My Father, the Cult Member: A Daughter’s Fear and Love
My Father, the Cult Member: A Daughter’s Fear and Love
Carl Gustav Jung spoke of the Electra complex, Sigmund Freud of the Oedipus complex, but one thing is clear from the teachings of these great minds: a father is a delicate and contradictory matter in the soul of every girl. The small details from which we construct our image of our father can influence our entire lives, our choice of husband, and our self-identity. I want to share a story of a young woman whose relationship with her father has always been one of extremes—from fear and emotional pressure to boundless love and a desire to protect her hero at all costs. But this story is not just about relationships; it’s about life throwing the most incredible trials at its ‘characters’: faith, cults, terrible losses, love, and bloody memories.
Growing Up in a Unique Family
I never thought my family was any different. In fact, I still don’t. Moreover, I even consider it exemplary: a kind, homely mother who dedicated her life to the family, giving herself entirely to us. My father, however, has changed significantly from the childhood memories I hold dear. There were tough times, even impoverished moments, but my parents always made things better for my brother and me. I never questioned why we saved orange peels (it was Mom’s new recipe!), and we happily ate those pastries without any second thoughts. I didn’t know we had problems.
The Turn to Faith
That was when my father started praying and seriously believing. It made him stronger and gave him energy for new attempts. I remember how he told us the story of Christ when we were little, and we cried as we never had before. We started going to Sunday service (and this continued for quite a long time), although I don’t remember my mother ever being there. She refused to engage in any of it. Later, due to some religious disagreements, we stopped going there and switched from Sunday to Saturday services, changing the place of worship as well.
The Struggle with Religious Pressure
Years have passed, and my father still attends almost all the gatherings of this church. This wouldn’t be a problem if not for the constant pressure to join. Every Friday, we are solemnly invited to the Saturday service, which none of us want to attend for various reasons. I am the least oppressed by this never-ending situation in our family. I love my father, and it’s very hard for me to refuse him. It feels like my soul is being torn apart when I say ‘no’ to him. In such moments, I can’t sit, lie down, or read calmly; everything becomes restless, and I can’t calm this terrible feeling inside. And it seems he has understood this and uses my sensitivity to him.
The Conflict Over Clothing
It would be fine if not for the constant reproaches about how I dress. It drives me crazy. I can’t wear jeans, trousers, or anything that resembles pants. ‘These are not women’s things!’ I’m not saying I firmly stand my ground on wearing pants, but sometimes I don’t want to wear a dress or a skirt. In some situations, it’s much more convenient to wear pants (warmer or more comfortable in outdoor conditions). Don’t even get me started on the neckline and loose hair! The constant ‘hiding from Daddy’ has gotten to me. Running out of the house before he arrives for lunch or before he sees me. It oppresses and upsets me. But I dare not say anything against it. That’s how I was raised. I live in a place where this is not allowed. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.
The Fear of Hurting Him
Hurting my father is like a deep wound in the heart. When my friends visit, they watch the prayers before and after meals with interest. It looks intriguing from the outside, even a bit funny. They watch my father with such surprise, which sometimes turns into misunderstanding, but more often into smiles they try to hide. It’s offensive. At such moments, I want to smack them. I will never let anyone laugh at my father! I am very afraid that someone will hurt him. He is a very kind person, becoming more sensitive and softer with age, often crying. Although he used to be very tough. In his youth, he worked for many years in law enforcement. He was a detective, a very good psychologist. He quickly finds weak points and can use them, understanding people very quickly. His duty brought him face to face with many terrible people and events. Sometimes he tells stories about some of them. I think this became another reason for him to turn to faith. The burden of the past weighs heavily on him.
Living in Fear and Love
In life, I am sociable, even cheerful. I try to be an optimist. Yes, it doesn’t always work, but I sincerely try. But my father is my stop signal. I remember one episode from my childhood. At that time, a social network program like ICQ had just appeared. I really wanted to communicate; I found great pleasure in it. However, my father did not share my enthusiasm, and one day, being in a bad mood, he not only scolded me but also, right before my eyes, pierced my month-old phone with the tip of scissors. After that, I was afraid to come home from school and would wait around the corner of the house until his car was out of sight before going in. This went on for a long time, and then he asked for my forgiveness, but the fear lived inside me for a very long time.
The Pressure of the Church Community
Next to my father, my IQ drops by a hundred points. I lose the ability to express my thoughts clearly and competently. Mainly, I keep silent around him. It’s like in the movies: ‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.’ Any cheerful or interesting story I tell is immediately turned against me, and the desire to share anything further disappears. At the beginning of my relationship with my now-husband, he sincerely did not understand our ‘escapes’ from the table immediately after meals and our reluctance to stay in the same room with my father. No, it’s not that we don’t love him. We are escaping the constant pressure from him. Initially, my then-boyfriend would willingly go to my father to talk or just sit with him. However, over time, we noticed a familiar tendency in his behavior as well.
The Complexity of Family Dynamics
I think that out of all the members of our family, my father has the greatest impression on me. Yes, I reluctantly avoid trips to the service. I feel a lot of pressure from the parishioners. They are the kindest people, always smiling and sending greetings to my relatives, sincerely rejoicing at my arrival. But something incredibly oppressive weighs on me. Each of them invites me to the next service and persuades me to come. Each one. I force a smile and say each time, ‘We’ll see, maybe.’ Human nature. Too much attention is bad, too little attention is worse. I don’t know. No, no one offends me there. They are too good. Maybe I don’t measure up to them.
The Church Services and Family Sacrifices
The service always follows the same program. Four people take turns reading the sermon, and everyone sings psalms, followed by a collective prayer. If someone has a need, they ask everyone to pray for them. The first time my husband went there, when everyone started singing, he laughed out loud in surprise. There had never been such awkward situations with him before. Each member of the church gives a tenth of their monthly income, and the parish lives quite well. I don’t know if this is good or bad. It’s just a fact. By the way, my father earns well, and a large part of the family’s income goes there. Again, I can’t blame him for this. But sometimes it’s very offensive that instead of many family holidays and gatherings with guests, he chooses prayer and leaves (by the way, he wasn’t at our wedding). We hardly ever see him, and when we do, he pressures us with sermons and advice to go with him on Saturday. A vicious circle.
Acceptance and Love
I have come to terms with many of his ‘peculiarities,’ accepting him for who he is. After all, he is the most wonderful father in the world to me, and I am grateful to him for everything he has done and continues to do for me. Now he has become very soft and doesn’t allow us not only to offend anyone but even to speak ill of others.
