I grew up in a cult
Sharen Seitz, 33, recalls the torture and vile abuse she suffered from being born into a cult, once called the ‘Children of God’ and now called The Family…
Like many children, some of my earliest memories are of colouring and singing songs with classmates. Others, however, are not so innocent…
I was beaten and often spent hours locked in a dark room, memorising bible passages. My childhood was anything but ordinary because, you see, I was raised in an organisation called the Children of God – later known as The Family International – founded in 1968 by preacher David Brandt Berg. I was born in Osaka, Japan, but the cult lived in groups known as ‘colonies’, all over the world and there were several famous members. Actors Joaquin Phoenix and Rose McGowan were amongst them.
My parents, passionate evangelicals, thought they were joining a missionary organisation. They were given the names David and Mersy Psalms before I was born. For a long time, I didn’t even know I had parents.
‘Everyone is your aunt and uncle,’ the leaders said. I looked like my dad so thought we were related but I never knew for sure who my mum was until we fled the cult.
In 1989, when I was three, our group moved to America – first to a ranch in Texas, before settling in Colorado Springs, but we moved frequently. I didn’t know it at the time – I was a child – but it was a psychological method of control – and a way of avoiding the authorities. We’d always be fully clothed in bed
with bags packed, ready to be moved on at any moment.
The Children of God began – at least on the surface – as a missionary organisation, looking to spread the word of the gospels – but dark practices were going on behind closed doors. Allegations of incest, child abuse and rape were rife.
And it was true. We were taught to share God’s love through sex from a young age.
When we settled in a new city, I started attending the cult’s version of school. Songs and colouring books were often overtly sexual. The books had pictures of Jesus and, as you got older, there were pictures of older men in bed with children. The speech bubbles read, ‘God loves you, let me show you that.’
Vile punishments were doled out to children who misbehaved, physical and emotional abuse, beatings, being locked in cupboards for hours learning bible passages… By the time I was nine, I could practically recite the bible.
I can’t recall being sexually abused myself but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. There’s a chunk of my memory missing between the age of three to five.
My sister claims we witnessed people having sex and people were frequently naked.
It was tough enlisting people to such a cult, so we used a technique called ‘flirty fishing’, where females were sent out to recruit men by engaging in sexual activities. They also used children to raise money for the cult.
Me and my siblings, along with others, were dressed in identical outfits and taken to old people’s homes to perform feel-good songs – a practice known as ‘witnessing’.
Apart from outings like those, we were isolated from anyone in the outside world.
As the years passed, the beatings became more brutal. Once, I was tying my shoelaces and accidentally tripped a child. The leader scowled. ‘Come with me,’ he said, leading me to the laundry room. He produced a large wooden spoon and proceeded to beat me across the back and bottom. The pain was unbearable… and I was left black and blue.
When I returned home that night, my dad wasn’t happy. He was becoming more concerned about the violence and made a decision there and then. ‘ We’re leaving,’ he said. It was 1995 and I remember the friction. – Mum didn’t want to go.
But we packed our things and crept out of the commune. We got into our motorhome and drove off into the night.
You could feel the tension as we drove to Arizona to stay with another family who’d already fled.
But as we tried to adjust to ‘normal’ life, it was clear the effects of growing up in a cult had left a mark. And, important as it is to share what life was like for us, it’s just as crucial to talk about the aftermath.
The Family International changed my life forever…
I was enrolled in school but encouraged to keep quiet. ‘Other people won’t understand,’ my sister said.
Keeping it a secret took a toll on my mental and physical health. I developed cyclical vomiting syndrome
– a condition where I was repeatedly sick and felt nauseous. I could barely keep a meal down for years.
It was like my body was rejecting everything I was repressing, and I needed it get it out. I struggled with dark thoughts and found it difficult to process what’d happened to me. I had counselling but was still disturbed by what I’d been through. It took everything in me to function day-to-day.
I suffer from Complex PostTraumatic Stress Disorder and would have recurring nightmares, waking up with panic attacks. Somehow, I learnt to block the dreams out and, to this day, I can’t remember my dreams when I wake.
The hardest part was not talking about it. As I got older, I had a string of toxic relationships. I even attempted suicide four times. It took years for me to finally understand what love is and to allow myself to be loved.
In 2005, the cult hit the headlines when Berg’s son, Ricky Rodriguez, recorded a video detailing the childhood sex abuse he’d suffered. The next day, he murdered his former nanny, whom he claimed had abused him as a child, before committing suicide.
Suddenly, the cult was being openly investigated.
And I decided to speak out, too, and was overwhelmed by the support I received.
It also put me in touch with people who’d been through similar experiences – and that brought me great comfort.
I’m 33 now and I still struggle with a plethora of health disorders, severe chronic pain and battle insomnia.
Despite my ongoing struggles, I’m doing well. I’ve worked hard to create a life for myself where I can start to heal from all I’ve experienced.
I have a house with a view of the mountains where my puppy can roam. I’ve even found a man named Matt who loves me. I’m finally in a good place.
‘Dark practices were going on behind closed doors’