Here are a couple stories about my life inside Scientology. I am pretty sure I am going to get declared quite soon, so here ya go.
A toxic 13-year-old in the 90s, my sister Christy and I were forced to do the purification rundown at LA Org, a Scientology course that combines vitamins and a sauna to sweat out all unwanted drugs and toxins. This was all well and good except that I should really be in school; forget the fact that I had never taken any drugs to sweat out. They sold the idea to my mother by telling her that I was plagued with nasty dyes from all the sugar I’ve had over the course of my life.
We had a lot of fun on the purif, mainly avoiding the hotbox at all cost. Christy met and befriended a ton of Scientology staff members who were also doing the purif. I, on the other hand, twinned up with a LA Day staff member named Chuck, who wasn’t so friendly. He was a good eight years older than me, but was surprisingly more interested in video games. My twin was a bit quiet except when I beat Chuck at chess and he went into a rage and threw the chessboard across the room, then a chair followed by the phone at the phone booth. His logic was that he was older and thus he should be better than me at chess.
During the purif, I remember asking for my Gameboy handheld video game system back and Chuck chased me around for five minutes and finally caught me on the Division 6 staircase, then held me against the wall by my throat. I wasn’t able to breathe! As my feet were dangling, I thought I was going to die, so much so that I pissed my pants. Due to the vast amounts of vitamins I consumed each day, my urine was a bright yellow color, and currently spilling out of my shorts onto the stairs. He soon let go of me after witnessing my defense mechanism. I am sure this tactic also works on bears, I might add. It is hard to believe that this staff member would do such a thing, and over a video game, no less. Apparently I distracted him and caused his character in the game to die and this made him mad.
I finished the purif without any real progress, but Christy had a great time with her new-found friends, and new-found smoking habit (which seems a wee bit counterproductive in the toxin department if you ask me). She then joined LA Day staff to continue to have fun with them.
A lost friend my mother Cheryl did some transcription work for Dorian Hale (A.K.A. the son of Alan Hale “The Skipper” from the famous TV series “Gilligan’s Island”). He used to come over and make all of us laugh with his stand-up comedy. He would perform at the Improv in Hollywood every now and again.
I often heard my mother mention how she thought he had an alcohol addiction and that she wanted to help him by using Scientology. I wasn’t bothered by his addiction because he was always cheerful and fun. Cheryl got work from many different sources, but Dorian was not just a work associate; he was a friend.
Dorian had an old broken-down Porsche that Christy fell in love with it right away. It was glamorous compared to her Toyota Hatchback she got off my aunt. I was against Christy getting a new car as her ugly silver hatchback never broke down and was in great condition, but no one listens to me.
On her staff pay, Christy couldn’t afford to buy the Porsche outright so she ended up doing a trade; her hatchback for the Porsche plus $500 cash. My father contributed the cash, and the deal was done. That Porsche was pretty on the outside, but ugly on the inside. Mechanically it had tons of problems, and turned out to be a huge money pit. As for Dorian, he loved his no-maintenance hatchback. This was another perc to being on staff; not only did they waive her rent, pay for food, gas, clothes, but they partially bought her second car (the first one being the Toyota she just traded).
Finally my parents disseminated to him and got him to do a Scientology course at CC (I believe
Dorian attended an acting workshop there first). After doing that one course, he was quite excited to go up the bridge and “fix” his life. Mom was so proud, not only that she helped him, but this must have been the only time she has ever disseminated Scientology. Later Dorian came to my mother quite upset saying that he really messed up this lifetime, and will have to do Scientology next lifetime because the org wouldn’t let him receive auditing due to his past connection with psych drugs. He was really a mess; I almost regretted eavesdropping on their conversation, but I was worried about Dorian. Shortly
Thereafter, Dorian committed suicide. I was quite upset that we weren’t told about his service, but I don’t think his family knew about his ties with us, since he knew us through work. I never got the exact date of his death; all I know is that it could have been anytime between the time he left my mother’s house until a week later, when we found out.
I know in Scientology they say that psych drugs and alcohol are really bad for you, but they cannot be worse for you than being dead. Dorian, you will always remain a happy memory, and your playfulness and humor have inspired me to become the person I am today. You have been missed.
My final course
I remember the date I got disenchanted with Scientology. It all started on September 12 2001, the day after 9/11. I went into course, and my supervisor Julie gave a speech before class started, and it sounded something like this:
“Hello, class. I know things are looking glum with the current events happening in New York right now, but I wanted to give you a briefing. Scientology is aware of this situation and we are doing our part to handle it. There are a ton of volunteer ministers at ground zero, and just today our VMs assisted in finding two survivors! Not only that, but they are working around the clock to give all the firemen assists, which is essential to them handling their job!”
Every person in the course room cheered and seemed to be feeling much better about the events. I, too, was feeling great and was ready to study my course. At 10:00 p.m. after course, I raced home hoping to hear about the Scientology wins on the news. To my disappointment, there was no mention of the VMs or of ANY survivors. In fact, the anchor woman seemed beat from reporting bad news all day long.
The next day I went in to course, and Julie told us all another briefing where more survivors were saved and how much good the VMs were doing at ground zero. This time it didn’t have the same effect as the previous day. After the briefing, I told her how I saw nothing of what she said yesterday on the news. Her explanation was that there is psych influence within the media and the conspiracy goes deeper than we know. She said how there was a sea of yellow jackets in the crowds and that they were all VMs.
I raced home again that night and searched the news channels; I was half expecting to see something. But no, nothing, I saw an area shot of all the workers and there wasn’t a sea of yellow VMs. I didn’t see anything like that. At this point, the anchor woman was begging for any kind of good news, as they still had zero survivors. I felt a little duped, but I justified it away. I mean, maybe Julie was just misinformed.
My next time on course, Julie gave us another briefing, but this time it was about an OT8 who was in the building while it was falling, and he was in the middle of running down the stairs and started to roll down ten flights as the building was collapsing. This OT managed to roll out of the building and walk away without a scratch. EXCUSE ME?! Are you claiming OT powers right now? Because there is no way anyone within the vicinity of that building could be alive when it fell.
I knew this was total bullshit, but I looked around in amazement and everyone else in the course room was so pumped. It was hard getting through course that night, but when I got home, there was nothing of the magic OT8 tumbler. I figured their intentions were good in trying to keep people happy during this tragic time, but you cannot just lie to people for their own good. I felt cheated; no, wait, I was cheated.