I'll start by saying I don't think there's much special about my story. I've spent enough time on the internet recently to realize that I am one of the fortunate ones. I was never locked in a room for days on end with no one to talk to. I never joined the Sea Org or accumulated massive debts to Scientology. I never made it to the upper levels where they probably would have made my life miserable if I tried to leave. My parents even still talk to me, at least for now. But at the same time, I am now coming to realize how much my life was affected by the belief system in which I was raised.

I was born and raised in Scientology. I've heard it referred to as the Truman Show, a wonderful analogy for everyone involved, but perhaps even more fitting for those who were born into it. I was taught from a very early age that Scientology was the one right way, the true technology to handle anything in your life. We were the elite, the fortunate ones, better than the rest of the "wog" world that didn't have the tech. Other than distant relatives, I didn't know any non-Scientologists for most of my early childhood. I was told that my grandparents probably wouldn't become Scientologists but that we'd "get them next lifetime." That made perfect sense to me as a little kid. It was the only world I knew.

Being born as one of the elite has its price, though. I believe I was introduced to Ethics around the age of 6. Lower conditions and writing up overts and withholds soon followed. I don't remember exactly what I was sent to Ethics for, but it was a fairly regular occurrence. I was always "making up the damage" for some offense, ironically, usually related to talking back or speaking my mind. It took me years as an adult out of Scientology to figure out that I actually wasn't a bad kid.

I never smoked, or stole, or got pregnant, or did drugs (heaven forbid - even Tylenol was rare in my house.) But I have always had a bit of a skeptical, questioning mind, and that got me into quite a lot of trouble - no, wait, Scientology kids don't "get in trouble" - I just got sent to Ethics, and back into lower conditions I went.

Normal kid things weren't quite so normal in the Truman show. Get sick? You didn't get a day off school and tucked in bed with chicken soup. You got the day off school (maybe), but then you had to write up your overts and figure out why you were PTS. To this day I feel guilty whenever I get sick, especially when I have to stay home from work (old habits die hard...)

Kids were cruel, as kids often are. But we were the elite! I felt so alone in the world. These were the best kids the world had to offer, so why were they mean to me? It must be something wrong with me. After all, I am "responsible for my own condition", so if the kids were mean, well, I must have done something to "pull it in."

There was also no such thing as unconditional love. After all, we weren't kids who needed love and acceptance. We were just thetans in small bodies (but try using that explanation when you wanted to stay out late!)

As I got older, into my teens, I started to question things I was taught. I always hated certain aspects of Scientology. I hated the hard sells with a passion. I was always avoiding the recruiters, and I dreaded the end of every course where you had to go speak with the registrar [admin note: staff member responsible for getting money and signing people up for their next service]. They wouldn't take no for an answer, even if you had a good reason. I learned not to answer the phone around the time of any major Scientology events, as they would call and call and call to make sure you were "confirmed" for the event - and they wouldn't take no for an answer, either.

Of course, the biggest thing that happened is that Scientology didn't work. Sure, there were things that helped in small ways, but the major, life changing "gains" and "wins" you were supposed to have? Never happened. Occasionally I was told that someone must have made a mistake and "misapplied" the tech, but that just meant I would have to get more auditing, at more cost to my parents of course.

When it still didn't work, that left me with two choices: 1) Scientology doesn't work, or 2) There is something wrong with me. I chose to believe #2 for most of my teenage and young adult years. It was the path of least resistance.

Voicing any disapproval to my family brought on threats of disconnection. I'd better not be leaving Scientology, and I damn well better not get myself declared an SP, or disconnection would soon follow. It seems to be irrelevant whether anyone believes you actually ARE an SP - if the Ethics office says so, they must disconnect. If I was declared, my family would kick me out (as a young teenager) and never speak to me again. I truly believed this would happen, so I kept my mouth shut and went along with things. The disconnection threats never really stopped, and I have lived with them for most of my life.

All of this - the disconnection threats, and the belief that I must be causing my own unhappiness, and of course the fact that this stuff didn't work on me (so there must be something wrong with me) took me to a rather dark and lonely place. Years later, I heard of Scientology kids who have committed suicide; I'm extremely saddened, but not entirely surprised to hear this.

As I said though, I am one of the lucky ones. As I reached my teens, I had more contact with non-Scientologists. Not many, but enough to learn that there were people out there who didn't suck and weren't going to write you up to ethics if you made them mad. And then, I was incredibly lucky in that I got to go to college. It wasn't really encouraged to Scientology kids, but my parents approved, and so I went. I met more amazing people, and I learned that there was quite a lot to learn out there that Hubbard didn't write. One interesting thing is that I never told anyone at college what my family believed. I felt that I had a chance to start over.

I've recently been looking back at what really cracked the Truman show for me. Above all, I think it was the people I met when I went to college and in the years following. While the "only people worth knowing" were cruel and uncaring, my non-Scientology friends were kind and generous and strong. There were other little things, too. I was raised to believe that anyone associated with psychology or psychiatry was evil - then I had a college roommate who was an absolutely wonderful person, who just happened to be a psych major. Her classes had nothing to do with "sticking ice picks in people's brains" or electric shock, even though I was told that this is what "psychs" did.

Some things, though, probably wouldn't have helped. Remember in the Truman show, when people tried to break in and tell Truman he was on TV? Those people didn't even register. He was educated so thoroughly in his imaginary world that the things they were saying didn't compute. In the same way, I think if someone had told me any number of the things I now know - that Hubbard died with "psych drugs" in his system, or the secrets of OT3 and Xenu - I wouldn't have even heard it. The words would have gone in one ear and right out the other. We were trained to ignore anything negative. Even after I left the group, it took me years to get to the internet and see what else was out there. Their control and teachings are very powerful.

That isn't to say it's not worth it to talk to Scientology kids. It is, very very much so. I believe that the biggest way to help people like me is to show them the world, and by that I mean the WHOLE world - not just the parts Scientology wants them to see. Encourage them to go to college. Get them excited about traveling the world. Introduce them to kind and caring people who have different beliefs. Show them enough good things in the world that don't come from Scientology, and you might just make them think. You'll also give them a safe place to go if they do decide they want to leave; something that, if I had had growing up, might have helped me leave long before I did.

Scientology has a huge disadvantage over the real Truman Show – they haven't figured out a way to make the walls real. We can get in. We can talk. We can show them the real world.

So. Back to the end of my story. Where am I now? I have a pretty damn good life, considering. I am married to a great guy, and I have a good job doing what I enjoy. I have some great friends, though most of them know nothing about my past. I still feel guilty when I call in sick to work. I have a warped sense of personal responsibility, due to so many years of being "responsible for my condition." I also still have some pretty big emotional walls, but at least I am starting to see where they might come from.

Most of all, I am grateful that I have a second chance at life - a good life, with both eyes wide open. The world is a big place. I can't wait to see it all.