My mindset right after leaving the cult was strange.

I still didn’t have the courage to go online and look at all the critique of the church, nor did I have any interest in delving into the doctrine and deciding for myself whether each point was properly supported or not.

I had left for personal reasons and didn’t have any ill will toward the WMSCOG. I thought its teachings made more sense than other Christian churches and respected people who chose to keep believing and following the doctrine.

I wouldn’t even say that I had stopped believing the doctrine. I simply silenced the part of my mind that compelled me to follow all the church’s teachings.

In my mind, it was not that I had escaped from a destructive cult and was reclaiming my life. Rather, I had stepped away from the truth and chosen death.

I busied myself with projects—fanfiction, fanart, and running—and I became active on a fandom discord server where I had some online friends I talked to daily, most of them younger than me.

But I felt like I was running away from reality: I had forsaken God, I was already old, and my life was ruined. I was 31 when I left the cult, and by participating in the fandom culture I felt like I was indulging in the young life that I had missed. A young life that wasn’t mine anymore to live.

It felt wrong. OCD told me that I was a creepy old person preying on younger people, even if I wasn’t doing anything bad. I felt like I was living another fake life to replace the fake life I had thrown away.

But I continued to immerse myself in fanfiction and fanart because I didn’t want to face the reality that I had to deal with: a child to raise, a divorce to figure out, a job that I was allergic to, and a complete lack of purpose.