Emotional Intimacy Is So Last Lifetime
Chapter 44 of Neophyte: My Life In A Sex Cult
This is a chapter within my memoir, Neophyte, about my time in a harmful cult called the Deer Tribe Metis Medicine Society. It is not meant to be read as a stand-alone post. To view all book chapters, click here.
The Deer Tribe is a dangerous cult. While they present themselves as a spiritual community offering healing and empowerment, their practices are rooted in manipulation, control, and cultural appropriation. Like many cults, they offer moments of genuine connection and personal insight — but these are strategically used to gain trust and draw people deeper into a harmful system. Readers are encouraged to read the entire book before forming opinions about the Deer Tribe.
Chapter 44
Silver and I never reconciled our relationship, but he seemed to accept that I wasn’t going anywhere. I continued attending the sweat lodges and even organized a garage sale that raised $3,000 for the center. The tension between us eased slightly, so Matthew and I decided to hold our wedding there. On a cold day in April 2018, we were married.
That summer, during the July Red Lodge session, I participated in a healing ceremony. For over a year, I had suffered from chronic migraines and nerve pain. Since chiropractic care wasn’t helping, I decided to address the issue through the medicine teachings. The Deer Tribe taught that there is a spiritual root cause for all affliction, and by healing the root cause, we can heal ourselves.
Deer Tribe healing ceremonies are intense, usually lasting three to four hours. I lay in the middle of a circle of people, all of us completely naked, while two students performed doctoring techniques on me using crystals, marriage baskets, and fans. A woman sitting in the south kept a steady beat on a medicine drum, while the entire group sang healing songs. A few people sitting in the northwest had their medicine pipes out. Their role was to travel into the fifth dimension, gain access to my Book of Life, and relay important information to the Dance Chief about my affliction.
I returned to Texas transformed. My patience had worn thin, and I was no longer willing to wait for Matthew to be ready to leave the Ashram.
“I’ve decided to move to Phoenix,” I told him a couple of weeks later. “It’s time.”
“Okay,” he said. “We can go. But I need another year.”
“I can’t wait another year. I’m going in January.”
Even though January was months away, I began my preparations. I listed my furniture on Facebook Marketplace and, in August, brought home empty boxes from the office to start packing up the things I wouldn’t need before then.
“What are you doing?” Matthew asked when he saw me taping boxes shut and stacking them in my closet.
“I’m packing for Phoenix,” I replied.
He must not have realized I was serious before, because he collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face.
Alarmed, I sent an email to Ruth, one of the Red Lodge teachers who had participated in my healing, asking for her counsel. Her fee was $100 for one hour, and we arranged a call for the following day.
“Matthew and I are struggling,” I told her, then filled her in on the conflicts we had been having. “We’ve been married for five months and are fighting more than ever. We just don’t see eye to eye on anything important. It’s impacting everything—even our lovemaking.”
I felt I could trust Ruth. She had been married for 17 years, so surely, she would have wisdom to offer.
“Is that what you call it? Making love?”
Her question startled me. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed.
“Well… yes.”
“You know, there are two very important things I need to share with you. I’m going to start with a piece about intimacy because this is where our culture really gets it wrong. From all the research I’m doing, it’s becoming clearer and clearer that emotional intimacy can get in the way of sexual intimacy. When a couple struggles to connect sexually, it’s usually because they have too much emotional connection. Do you see the problem with calling it ‘love-making’? Sexual desire is incompatible with emotional desire. So the more emotionally connected you feel to your partner, the less sexual desire you will have for each other. Taking space from each other is a wonderful way to address this. Does this make sense?”
Not really, I thought, feeling slightly sickened. Matthew and I had shared a beautiful emotional connection for the first few years of our relationship. I had been so happy and wanted that connection back. But I also wanted sexual intimacy with him. Now, it seemed I could only have one or the other.
As if she could sense my struggle, Ruth offered another reflection: “You are a deeply feeling person, and I’m sensing that this is where your codependency lies. You are codependent on your partner for emotional connection. Once you break this co-dependent pattern, your sex life will improve.”
I said nothing.
“I’m actually surprised that you told me you wanted help fixing your relationship because I thought you were seeking my assistance in ending it. During your healing ceremony, I saw into your Book of Life. The Chulamada-Hey revealed to me that your soul is reconsidering your marriage to Matthew. He may not be your path in this lifetime.”
Fear ripped through my heart. Matthew may not be my path in this lifetime. The thought was too painful to bear. Could Ruth have perceived incorrectly? She was a senior medicine woman with over 30 years of experience on this Path. I won’t give up my marriage, I thought firmly. But even with my decision made, I felt completely discouraged. Was I allowing my co-dependency on Matthew to override my destiny? My inner turmoil haunted me for weeks.
In September, I gave my notice at work, allowing them plenty of time to find a replacement. I made arrangements to live with Sawyer and Michelle Brooks, a married couple I knew from Red Lodge and often stayed with during sessions. Everything was falling into place, a sure sign that I was making the right decision to move to Phoenix. But then, Matthew came to me with surprising news.
“We’re moving out of the Ashram,” he said when I arrived home from work one day.
“What?”
“I’m done with Silver. He’s being completely unreasonable. He’s doubling my rent for the dojo just because the yoga studio decided to back out! Apparently, they’re struggling to fill their classes. So now he wants me to cover the whole rent payment. I told him no. I’ve already found a new space to hold classes. And we’re going to live at Master Chen’s house. He’s going to be in China for the next several months and said we can stay there for a while. No rent—we just have to pay for utilities.”
I was ecstatic, for this is exactly what I had wanted for the past year and a half. We gave Silver our 60-day notice. By Thanksgiving, we would be out of the Ashram. We would enjoy our last weeks together away from Silver and his toxic energy. I would leave for Phoenix on January 1, and Matthew would join me a few months later.
In early November, Michelle called me with an upsetting update.
“I’m so sorry, but you can’t live with us. Sawyer and I are on the verge of divorce, and are trying to work it out. We can’t have any roommates right now.”
Though I understood their need for privacy, I was freaking out. I was supposed to move in a month and a half. Michelle and Sawyer had a beautiful home and had offered me a great deal on rent. Now I had to find something else, and time was running out. Why was Great Spirit throwing such a huge wrench in my plans? Was this a sign I should postpone the move and wait for my husband?
I forced myself to stay calm. I could still make the move happen; I just needed to think creatively. I reached out to my friends in Phoenix to spread the word, and by the end of the week, I had connected with Susan Parker, one of the Phoenix Q instructors.
“Hi honey,” she said in her husky voice, a product of her lifelong smoking. “I heard you need a place to live. Do you want to stay here? It’s $675, all bills paid.”
No, I didn’t want to stay with her. Her house was lovely and spacious, just a mile from the Rainbow Powers Center, but she ran the Sweet Medicine Shoppe out of her garage. There was also a sweat lodge in the backyard, which meant groups would be meeting there a few times a month. She rented multiple rooms to apprentices traveling for ceremonies and workshops. I craved solitude and privacy, not that bustling level of activity.
In the end, I said yes, because I had no other options.
My last month in Denton was surprisingly calm and stress-free. My manager at work had found my replacement and told me she was giving me the whole month off, paid. “You’ve done so much for our company,” she said. “Now go enjoy time with your husband before you move.”
On my last day in Denton, Matthew loaded up my car. My little Hyundai Accent was packed to the brim with my clothes, books, and a few keepsake items. Everything else had been sold or given away.
We spent New Year’s Eve at Harvest House, a local brewery we had frequented over the years. With each passing hour, though, my fear intensified. I didn’t want to leave Matthew. But I also longed to be in Phoenix. I felt so confused. This is your codependency acting out, I reminded myself. You are stronger than this. You can leave without your husband. It will be good for you. You can do this.
The next morning, after eating an early breakfast, I placed the last of my belongings in the car. Matthew gave me a long hug and kissed me deeply, then opened the driver’s side door. Ignoring the warning bells ringing inside me, I started the engine. As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced back in the rearview mirror and saw my beloved husband standing there, a big smile on his face. Pain filled my heart as I turned the corner, and then he was out of sight.
Go to Chapter 45.