If I was looking for anyone to blame other than myself I would happily accredit my conversion to jwdom on bad parenting.
This is the abridged version!
My father was a Commander in the Royal Navy so absent for most of my very young years. I have no memory of him prior to 6 years old and after then just him shouting at me and my brother for various misdemeanors. The main one being not wearing our slippers?!!!
I have memories of being scared of my Mother from a very young age and my favourite hiding place was the vegetable cupboard. I remember the smell of that cupboard to this day. I was always hungry and would steal Winalot dog biscuits while I was in there and eat them. I collected conkers and acorns and ate them too. My Mother's favourite place to smack was around the side of the head. I can still remember the pain on my ears and the dizziness. It seemed to last hours but maybe that's just cos I was young.
I have a younger brother of 16 months and I remember him being born.
At 8 years old he was diagnosed with dyslexia but prior to that my parents just thought he was "slow". His "slowness" was not apparent to me when playing etc but manifested itself when they were teaching him to learn colours, tell the time and reading and writing.
We had a serving hatch connecting the kitchen to the dining room and various items would be placed there for my brother. He would be promised gifts if able to remember a tomato was red for eg. or if the big hand of the clock was at 6 he would get a watch! They already had the watch and showed it to him as an incentive. It worked. I had to wait until my next birthday for my first watch.
He was the golden boy and it wasn't til we were both adults that he admitted he knew it. I got punished for his naughtiness either blamed directly for something broken as if I had broken it myself or if he confessed then I was punished for not stopping him from being naughty. He was a typical boy in that he liked to take things apart! I was punished a lot.
When we were living in Norway and I was about 11 years old I was really struggling with life. We still had to take the 11 plus exam even though we were abroad and I passed even though my parents told me I wouldn't because I was thick. I was thrilled but I was not allowed to tell anyone because they said it was not an important exam out there and no-one would be interested! Also, they didn't want to upset my brother because he would not be able to pass it. Definitely no pressie either.
At going home time I used to hide in the girls toilets hoping to be accidently locked in all night and then I wouldn't have to go home. One time I was caught by the headmistress Miss Stark and she got out of me why I did it. I told her my parents didn't love me only my brother. She convinced me that my parents did really love me and to tell my parents how I felt. Big mistake. That was the day my relationship with my parents really started to go downhill and the name calling got worse. Their dislike and contempt for me and favouritism for my brother intensified.
I hated my life and felt I didn't belong anywhere. When we returned to England at age 12 I was sent to boarding school. A convent run by nuns. It was better than being at home. I grew to dread holidays. Because I didn't live at home except for the hols my parents converted my bedroom into a veterinary licensed and approved dog whelping room. I put up a z-bed at night and slept with the dogs. Trying to avoid the dog poo first thing in the morning was a nightmare but I loved the dogs and the puppies.
I would notice that my brother always had lots of new things each time I came home from boarding school. I plucked up the courage to question why he got new stuff and I didn't and I was told I didnt get anything because I wasn't there.
I left school with 10 0'levels with good grades, good enough to go on to college and eventually study to become a veterinary surgeon. My parents said no, I had to get a job. They said they were not prepared to support me financially for another 6 years. I got a very poorly paid job doing menial tasks and left home.
After 4 years of working these different rubbish jobs I hated including bar-work I met a boy. He was a liar and thief and women beater but I didn't find out any of this till after I found out I was pregnant. He told me he loved me and this was the very first time anyone had ever said those words to me ever. I was 19 and naive. The last time he beat me I went into work with my jaw so badly bruised I couldn't speak. One of the girls phoned my parents and told them if they didn't get me away from him he would probably kill me.
Back home they made my life hell again. Especially my Mother. I lived in a small holiday caravan in the garden. I tried to kill myself when my daughter was 6 months old. I couldn't take any more. After coming out of hospital I was told to stop being a misery guts and pull myself together. I had made my bed and now I had to lie in it.
I found a room to rent that was quite cheap so moved out again. We had 1 room in a house and I was told about Council Housing and that I might be eligible to apply. Three years later I was allocated a 1 bedroom flat. I moved in with nothing but some second hand furniture and realised that this was my life now. No parole, no time off for good behaviour. I earned very little money, was an unmarried Mum and because this was only the 80s, a dirty girl and the scum of the earth.
I saw no way out of my circumstances other than a miracle. I bought a Bible and started to read it and pray.
A couple of weeks later, maybe even less, there was a knock at my door. It was Jehovah's Witnesses. It was a man who had been a subordinate to my Father when he was in the Navy in Norway and he remembered me. This was way too many coincidences to be anything other than the miracle I had been praying for.
A study was started.
