Hello, JWN!
Like other newbies, I’m a long time lurker, first-time poster. Recently, I created a profile, but then hesitated on submitting my first post. All of a sudden, I had a flashback to that painfully-shy young girl who was instructed that during the Thursday night meeting, she had to walk allll the way up to the stage to make her shaky presentation with Sister Such-n-Such in front of everyone. It’s amazing how powerful shoved-down memories can be, as even having that scene flash before my eyes caused me to feel anxiety and cause my hands to shake. It’s no wonder repression is a potent defense mechanism.
But I digress; onwards to my story. Grab some popcorn & your drink of choice….
My father and mother were baptized as JWs in 1968 and 1975 respectively. Both of them were raised in broken homes – my paternal grandmother divorced my grandfather “back in the day”, which was a big deal back then. She went to college and put my father, an only child, into the care of her strict, non-affectionate parents. It was either all A’s in school or else for him. Which I suppose was early indoctrination into the black/white/no grey area world that he eventually would inhabit as a JW. In his 20s, he was a gambler, ran with the boys in a gang of sorts, and was an alcoholic. My mother was abandoned by my maternal grandmother while Grandpa was fighting in WWII (apparently, the mother my mom never found could not handle the stress of being a single parent and left my mom on a doorstep with a note on her, just like a fairy tale…except this one didn’t include people living happily ever after). When Grandpa came home from the war, he remarried and my mom came home to live with them. But then my uncle was born…and my Mom was abandoned again, so to speak. Grandpa worked a lot and couldn’t handle the home situation of his 2 nd wife neglecting his daughter. So away to foster care Mom went. Several foster homes, in fact. My heart goes out to my mother and the lonely existence she suffered, for the rejection she must have felt, for the acceptance and love she must have sought.
Fast forward to 1964. Mom and Dad meet and have two kids in a short amount of time. About 1967-68, the JWs come knocking on my parent’s door, and Dad starts studying. He quickly takes to “The Truth”. Looking back, I can only imagine it gave him a semblance of structure. Of purpose. Of clarity and a way to live a clean life. Most likely, becoming a witness saved my parent’s marriage (at that time), and also saved my father’s life. Now, my mother studied for years. She had doubts. Couldn’t understand how if God stated a commandment of “Thou Shalt Not Kill”, he sent the Israelites out to slaughter everyone else? (Good question, Mom – shows you were thinking!) Family rumor is that around ‘74 Dad threatened to take us kids away (there were 4 of us ill’ ‘urns by now) if Mom didn’t get baptized. What psychological games to play on my mother! What a threat to wield. How loving (sarcasm). I’m sure God was pleased to know that yet another family would break up, all in his name. But to threaten to take everything away from her that she loved, the family that she finally had, was despicable. My mother eventually relented and was baptized in 1975. She was one of the most loving individuals you could ever meet and had a smile on her face for everyone she met (she died of cancer in early ’95). I think that she got baptized to keep her marriage and family. She wasn’t a fanatical JW, not like my father. I’d term her more of a “liberal JW”, whereas my Father was uber-strict and by the book.
I don’t know when my father became an elder, but I think it around when I was 8 years old. Man, Dad could give a public talk! He wasn’t a boring speaker. He was a powerful presenter – well-spoken with a dry wit to boot. Mind you, I absolutely loved my father as a child (and still continue to love him, don’t get me wrong). I was so proud of my big, tall, strong Daddy. And I was Daddy’s little girl. But to measure up to his standards, combined with JW-religion’s standards? Nearly impossible. I developed a perfectionist streak early on. Not to lord it over nor be better than anyone else, but just so I was loved and accepted, by Dad and by others at the Hall. I learned early on that making a mistake was just something you did not do. I wish I was taught as a child that it was OK to make a mistake, that even if people were disappointed in you or even angry for a bit, that it didn’t mean they still didn’t love you. I never received that vital lesson of unconditional love. My father’s temper (oh boy, he had one) and strict lifestyle for his family + WTBTS = you didn’t want to risk making any mistakes, no sirree Bob! Life became a nightmarish existence of black or white, up or down, right or wrong – nothing in-between, no leniency and no excuses. In fact, later in life, I had this absolutely jacked-up belief system that if only I never moved, never breathed, and not just hid myself along the walls, but BEHIND the actual wallpaper, then no one could know of my mistakes. Because knowing of one’s mistakes led to cold looks, disgust, being cut-off from affection, being rejected, abandoned, unaccepted and unloved. I’m better than where I was for many years, subscribing to this horribly distorted belief system that I learned thru my father and the JWs…but believe me, there still are days. Some scars created by spiritual/emotional/mental abuse don’t go away easily, or at all – heck, it feels like it wounds you at a cellular level.
In retrospect, I believe that I knew something was very wrong with being a JW from a very young age. I hated field service. Didn’t feel right pushing my opinions (that weren’t really mine) onto others. Disliked some of the fake love in the Hall and how people’s actions didn’t jive with their words. Having thoughts of “But what about the dinosaurs?” and “What if we’re just a molecule in a leg of a chair that’s on a planet in another solar system in another universe…” when I was about nine. When I was in kindergarten, I clearly remember the stress and anxiety of standing up in front of the class to NOT say the pledge of allegiance and thinking “If I hold my hand not right on my heart, but just below it, it’ll be high enough to where others around me will think I’m saying the Pledge, but low enough to where God won’t see my hand isn’t quite at my side.” It’s sad to think that children in a cult have their childhood stolen away from them, and not just by not celebrating birthdays and the like, but by having their consciences stricken by such insane “forget your Self – you MUST please everyone else and God – or else you are going to die in Armageddon” thoughts. I wish I had positive memories of my school years and not the ones of anxiety, stress and fear that dogged almost every day of my young life.
Growing up, young people are bullied and teased. That’s a given, so I won’t play the victim. But I think others on this forum that as a born-in (or one brought in to the JW’s at a younger age), the pressures of being a young JW are immense. So, to be teased as a kid is a rite of passage, right? And who doesn’t want to be accepted? That’s part of being human. But let’s add our family’s story of being poor, and not the favorites at the local Hall (or others, as we “served where the need was greater” – sometimes traveling 1+ hours – one way – to meetings in other cities) plus being a JW? Oh, that attracted some “lovely” ridicule. But you all know this. The reason I’ve stated all this is I never felt safe – ANYWHERE. Never felt safe at home with our highly-strict household (“You kids are horrible, rotten, and stubborn. Why, there are even Catholic families that behave better than ours!” – gee, thanks Dad. You should have seen the absolutely CRUSHED spirits of four children at the dinner table that night. Just one of the many guilt-trips that we were taken on – and with no seatbelts either. Oh yeah, and Dad stepped down as an elder for while due to the problems he was having with us no-good kids. Yay, JW living! Now with MORE guilt!); never felt safe in school; never felt safe at the Hall. We weren’t included in the JW cliques. We never got the best seats, nor to go out in service in the “cool” groups. I grew up a particularly gawky, shy girl. Grew into my features and my quirky personality, I guess you could say. Plus, being poor, wearing hand-me-downs from several other girls in the congregation, oh boy! Being called ugly right to my face by one of the pretty-pretty JW girls, in front of other girls from the Hall (with no one standing up for me and saying, “hey, that’s wrong.”) Yeah, ostracism and being taunted by fellow JW kids for your looks or your lack of money or whatever it was that made you DIFFERENT – made me feel so very alone.
I dove further into my books (I’m a huge bookworm) and think escaping by reading is what partially saved me. I had nothing but what was in my head…and they couldn’t take that away from me – whether family, other JWs or worldly classmates. I held onto my mind – a tenuous, shaky hold though it was. I’m surprised my parents didn’t investigate my books further – especially sci-fi and fantasy. Being on another planet or another fantastical time helped me survive the pain of existing in JW Bizarro World.
At 15, the peer pressure to become baptized was in full-force. “You know better, you’re an Elder’s daughter!” was a popular tactic. I caved – just like my mother, all so I would be loved and accepted. The wheels kept rollin’ onwards in my journey and the hurt kept a-comin’… I had no idea.
At 20, I married a fellow JW who wasn’t worth a damn in the end run. Married him for the same reasons I got baptized: only to take whatever scraps of love and acceptance I could. (But I also was stubborn and like most young folks – thought I knew everything. HA!) Hmmm, I think there’s a pattern here, wouldn’t you? I truly thought no one else would love me, that’s how low my self-esteem and self-confidence were. When you keep getting told you are nothing, to turn the other cheek (so much so, I thought my head would spin), to swallow whatever feelings you have and whoever you are as a human being ….sometimes people sadly start to believe it after a while. I was one of those people…but not anymore.
So – I do everything for everyone else and you think folks would be happy? Nope. My now ex- husband (we’ve been divorced for so long now that being married to him feels like a play I once performed in) always would berate me as to why I wasn’t like Brother Perfect’s wife at the Hall? Well, if you wanted me to be like her, why didn’t you marry her? He didn’t want me playing my piano, didn’t like me reading my books….I started to figure it out. It was because even though he was my husband and he could wield his headship over me…he couldn’t control my mind. And I think that bothered him. The abusive behaviors started and the power ploy for control came in. In the meantime, not being the most spiritually sound person (according to the JWs) and discovering that I really didn’t love my husband, that I made some big mistakes with my decisions of baptism and marriage to a suitable JW mate….I strayed. I’m not proud of it and in fact, haven’t talked about this at all, to anyone, and here I am pouring my heart out to complete strangers. I never even told my family about the abuse that happened to me in my marriage, nor my low state of behaviors by participating in loose conduct that eventually got me disfellowshipped at 23. I kept it close to my chest as I couldn’t take yet one more rejection…isn’t that ironic. I wanted so badly to be free of that marriage, and realizing years later that by choosing to follow-thru on my bad behaviors, I was also “acting out” against being a JW, too. I wanted OUT of it ALL…and it happened all right. I lost so much for so long, including myself.
I don’t need to describe the shunning, as I know so many of you understand and empathize. I have my flashbacks to the dirty looks when I tried for a few months to go back to meetings (thinking I needed to be reinstated…what a lost cause that was for me), the dirty looks from my own sister and her friends at my mother’s funeral; the complete shut-out from anything family-wise (even gatherings with non-JW family). Those were dark days, my friends. I became self-destructive - I went off the deep end with partying and drank myself senseless, to try and stave the pain. I involved myself over and over in destructive, unhealthy, super-critical & judgmental relationships…all thinking “I will have someone love me”, just like I tried to have my father love me, mistakes and all. There are many occasions I look back and still wonder how it is I’m still alive. I should have died so many times. My father told me around this point, in his fire & brimstone voice – “You know what to do. God will destroy you if you don’t!” When you start thinking that no one loves you, not your father, not even your Heavenly Father, why bother living? You may as well curl up and die.
Except I didn’t.
Flash-forward to approximately 2001-02. A work friend shared some Christian-based magazine (I forget the title) and said, “hey, there’s something about the JWs in here” and it was about the blood issue. And how the JWs had changed their policy. I LOST IT. Seriously broke down in the office crying and shaking with anger. My friend was bewildered and when pressed, I said “You don’t know what this means, but I’ll tell you. Do you know how many people DIED over the blood issue??? How many suffered? And not just this issue!” I shared about the brothers in Malawi (I had no idea about the Mexico v. Malawi hypocrisy as it was still several years before I read Crisis of Conscience) and how JWs were forced to stand up for their beliefs in this religion and often at gunpoint. In my rage, in my pain – I started searching online. And I started seeing things about the JWs that made my head spin. To discover you were raised in a cult is earth-shattering. To have all you know (even after being DF’d, I was one of those that wondered for a while, “what if they are right?”) – ripped away, your world shifting underfoot, is highly unsettling.
But that bit of information of JW hypocrisy on one of their Core beliefs -- shared by a loving “worldly” friend – re-oriented me. It was like a lifeline being thrown out in a storm. I discovered this board within the same year and for many years have been lurking, reading, learning and mostly…processing.
I wish, like a few posters have suggested on this board, that way back when I could have just “gotten over it”, “walked away” and turned my back to all that pain. But that’s not me and wasn’t my path. We’re all on our Journey and all of our stories are valid, real and to be honored. All my experiences and mis-steps and confusion in the past: they led me to this place in life. So who am I to judge “how” other folks leave the JWs? My story is not the first and won’t be the last. Nor is it the most painful, horrific one either – my heart goes out to those who’ve suffered at the hands of pedophiles, to those who have lost loved ones to the blood issue, to those who currently suffer harm from shunning. All I know is this is the Path on which I was placed, the one of my subsequent struggle out of the JWs and the current steps I take to keep on my Journey to health and to Me.
Present day: I’ve been “out” now for almost 20 years. On the bad news side: My mother has been gone now for 15 years. I miss her every day. My sis is still in and I believe is a pioneer (obviously don’t have much contact with her) but is one of those that “plays the game” and does stuff I think are ‘on the wire’ that would at least get her reproved, but what do I know about the rules and shifting sands within the religion anymore? My one older brother committed suicide (never baptized) and the other unbaptized brother is struggling with his mental and physical health. He studies off and on. It’s his choice (unfortunately, we are currently estranged). And then there’s Dad. He and step-Mom are still active, hard-core JWs. Like anyone here on this forum, I would like them out of the religion, but Dad is up there in age – I don’t think he could change his beliefs, even if he tried, he’s so entrenched.
In my humble opinion, the JW religion has destroyed my family. I’m not attacking (like others, I think there are good people in the JWs) nor am I a hater. It’s merely how I feel – right, wrong or indifferent.
On the good news front: I’ve gone to therapy on and off for the past 10 years and am in a much healthier place. I’m loved unconditionally by my friends and my fiancé. I’m a work in progress …and that’s OK! I recently sent my father a letter (I’ll post at another opportunity) saying that I will never become a JW again and to please not ask me again, nor send the elders after me; I also am trying to garner some sort of relationship with him without the religion, but I don’t think that’s possible. The letter was a big step for me because to me – it was a way of letting go of the fears I carried all this while. That I would finally and firmly say to him “No, I won’t be a JW – I never wanted to be!” and my father would abandon me…again. But I’m stepping thru the fire, taking the leap of faith…and moving forward as best I can.
I’m sorry this was a long post. And I didn’t think I would cry writing it, but I did. I never “wrote out” my story like this before and while it’s painful, it’s also very liberating and honestly, a relief.
Thanks for listening.
RTA