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This article is part of a series of investigations into cultic dynamics in fringe groups.
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The photons call out in desperation, for the body to pay attention.
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Overcome the narcissist. I’ve got a free ticket for you.
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Running my fingers over the scars, I close my eyes.
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They will become entombed within the ancient earth and the wildflowers.
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I’m putting life together piece by piece, repurposing what was once mine. I’m no longer the broken, frail girl I used to be.
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To find your balance, master the art of gratitude.
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This passage from my memoir “Cult Child” discusses a near-death experience I had when I was five years old.
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One Year. 165 Hours. The Final Product.
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Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet.
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