Hello, my name is Lauren and I'm somewhat new to the forum. I've looked around here before but never bothered to make an account. So, here's my story, biography, or what-have-you detailing my experience with the Jehovah's Witness cult.
My grandmother was a JW and my mother was raised as one. All of my aunts and uncles abandoned "the truth" and estranged themselves from my grandmother, and my mother spent 20 years living a "wordly" life. Many times when I would go to visit my grandmother, my mom would tell little anecdotes about how horrible and repressive it was growing up in the cult. But, that all changed when my father became very ill and she decided she needed religion in her life. When a JW finally knocked on our door (they had all assumed the century-old house, which had not been renovated, was abandoned) my mother took it as a sign from God. My father, being agnostic, threw a fit and put up a nasty fight trying to keep me and my sisters out of the cult, but after he died my mother moved us across town and started homeschooling us and taking us to meetings.
With no friends from my past school remaining in contact, no internet, and suddenly being surrounded entirely by Jehovah's Witnesses and bombarded with books and information, I sucked up everything I was learning like a good JW brainwahsed robot child. But, it didn't take long for me to start recognizing conflicting ideas, brainwashing, and the strife that was always behind the scenes in the congregation. The destructive nature of the cult and the constant cycle of meetings-study-field service-repeat and isolation began to make me depressed.
When I was finally able to go to school, the depression lifted, but my situation worsened. I wanted to date, hang out with friends, go to birthdays, be allowed to use my laptop in my room instead of "a common area", all of the things that would make up a "normal" American teen's life. Additionally, in an effort to break away from my mother, I was a bit of a mallgoth the first two years of high school. This lead to bitter confrontations with my mother, which eventually landed me in a mental hospital during my sophomore year (age 14).
As a child, I was diagnosed with ADHD and would see a psychiatrist every now and then for an Adderall prescription. My mother, concerned with my mostly black attire and affinity for "dark" "depressing" things, told my psychiatrist that I was deeply depressed and a danger to myself. Now, not only was I a danger to no one but I was also most certainly not depressed. Angry and saddened by my situation, yes, but I was not depressed. I was not even present for the psychiatrist appointment in which it was decided that I would be going on Prozac. Not wanting to be drugged down any more (I was in the process of getting myself of ADHD meds) I naturally declined meds. That's where things got nasty. The psychiatrist informed me that I would be going on meds or else I was getting committed. So, a few days later, I was put into a mental hospital. With no history of violence or self mutilation, and a generally happy and sane outlook on life, I was only kept for two nights and one full day. When I got home, my mother informed me that she had taken the stereo and tv out of my room, deleted all of the music in my itunes, changed my phone number, burned my sketchbook and art portfolio, thrown away my jewelry, and disconnected the landline. She was also convinced that I had brought demons into the house via "demonic music" (Slayer!) and demonic imagery (skulls, etc) and that I myself was demonized (she managed to terrify my then 10-year-old sisters enough that they were afraid of me and demons for about a month) , and there were two elders sitting on the couch in the living room waiting to interrogate and berate me upon my arrival.
Funny thing is, without taking any meds I managed to graduate salutatorian and not try to kill myself or anyone else.
I'm currently 17, and still being forced into this asinine lifestyle. I turn 18 in a little over a month (46 days!), at which point I am moving across the country where me and my high school sweetheart are building a house with his father on his father's farm. My sisters are now 12 (they are not baptized and neither am I) and absolutely hate this religion and what it has done to the family and are counting down the days until they can move out as well. I am thankful that all of my family except for my mother has avoided the trap of the Watchtower, but I am saddened more each day that we have lost our mother to this cult.
(Forgive me if my grammar is off, for any typos, and for any confusing parts, I didn't proofread this)