“Sometimes walking away is the only way to stop walking away from yourself.” ~Unknown
The flickering screen of a reality show, The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, became an unexpected mirror. As I prepared lunch, a scene unfolded: a young woman, caught between her mother’s rigid expectations and her own burgeoning desire for autonomy, grappled with the threat of excommunication from her community. Her struggle resonated deeply, a poignant echo of the universal human dilemma: the tension between authentic selfhood and the profound yearning for belonging.
We are, by nature, creatures of connection, hardwired for tribal affiliation. Yet, this inherent drive often comes with an unspoken, often unacknowledged, price. To secure our place within the group, we learn to conform, to meticulously tuck away the parts of ourselves that don’t quite fit. This isn’t always a conscious sacrifice; it’s an implicit transaction, a loyalty contract signed long before we’re old enough to decipher its fine print. We earn our acceptance, stay within prescribed lanes, and in return, the group promises to keep us.
The Pervasive ‘Cult of People’
For decades, I was an unwitting, devoted member of a different kind of cult—one without robes, compounds, or charismatic leaders demanding financial offerings. It was far more insidious, woven into the fabric of everyday life: the “cult of people.”
Understanding the Invisible Influence
This subtle, pervasive cult is the constant hum of external needs, opinions, and expectations that shape our inner worlds. It manifests as the performance of connection, an insatiable quest for external validation, an addiction to being liked, needed, and included. It’s the relentless effort to make ourselves small enough, palatable enough, agreeable enough to maintain peace and secure our place within the collective. For forty-three years, this was my reality. I didn’t recognize it as a cult because its rules were invisible, its indoctrination seamless.
The Uncharted Path of Deprogramming
My departure from this invisible cult wasn’t a deliberate act of rebellion but a gradual, often painful, unfolding. It began almost seven years ago, catalyzed by circumstances I didn’t choose: a global pandemic, the demanding journey of raising a child with special needs largely on my own, and the slow, unglamorous, yet transformative work of therapy. Through these crucible experiences, I began to see, with startling clarity, the immense energy I had spent reaching, earning, and contorting myself to fit into molds crafted by others.
The Tumultuous Journey to Self
The decision to stop “earning” my place was terrifying. What would I become without the constant external validation? The answer unfolded over seven years marked by tears, an abyss of loneliness, crippling anxiety attacks, and heart-wrenching losses. My once-expansive social circle dwindled, leaving me to confront the chilling question: had I caused this? At times, it felt like navigating a personal hell. This journey has been far from beautiful, but it has been profoundly meaningful, a period of intense growth and invaluable lessons.
Clarity Emerges from Distance
Just as deprogramming from traditional cults demands physical and emotional distance from the group, so too does liberation from the “cult of people.” Stepping away from the demands of self-betrayal initiates a profound shift in perspective.
The Initial Discomfort and Subsequent Empowerment
Initially, this withdrawal can feel deeply unsettling, both for the individual and for those still entrenched in the cult’s dynamics. You become quieter, cease performing, and decline invitations once accepted out of obligation. Your circle shrinks, and those around you, still operating within the cult’s unspoken rules, may misunderstand or even take your newfound boundaries personally. In this context, withdrawing is perceived as the ultimate threat, as the cult thrives on collective participation.
However, a powerful transformation also occurs. As those who couldn’t follow you into honesty naturally recede, the fear of abandonment begins to lose its grip. You stop lying to yourself to maintain connections. The implicit agreements that governed your entire life—the pieces of yourself traded for belonging, mistakenly labeled as love—become starkly visible. This clarity, while often accompanied by grief for what was lost or never truly was, is the profound gift of the deprogramming process.
The Paradox of Freedom: Loss and Growth
Here’s the truth no one tells you about leaving the “cult of people”: it doesn’t immediately feel like liberation. It feels like loss, like profound loneliness, like a terrible mistake. Yet, beneath this initial wave of discomfort, something quieter, steadier, and infinitely more authentic begins to take root.
This is the emergence of a self that no longer performs, a voice you can finally trust, an internal compass un-scrambled by the conflicting signals of others. This “both/and” experience—the simultaneous presence of grief and growth—is the true landscape of healing and the ultimate pathway to genuine freedom.
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