Hi All,
Please bear with me through this, this could likely become lengthy. I feel it's time for me to give you My Story as a Dub.
I was born and raised in an extremely "hardcore", strict witness home. I am/was third generation witness. My father has always been the presiding overseer since I can remember. I have five brothers, four of which are Elders in various witness congregations. One brother, no longer a witness like myself, lives in Barcelona Spain. I have no sisters. My mother converted into it when she met my father, she was raised Lutheran.
When I was nine years old, I was molested by a jw, close friend of my father. This man had been converted by my father, and they had established a close friendship and this man was often at our house for dinners and other gatherings. This man, Mike, lived in a house that was on my way home from school. Without going into all the sordid details of what happened, I ran home afterwards without stopping and went straight to my father. My shirt was torn and I was crying. I told him what Mike did to me and showed him my torn shirt. His reaction was rage. But, not rage at Mike, but rage at me. My father accused me of lying about Mike, saying that how terrible if was for me to blame my torn shirt on Mike when I was just horsing around on my way home from school, subsequently tearing my shirt. He then ordered me to my room, with a swift kick to my backside as I climbed the stairs. He also ordered me to never discuss this ever again.That was HIS reaction. MY reaction to his words were devastation . My Daddy didn't believe me, and I got into trouble for telling. It was never brought up again by either of my parents. That day and experience changed me immediately. My relationship with my father, in my own mind, changed from being "daddy's little girl" to just Mel's daughter. It unfortunately taught me that if anything "bad" were to happen to me, that I cannot tell anyone because I got into trouble. A short time later, my father was called to speak with Mike's wife (pregnant at the time), who had discovered he had cheated on her. Since my mother wasn't at home to watch us six kids, my father had to take all of us with him. When we arrived where she was staying, all of us kids were sat down in the livingroom while my father was in the diningroom (in earshot of all of us), listening to her tell what she had discovered. I couldn't help but look at Carol as she talked and cried to my father, but mostly I just stared at my father's eyes, trying my best to read a sense of compassion for her tears. When Carol mentioned the person Mike had cheated with was a "young girl", my eyes stayed on my father's. I peered deeply into his eyes, trying to find some recognition and almost begging him to look me straight in the eyes. When he finally did, I only saw emptiness, no special look from my father that NOW he believed me. Nothing...., just him pointing at the coloring book I had telling me to color instead of watching what was going on. Man, that hurt.
My brothers and I had reason to be fearful of my father when he was angry. I remember all of us watching All In The Family one day, and my making a comment that my father's temper was much like that of Archie Bunker's. Remember how Archie would jump out of his recliner in a rage? Ooooooh, bad thing for me to have said. Another example is the beating my younger brother received one day when I caught him and a couple of his friends in an alley after school "seeing who'se was bigger". I, being the typical kid to tattle, ran home and told my dad (this was prior to what Mike had done to me). My father sat all of us down in the livingroom, including my mother, and proceeded to beat my brother with a leather strap until my brother literally passed out on the couch. I don't remember how many times he was hit, I lost count. After several licks, my mother began to silently cry. One of my older brothers stood up and was starting to tell my father Enough! My father simply pointed at him and angrily told him to Sit Down! By then we were all crying, and starting begging my father to stop. My younger brother, the beatee, wasn't moving anymore on the couch but my father kept hitting him. A couple of my brothers ran to my father and put their arms around him to make him stop. The sense of guilt I had over that was incredible.
At the age of ten or 11, I was molested by my oldest brother. He, apparently, had been a bit too intrigued by his Biology class in school and wanted to see for himself. I never told a single, solitary soul until June 7th of this year when I posted it on Silentlambs guestbook as an "Open Letter To My Parents", for anyone interested in reading the "sordid" details of that which I won't add here.
When I was sixteen and living in Illinois, my mother appeared suddenly at my high school announcing to me that I was being removed from school and that she and I were to begin working together cleaning houses. When I shockingly asked why, she simply said she and my father were concerned about the association I was getting at school. To this day I'd like to know what association they felt I had in school? We weren't allowed close friendships with anyone that wasn't a jw of course, so the only "association" I ever had was just riding back and forth on the bus, and the minimal time in between classes!!! What association?!!! During this time, I had been seen by my father talking to a boy in our apartment complex. This boy was already, unbeknownst to me, talking with another of my brothers about the "troof", and had begun studying.
At the age of seventeen, I married this boy/guy. My parents belief, in total alignment with jw teaching, is it's "better to marry very young than to possibly sin against God". We were married for fifteen years, until I divorced him in '93 due to abuse throughout all the years we were married. I'll never forget my father's words to me the first time I was hit by my husband. Before I could even get the story out, he said and I quote, "What did you do to deserve it?"
With almost every occurence, I went to the Elders in my local congregation for help, as is also dictated through the organization. The Elders would come to our home and tell my husband that if he didn't stop treating me that way, that he "could be disfellowshipped". Throughout the fifteen years I was married to this abusive witness man, more Elders than I can count came to our home and told my husband that same phrase, but it was never carried out. That's not to say that I felt his being disfellowshipped would have changed anything for my circumstances, but I felt that if the Elders were going to make the threat, surely at some point their threat would be carried out. It never was. Many times I found myself sitting on the floor of a closet, crying hysterically, praying to God to please help me. Please God, help me; show me what I should do before this man kills me. After each of my heart wrenching prayers, the immediate thought that came to my mind was, "get a divorce". But that only confused me more since jw's don't believe God approves of divorce unless there is proven/admitted adultery. How could God answer? my prayer with, Get a divorce, if God doesn't approve of divorce. My confusion and inner turmoil only increased. My faith in God as the answerer of prayers came to a halt. I stopped praying completely. I believed I must be being attacked by Satan for me to have thoughts of divorce, rather than it possibly being God giving me "a way out". Only when I caught myself momentarily considering harming myself did I realize I needed to get away from this man. I then began a plan to get my divorce. It took six months for me to save enough money from secretly working part time to afford the lawyer. When the six months were up and I had the money needed for the lawyer, I threw my husband out of the house and told him I was divorcing him. The next day I got a call from an Elder in our congregation saying he and the C.O. wanted to come by and speak to me about what they had heard I was planning. They came over that evening to "remind" me that if I got the divorce without the scriptural grounds of adultery, then I would have to spend the rest of my life alone, never to date a man or even entertain the notion of ever remarrying. That is, until my husband had found a woman and had committed "scriptural adultery"; after that I would be "free" to date and remarry. Their words went in one ear and out the other, they meant nothing to me at that point. I got my divorce with the firm belief that if God now hated me for getting a divorce, then I had no use for this kind of God. A God who would have me stay with this man until he killed me.
I moved to Dallas (we were in Illinois) with my children to begin a new, safe life. My entire family was now living here. For two years after moving here, I occasionally went to the meetings, but my faith in God, in prayer, in religious meetings of any kind has grown sour. I had also learned from my mother at that same time that my father was seriously considering going into a business opportunity with the same Mike that had molested me when I was nine years old. I was furious to say the least, and quickly drove to my parents house to confront my father. He had no response other than to say that it was time I "got over it". I cussed him out and walked out furious!
I changed from their Kingdom Hall to one in Garland. I did this in an attempt to slip out of the religion, not attend any meetings, but still have contact with my family. It didn't take my father long to discover that I had only attended the Garland Kingdom Hall once or twice and hadn't been seen in several months. I was of course confronted by my father as to why I hadn't been attending, but I simply walked away from him, leaving him standing there dumbfounded. During this same time, my oldest brother (an elder) was found to be having a lengthy affair with a married sister in his congregation. My father had told my mother not to tell me, or anyone else in the family/congregation about my brother and sister in law being separated and why, because "if they can work things out and reconcile no one needs to know". My mother finally told me two weeks later and I went straight to my brother and told him everything I ever thought of him. I was furious that he wasn't df'd, since he'd been having the affair for more than five months! But, my brother knew how to play the game. He cried crocodile tears to the other elders, cried hysterically on my mother's lap, and he was rendered "repentant". The elders had told my brother to stay away from this sister while the divorce was being completed, yet he continued to date her in public and married her one week after the divorce was finalized (they deserve each other, eh?). My mother called to tell me I had a "new sister" that day. I told my mother that if she chose to accept this girl as her daughter so be it, but she would never be my sister. I had known my brother's wife since I was fourteen years old and loved her like a sister I never had. This same 'sister' of mine was the woman who bathed my mother when she had an operation on both of her hands and my father wasn't willing to bathe his wife or help her in the bathroom. This same sister was now being denounced by my mother because she divorced my brother! Argh!!!!!
I then, in 1995, wrote an official letter to the Elders in my father's congregation that I no longer wanted to be considered a witness and for them to remove my name from their membership list. I was divorced in '93, but it took me till '95 to write that letter, because I knew what the consequences would be. I would lose all contact with my family and everyone I ever knew, I would be rendered dead by them all. I was officially disfellowshipped that same week, and an announcement was made as such to the entire congregation that I was disfellowshipped.
From that day until sometime in 2000, I had no interest whatsoever in even hearing anything religiously natured. It turned my stomach, and I would leave the area. In 2000, I accepted an invitation from my bosses father/mother to visit their non-denominational church for a "fellowship day". There wouldn't be any sermons that day, just fellowship and games, etc. I enjoyed myself very much, and met some very nice people. I visited on a Sunday and met the preacher, Charles Mickey. Charles has an incredible speaking ability. He didn't prance around the stage like many Baptist ministers do, pounding on the podium, yelling at the audience, etc. So I kept going, and I actually became a member there. I joined the choir, since I love to sing. However, I must be honest when I say my motives were not pure. I liked to sing, but I didn't have any real "feeling" towards what we were singing and who were singing to or for. It was never a "praise" to me. I stayed at that church for a year, until a day when I was approached and asked if I'd consider teaching a Sunday School class to children. I felt immediate pain in my stomach, a panic rush went through my bones, and all I could do was get out of there as fast as I could. I felt pressured, even though I'm sure it wasn't intended. Growing up a jw, and all the pressure to preach more and more, and spend more documented hours monthly preaching, etc caused the panic in me that day. I simply walked backwards slowly shaking my head no, until I finally turned and ran all the way to my car. I never went back. What that poor man must have wondered at the expression on my face as I pulled away and ran!
From the day I was disfellowshipped, I have had virtually zero contact of any kind with my family. Other than the occasional information that would flow through the grapevine that a family member had died, or someone was seriously ill.
Only in the last few months, perhaps a year now, have I had any real interest in learning where I came from religiously, why I was taught the way I was taught, and why Christians in the world believe so differently than how I was raised to believe. I began to research my previous religion. I wanted to know if there was real "truth" about God, who he is, who he isn't. I wanted to know what really, with "truth", happens to a person when they die. Witnesses teach that when you die, your soul dies too. That Armageddon is coming "right around the corner", and will destroy all of mankind except all of Jehovah's Witnesses . JW's believe they are the only "true religion", and they alone are God's inspired earthly organization. I wanted to know what would happen to me if I died this minute. Would I be "damned to hell" because I divorced my husband? Who is this God? Why should I put my faith and trust in him? Who is this Jesus? Are they a Trinity? Really?! Prayer???? I hadn't prayed since that horrible day in the closet.
My research began on the topic of who is God in relation to Jesus. Are they a Trinity or not? To me, that was the one topic that I had to have answered first. That subject was more important to me to know truthfully, before I began further research into any of the other topics. My research results were emotionally, mentally and spiritually devastating to me. I had stumbled upon a book written by a previous member of the "Governing Body", Ray Franz. I figured, who else but a previous gb member would be able to tell me where I came from religiously, since I already knew the book was not quite an "expose", but simply facts Ray Franz discovered about the inner workings and decision making within the religion. The information in that book ripped my soul apart, to put it mildly. Reading those damn yearbooks about the "persecution", murders and rapes in Malawi, and then to discover the reality of that vs. what was going on in Mexico nearly caused me a nervous breakdown.
After reading that book, I began researching Trinity and Diety of Christ. I discovered that I'd been taught wrong all my life about the Diety of Christ. When I read the proof in black and white, it literally caused me to hurl the book and papers across the room, yelling "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"! I felt as though I was shattered glass on the ground. I cried and cried. I ran to my car, drove off and drove for hours, crying. I felt total devastation to see for myself that I'd not only been taught wrong about God and Jesus, but to realize that I'd lost my entire family, due to the pathetic mind control of the g.b, men in New York who change the beliefs back and forth, making false prophesies about when Armageddon will come but doesn't come, controlling the lives and thinking of millions of people. Now that made me mad!
During that last several months, I've been a regular visitor and poster on a web site called Silentlambs. And I will personally be helping distribute those lambs here in Dallas, along with numerous other silentlamb survivors, including my two neices. This brings me healing in more ways than I can say. I cannot stand back and do nothing when I know that children everywhere are put at risk on a daily basis by these pedophiles. I felt pain during the months children were out of school during their summer break, wondering if a jw pedophile was knocking on the door of a latch-key child.
I spent the first thirty five years of my life being controlled; by my father and his leather belt; by my husband's strong hand; and controlled by the jw belief system. I believe in God and Jesus. I believe they are real, and I prayed for the first time in many years the day I drove away crying, discovering the Diety of Christ.
Where my research in questions will lead me, I still don't know. I've had recent moments when I felt as though God were tapping me on my shoulder to say, "It's going to be alright, I'm watching over you little one". Whether God will lead me to a church, I don't know. Whether this means I'm "saved", I don't know. It's hard for anyone who hasn't gone through it, or lived it themselves. Even those who were converted at some point in their lives, but were not born into it, can't really understand because they have a "before, during and after" image to return to once they leave the religion/cult. I don't have that luxury. It was all I ever knew. And it was a lie.
I've had a real strong sense of wanting to tell my story, and to do everything I can to protect the children from these pedophiles in this excuse of a religion. My son was molested by a jw when he was in second grade, when we lived in Illinois. He didn't tell anyone either, not even his parents. His molester told him that "this is how God wants us to show love for each other, and you want God to love YOU don't you"?. My son is now serving time in jail for molesting another child, my youngest daughter. My emotions are confused, mixed between pain and anger. Pain and anger over what happened to my little boy so many years ago, how his molester threatened to kill me and my husband, and claiming this is how God wants us to show love for each other. And, in pain and anger over how my son then victimized my little girl, taking away her innocense and threatening to kill both me and their father. What happened to me has gone full circle and devastated my children.
I've had a very hard life up until I met my new fiance'. I feel blessed to have found him. I can't help but feel that it's important for Larry and I to feel similar in a spiritual sense, in our beliefs together as man and wife. I feel as though I'm starting at ground zero, working my way up. Where my research will bring me in a religious sense, I have no idea. But, I do know that whatever it is, I'm ready for it, and I will never again be controlled by any man, or any one else. My mind is clear, and my claws are very sharp.
Lin