My Story not for the weak of heart (page 2)

factfinder

Totally ADD- I am sorry you had to experience such a terrible childhood. I am glad to know things are much better for you and that you are happy now.

cantleave

Thanks for posting. .'m glad you are happy now,

wobble

Welcome A D D ,

And a huge hug from fat Uncle Wobble ! thanks for posting, and looking forward to hearing more of your story, your road to recovery story may be very helpful to others too.

Welcome again. All the best to you and yours !

I quit!

Wow! That's crazy. I can't imagine what it is like having a childhood like that. I'm glad you are happy now.

Reopened Mind

One month before my eighth birthday a friend close to my age was visiting from out of town and came over to play with me. Things were going well when suddenly I could not find him. I ran over to the PO's trailer. Without knocking I walked in. I caught this man standing over my friend stark naked. The man started screaming at me not to move as he was fumbling to put his pants on. Just before he was able to grab me I ran out of the trailer. He chased me. Just before I got to the back door of our house he grabbed me and threw me to the ground, jumped on top of me and started strangling me. I was not able to breathe and I thought I was going to die. He must have realized what he was doing and he stopped choking me. At this point he told me I'd better not say anything to my parents or anybody else because he only lived a few feet from our house and he could come in at night and kill me. I remember picking myself up off the ground, dragging myself to my bedroom, and sitting on the the edge of my bed shaking and wondering why Jehovah hated me and I knew he was going to kill me soon at armageddon.

What TotallyADD doesn't say is that it took months of therapy for him to remember this incident. He knew he had buried something as he learned he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. He was relieved when it finally came to light and through therapy he gained the tools to deal with it. We walked around and around our neighborhood as he struggled to cope with his past. Not having grown up a Witness I found much of his experience hard to believe. However since after reading many of your experiences here and elsewhere I have come to realize that not only was he not exaggerating, but he probably has not told the half of it.

Reopened Mind, wife of TotallyADD

snowbird

(((((((TotallyADD)))))))

Syl

Found Sheep

I too don't read all the long posts but after I started yours I couldn't stop. I'm sorry you had such a crappy childhood and so glad you are now happy.

Welcome and peace to you

Band on the Run

My childhood was horrific, too. My father was a bodyguard to Rutherford and Franz. He was selected for his brute strength. The entire family was severely abused. There were several moments of fighting for life itself. I was scapegoated. The worse was when he took us to a cliff overlooking Manhattan. It was very high. I was about four, my bro was two. My bro had cerebral palsy and wore heavy leg braces. In front of a large crowd, my brother was dangled off the cliff. Tears flow as I clearly recall, how he screamed for mercy and his face was beyond red with fear. No one did anyting. Confronting my father would have been stupid, but covertly taking a license plate and calling the police would have helped.

When I had a full body cast on at fifteen, he'd came close to flinging me down a steep flight of stairs. He also knew where to hit to avoid visible bruises. My teachers knew but looked the other way. He was dying from heart disease when I was 16. He was sleeping with AM radio on my brother's FM station. Fm was wonderful then. When I took the radio to listen, he woke up and trapped me in the bathroom. He placed his body as a wedge against the door. I was so evil and causing his death that I was going to watch him die. I freaked. Despite massive amounts of adrenalin, I could not budge him. He was massive and intent on resisting with every fibre of his being. He was having trouble breathing. It was not faked. I disassociated. Altho we lived on top of other hourses and I screamed with every fiber of my being, only one neighbor called the police. The siren sounded so blessed and I was stunned by the drama. When he heard the siren, he ran down the stairs and popped a nitro people. He told the police how no good I was. They told me to stay away from him. I retorted, shocked at retorting, I can stay away from him. The problem is he won't stay away from me. They did nothing. No follow- up questions were asked.

Earlier, I wrote to a fashion mag for advice. Never did I consider consulting JW. He screamed he could kill us with backup from scriptures. The mag referred me to a social service agency which did nothing concrete. They were very concerned I was going to be raped by him. Finally, a clear rule was set that I must obey. I could not be alone with him. My mother or slightly younger bro had to be present. Something in me snapped. I started to fight back. He lost all legitimacy and I sought guns and knives to even the playing field. His next deviant action was he knew I adored school. It was my haven. He could not beat me there nor berate me. He said I was going to be pulled out of school b/c I was bad. My punishment was to bag groceries at the supermarket under his gaze. I knew i had to get a court order and go to foster care. Fortunately, he died before moving on his plan.

Yet he spent many countless hours preaching and terrorizing Catholics. I never understood his sheer hatred of them. Does this sound Christ like? The neighborhood was in a uproar b/c a nun was brutally raped in a church during off-hours. We lived in Mafiosa land. No one doubted that the perp would soon be dead. My mom had a devout Catholic friend at work. While they were all in the car, my father reacted to the crime by saying that the nun deserved it for being a Catholic nun. Lying and deceit were immoral. When he left visible bruises, both parents yelled at me and ordered me to lie or else serious further harm would come to me.

My mom was forever traumatized by being expelled for the flag salute at fourteen. My uncle, who scored the highest in NJ, had less than one week to graduate but he, too, was expelled. He could have attend Juiliard on scholarship. She was forced to not salute by her mother. We were allowed to salute the flag as long as we did not tell my father. The problem arose in junior high school when some Witnesses attended the same school. Thankfully, a large segment of black students did not salute as a political statement. I was not black, however. Approval of my teachers meant everything to me. Elementary school during the Cold War would have been unbearable. This was made worse by my father declaring we were Russian, which was not true. Half of the school day was spent with Cold War propaganda about Russia. I was terrified of them.

It truly hurt as a kid to have so few toys that neighbor kids refused to play with us. Yet I heard at Christmas that we get toys all year. What lies! We lived in an insular neighborhood where 98% were Catholics. Everyone assumed we celerbated. The priest had to say bad things about the Witnesses. When I lost my father, friends told me they sent no condolence cards b/c they did not know JWs wanted them. I overcompensate in my present life by people-pleasing. I am addicted to the praise of people for whom I have no respect.

Whenever I relate my family of origin story, I feel guilty. The damage has been life long. I relish moments when I reflect how narrow and truly harrowing my life was as a witness. The world is so nice in so many manifold ways. Sometimes I pinch myself. I must confess it as a rush for me to be on this site only a few weeks and to be able to relate my Witness experiences to others. Normally, I would have to give a crash course in the Witnesses to paint the background. Validation is wonderful.

My Story not for the weak of heart