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Oops I Joined A Cult

My 9-year-old was at her second violin lesson last Sunday when her teacher came out and informed Mike and I that our kid was feeling dizzy.  We walked over to check on her as she stumbled around, white as a ghost and told me she was going to be sick.  I opened the door to get her some fresh air annnnd she passed out.

Mike somehow managed to catch her before her head hit the pavement.  He then told some guy walking by to call 911 while I was hysterically saying her name and telling her to wake up.  The police, a firetruck and EMT’s showed up and loaded her into an ambulance.  By the time we arrived at the hospital, she was pretty much back to “normal” although I use that term loosely because as it turns out nothing was wrong with her aside from being extremely excited to take a violin lesson.  W.T.F.

This past weekend I convinced my mom to join my daughters and me for a girls’ getaway in the mountains.  She recently left her cult and I wanted her to experience a luxury hotel with a full spa and room service to illustrate how normal people live.  Seeing as how I accidentally joined a cult once, I knew reintroducing my mother into society could take upwards to thirty minutes before I successfully re-brainwashed her.

When I was in college I met a chick who sold colon cleansing herbs at a hair salon and followed a spiritual guru.  This seemed legit to me and I decided that I too would follow said guru and become an ethereal being, floating around the earth.  Calm down.  We never sacrificed goats, stockpiled weapons, lived in a compound or smoked anything.  It was seriously like the most boring cult EVER.  

Mostly, I just listened to my fellow members blabber on about how “spiritual” they were and then watched in amusement as they screamed at waiters who accidentally brought the wrong food, refused to change seats on airplanes when a mother was separated from her children, or even drove around with a fake handicap sticker to get closer parking.  The other thing I learned is that poser spiritual people enjoy speaking in third person, “When one becomes fully aware of one’s self than one can truly be free blah blah blah.”  Shoot me.  Or give me some fucking kool-aid.  Whatever.

I hung with it for a few years before I concluded my cult was a crock of shit.  My guru was super bitchy and I always felt guilty, especially when I lied about mediating and praying.  I hate feeling guilty when I lie.  And I decided if I was going to feel guilty, it was going to be over something good like hiding botox from Mike or only breastfeeding my kids for two years apiece when they clearly needed my milk to survive despite having molars.  I simply refuse to embroil guilt with my spirituality.

Now the great news about joining a cult is that when you quit, you generally get a book deal.  Unfortunately, since mine was just your average, run-of-the-mill cult where nothing really exciting ever happened, I not only failed to reach enlightenment but I have also yet to be contacted by a publisher.  Oh and I still fucking hate the smell of pachouli oil.  Have a fab week lovas.  Smoochies. XO

 

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