The War on Love: The Origin Story of Love Has Won and the Rise of Mother God is the raw, true story of my time inside the Love Has Won cultâand my escape from it.
I joined what I thought was a spiritual movement, only to fall in love with its leader, Amy Carlsonâthe woman the world knows as âMother God.â She declared herself the divine savior of humanity and told me I was Father God, destined to lead beside her.
But behind the facade of awakening grew something dark. What began as love turned into manipulation and spiritual abuse. I fought to break us both free. For a moment, I almost succeeded. But in the end, her delusions wonâshe eventually died in a recliner, wrapped in Christmas lights, surrounded by followers who still worshiped her yet denied her medical care.
You may have heard this story on HBO, VICE, or Dateline NBCâbut they barely scratched the surface. I lived it. I saw the inner circle. Now Iâm exposing the secrets no one else canâor will.
This is a story of awakening, betrayal, and reclaiming your life when the person you loved most becomes the face of a dangerous lie.
The War on Love: The Origin Story of Love Has Won and the Rise of Mother God is the raw, true story of my time inside the Love Has Won cultâand my escape from it.
I joined what I thought was a spiritual movement, only to fall in love with its leader, Amy Carlsonâthe woman the world knows as âMother God.â She declared herself the divine savior of humanity and told me I was Father God, destined to lead beside her.
But behind the facade of awakening grew something dark. What began as love turned into manipulation and spiritual abuse. I fought to break us both free. For a moment, I almost succeeded. But in the end, her delusions wonâshe eventually died in a recliner, wrapped in Christmas lights, surrounded by followers who still worshiped her yet denied her medical care.
You may have heard this story on HBO, VICE, or Dateline NBCâbut they barely scratched the surface. I lived it. I saw the inner circle. Now Iâm exposing the secrets no one else canâor will.
This is a story of awakening, betrayal, and reclaiming your life when the person you loved most becomes the face of a dangerous lie.
My hospital bed was sleek, motorized, surely absurdly expensiveâprobably cost more than most peopleâs homes. It had a setting for every conceivable position, and I tried them all. I was constantly fiddling with the control pad, searching for the perfect angle, looking for a sense of comfort that I wasnât going to find with the position of my bed.
Here I was getting all the help I needed, nurses at the touch of a button on my pad, and it stirred anger inside me when I thought of Amy. The woman who once believed I was her divine counterpart, Amy Carlson, aka âMother Godâ of the Love Has Won cult, was simply allowed to grow unhealthier by the day until she eventually died in a damn recliner.
It had only been a couple of years since the most influential person in my life had slowly withered away, denied medical care by the very followers who claimed to love her so much. I caught earlier headlines about the protests in Hawaii and the swirl of spiritually empty rhetoric tangled up with fringe conspiracies and messianic Trump prophecies.
Despite outgrowing many of those old beliefs, I couldnât help but wonder if we shared some morbid bond, fated to the same young death like a twisted version of Romeo and Juliet.
What we had came on fast, and unexpectedly so. I started with the intent of being a staple in the background, but Amy saw something more in me and elevated me to take the throne next to her, imaginary as the seat itself might've been. At first, I balked at the idea of being together because I felt no romantic attraction to her. But after challenging myself to see past my own superficial standards, what blossomed was a love that would never die.
I spent nearly a year at Amy's side, and we were attached at the hip right from the start. We spent every moment of every day within arm's reach. And when I see the old videos of us laughing together, smiling, her hand caressing my face, I'm reminded of how real our love truly became.
She wasn't just my lover either, she became my best friend. She told me so many times how courageous and brave I was, or how she had never been with a man who she saw as her equal. I truly believe she loved me in a way that she never loved any of the other "Father Gods" who came before, or after me. It wasn't perfect, but it was very real. Even if she had encased her identity within the walls of a delusional title.
My ex-girlfriend, who thought she was God, amassing followers on a mission to save the planet, ended up a mummified corpse, wrapped in Christmas lights. The thought of it still gives me chills.
She claimed divinity, but instead decayed into a cautionary tale, unraveled before the eyes of the world. I wondered how things mightâve been different for her if she had anyone around her who cared enough to get her medical attention, when it had been quite clear that she needed it.
And now me, just a couple of years later, IVs attached to each arm, getting world-class care, fighting to avoid a similar fate.
The hair on my head, like the pigment in my skin, was long gone. Around me, every patient on the 7th floor had started to look alike, pale, bald, hollowed out by the same quiet, slow creeping death. Whatever made me me, forty years of identity, individuality, experience, felt like it was being rinsed away by bags of death, dripping a lethal concoction from the IV pole fused to my body like an extra limb.
My lifeâs purpose, the deep, undeniable meaning I was once certain I had found with Amy and Love Has Won, was draining out alongside my blood cells and my light.
I was being slowly suffocated by the reality of my unavoidable mortality, one that would likely claim every patient who passed my doorway. It was an eerie feeling, like watching ghosts doing their daily exercise laps around the corridor. The wheels of their IV poles grew louder as they approached my room and faded as they passed. Some would look in, some even tried to smile, most just stared at the floor. Everyone had the same posture, the same slumped over body language of surrender.
I was haunted by the way all of the prismatic hues that painted my colorful past couldâve led me here, all amounting to nothing more than a dreary shade of grey.
It was confounding. I had once been shown the magical nature of life. I was given a thrilling glimpse of what was hidden behind the veil. I took risks that sent me across the country and found growth hiding in places I never wouldâve found without her. And it left me struggling to understand how such a cruel ending wasnât a betrayal of our faith.
As I stared across the East River, I reminisced about being locked in a very different kind of war. At âMission House,â I uncovered the quantum hoax and rallied against the delusional belief system built to shield Amy Carlson from her pain, a facade she called âMother God.â I spent months fighting against it with everything I had, from inside the cult. I drew strength for that crusade from the intention of saving the world from the unconscious wreckage of her collective trauma that she masked with love and light. It felt like a worthy fight, and I felt so alive, back then.
That battle gave me a depth of meaning that felt so far away from my 7th story window overlooking York Avenue. Back then, I sacrificed myself daily on the altar of truth, shining light into the dark corners where Amyâs illusions lay coiled like serpents, squeezing the life out of anyone they could grip. I reveled in the righteous cause, stepping daily into the fire knowing Iâd be burned alive every time.
She sought to be a leader, a teacher of the masses, and in this she succeeded. But it wasnât her daily sermons that offered me any semblance of enlightenment. Rather, it was in processing the pain, the deception, the loss, and the betrayal of being her lover and closest confidant, that brought me the growth I was seeking.
In the beginning, I had joined her as a true believer. I was coaxed along by inexplicable spiritual âactivationsâ that left no doubt about the direction of my path towards awakening. For thirty years, millions of fateful little choices carved my winding path until a cascade of unfathomable experiences reframed everything, leading me straight to Mother God.
Even long before I joined the cult, I was already primed by trauma and conspiracy, raised on a steady drip of spiritual bypassing or right-wing paranoia disguised as a call to awakening. I didnât realize it then, but the path from self-help to delusion is a short one, especially when those delusions mirrored my own.
But the closer we became, the more I began to see the cracks in the foundation of this queenâs illusory castle. In time, I came to realize her royal palace was nothing more than a fragile house of cards.
In my time at her side, I went from fighting for survival to thriving amidst the madness, holding space for her, and for others, constantly challenging the distortions, and anchoring myself in actuality. I felt like I was protecting others. Protecting her from herself. I resolved to accept that it was my purpose for being led to her side. I was walking a tightrope, finding balance in serving Amy like a queen as the battles raged against Mother God. Each moment of real connection, every smile, every kiss we shared, felt worth the weight of confusion and pain it took to grasp even a thread of truth from within the disorienting labyrinth she called love.
I had once burned for truth and wouldâve bled for a divinely guided purpose. But now, riddled with cancer and being pumped full of chemo, all I felt was the sterile chill of an unceremonious ending, and the quiet drip of a meaningful life fading away.
Most initiations arrive cloaked in ritual and ceremony. But not mine.
My initiation came disguised as collapse, entropy, and death. There were no robes, no honest teachers, no You-Tube videos, just self-destruction, silence, and surrender. And it would still take nearly a decade of reflection on my time with her, and dozens of high-profile interviews, before I could piece it together and make it make sense.
It didnât start soft. No whispering angels. No magical synchronicities. Just noise. Chaos. Patterns that slapped me in the face and left no room for denial. The messages were loud. I wasnât left with subtle hints. I was confronted with a clear choice: complete denial, or absolute submission. And I refused to live my life wondering âwhat if?â So, I followed.
And where I was led wasnât at all the paradise I had imagined. It was a crucible. A spiritual boot camp where up was down, left was right, and there were no signposts to guide me. No authentic teachers to light the way. I used to tell myself, âSink or swim, bro.â
I didnât join a cult simply because I was weak or gullible. I joined because I was searching for a deeper sense of meaning in a world that often felt empty of it. And although it was unexpected, I realized that I was more than willing to walk into chaos if thatâs where the truth might be hiding.
This isnât just the story of being lured into Mother Godâs Love Has Won cult, being told I was âFather God,â and clawing my way back out. Itâs the story of everything, what I learned, who I truly saw under her crown, parts of me that had to burn, shatter, and be torn away, just to uncover the light buried in the darkest corners of my human psyche and from within a most deceptive environment.
They called her Mother God. She called herself love. But in the end, I had to declare war on both, and on everything I thought I believed.
But before I could make sense of what happened in âMission Houseâ, I had to face where it all began. Because long before I entered a cult, I was already being shaped by forces and events that I didnât understand.
What burned with Amy began much earlier in life, with wounds I didnât yet know I carried.
The story of Love Has Won itself is a twisted tale of divine worship, mental manipulation, and belief gone horribly wrong. Profaciâs memoir, The War on Love And My Ex-Mother God Who Became a Mummified Corpse takes us inside a personal journey into a cult and specifically their leader whom he felt equal parts fascination, fear, love, and loathing.
Profaci lived a life marked by loss and endless searching. A tempestuous divorce and custody battle put him and his brothers in the hands of their father who had a criminal history. Profaciâs nights were as rocked with tension as his days when even as a child he was awakened by hypnopompic hallucinations of dark creatures standing at the foot of his bed. These incidents caused years of sleep disorders and a belief in the paranormal, supernatural, and conspiracy theories. This and his fatherâs neglect and escalating verbal abuse led to Profaci feeling lost, insecure, and curiosity about the deeper issues like his place in the world.
His teenage years were rocked with criminal activity, being almost molested by a pedophile, and getting involved in a fatal car accident. He fell even further down the spiral and became addicted to painkillers. A person facing addiction, trauma, insecurities, depression, openness to ethereal and terrifying paranormal experiences, and existential quests for meaning is a perfect candidate for culthood and Profaci was no exception.
A search down various spiritual paths, communicating with gurus, reading New Age books, and exploring believer websites, and message boards led him right to Amy Carlson, The Mother God founder and leader of Love Has Won. Profaci was attracted to Carlsonâs youthful exuberance, enchanting charisma, mystical beliefs, and the two struck up a correspondence and friendship. He paid for and attended online sessions with Carlson and her group and became aware of signs around him that at the time seemed supernatural. After a job loss, he decided to go see Carlson in person.
Profaciâs memoirs are notable because of what they include but also what they leave out. Profaci left the group long before Love Has Won got involved with QAnon and focused on conspiracy theories, antisemitism, and racism. He only heard about those second hand after communicating with other ex-members. He also was a witness primarily to verbal abuse and the occasional physical abuse but was no longer a member during the torture sessions. Above all, he cut ties with Love Has Won completely by 2021 and was in the hospital for chemotherapy when he heard about Carlsonâs death and display of her mummified corpse. Because of this Love Has Won is seen strictly through his eyes and personal experiences. It leaves out many parts to the story, most notably the most newsmaking, graphic, and sensationalistic aspects.
What remains is a deeply personal human story about how one person is drawn into a cult but most importantly what keeps them there after all common sense should have told them to leave. In Profaciâs case, it boils down to a simple reason. He was in love with its leader. Their first face-to-face meeting illustrates this point. Profaci expected the warm, empathetic, wise, enthusiastic, charming guru with whom he communicated online. What he got instead was a fragile sickly intoxicated woman half asleep and fallen over in drunkenness. He suspected then and there that Carlson was a fraud but his empathy for this woman in her shattered state compelled him to remain.
There is considerable doubt whether Profaci ever believed in Love Has Wonâs philosophies or not. Most of the time, he comes across as a detached deadpan snarker. Recalling his decision to remain with Love Has Won despite his disastrous first meeting with the presumed Mother God, Profaci writes, âI didnât know how far this âawakeningâ would push me or how much of myself Iâd have to lose just to keep up. But I knew one thing: This path does not offer refunds. You paid with your soul or turned back empty-handed. So I paid.â
When Carlson declared Profaci to be her lover and latest Father God, he was nonplussed and did not look at this promotion with honor. Recalling the previous Father Gods who came and went before him, Profaci wondered, âWhat did that make me? Father God #3? 4? 5?â
What stands out the most in this book is Profaciâs devotion to Carlson herself not to her Mother God persona but to Amy, the human woman who was just as lost and just as confused as he was, built a spiritual path to find her solutions, and got swept up in her own delusions.
Profaciâs empathy for his leader is most prominent during the frequent power struggles among members. A compelling conflict involved Profaci and another member KG who slowly climbed the ranks to become a Healer and part of a threesome with Carlson and Profaci.
After KGâs ascension, the cultâs forums became flooded with messages from divine beings called Quantums. Through KGâs encouragement, Carlson believed the Quantums were real and began to rely on their unquestionable authority. As the groupâs online conversations with the Quantums increased so did their claims and personalities. One of the Quantums claimed to be Robin Williams and Carlson actually claimed to represent Williams through visions and meditations.
The book The War on Love includes transcripts of the conversations between the Quantum Beings and Love Has Won members. Itâs perfectly clear that they, specifically Carlson, were in the grips of a widespread delusion and were willing to follow it through to the end. The irony that the leader of one delusion can be so swept up in a completely separate one cannot be understated. Sometimes the most manipulative can be the most easily manipulated by others. It shows how the assistants learn from and surpass the master in cruelty. Thatâs what happened between Carlson and the Quantum Beings.
Profaci had doubts about the whole experience. At first he wanted to give the Quantums the benefit of the doubt, however inconsistencies in their teachings and Carlsonâs reliance on KG to facilitate the conversations with them aroused his suspicions. After some investigation and soul searching, Profaci revealed the truth that KG completely fabricated the Quantumâs existence and communications in an attempt to seize power within the cult.
The Quantum Account is important to Profaciâs involvement with Love Has Won for many reasons. Among them is that it shows Profaciâs inner conflict between his doubts about cult doctrine and protective affection for Carlson. As Carlson came to terms with KGâs deception, Profaci comforted her. He almost broke her from her Mother God delusion to accept herself as Amy. He saw the glimpses of the real woman underneath the mask of confidence and alleged divinity and tried to convince her to accept and love her real self. Unfortunately, other members had private conversations with her and the mask slipped back on and firmly stayed on. The vulnerable woman that Profaci was anxious about was replaced by the remote and unapproachable Mother God and Profaci was not going to get her back.
It also was one of the first incidents that caused doubts about the cult and led to Profaciâs abandonment of them. Eventually those doubts would increase as Carlson insisted that he was full of ego. Any question of authority, any slight infraction, any disagreement was seen as ego and selfishness getting in the way. However, Profaci became aware of the hypocrisy of her words when the whole cult was built on her ego that said that she was the Mother of All Creation and Love Incarnate. Eventually, Profaci could no longer reconcile his concern for Carlson with his criticisms for Love Has Won. Disillusioned, Profaci eventually left the cult and his former girlfriend/guru behind.
Profaci never writes Carlson as a manipulator, con artist, or someone who wanted to fool innocent victims solely for financial gains. The monetary benefits were there and she clearly enjoyed her rule over innocent people but Profaci also saw someone who was in serious need of love, acceptance, and belonging. In fact, he saw Carlson as someone who genuinely wanted to believe that she was who she said she was.
She repeated her claims of being a Mother God so often that she thought that they were true. It was a means of gaining some psychological and spiritual hold and control in her life. Her dangerous ego pushed her into a dark path that she created but could no longer separate from. By the end, there was no division between Amy Carlson and Mother God. She became the illusion that she created and fell in love with it.
Profaciâs book is a profound look at love. His love for Amy Carlson kept him in a dangerous place, but it was his discovery of love for himself that broke him out and set him free.