Girl Who Grew Up In A Cult And Escaped As A Teen Now Says She Genuinely Misses It, Internet Asks “Are You Okay, Bestie?”
Okay, buckle up, buttercups, because we have a story that’s about to make your therapist’s therapist need a therapist. You know how you occasionally look back at your college years and miss the crippling debt and questionable life choices? Yeah, this is that, but with 100% more brainwashing and 0% student loans.
Meet Abigail Anderson, a 24-year-old from rural Oregon who, by all accounts, pulled off the escape plan of the decade. At 16, she ditched the “Holy Light of The New Dawn” commune—a delightful little group that thought vaccines were a sin and that the year 2012 was, in fact, the beginning of the end times, they just misread the fine print. She crawled through a fucking pig pen at 3 AM, hitched a ride to a gas station, and spent the next eight years doing the hard work of “de-programming,” which is just a fancy word for realizing that your entire childhood was a fever dream of matching denim dresses and mandatory nightly chanting.
And now? Now she’s gone viral on TikTok for admitting the one thing you’re never, ever supposed to admit: She kind of… misses it.
“I know it sounds insane,” she says in a video that’s been viewed 4.7 million times, staring directly into the camera with the dead-eyed intensity of someone who has just discovered the joy of a Chipotle burrito but is still nostalgic for the bland, soul-crushing oatmeal she ate for 15 years. “But there was a certain… peace. I never had to decide what to wear. I never had to worry about my 401k. I never had to fake a smile for a boss who doesn’t care if I live or die. The rules were simple: Don’t touch the electricity, believe the Prophet, and if you feel a strange urge to think for yourself, just recite the ‘Song of Purification’ until the feeling passes.”
Yeah. She said that. On the internet. Where everyone is a licensed therapist with a keyboard.
The internet, predictably, did what it does best: it collectively clutched its pearls and projectile-vomited its unsolicited advice all over the comments section. The top comment, with 80,000 upvotes, simply reads: “Abigail, honey, are you okay? Do we need to stage an intervention? Is this about the economy? Because, same.”
And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? The reason this is a viral, AITA-style shitstorm is because half of America is low-key nodding their heads. We live in a world where you need a 10-step approval process to return a pair of socks, where your “village” is a group chat that hasn’t been active since 2021, and where the entire concept of community has been replaced by a billionaire-owned app that shows you your ex’s vacation photos.
Abigail isn’t just a former cult member; she’s a goddamn metaphor for the burnout epidemic. She’s the living embodiment of “I’m tired, boss.”
Let’s break down the trainwreck, shall we?
**The “Cult Glow” vs. The “Real World Grind”**
Abigail describes the commune’s daily life with a disturbing amount of fondness. “We woke up at dawn, we worked the fields, we had group meals, we sang. It was structured. No choice. Zero ambiguity. You didn’t have FOMO because the only thing happening was the same thing that happened yesterday.” She pauses. “And now? Now I have to decide if I want oat milk or almond milk. I have to look at 14 different options for a can of beans. I have to curate a dating profile that makes me look ‘quirky but not crazy.’ It’s exhausting.”
The internet, being the internet, immediately split into two warring factions.
**Camp A: The “You Have Stockholm Syndrome, Babe” Brigade**
These are the people demanding she get back into therapy, stat. “You don’t miss the cult, you miss the lack of executive dysfunction,” one user wrote. “You miss the structure. You can get that from a CrossFit gym and a meal prep service. Don’t romanticize the place that told you the earth was flat and that your parents were ‘spiritually contaminated.’” Another user chimed in with, “This is like saying you miss the flu because it gave you an excuse to stay in bed. Girl, you need a hobby, not a second coming of a false prophet.”
**Camp B: The “You Know What? She Has A Point” Cynics**
This is the group that saw their rent go up 30% this year and started eyeing up the nearest compounds. “I mean, look at the price of eggs,” one commenter wrote. “If I can trade my 9-to-5 for a communal garden and a guaranteed spot in the afterlife, sign me up. At least her old neighbors weren’t trying to sell her essential oils.” Another user, clearly at their wit’s end, added, “I currently pay $2,300 a month for a studio apartment with a ‘cozy’ rat problem. Abigail was paying nothing for a plot of land and a lifetime supply of homegrown kale. Who’s the real fool here?”
Abigail, for her part, is trying to clarify. “I’m not saying I want to go back. The Prophet was a creep. The ‘medical care’ was just a guy with a rusty knife and a prayer book. But I am saying that modern society has convinced us that total freedom is the only way to be happy, and I think that’s a massive pile of horseshit. We’ve traded the certainty of a shitty, simple life for the anxiety of a million mediocre choices.”
And that, right there, is the part that’s making people uncomfortable. She’s not wrong. The “American Dream” has become a “Choose Your Own Adventure
Final Thoughts
After reading the full arc of Abigail Anderson’s story, what strikes me most is not the trauma she endured, but the quiet, almost ruthless pragmatism she developed in its wake. She is a haunting reminder that survival in a broken world often requires us to bury our own humanity beneath layers of duty and vengeance. Ultimately, her narrative forces an uncomfortable truth: that the line between hero and monster is not crossed in a single act, but worn down slowly, by love, loss, and the terrible things we do to protect both.