, I asked him about it He scoffed at the idea that I had been brainwashed. Okay, big brother, what if you are right and I had just happened to, say, be into self-mutilation and your little plan had worked? He was unmoved. According to him, my great failing was that I just hadn’t been cool, hadn’t been doing the in thing, something I was still guilty of. I decided, after a time, to put my thoughts to him in a letter. The letter came back to me. He had scrawled across it ‘I’m rubber, you’re glue ...’ from the rhyme we used to taunt each other with as children ‘… anything you say bounces off me and sticks to you’. Welcome home, sis.

Surely someone would understand. I went to speak to a rabbi who reduced me to tears by ridiculing me for having toyed with Christianity and then to a minister who said I would have never become a Moonie if I had studied Christianity better. Father Peter was too embarrassed to discuss it I was barking up the wrong tree. It wasn’t a religious problem but a psychological one.

I finally came across a lukewarm article on the subject in an obscure publication and wrote to the author. He referred me to the only person he knew who had any knowledge of cults. I went to see this professor and gladly consented to having our talk taped for use in his book. A totally misleading sliver of one of my remarks later appeared in a Moonie PR book. I then heard that this professor was on Moon’s payroll as a functionary at the annual international conference that a Dr Moon with eyeglasses hosts for eminent scientists.

After the Jonestown tragedy, an informational hearing was called in Washington, DC. The Moonie campaign to have the event cancelled did not succeed but they pressured enough that the Moonie president was called to testify and ex-members were not.

Hundreds of Moonies had the place mobbed by dawn. A friend, fearing for my safety, got me into the hearing room before the doors were opened to the public. First the press came in, bright lights, scuffle, equipment being set up, the sound of people filling up the room behind me and then a peculiar and familiar stench. That smell I could never get rid of on the fundraising team. I turned around and saw the entire hall filled with Moonies. As people stood in turn to give their presentations, the Moonies jeered, stomped their feet, hurled insults. Security guards, panelists, press all stiffened at the unpredictability of this confrontation. Wasn’t it the right of a governing body to gather information after the assassination of a congressmen and the death of over 900 others? How many were the Moonies willing to sacrifice to protect themselves? One of the ex-cultists prevented from testifying who had lost her tiny son in the suicide-massacre shook like a leaf when the Moonie president spoke in her stead. The Moonies rose as a man with a deafening cheer.

I wasn’t going to hang around. I pushed my way through the knotted crowd towards a side exit. Almost there but someone was blocking my path. I tapped his shoulder to move him aside. He spun around and faced me. Baum.

‘Erica, it’s-so-good-to-see-you, we’ve-been-so-worried-about-you.’

Yeah, so worried you’ve been losing sleep thinking what deprogrammed fundraisers will do to Moon’s bank account. I tried to step past He kept talking so fast he was spitting.

‘Listen, Sister, I-know-that-you-think-I’m-possessed-by-evil-spirits and we-think-that-you’re-possessed-by-evil-spirits, but-that-doesn’t-mean-that —’

‘Bob,’ I luxuriated in the heresy of addressing him like that and putting my hand on his shoulder, ‘I don’t believe in evil spirits.’

‘What?’ He took in a sharp breath and seemed to grow visibly larger with disbelief and indignation. ‘Well... don’t you believe in God?’ He had on a red and white pinstripe shirt that had an odd optical effect of making him seem to vibrate all the more.

‘You mean a person can’t believe in God without believing in little invisible things running around that make people open their wallets and fall asleep on the highway?’

I still love you, Bob, but not in a way you could understand. Not because doctrine says I must, not to show how super-spiritual I am.

‘I know you weren’t one of those jeering and stomping your feet You were always dignified and knew to turn the other cheek.’

His smile caught me off guard. Then I checked the eyes. They were blazing. ‘Oh, no. Oh, no.’ His head bobbled. ‘Things have changed. The time has come. The course has changed from a passive one to one of aggression. We’re on the offensive now.’

All the times Moon had spoken about military aggression. All the times we listened with our lids fluttering closed, as he droned on in his hypnotic way, punctuating with militaristic words, of battle, of enemy, of charging and crushing, defeating, subjugating, annihilating, of taking over the government, the United Nations, the whole world. Baum had me by both arms. I looked toward the door, searching wildly for a face I knew. Two friends spotted me. They flanked me and moved me through the door into an empty corridor. Baum ran after me, shouting, dancing to himself, trying to pry one of the men loose.

‘Leave her alone, Baum, can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk to you?’

‘Never mind that. You have to answer to a few things, Erica. What about this article in Newsweek? Why did you lie, Erica? Why are you saying things about us that you know aren’t true? You can’t do that, you can’t get away with it.’ He had his lips peeled back, lunging forward at every question. What did he intend to do about it? The press had already gone for the story about suicide training in the Moonies, about members being taught how to slash their wrists. Ex-members everywhere were crawling out of the woodwork. I wasn’t the only one talking.

Off the corridor behind one of the endless unmarked doors we stood. We’d ditched Baum. I was shaking. I sank into a chair.

I was shaking because I knew that but for a flick of fate, Baum and I could have traded places.

And by that same fate I had once been a model Moonie, a hard-liner like Baum. Would I not have made a model Nazi? Had not both the victim and the victimizer lived within me? Was I not now cast out forever from the innocence I once enjoyed? Moon had held out the forbidden fruit and my eyes had been opened to know good and evil.

#FFWPU #Family Federation for World Peace and Unification #Moonies #Unification Church #Sun Myung Moon #Erica Heftmann

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juunshua · 6 years

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I think people underestimate how many idols pass their auditions despite being basically tone-deaf. I think a lot of the early vocal-training just focuses on being on tune except for the main singers. Some people in svts vocal-team obviously aren't pros when it comes to technique. That doesn't mean that they're not great people with lot of potential, or that people aren't allowed to love their voice as it is, so I hope people don't take offense to this. Because technique ≠ objective beauty!!

while i would hesitate to call them ‘tone-deaf,’ i do agree that when auditioning for a company, perhaps if they claimed their forte was ‘dancing’ or ‘rapping’ instead of ‘singing,’ there may have been idols who have struggled with that aspect, the same as when idols who didn’t know much about dancing just clapped their hands to the beat and were often accepted. but companies know this. its their responsibility to ‘groom’ these trainees they accept to become idols and that often entails things like dance practice and vocal lessons. what you’re saying about ‘early vocal-training’ and how it focuses on being on tune, it just confuses me that if a company has a trained professional certified vocal trainer work for them, why such a person would only focus on being on tune because singing is far more complex than just that. learning how to breathe properly is literally the first step of singing, and the way that most idols sing these days, its as if they’ve never even received this simple lesson. and along with that, voice classification is also an important first step for singing so vocalists know and are aware of the limitations of their voice, but why does it seem like so many baritones out there don’t seem to know that they are baritones? and blame themselves for the inability to hit high notes with the same ease as tenors? when its not their fault at all. ive helped one of my old orchestra teachers for many summers teach children how to play string instruments and the first thing we teach them is not how to put fingers down on the violin and play notes, but instead how to hold their instrument properly, how to hold their bow properly, how to sit properly etcetc and we do a lot of exercises with that in mind. im no music major and i have not a degree in teaching music but i know as a violinist what things will benefit my students if they adopt these good habits now rather than trying to fix them later. it should be the same for vocal teachers too i dont think i would understand the reason why actual educated vocal instructors would try to teach their students how to sing without teaching them a lot of important basics. singing in tune is important yes, singing on the beat is also important yes, but along with those first steps in music should also be a basic understanding of the instrument youre working with and how to best take care of it so you dont injure it or yourself, which is something i feel many idols don’t have.i honestly believe that everyone has the potential to be a decent vocalist if they have the proper mentorship and work ethic so yes i agree, even if svts vocal unit, or svt in general, are struggling in the technique department, it doesnt mean that they cant adopt it and learn from it and improve…but thats also partially why its so frustrating ahaha they can improve but they dont and just stick to their confines of societal expectations of a good singer which is one that is again: loud, high and “stable.” the room for improvement with that mentality i think is a bit limited honestly for me, its always the vocalists who have shown that they know what vocal technique is, that i am always the most excited for improvement because i know that they know how to improve. also i agree that you’re allowed to love whatever voice color you want even if theyre not the best vocalist. in terms of color, i really love yooa’s voice from oh my girl even if she doesnt really know how to support ahah her voice in ‘cupid’ was the whole reason i biased her tbqh, and even though kyuhyun is redeemed as a fantastic vocalist, his vibrato bothers me quite a bit and i much prefer ryeowooks vocal color and voice in general over his. same with exo i prefer baekhyun/kyungsoo over chen even though chen is the more technically advanced. enjoying someones voice as it is is fine, everyone has different preferences when it comes to the type of voice they want to hear and thats all fair and good.however, yes while “technique ≠ objective beauty,” as beauty truly isnt ever going to be objective as it is dependent on personal preferences as well as societal expectations, i think a reverse/modified version of that statement should be considered as well: “subjective beauty ≠ technique.” ive seen in many fandoms, carats included, where someone tries to ‘justify’ the reason they like someone’s voice as being because they have ‘great technique’ when thats just…not the case at all. its okay if you like ur favs voice and they don’t have great technique, just try not to attribute something to someone that isnt there and please recognize someones hard work and skill when it is there. in the end my whole stance on vocal technique is that it should be something that more idols should try to adopt because its only better for the health of their vocal cords. many idols want longevity, esp those who focus on singing, it would be a shame if they were to seriously injure their voice especially since its the one instrument that you really cant exactly buy a new one of if it ‘breaks.’ singing with technique in mind also opens up a lot of other doors, such as versatility, dynamics, overall control of your voice, etc. like it just increases the musicality of every vocal performance imo. for instance boo here goes from soft and gentle sounding to more gritty and loud and often goes back and forth between the two sounds and all the intermediates. the changes are very gradual and minute but there if you listen for it and hes able to do this because he knows what he has to do to manipulate his voice to execute the musical interpretation of the song that he chose to sing because he knows what technique is. but it’s not to say that people who sing out there who arent trying to employ technique are invalid as singers and that their voices are not ones that people can enjoy. tl;dr yes enjoy voices and their vocal colors and listen to the voices that make you feel happy and that you like but the importance of vocal technique should not and must not be dismissed.

#anon #replies #i dont want fifty million boos i just want ppl who are more aware of their voice #like for instance wu jiacheng? rn his voice probably peaks at support at around g4 #and i dont think he has resonance either #BUT his voice excites me because he seems to know what hes doing with his voice #every note he sings is deliberate in how he takes in his breath and what he sings #hes the kind of person i would expect to improve if he continued along this path #but ppl who focus on sounding loud and having pretty tone ?#the former means shouting more and the latter is just...subjective lmao like you can only go so far

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your-dietician · 3 years

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Women Say There Are Too Many Barriers To Accessing Postpartum Depression Drug : Shots

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/women-say-there-are-too-many-barriers-to-accessing-postpartum-depression-drug-shots/

Women Say There Are Too Many Barriers To Accessing Postpartum Depression Drug : Shots

Miriam McDonald developed postpartum depression after giving birth to her third son, Nicholas. She says she felt sad, disconnected, and indifferent.

Keith McDonald

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Keith McDonald

Miriam McDonald developed postpartum depression after giving birth to her third son, Nicholas. She says she felt sad, disconnected, and indifferent.

Keith McDonald

When Miriam McDonald decided she wanted to have another baby at age 44, her doctor told her she had a better chance of winning the lottery. So when she got pregnant right away, she and her husband were thrilled. But within three days of giving birth to their son, in September 2019, everything turned.

“I was thinking, ‘Oh my God, what did I do?’ I just brought this baby into this world and I can barely take care of myself right now,” she says. “I feel exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days. I haven’t really eaten in three days.”

As the weeks went by, her depression got worse. She felt sad, but also indifferent. She didn’t want to hold her baby, she didn’t want to change him. She says she felt no connection with him at all.

This confused her – she never felt anything like this after her first two kids – and she worried her mood might hurt her son. Untreated postpartum depression can affect babies’ cognitive and social development. For the mother, it can be life or death. Suicide accounts for 20% of maternal deaths.

“Every day, I was crying. Every day, I felt like I just wanted to die. Every day, I thought about ending my life,” says McDonald, who lives in Vacaville, Calif. and works as an IT professional at the University of California, Davis.

She went to Kaiser Permanente, her healthcare provider, for help. She says doctors there put her on a merry-go-round of medication trial and error. The first drug her doctor prescribed made her anxious. Upping the dose of a second drug gave her horrific nightmares. A third drug gave her auditory and visual hallucinations that took seven weeks to go away after she stopped taking it.

Then, her psychiatrist retired. And when McDonald complained to her new psychiatrist that she was still depressed, four months after giving birth, the physician suggested more medications.

“I was desperate,” McDonald said. “I was like, ‘I’m trying to help myself, but things are just getting worse.’ So what am I left with?”

She started doing her own research and learned about a new treatment, called brexanolone. It’s the first and only drug approved by the FDA specifically to treat postpartum depression, which affects 1 out of 8 new mothers in the U.S. Instead of targeting the serotonin system in the brain, like many antidepressants, brexanolone replenishes a hormone metabolite that gets depleted after childbirth — allopregnanolone. Some doctors call allopregnanolone, which is produced by progesterone, “nature’s Valium” because it helps regulate neurotransmitters that affect mood. After giving birth, natural levels of estrogen, progesterone and allopregnanolone all plummet rapidly, making some women vulnerable to postpartum depression. Brexanolone is a synthetic version of allopregnanolone, delivered through an IV infusion over the course of 60 hours. It costs $34,000.

In clinical trials, 75% of women who got brexanolone started to feel better immediately after the 3-day treatment. Half the women went into remission. In the placebo group, 56% of women responded and a quarter went into remission. In practice, doctors are seeing the effectiveness of the drug in the field that mirror the results of the trials.

“People walk out of the hospital, wanting to be with their child, wanting to return home,” said Dr. Riah Patterson, who has been treating women with brexanolone at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill since it became available in the summer of 2019. “There is a hopefulness, a brightness. You can really see that transformation in the hospital room over those 60 hours. It’s pretty miraculous.”

For the first year of her son’s life, Miriam McDonald says all her smiles were fake or strained. She struggled to find effective treatment for severe postpartum depression.

Keith McDonald

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Keith McDonald

McDonald wanted to try it.

But when she asked her doctor for brexanolone, she was told no. In an email, the doctor wrote that the existing studies were “not very impressive.” She added that McDonald did not meet Kaiser Permanente’s criteria for the drug: she would first have to try — and fail to improve with — four medications and electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) before she could try brexanolone. And she had to be six months or less postpartum to try it at all. For Miriam, the clock had run out. She wondered, How could anyone qualify?

“This is crazy. By the time you even try one drug, that’s like four weeks out,” she says. “Another drug is four weeks out, another drug is four weeks out. There’s just no way.”

Kaiser Permanente’s guidance is an outlier. An analysis of guidelines from a dozen health plans revealed that three of them require women to fail treatment with at least one other medication before trying brexanolone. One plan, California’s Medicaid program for low-income women, requires two fails. But Kaiser is the only system NPR found that recommends women first fail four drugs, as well as ECT.

“That’s absurd. So I’m assuming no woman will ever have the opportunity to try brexanolone?” says UNC’s Patterson, one of several experts in postpartum depression who questioned Kaiser’s guidance.

“That is abusive,” says Bethany Sasaki, who runs the Midtown Birth Center in Sacramento and is licensed to administer brexanolone. “Asking someone to fail four oral antidepressants is an unacceptable burden that will undoubtedly create more harm than good.“

Psychiatrist Shannon Clark, who’s been administering brexanolone at UC Davis Medical Center for the last two years, seeing positive results, says there are a lot of reasons new moms may not be candidates for one medication, let alone four: taking pills while breastfeeding could be too anxiety-provoking; some women may not be able to adhere to a daily pill regimen; or they may have a liver condition that contraindicates those medications. Clark called Kaiser’s guidance “terrible” and “insane.”

It could also be illegal, according to some California lawmakers and mental health advocates. Under a California state law that took effect this January, health plans must conform to generally accepted standards of care, including scientific literature and expert consensus, when making decisions about mental health treatment.

“If Kaiser is making it effectively impossible to get a particular, important mental health treatment, that could definitely be a violation of our parity law,” says State Senator Scott Wiener, the bill’s author.

Kaiser officials responded by saying they always follow the law. They also say its integrated structure — as both the health insurer and the health provider — makes it different from traditional insurers. At Kaiser, a patient’s doctor determines whether a medication is appropriate, not the health plan, and the criteria doctors use are recommendations, not requirements or pre-requisites that patients need to “exhaust,” says Dr. Maria Koshy, Kaiser’s chair of psychiatry for Northern California.

“At the end of the day, this is an individual clinical decision by both the provider – the physician – and the patient,” she says.

But inside Kaiser, the workplace culture is such that doctors are expected to follow these recommendations, according to former Kaiser clinicians who spoke on background — as well as legislative experts familiar with Kaiser’s model. They say that when Kaiser doctors deviate from the recommendations, they can get questioned or even face consequences.

“These physicians know that if they start routinely ignoring these bad recommendations, that that could have impacts on them professionally,” says Wiener, who has worked on several bills aimed at regulating Kaiser and other insurers in California. “Whether it’s couched as a recommendation or a requirement is almost irrelevant. It has the same effect.”

To McDonald, her physician seemed to follow the recommended criteria as if they were requirements when she declined to prescribe brexanolone. Another patient, Yesenia Munoz, got a similar response when she sought brexanolone treatment. Kaiser’s grievance department sent her a letter denying the request because she had not failed enough medications.

“When I talked to the caseworker at Kaiser that had denied the medication, he said that Zulresso was very expensive,” said Muñoz, referring to brexanolone’s brand name.

In addition to the $34,000 cost for brexanolone, the three-day hospital stay can tack on another $30,000, at least. Another complicating factor is the FDA requirement that health centers obtain a special certification to infuse brexanolone, because of the risks of excessive sedation or fainting from the drug. Kaiser Permanente doesn’t have the certifications yet to administer the treatment at its own hospitals, so it must pay outside hospitals to provide it for Kaiser patients. Kaiser officials say they have plans to eventually open three of their own certified centers in Northern California.

Muñoz, 35, was devastated by the denial. She was overwhelmed by postpartum depression and anxiety shortly after her daughter was born in August 2020. But none of the medications or therapies Kaiser offered her worked. Four months after giving birth, she still felt suicidal.

“I could get out the door sometimes and take the stroller and go walk, and my mind kept on saying, ‘If you just step in front of the car, it’s all going to go away,” she remembers.

After Yesenia Muñoz appealed to state regulators and received brexanolone, she says she felt calm and “happy enough to want to live.”

Rafael Munoz

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Rafael Munoz

After Yesenia Muñoz appealed to state regulators and received brexanolone, she says she felt calm and “happy enough to want to live.”

Rafael Munoz

Muñoz got help from family members and co-workers to appeal Kaiser’s decision to the state, and after reviewing her medical records, regulators ordered Kaiser to pay for the brexanolone treatment.

Muñoz received the treatment at UC Davis Medical Center, and she started feeling better within the first day.

“The nurse came in and she said something funny and I laughed,” Muñoz says. “It was the first time I had laughed in so long.”

She started looking through photos and videos of her daughter on her phone and she says it was like she was experiencing those moments for the first time. She started making plans for the future.

“It was like a switch flicked and it made me happy enough to want to live,” she says. “It saved my life.”

Sage Therapeutics, the makers of brexanolone, says Kaiser’s approach to the new drug reflects a “a lack of a sense of urgency for treating mental health.” Dr. Steve Kanes, Sage’s chief medical officer, says the company is working on making the treatment more accessible. Its biggest challenge has been getting enough health centers certified, across a wide enough geography, to reach women who need it. The company is studying a pill form of allopregnanolone that could eliminate the need for a hospital stay, but Kanes says that is still not close to being commercially available.

In 2008, Congress passed a landmark federal law aimed at correcting disparities between how insurers pay for mental health treatments compared to physical health. The Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act was later reinforced by provisions in the Affordable Care Act in 2010. But insurers found loopholes, creating overly restrictive or self-serving criteria that made it easy to deny services for mental health care, and as a result, save money.

California’s new law, SB 855, aimed to tighten those loopholes, and has been hailed by advocates as a national model for mental health reform. It requires health plans to use clinically-based, expert-recognized criteria and guidelines in making medical decisions, with the goal of limiting arbitrary or cost-driven denials for treatments of mental health or substance use disorders.

Kaiser operates in 8 states and Washington, DC. In California, it is the largest insurer, holding a 40% share of the market, covering 9.2 million patients. Kaiser officials have questioned how the new state law applies to the Kaiser system, given its unique integrated structure as both health insurer and medical provider. For example, Dr. Maria Koshy, the Kaiser psychiatrist, told NPR that SB 855’s requirement to comply with generally accepted standards of care “does not apply” to its brexanolone recommendations because they were developed and are used by the doctors, not the health plan administrators. When NPR asked Kaiser to provide the brexanolone policy its health plan uses for grievances or appeals, it said it didn’t have one.

“We 100% intended this law to apply to the care people get at Kaiser,” says Julie Snyder, government affairs director at the Steinberg Institute, which co-sponsored the law. “There is no place where we say Kaiser is exempt” because of its integrated structure.

Doctors at Kaiser have historically been “gatekeepers” for services in the system, more so than doctors who work with traditional insurers, says Meiram Bendat, an attorney and licensed psychotherapist who also advised legislators as the law was being drafted. It doesn’t matter if practice recommendations for brexanolone were written by doctors or administrators, or whether the recommendations are mandatory or optional, Bendat says, they must be in compliance with the law.

“If it’s inconsistent with generally accepted standards of care, then it has no place in California,” he says.

Some of Kaiser’s recommended criteria for brexanolone are aligned with generally accepted standards of care; for example, reserving the drug for women who are six months or less postpartum, which was a criterion used in the clinical trials the FDA relied on when it approved the drug.

But the recommendation that patients first try four or five alternative depression treatments before considering brexanolone conflicts with the judgment of half a dozen women’s health experts interviewed for this story. They say there just isn’t enough time to do that in the postpartum period — and too much is at stake.

Not only are babies at risk of developmental and emotional problems if their mother is depressed, husbands and partners are also at higher risk for depression and anxiety. And because new moms are learning to breastfeed, and figuring out what’s part of the new normal and what’s not, it can take months just to realize there’s a problem, explains UNC’s Dr. Riah Patterson.

“It takes so long for this illness to come to recognition and for someone to actually get into an appointment and actually be seen by a provider,” she says.

Dr. Riah Patterson, a specialist in perinatal psychiatry, discusses patients and treatment plans with her trainee, a 3rd year psychiatry resident at the Center for Women’s Mood Disorders at UNC-Chapel Hill.

Madison Piotrowski/UNC Health

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Madison Piotrowski/UNC Health

Indeed, the FDA fast tracked the approval of brexanolone in part because of how well and how quickly it worked, allowing women to feel better and get back to their families in three days.

“It’s new, it’s promising,” says Kaiser’s Dr. Koshy, but adds that “it’s not a benign medication.” Six women in the clinical trials felt faint or fainted, which is why the FDA requires women to be continuously monitored in certified health centers when getting the medication.

Also, the safety and efficacy data is limited, Koshy says. The clinical trials only compared brexanolone to placebo, not to alternative treatments. So while the data show brexanolone works better than nothing, there’s no data on whether it works better than drugs like Zoloft, or better than electroconvulsive therapy.

Women who received the placebo in the trials also showed improvement in depressive symptoms — which is common in studies of depression treatments — but more women who received brexanolone showed improvement, and their improvement was more substantial and lasted longer, especially if their depression was more severe before treatment. Women with moderate depression who received the placebo did just as well, 30 days after treatment, as those who received brexanolone, which could be because they felt better on their own, or because other antidepressants they were allowed to take during the trial finally kicked in.

Koshy says Kaiser is always reviewing practice recommendations as new evidence becomes available, but also acknowledged that Kaiser’s recommendations for brexanolone have not been updated since they were first developed two years ago, in July 2019.

Two weeks after this story first aired in Northern California, Koshy informed NPR that Kaiser Permanente is now reviewing the recommendations. She also added that Kaiser had recently communicated with its physicians that the recommendation to try four medications and ECT before considering brexanolone actually applied to a woman’s entire lifetime, not just treatments attempted in the postpartum period. Kaiser confirmed that it did not write this into the recommendations themselves, and declined to offer details about how this information was shared with physicians.

It is unclear what role California’s Department of Managed Health Care, the state agency that regulates Kaiser, might play in resolving issues of access to the infusion. In a statement, department officials said they will review any criteria or guidelines the Kaiser health plan uses for brexanolone, but the department does not have jurisdiction over physician decisions.

The department also monitors patient complaints when new medications or treatments begin to be used, in order to identify problems with access to care. So far, the Department has received two complaints about brexanolone – both were filed by Kaiser patients.

One was Yesenia Munoz. The other was Miriam McDonald.

Before going to the state, McDonald called Kaiser’s grievance department to complain about her treatment and the denial of brexanolone. Kaiser responded by sending the cops to her house for a welfare check.

The officers were calm and nice, McDonald said, but when she closed the door, she cried her eyes out.

“It just brought me to a whole new low,” she said. “Why didn’t my doctor call me and talk to me first? I mean, this is how you treat postpartum mental health? How dare you.”

Kaiser told NPR it cannot comment on any individual cases because of privacy laws, but that generally, “We feel deep compassion for any patient experiencing the difficult and serious effects of postpartum depression, and our goal is always to support every patient’s safe return to a healthy mental state.”

McDonald then appealed Kaiser’s denial of brexanolone to state regulators, but by that time, she was past the six-month postpartum cutoff.

She never got brexanolone.

Still, she continued to fight for relief and eventually got Kaiser to cover a different treatment for severe depression, transcranial magnetic stimulation, which uses an electromagnetic coil to stimulate nerve cells in the brain that control mood. That typically costs about $300 per session, and McDonald went in for the treatment five days a week, for three months. Now she is finally feeling like herself again.

After her efforts to get brexanolone failed, Miriam McDonald received transcranial magnetic stimulation at Kaiser Permanente to treat her postpartum depression. She says her mood started to really improve when her son was about 18 months old.

Miriam McDonald

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Miriam McDonald

“I can remember I woke up one day and I was excited. I had actual joy,” she says. “I got up and I walked into his room and I was like, ‘Hey, Nico! Hi! Hey, baby!’ And he jumped up from his crib and giggled and put his arms out. And I just swooped him up in my arms and cried. Because I was like, ‘I am so proud to be your mom.'”

Now when her son smiles at her, she genuinely smiles back. But it took more than 18 months to get here. She can’t help but grieve all the smiles she didn’t return in that time, and how she felt like she was barely present at crucial times, like when her son took his first steps.

“I felt like I’ve been robbed of all those moments,” she says, “of those little milestones, that I’m never going to get back.”

This story comes from NPR’s health reporting partnership with KQED and Kaiser Health News (KHN).

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