My story: "Pop!" goes the Little Circuit Breaker (page 7)

hemp lover

(((TJ))) I hope the sharing of your story can help with your healing. I'm sorry we didn't get to meet at the New Year's Eve apostafest - maybe next time.

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

I wish that you were just joking and that you really had a wonderful childhood.

ME TOO!! :-)

Once again, thanks all for your hugs and replies. I'm sorry this story made some of you cry... that was not my intent. It was sad, it still affects me from time to time, but I am finally healing, as are half of my siblings. You all sure help that process... REALLY, you do. Whenever we read another person's story and give them a hug, we help them heal.

I'll try to wrap all this up in one more post later today. Again, thank you all--please accept my apologies for not replying individually to all of you, but know that I read and was touched deeply by every single reply. I love you all!

TJ

darkuncle29

What a profoundly sad story, I don't know what can be said to express how it makes feel.

You survived. So many don't.

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

PART V – The conclusion (long)

It's time to wrap up this story... one more long post, folks. Thanks for sticking with me through this. You've all been very understanding and gracious.

I forgot to mention earlier that visitations with real-Mom stopped when I was about 9 or 10 years old, and none of us saw or heard from her for the rest of our growing-up years. To even mention her name in Dad's presence was forbidden.

On my own now, without a home or job, I found work quickly at a pizza place, and soon was delivering. Now I had some cash. I continued to attend meetings and pioneer through all this, by the way! I attended the other congregation that met at the same hall as my folks and family. For a short period of time, I rented a room from a worldly family, then met Charles, a young pioneer brother in my new hall, who was also living at home, and we decided to become pioneer partners and get our own place. Moved into that apartment, got a job with a brother's electrical contracting firm (a big firm—they were doing the new transit tunnel in downtown Seattle among their many jobs), and I worked in the office in the purchasing department.

The rest of the family moved from Western Washington to my Dad's folks' cherry orchard home in Eastern Washington, purchasing the house from Grandpa and Grandma. This kept them out of my immediate space and life, but they maintained their power from afar by sending regular, belittling letters.

Charles moved on, we got out of the apartment, and I stopped pioneering, but remained active as a Witness. I rented a room from a Witness family (not a very active Witness family) in another congregation, and started attending their hall. I was with them (Mom—will call her Debby, not her real name--, Dad, two boys, two girls) for about a year. Step-monster kept sending hateful letters berating my existence (I shouldn't have told them where I'd moved, and they wouldn't have had my address!). Debby would often read these letters after I'd receive them, and comfort me in my crying and sobbing.

While living with them, Debby helped me track down the location of my real Mom—she was living in Southern California, but I knew nothing about her welfare. I asked the elders in the hall I was attending if there was any reason I should not go visit her, since she was disfellowshipped (she and Dad had both been disfellowshipped at about the same time in late 1975 for their infidelities, she'd never returned to the organization). The elders showed me from the WT that children have a responsibility to care for their parents, whether in the truth or not, and that there would be no objection or repurcussions theocratically if I were to go visit her. So I did! I got on an airplane (first time ever) and flew to Palm Desert, CA to find her. She was glad to see me, and we spent two weeks together, and I even got her to the Kingdom Hall down there, visited with some of the elders in the hall, and felt I'd laid good groundwork for helping Mom get 'back in the truth' by the time I had to return.

When I landed back in Washington, there was a message waiting for me at Debby's house—Dad wanted to visit with me. I thought maybe they were ready for me to return to the family, and went to see him. Debby made me bring a microcassette recorder, though; while I thought this would be a good meeting, she knew better, and she was right. Dad said he was at Uncle's house, and I could meet him over there. This was, to me, a good sign, as Uncle (also an elder) and Auntie and their family didn't let me come to their house either, based on what they had heard from Dad and Step-Monster. The fact that I getting to go to their house convinced me they had seen that I was a good JW, and my life was okay, and that I'd be back 'in'.

When I arrived, I went up and knocked on Uncle's door. Dad and Uncle answered, stepped outside the house, and motioned toward Uncle's minivan. I walked with them down the sidewalk to the van, the door slid open, and they invited me inside. This wasn't going the way I'd imagined. I knew this wasn't good. As I climbed inside, I was suddenly grateful for Debby's insistence on me bringing the recorder, and I reached inside my suit jacket pocket and pressed the record button before turning around, seated in the back row.

I don't know how they found out that I went to California to see my real mom, but they did. That's what this was about. I told both of them that I had checked with the elders in my hall—that they were welcome to CALL my elders and verify that story—that I'd been told it was fine, and besides, the visit had gone WELL and I might have actually helped her to start taking some steps back to the truth! They should be happy!

They were not happy. I was told that what the elder's had told me didn't matter, that while it might have been okay with the BOE, it was not okay with the 'family', that I'd betrayed them all, that I'd violated their trust and the family rules. I countered with the fact that I wasn't PART of the family anymore, thus not subject to their rules. They confirmed this, and once again disfellowshiped me from the family—this time, Dad was doing it in the presence of a fellow elder and my Uncle (Step-monster's sister's husband). My pleadings went unheard, and I was unceremoniously led to my car and sent on my way.

Debby listened to the tape that night. She gave me alcohol to soothe the pain. We stayed up late, me crying, her comforting me, us talking. Somewhere in the night, we both ended up drunk, and I lost my virginity to her. I didn't even know it then—it was a next morning 'did something happen?' kind of realization. Something did, and it turned into a regular relationship, as her husband traveled a lot and wasn't very romantic with her. I lost myself in her heart and comfort...

That presented a confusing dichotomy to my emotionally tortured mind. On one hand, I'd never experienced love and care the way I was experiencing it with her. On the other, I was now exactly what my parents had always told me I was—a wicked, selfish, awful human being, only interested in what I wanted, untruthful, a liar and a thief who deserved to be disfellowshiped from the family. I would go from the highest of highs, finally happy, to the lowest of lows, just wanting to die. For the first time in my life, I seriously considered suicide to escape it all.

Even to this day, I don't know why I did what came next... it must be some twisted part of abuse psychology. I picked up the phone and called Step-Monster and told her everything that had happened with Debby. I asked her what I should do. Of course, her answer was to go to the elders, which I did, after telling Debby what I was about to do. Of course, this meant she had to tell her husband, and I had to leave their house.

I was privately reproved, as was she. I moved south, bought a trailer, to be near to a sister I'd met through Debby's family. We started courting. Step-Monster and Dad found out, and sent a letter to her folks and that ended that relationship.

I progressed in the new hall (this was, finally, the hall where an elder got to know me before the inevitable letter from Dad made it to the Body), and there I met the girl I'd eventually marry. We got along okay and all, but weren't romatically interested-- it was while on a trip to South Dakota to work unassigned territory that we really got to spend some time talking. She, too, was from a home that was not ideal... not as bad as mine, but not ideal, either.

I knew that Step-monster and Dad would try to end this relationship, too, so I broached the subject first—told my intended about the infidelity with Debby, about my folks and the history. She said it was okay, as long as I'd dealt with it with Jehovah and the elders, which I had. (Whew!) And the letter from the monsters did, indeed, come—addressed to my intended's folks. They asked me about it, and then discarded it, believing me over them. For once, "Praise the freakin' Lord!"

Two of my sisters had escaped (via marriage) the house during this time... I wasn't invited to the weddings. I found out about them, and showed up at the weddings (at the KH), but was turned away by 'guards' Dad had placed at the receptions. I just wasn't welcome, as I was DF'd from the family, though not from the congregation. Dad justified this by saying that individuals within the organization are allowed to personally mark others that they know to be living a double life, even though the congregation may not know of it. Whatever!

Wife and I get married in December 1989. Guess who shows up at the wedding? Yup, Super Dud and the Evil Bitch of the Universe. They come to the reception and—this gets my wife's dander up to this day—after my dance with my bride Dad comes up to me, Bitch-lady hands me a handkerchief with my initials embroidered in the corner, and he grabs me by the shoulders, looks me in the eye, and says "We have a present for you... welcome back to the family, Son!" and gives me a big hug. I broke down sobbing right there on the dance floor, hugging him, my poor bride SEETHING on the side. I didn't see their bastardly deed for what it was until later...

In this time, my baby sister and her cousin came to Dad and Step-monster because Dad's dad (Grandpa) had touched them both inappropriately. Police got involved, etc. The elders got involved, but no action was taken, as the incidents had occurred separately, though on the same weekend. Most despicably, our folks insisted that my sisters HUG grandpa when he'd come to visit after that, because he'd repented and had been forgiven by Jehovah—it wasn't their place to "cast down evil" on an old man.

Fast forward now... bits and pieces in quick succession. We got pregnant right away, unplanned, after the wedding. We ended up having 3 girls before we got smart and put an end to the possibility of that happening again—three was plenty! Wife's parents broke up, got divorced. Wife's mother developed Myasthenia Gravis, a grave neuro-muscular disease. I get appointed as an MS. I get a job opportunity out of state, and we move to Texas, taking MIL with us for in-home care.

Here, we landed in a great old congregation. I continued to 'progress', the girls to grow, we bought our first home, and I was eventually appointed an elder. I was well liked in the hall—I knew empathy, and championed causes and people and feelings. This was also my 'weak point'... where other elders could hear about people's problems, read a scripture or two in counsel, and let it go, I would carry their burden with me, wanting to fix it, to find a way to really help them. I internalized their grief and pain and suffering, and identified too closely with what they were going through.

Our body of elders was (WAS) actually pretty good, as bodies go. But the longer I was on it, the more internal politic'ing I saw. I began to feel demoralized being asked—again and again—to deliver special needs talks about the need for the friends to 'step up' for funds, more hours, a better spirit, cooperation with service arrangements. I knew the friends were tired—hell, I WAS TIRED! And all we kept asking for was more, more, and more... while the elders bickered about who would, or could, be appointed next, or why they couldn't. I learned 'secrets' about the past wrongdoings of some of our 'exemplary' regular pioneers, and why they would never be appointed as an MS or Elder. (I'd wondered "Why is brother so-and-so not an elder?!" before I was appointed—"He sure seems like he SHOULD be one!")

Then, in rapid succession, the ball started to fall. We had three very very hard-nosed, rough-edge circuit overseers in a row. And if their talks to the friends in the hall were hard and biting, you should have sat in on the elders' meetings with him. Oh my. My wife went from seeing me come back from elders' meetings excited and ready to serve to coming home whooped, discouraged, and tired.

At one circuit assembly, during the lunch-time Business Meeting with the circuit elders and circuit overseer, the CO gave us a talking to about the 'spirit' of the friends. He said: "Some of these sisters who claim to be pioneers... they have ankle bracelets, more than one piercing in their ear, you name it... I don't know why they try. I call them Try-A-Neers." The brothers in attendance laughed. Not me. I saw there, in shock. I wanted to jump up and defend the sisters he was referring to, but I didn't... I knew what that would mean! I looked around and saw all these "shepherds" laughing at his statement, and I saw the same cold, unfeeling look I had seen in Dad's face all those times. They didn't care about the sheep. They cared about their position, their power, and in making themselves feel "better than the rest" by belittling the sincere efforts of others.

I left that meeting very discouraged, wondering what was next; what would I do?

At some point along the way, Dad had called to tell us that Step-Monster had decided she was of the anointed. She claimed she'd thought this for some time, but had fought the feeling for years. A recent conversation with an anointed sister in the hall convinced her not to fight the calling any longer.

Six months later, a call came from Dad. "Guess what, son!? I'm going to be joining your Mom!" Pause. "You know... in HEAVEN!" He, too, was now claiming to be of the anointed. He explained to me all of HIS reasons for believing he was called. I responded with many of the WT articles that explained how he couldn't be, but he insisted.

We spent many nights, us kids, discussing these new revelations... there was no way they were of the anointed. Not a chance in hell.

I have not yet mentioned that my Dad and Step-Monster had also, over the years, established a pattern of "suing" people and businesses to gain income. It becomes important to the story, now. My brother had sustained an injury (broken femur, in a body cast for months) in elementary school when a custodian asked kids to help him push the folded lunch tables back up against the wall... one of the tables fell on my brother (pushing below the pivot point on this top-heavy folded table) and snapped his leg. Ambulance chaser called, they sued, big settlement from the school district. That started the ball rolling. After that, if they so much as hit a pot hole (no joke!) the construction company would be sued. Dad claimed a back injury due to one such pot hole, and went on L&I, sued the state, claimed he couldn't work (all the while playing golf each weekend...).

We started to hear reports that they were "in dire straights" money wise, that they couldn't pay their bills. My brother (now living in Missouri, an elder, regular pioneer, sub-CO, giving District Convention parts) and my siblings all talked and agreed to send them SOME money, with the understanding that we couldn't do it on a regular basis (we were all living paycheck-to-paycheck too). Just before we were to send the cash, we all got on the phone to talk. Turns out the folks had told me one story, my sister another story, and my brother a totally different tale of their status—what they earned, what they owed, what bills were 'due' right now.

This tripped all the flags... they were playing us for money! We still agreed to help, but suggested that they send us a list of the bills that needed to be paid (shut off notices, etc.), and we'd pay them directly—this way, they would not need to know who sent how much, we could each remain anonymous in our gift to them, they'd not feel obligated (not that they would, anyway!) to repay us, etc. That was all a cover, of course—we didn't trust sending them the money, and wanted proof of the need!

This started a whole tirade of emails from them, about how we were ungrateful children, how dare we insinuate that they are lazy, it violates their 'dignity' to ask us to send them their bills, etc.

That unlit my brother—he wrote back a most scathing email to them about all this stuff from the past, how we'd all tried to look past it and do what was right before Jehovah as far as taking care of them, forgive and forget, etc.

Then the bombshell, the thing I never saw coming. The elder of my two sisters broke down and talked to my brother about what had happened to HER growing up, the horrors we hadn't know about. My brother had gone to go camping with my sister. She took him into a room, opened a trunk, and it was pages full of her writings, diaries, poems, and letters. She spent the night curled up in a ball, crying, not able to talk as he read what horrors she had lived through.

In those writings were contained her memories of being abused, sexually, by Dad-monster, from the time she was 4... all the way back to when Dad was messing around with Cathy and other women before he married Step-monster. She vividly described her very first memory, in a note that was later used in the Judicial Committee brought against him.

I will post, in another thread, with her permission, the text of that letter... you really need to see it on it's OWN merit.

I was heartbroken. How did this all happen to my sister without me knowing? But how could I know? I was confined to my room behind a closed door. All of the senseless, meaningless violence against me by him suddenly made sense too... I could never understand the WHY ME part... but if he was using me as an example of what would happen to her, or her sister, or my other brother, if she ever told anybody about what happened—that would explain it all. All of a sudden, things started to make SENSE. This was the sick, twisted, missing piece of the puzzle.

She went to the elders with this... I KNOW she wasn't making it up, because although she was "daddy's favorite" growing up, here she was willing to confront him in a JC. And she DID. My brother flew to Washington—I was shamefully not able to face being there—and he sat with her at the KH waiting for the elders and the accused to arrive. Dad, Step-monster and Step-sisters came in, and glared at them both, no love or concern. Dad was interviewed by the body, so was my sister, and she sat there, in FRONT OF HIM, and confronted this monster of a man. And he, of course, denied everything. Claimed she was making it all up, that her brother had put her up to it.

She pleaded with him there to just come clean, get right with Jehovah and everybody else, to admit what he'd done let all this past finally be healed. But he refused to waver on his position.

So, with a committee formed, we felt that finally it would be dealt with—Jehovah would see to it. As a protector of the 'fatherless child,' He just had to.

Weeks went by. I spent much time with our congregation's PO, he being a friend, a confidant, a good brother, pouring out my heart about what was going on. We also had a brother, an elder, who was on the committee. He gave us regular updates as he could, as confidentiality would allow. He knew we weren't lying. The delay, he said, was involved in the correspondence going back and forth between the committee and the Legal Department at Bethel. "These matters are tenuous, delicate," he said. "We need to handle it right, or else he'll get away with this."

I could tell you about all that happened during this, but suffice it to say that they found him guilty, and he was to be disfellowshipped. Halla-freakin-ulah!

But, he filed an appeal just before the deadline expired! But of course! We weren't surprised—we expected it. This man does not give up his "name" and "reputation" for anything.

The Society appointed an appeals committee, two circuit overseers involved—after all, we have allegations, from multiple children, of a long history of child abuse from a 'respected elder' and claimed 'anointed' individual.

Once again, we waited. And I prayed. And I cried. I started to have serious doubts about whether or not this would go the way we wanted—we needed—for it to go. I really started to wonder if Jehovah was really there or not.

And so it was that I found myself one day, sitting at the park during lunch, pouring my heart out to Jehovah for his help, for me and my sisters and my brother, and all the other hurt kids. I asked him to let me know, somehow, that he was there. I told him that it would be great if he'd reach out and squeeze my shoulder! But, knowing that wasn't the way he did things right now, I asked for something specific, something that I could actually probably write off as "coincidence", but which I was willing to accept as definite proof of his existence and caring. I asked—no, I supplicated with tears and groaning—that he please have my friend, the PO, who already knew of our situation and my angst, call me, sometime during the next WEEK, to see how things were going, how I was.

This PO was also my bookstudy overseer. I'd already missed the meetings for two weeks, in turmoil over this, and had not yet heard from him. So you can see why my asking for him to call within another week was not "far fetched". In fact, it was, as I told Jehovah in my prayer, TOTALLY within "his arrangement" for doing things, in harmony with his will.

As three, then four, days passed, with no call, I started to get very nervous. I prayed more and more. On the seventh day, at lunch again at the park, I sat not eating, staring at my cell phone sitting on the park bench, through tears, waiting for it to ring. I just KNEW Jehovah was going to make it ring any moment now. Two hours later, I went back to work, and no call had come. I had prayed to Jehovah again, though, and apologized for testing him, and said I'd wait for his answer.

Another

week passed, with no call from my friend, the PO, despite repeated prayers and no meeting attendance.

The phone did finally ring. It was my brother, in Missouri. The elder from my Dad's hall, the one who had been giving us information as he could, had called him.

The Appeal Committee had overturned the original committee's decision to disfellowship. Not enough evidence, they said. They said that the allegations were sufficient to ensure that he never served again, but that disfellowshiping the man was not warranted.

And there, my friends, I lost my love affair with Jehovah. I felt abandoned, lost, bamboozled, swindled, and cheated.

I spent many months trying to figure out the "why", as did my siblings. The elder of my two sisters, the one that had been abused, left first—she lef the religion, her husband, everything. Then my brother—he left the religion, his wife, everything. (My wife was getting very nervous right about now!) My brother really started looking at religion(s), I resigned as an elder, turned in my book, and spent a few weeks in a catatonic state during meetings, not answering or singing or nothing, til my 'TJ is no longer serving as an elder' was announced, and I've not been back. I tried, but I'd just get panic attacks even going near a KH, or having the friends call.

We sat our three girls down one night, and tried to explain to them in not too much datail why Dad (me) had seemed sad the past few months, why I wasn't going to meetings, what had happened to my siblings, and why they would NEVER be seeing "Grandpa" and "Grandma" again. I thought they would cry, but they were angry at THEM and HUGGED ME. I was the one who cried...

My brother was directed to Ray Franz' book Crisis of Conscience, and suggested that I "needed" to read this. I finally capitulated, ordered the book, and had it and its companion book delivered to work, where I read it out of the site of family. Many many questions were answered—things that didn't make sense to me before finally did. That book saved my life. Thank you, Ray.

My baby sister left her abusive Witness husband, too. She took her three babies with her and escaped. She's going through the divorce proceedings now, and has nothing to do with the religion either. He was not physically abusive, but was controlling with money, time, and would give her the silent treatment—wouldn't say a WORD to her—for months at a time if he was upset with her about something. She pushed through it as a good JW wife would, til all this happened, and now she's free—no longer held captive to a concept and a doctrine that imprisons on falsely applied principles.

Me? I'm trying to heal. I still feel trapped sometimes. My wife is still a professing JW. My oldest daughter was baptized right after Dad's JC reversal. I found it very hard to go to her baptism. A few weeks after her baptism, a box arrived at the house while I was at work, from my folks. A card, attached, said how proud they were of her for her baptism, and how they would have been there, but since they couldn't come, they wanted her to have a present. In the box was everything from my childhood that they had in the house... every picture, project I'd made in school and given to them, my baby and school photos, my report cards, literally everything that would remind them of me. And they sent it to my DAUGHTER as a "present".

You'll be proud of her, as I was.... she looked in the box, saw what was there, shook her head, said "They are such CREEPS!!!!" and closed the box. She saw right through their "gift" and saw it as the "stab at her Dad" that it really was.

That same week, my sister-in-law in Missouri got a similar "present" addressed to her son... with my brother's things in it. (On another ntoe: their son was born 3 months premature, and almost died over the blood issue—blood was forced on their son by the Supreme Court in Missouri, and it saved his life!! I'd not have my nephew today if the courts hadn't won! Obviously, the blood issue and Ray's explanation of how the JW doctrine is wrong in this regard was a huge factor with my brother and sister-in-law's departure from the religion...)

It has been two years now. I'm getting better. I, and my wife, have seen a psychologist for the past 18 months, individually and together. He thinks there is still something suppressed that I've not let loose of yet. I hope there's not. I can't imagine there being more.

BFD

Tj that is a very moving story. You can't make this sh*t up. I am glad to know you are well on your way to healing. I bet most JWs secretly want to go to heaven.

Thank you for sharing that.

BFD

Doubting Bro

(((TJ)))) - No one should ever have to deal with half the things you've dealt with. I read your story with tears and gasping.

You'll be proud of her, as I was.... she looked in the box, saw what was there, shook her head, said "They are such CREEPS!!!!" and closed the box. She saw right through their "gift" and saw it as the "stab at her Dad" that it really was.

You must realize how lucky you are to have such a caring daughter! Despite all that happened, you've been able to break the cycle and create a REAL family. I really hope that you find peace and healing.

Gopher

TJ,

Now you've done it. You've got me in tears. What a story.

It's almost unbelievable how the organization enabled your parents and let your dad off the hook. But as has been said often, the JW organization is a safe haven for child molestors. Sigh.

I'm glad you've recovered to the point of being able to see things this clearly and write about it so succinctly and factually. Isn't it good that Ray Franz helped so many of us to get past the idea that the WTS is somehow special or holy? You are not being melodramatic to say his book Crisis of Conscience is a real life-saver.

I'm glad so many of your siblings and their families also have escaped the Watchtower's clutches, and can only hope your wife and children come to see it for what it is at some point in the future.

Best wishes on your continued recovery. And thanks again for recounting your amazing story.

JK

My story: "Pop!" goes the Little Circuit Breaker

hemp lover

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

darkuncle29

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

BFD

Doubting Bro

Gopher

coolhandluke

VoidEater

JK666

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