I've shared a bit about my experiences but I don't think I ever gone into much detail. I'm setting this down as an example of what growing up a witness can be like for any lurkers who have doubts or questions.
I was born into a family of witnesses. Almost all of my family were witnesses as I grew up. I believe that my grandfather, on my fathers side, was raised a witness as well so it goes very far back in my family. On my mother's side, her parents converted when she was a teen. The congregation I grew up in was presided over by my grandfather. My father was an elder and my uncle was a ministerial servant. My young life was dominated by the Watchtower. We went out in service every Saturday and had a family study for as long as I could remember. My mother, being the artistic sort, had art history books in abundance. I used to lose myself in them for hours, fascinated by the master's amazing ability to capture the human form. I tried my hand at nudes when I was 6 years old and shocked the crap out of my parents. I remember watching my feeble attempts at art burning in the fireplace. I couldn't understand why my pictures were so bad that they needed to be destroyed. I think this was my first realization that something was amiss with my life. If god made us all so beautiful and artists were celebrated for their ability to lay down the human form why was my undertaking so shameful?
My father has an extremely short temper. He's mellowed with age but as a young elder trying to properly raise three young girls he had his hands full. For the slightest infraction we were severely beaten. I think there was a three year stretch where I received a "spanking" after every Sunday meeting. Not with an ordinary paddle either mind you. One made in shop class by my uncle; an inch thick with holes placed strategically. Not that my father restricted himself to the paddle. He used his fists, belts, feet and words to hurt us. I still remember him grabbing my sister by the hair and pounding her head into the wall. One time he caught me using his tape recorder to learn the new kingdom ministry songs and he threw me on the floor and started kicking me. What a loving organisation eh? I don't think I'll go into too much more detail in this, kinda painful.
I started rebelling at about 15. I would sneak out and hang out with boys; the horror! I never did too much with them. Making out was as far as I ever went. I got caught once with my friends older brother by his mother. She said she wouldn't tell anyone because she knew I was a good sister and I think she knew my father would've beaten the crap out of me. She was one of the nicer sisters.
At 18 I knew the pressure was on to get baptised. I didn't, at that moment in time, think there was any other options. I couldn't fathom a life outside the witnesses. I got dunked just after graduation. I was love bombed by the congregation. I felt very spiritual for a short time. I'd never felt closer to god. He and I were buddies! I decided to regular auxilary pioneer. I would go out by myself when necessary!
At this time I was also going to college and working part time. I had no car so I took the bus everywhere. I met a man on the bus. He was very good looking and friendly. Despite my inner warning bells I agreed to go out with him. I met him at his house one day and we chitchatted for awhile. Before I could do anything I found myself being raped. Screaming did me no good. Where was my buddy god in all this? I blamed myself for all of it. To some degree, I still do.
My meeting attendance and field service dropped dramaticly. I went from uber sister to walking dead in days. I turned into a hedonist quickly. Nothing mattered! For three years I did whatever I wanted. I found myself pregnant at 21. I told noone until I went into labor. Yes, it's possible to conceal a pregnancy. My parents lost it. I found myself in front of a JC so quickly even Speedy Gonzalez wouldn't have been able to keep up. I went in with my young son and well, I won't go into too much detail but, it was humiliating. I had to confess all my sins before three men. I cried, I repented, I was reproved. I have only been to 2 or 3 meeting since.
I am mentally out now, after years of depression and guilt. I thank alot of people for that. Mostly friends I have made from the internet. I am an atheist and I'm finally happy.
Phew! I feel better!
~Aztec