Thoughts Illusions and Patterns of A Bohemian Gypsy

 I graduated with honors, although I didn't hand in one homework assignment all year. The math teacher would give us the answers on the tests.  It was honestly a joke. And looking back, the entirety of my schooling was limited to a dogmatic perspective. Dinosaurs never existed.  The earth was 6,000 years old. Things that seem so insane to me now.  The highs school I graduated from lost their accreditation the next year.  At least I had a diploma that was somewhat valid.  In the Cult there was this idea that you should give God at least a year.  They really wanted the kids coming up to devote their lives to Jesus. And what that really meant was serving in some capacity in the church.  Be a pastor, a Bible school teacher, a youth minister. Anything really. So long as you didn't go out into the real world and start thinking for yourself. Can't have the devil getting a grip on you. They coaxed most kids to attend the Bible college for a year. Which was a pretty penny.  I honest

 Smashing heads,  and sweaty workout drills.  Twice a day. A full game played each day.  An entire season of sportsball, or football if that's what you like to call it, condensed into one week. (I was too curious. I just looked it up.)  They call it 'Man Camp' now. And I'm dead.  If that name doesn't adequately and succinctly describe the essence of this one week devoted to God, I don't know what does.  And that's where I was 16 years ago. Headed into my senior year. I was about to embark on my last year at the only school I had ever been to. Set within the walls of my church. I had spent my entire school life inside the walls of this building 7 days a week.  That't kindergarten to 11th grade. 12 years up to this point. And 7 days a week is no exaggeration.  Monday through Friday for school. Saturday all day winning souls to Jesus and inviting people to church. Twice on Sundays and Wednesday evenings for some good 'ole fashion preaching. And if you m

 I'm not entirely sure where to begin. If I am to tell the story of my exit from the cult, I would need to start with the turning point, the focal moment that sparked my leaving. If I am to tell the story of my belief structure and how religion's meaning changed for me, there are key realizations along the way.  I suppose it all starts with feelings of betrayal before I ever come to the realizations of knowledge. Hypocrisy within the church, a slow move towards learning how to think for myself. When I conceptualize the story in my mind, all the parts seem to work in tandem.  I can easily run in circles with my reasoning. Maybe this comes from the brainwashing when I was growing up. I was told what to believe and how to believe it, and all the information magically circled back to Jesus and the infallible word of the pastor. I never questioned anything, because there was no reason to. I was told the truth and that is what I was supposed to believe.  Looking back I can remember i

I've realized just how much I adopted other people's opinions as my own. Social issues played on my emotions and lured me in with a moral superiority.  I care about the world and the people in it. I care about fairness and whats truly right.  I couldn't tell you anything about what I believed though. I was banking on other people to be able to do that. The ones that had fed me this morally righteous information, they knew what they were talking about. Because it was the right thing to think. It was based on thinking of others and not myself.  It was a more inclusive view of the world.  It had to be right.  Then I had a brilliant thought. I need to be able to actually defend my belief. Otherwise, what good is the belief. And that's where I went wrong. I should never of taken responsibility for my thoughts and beliefs.  If I had just stayed dogmatic about my world view I would never have turned into Alice going down the rabbit hole, finding my way through Wonderland.  Onl