Surviving Cults
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My mom and stepdad have always been into new age beliefs: crystals, meditation, energy work, all that stuff. It was never really my thing, but it felt harmless, just something they enjoy. But lately? Lately it's been different. They've gotten involved in some kind of support group, if you can even call it that. I don't know who these people are, and every time I try to ask questions, they go quiet, act secretive, and refuse to say any names.

They won't even tell me what organization this is. I've tried searching online, but "New Age Cult" leads me down a rabbit hole that gets nowhere. Then, this past Monday, things took a turn I never saw coming. My mom and stepdad sat all five of us kids down, my four younger siblings and me. They announced, out of nowhere, that we're moving by the end of the month, and not just moving houses or changing schools. They're uprooting us completely.

taking us to what they called a more stable location inside a spiritual community. Apparently, they're planning to pull all of us out of school to enroll in some mind awakening school. I pressed them for more details, tried to find out what they meant, where we'd be going, but they just shut me down. My mom told me, "I'm still a child in mind, body, and spirit, so I just need to listen and not ask questions." Since then, my heart has been pounding constantly.

I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is coming. And this isn't just a spiritual decision or some harmless new age belief. It feels darker. The next day, Tuesday, my parents completely cut us off from the outside world. No internet, no phone, no TV. They told us it's because the internet is full of lies from them. And suddenly, they're watching me and my siblings with this intense focus, like they're guarding us.

I couldn't even slip away for a minute without one of them hovering close by. They've shut us into a kind of prison, all in the name of protecting us. But last night, last night things got even worse. Three strangers came over to the house. They gathered all five of us kids together and started talking to us, taking us aside one by one. I ended up alone in a room with this old man, someone I'd never seen before in my life.

He looked me dead in the eye and told me that my mind is closed, and that I'll learn to open it, as my parents did. He talked about these leaders who were eager to meet me and get me into their programs. I felt sick to my stomach, but I couldn't say anything. I just sat there, frozen, listening to this man talk about how my awakening was coming, how I'd soon see the truth, like my parents had. I couldn't sleep after that. I spent the whole night lying awake, staring at the ceiling.

feeling trapped in my own home. My dad lives in another state, but he has shared custody. He's supposed to call me every night, but since Monday, nothing. My mom says he's been informed and supports all of this, but I don't believe her. I tried calling him this morning, but he didn't pick up. It feels like he's slipping further and further away, like they're trying to isolate me completely. Today, I managed to get out of the house for the first time in days. I told them I was going to the park.

But I came straight to my friend's place. Her parents aren't home, so we're here alone. She's calling them, and I think I'll stay here tonight if I can. But even here, away from the house, I can't shake this feeling of dread. This sense that I'm being pulled into something I can't escape. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm watching my life spiral into something unrecognizable, something dangerous. I don't want to end up in some compound with these strangers.

with leaders who talk about mind awakening and closed spirits. I'm afraid that if I don't leave now, I'll be trapped there, wherever that is, forever, with no way back. If anyone listening to this has been through something like this or knows what I can do next, please reach out. I'm running out of time and options, and I can't do this alone. Hey guys, if you're into the content that we create,

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at onepeloton.com. Three years ago, I thought I'd found an amazing church. I'd never been a big religious person. Actually, I used to be the kind of person who made fun of Bible thumpers when I was younger. But during college, after the loss of a few close family members, I felt a pull to explore spirituality and find some kind of connection with God. The timing couldn't have been better because not long after, I ended up at a new school and a new job. That's where I met Joanna.

From the start, we clicked instantly. We were both majoring in the same field, shared a passion for music, and could talk for hours about just about anything. After six months of hanging out regularly, I started noticing some odd things about her. For one, I rarely saw her on weekends. She'd always tell me she was busy with her church and youth group. When I asked what religion she was, she said "non-denominational Christian," then quickly changed the subject.

As time went on, Joanna started to show up to work and classes less often, and when she did, she looked exhausted, drained. Rumors started floating around that she was using drugs, but I knew that wasn't true. We'd always shared a strong dislike for drugs and the whole hard party scene. Then, after a month of barely seeing her, Joanna called me out of the blue and asked if I'd meet her at a Denny's.

When I got there, she pulled out her phone and showed me this professional-looking video of her church's recent volunteer work. Joanna spoke with so much passion about the community service they did, how much they were giving back, and how fun it was. Her excitement piqued my interest, and I asked the name of the church, but again, she kept it vague. All she'd say was that it was a non-denominational Christian church. Then she looked at me and asked if I'd come with her, right then and there, to see for myself.

It was already 10 o'clock at night on a Wednesday, but I was curious. So we drove out of town and eventually stopped at this small plain-looking building, a combination between an office and a warehouse. The first thing that struck me was that there were no signs, no crosses, no pictures of Jesus or anything religious at all. It looked like a daycare or maybe a learning center. But the moment I stepped inside, women rushed over and hugged me like I was their long-lost friend.

I later learned that what I'd experienced was called love bombing, but at the time, it just felt a little overwhelming. Before I knew it, I was sitting with Joanna and a woman a few years older than me, who pulled out a dry erase board and began explaining Bible passages. Her study made sense, nothing unusual, until she asked me if I was ready to be baptized. By then, it was close to midnight. I felt a strange sense of obligation though, because I was out in the middle of nowhere.

With no way to get home on my own, these people were cooking food for me, talking to me about God, and they kept looking at me with this intensity that almost felt desperate. When I hesitated, they told me it would only take a few minutes. And besides, God is watching. They warned me that having heard the truth, my soul would be in danger if I didn't follow through, that I might be lost forever, condemned to an eternity separated from God. I know how it sounds, but I agreed.

I was pressured, alone, and I felt trapped. They took me into a bathroom, handed me a white robe, and told me to change. When I came out, they led me to a small bathtub, where a man, apparently the pastor, waited. He was a small, older man, and he told me not to be nervous, that the water was warm. I knelt in the bathtub as the lights dimmed, and suddenly all the women came in.

veils covering their heads, chanting in this low, strange monotone. The pastor leaned in, spoke words in another language, and baptized me in the name of a god I'd never heard of before. That's when the fear really set in. Afterward, I was dazed. Uneasy, but I was still stuck. Joanna had driven me far outside town, into a county I didn't know, and I had no way to leave. They made me more food, told me to eat,

and then started talking about how I was now part of their family. They kept hinting that I'd learn more about what this all meant when I came back for further studies. And I did go back. That night left such a mark on me that it pulled me back in, and soon enough, I was spending most of my time there. The church took over my life. I became so brainwashed that I actually thought they were my family, that they were the only people who really cared about me. I did things I'm ashamed of. I brought people in.

made them feel comfortable within this church, and spent days on end doing this. Eventually, I found out that Joanna had been targeting me from the beginning. She wasn't a friend, she was just a recruiter, forming a fake friendship with me to pull me in. And that's what I became for the church too, a recruiter. After months, something in me finally broke. I started to wake up, to see things for what they were. I found a way to distance myself and disconnect from them, but it was hard.

I cut ties and worked on deprogramming myself from all the things they'd drilled into me. It was a haunting, painful process. Something no one should have to go through. Even now, I still see Joanna from time to time, moving in packs with other women from the group. They're always scanning the campus, wandering through malls, looking for someone new to pull in. And whenever I see her, I hide, because I know exactly what she's doing, and what it cost me to escape.

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I'm a 28 year old woman and I've lived in the same apartment for the past 4 years. It's been a decent place and until recently, I had no issues with my neighbors, the couple directly above me, both in their 30s. Moved in about 3 years ago and we'd hardly exchanged a word, let alone had any problems.

But about six months ago, I started noticing some changes in their behavior. At first, it was subtle. A few days a week, I'd hear music with heavy bass paired with rhythmic thumping. I figured they'd bought an exercise bike or were really into working out. Sometimes, though, the jumping would get so intense that my overhead light fixtures would start to shake. The odd part was that it didn't stop. It was happening more frequently, almost daily, and always between 8 and 10 in the morning.

I also noticed they'd had a lot of things removed from their apartment: good quality furniture, appliances, things that seemed like they'd be hard to part with. But I told myself it was none of my business. Then, about three weeks ago, things escalated. It was like they were throwing some kind of mini-rave in their apartment. Loud, pulsating music filled my living room, almost as if the speakers were in my unit, and the thumping felt like a stampede. I could feel every beat,

every stomp, shaking my light fixtures, and rattling my cabinets. The music was strange, a mix of new age sounds, trance beats, and, weirdest of all, a male voice chanting things like "Rebrand yourself, surrender yourself." Each chant seemed to be answered by loud stomping from everyone in the room. It didn't take long for me to start recording audio on my phone, just in case things got worse.

Then, just this week, I came back from a short trip and discovered something much worse than noise. The ceiling in one corner of my bedroom had started to collapse. Chunks of plaster had fallen, and there was a small pool of water on the floor. I immediately called my building's superintendent, who came over and took one look at the damage. He was not happy. As he inspected the damage, he told me something unsettling. Apparently, the woman in the couple above me

had been working with some people, doing what he described as workshops on their private patio, which, as it turns out, sits directly above my bedroom. From his apartment window, he'd seen them dancing, jumping, and performing what he called dirt rituals out there on a weekly basis. They would dance to music, stomp around, and spread some kind of dirt or other substance all over the patio. The super suspected that this dirt was mixing with rainwater,

leaking through the wooden patio boards and putting extra weight on my ceiling. He said he'd have to confront the couple and ultimately get a contractor to tear up the patio and clean out whatever was seeping through. I could hear their conversation from my room and I could tell the woman was defensive and sounded upset. Afterward, the super called me to give me a heads up, saying she might try to come down to my apartment and demand to see the damage. He warned me to not let her in, which left me feeling uneasy.

Why wouldn't I let her in? Was she a threat? Later that day, the music started again, a little louder than usual. It almost felt like she was sending a message. So I mentioned the noise and stomping to the super, and offered to send him the recordings I'd taken. He sounded almost desperate, begging me to forward them to the front office. From his tone, it was clear he wanted them evicted. I agreed. If I had to pick a side, it'd be the building over my bizarre neighbors.

Not long after, I stepped out to run an errand, and the woman was standing outside, just staring at me as I passed. I ignored her. None of this was my fault. The next day, though, things got even stranger. I was returning from another quick errand, and this time, both members of the couple were standing outside. They followed me into the building and waited until I was opening my apartment door to approach me. With strange, forced smiles, they started questioning me about the ceiling.

"Is it really collapsing?" they asked. "Did you notice it after the rain? Because our patio seems just fine. It was unsettling. They'd clearly been waiting for me, watching for when I left. I'd never even seen them enter together in all the time they'd lived there." I confirmed the damage, apologized for the inconvenience, and told them I hoped the repairs would be quick for everyone's sake. They seemed satisfied enough and left.

but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were nervous about what the contractors might find under their patio. A few days later, the contractors came and they confirmed that there was in fact a mixture of dirt and sludge under the patio. But it didn't end there. A friend of mine did some online sleuthing and found out that my neighbor is involved with multiple ecstatic dance communities, some local, others international.

Apparently, there's an entire network that hosts dance sessions, and they often synchronize their events with music streamed on YouTube. The deeper we looked, the stranger it got. One of these groups hosts mandatory three-day events with rituals and admission fees upwards of $400. The darkest discovery? Some members from these local groups are involved with so-called compassionate death communities. I don't know if these affiliations overlap in any way.

But knowing that there's an entire world tied to these strange rituals is unsettling. For now, my plan is to keep a low profile. My super is on board and ready to check on my dishwasher the next time there's a large event. But until then, I'll be here, piecing together the bizarre puzzle of ecstatic dance, compassionate death, collapsing ceilings, and mysterious dirt rituals happening just above my head.

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