From Game of Thrones to Psychiatric Ward: Inside a Wellness Cult's Grip

It’s tempting to believe you’re too smart, too educated, too grounded to fall into a cult. Game of Thrones alum Hannah Murray once thought exactly that—and she was catastrophically wrong.

The actress, known for playing Gilly across Seasons 2 through 8 of the HBO hit, spent years entangled in what she describes as a wellness organization that ultimately triggered a psychotic break so severe she was hospitalized in a psychiatric unit and later diagnosed with bipolar disorder. In an interview with The Guardian published on Saturday, May 23, the now-36-year-old Murray spoke candidly about how someone from a middle-class background with a solid education and decent judgment could end up pouring thousands of dollars into an organization built on spiritual manipulation and false promises.

The trap was deceptively simple. At age 27, Murray was introduced to the group through an energy healer she met via her personal trailer on the set of Detroit. What followed was a carefully orchestrated descent into a hierarchical spiritual space run almost entirely by women—until a charismatic man walked in and immediately shifted the energy. His presence was deliberately eroticized; he opened with a joke about sex, establishing dominance in what had been a gentle, nurturing environment. It was a calculated power move, and it worked.

The leader (whom Murray declines to name) became a walking symbol of authority: a man who carried a symbolic necklace and an oversized Starbucks cup everywhere he went, somehow managing to make both seem deeply meaningful. Members were convinced that financial sacrifice was the path to wisdom and specialness. For Murray, that meant spending significant sums chasing a promise of transformation that never came.

What makes her story particularly important isn’t the salacious details—it’s her refusal to shame herself or those who fall into similar traps. She’s explicit about this: dismissing cult members as idiots or making it about stupidity misses the entire point. These organizations are designed by people who understand human psychology, vulnerability, and desire. They exploit real longings—for meaning, connection, healing. It wasn’t about intelligence failing. It was about a system rigged to manipulate.

Today, Murray’s relationship with wellness culture is fractured. She doesn’t meditate, won’t enter a crystal shop, avoids yoga. Even“tame”practices feel distressing. Yet she’s also aware of how deeply wellness language has infiltrated everyday conversation—how someone concerned about sleep will be offered meditation as a silver bullet, how these frameworks are presented as inherently positive and risk-free. There are harmless versions, sure. But for someone searching for a magic wand to fix everything, the seduction is real and addictive. Her new memoir, The Make Believe: A Memoir of Magic and Madness, documents the full scope of her experience. It’s a sobering reminder that vulnerability and seeking aren’t character flaws—they’re human. The people who exploit them are the problem.