Funny I was having this thought today. I left 14 years ago and have never really looked at it, but is the one thing that will make me loose my family. I have taken great steps with gaining the outlook to DA this week,but still don't know.It doesn't change me as a person but it may make me better. I don't know.Thank you for bringing this up! Helps me work with the idea and what I need in life.
Does The Thought of Being Disfellowshipped Bother You?
by minimus 38 Replies latest jw friends
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Incense_and_Peppermints
@#%$ no!
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outbutnotdown
I was df'd in 1992. If you asked me then I would have said it's the worst thing that ever happened to me. But that's because I was depressed JW. It took a few years for me to realize that I was a lucky son of a b*tch for it to have happened to me.
Sure, having your family shun you sucks, but I've found more joy and peace in this world than I ever thought possible when I was a dub.
How much it bothers us seems to be determined by how tightly we still hold to their teachings. Ask devout JW's that question... 100% would shriek in horror at the thought of being df'd. That's the major point, IMO.
Brad
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stillajwexelder
Yes it worries me -that is why I still go to some meetings
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FreedomFrog
It worries me a little because of the shunning with my parents...but in the long run I believe it will be for the good. I won't have to look over my shoulders all the time. Right now at this point in my life, though, I guess I hope that I can put it off.
As far as being DF'd from the religion. I have no problems with that.
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minimus
I can see why getting df'd could be a relief. But when you have close family, it's not the best option ,imo.
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Honesty
When I found out the things they teach are so distorted from what the Bible teaches I went through a period of depression and guilt. But after discovering their affiliation with the UN and that a brother I used to talk to a lot down in Australia even appeared before the Australian gov't as a NGO representative for the WT I figured what the heck and DA'd myself from the WT before they could call a JC on me for spreading 'apostate lies' about the Borg. I am now affiliated with 'Babylon the Great' and have finally found who really deserves worship; not to mention truth and freedom to discuss the Bible instead of worshipping the WT(March 1, 1979 - cover article).
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Gerard
I found this letter sometime ago in the Canadian Globe & Mail newsparer; I'd like to share it with anyone who still feels bothered by being shunned:
Stripped perhaps, but not shamed I used to think that I 'lost,' that being true to myself cost me more than it was worth. But I was wrong. I won.
By M.L. TRUMAN
Thursday, March 25, 2004 - Page A22
Ten years ago I sat in a dark room, smoking cigarettes, flipping through an old photo album filled with pictures from my childhood. I stopped at a picture of my father holding my tiny hand in his. Beside the picture was written, "Hand in hand with daddy forever." I remember thinking how different my life was now to what it had been at the time of that picture. I ran my fingers reminiscently over the page and wished that things could be the way that they once were. I knew that that was not possible, though, and so I sat motionless in the dark crying, waiting to fall asleep. I sat alone and waited to die.
When I say that I "waited to die," I really did. I was waiting for the actual physical end of my life. Filled with loneliness and despair, I had rationalized committing suicide and set my plan into action. I had gone to my medicine cabinet and grabbed everything that I knew I shouldn't. The pills, the capsules, the tablets -- I swallowed them all, and then I wrote my suicide note. Misshapen letters scrawled across the paper spelled out that I was tired; that I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I then sat on the couch, waves of blackness crashing over me, when suddenly the telephone rang. Had I really wanted to die, I would have. I would have ignored the persistent ringing. I chose, instead, to answer the phone and save myself. I chose to put the pieces of my life back together.
Had you asked me prior to my own attempt why people commit suicide, I could have listed a number of reasons without being able to narrow it down to only one. I get it now. Contrary to popular belief, it's not about a person's being disturbed or unbalanced, insane or irrational. The road to suicide is paved with traumatic loss and unresolved pain.
I refer to my traumatic loss as "the death of my family and friends." If I close my eyes, I can see the moment of that tragedy as if it were yesterday.
At 17, I -- the ever-pleasing, never-defiant child -- decided that I no longer wanted to be a member of the religious faith in which I had been raised. I no longer wanted to be a Jehovah's Witness. The day that my secret was revealed, I sat across the table from two church elders who would decide my fate. My father sat with them.
The elders had learned that I had sinned and they wanted me to repent. They wanted me to say that I was sorry for getting drunk. I desperately wanted to tell them what they wanted to hear but it would have been a lie and I no longer wanted to live a lie. So I looked at them solemnly and said, "I am sorry for what you will have to do, but I am not sorry for what I have done."
There was nothing more to be said. The heavy silence that fell between them and me signalled that everyone knew what my pronouncement meant. I would be ex-communicated, my parents (the ones who are supposed to love you unconditionally) would disown me, and my only friends -- also Jehovah's Witnesses -- would turn their backs on me.
People look at me funny when I recount the death of my family and friends. They cannot relate, and so they cannot know the tremendous loss and pain that I feel, even to this day. I no longer want to end my life, though. I have left the long, dark, lonely road that leads to suicide and I am grateful. This did not happen in one fell swoop. Instead, the transformation in my life happened one step, and one day, at a time.
For the first 17 years of my life who and what I was had been defined in terms of my religion. When I was stripped of that identity I did not know who or what to be. The most important thing I came to understand, though, was that even though others had labelled me a sinner, an apostate, and unworthy of membership within their group, they were wrong. I define my own self-worth, no one else does. I define who I am, the type of person I am, and the type of life that I will live regardless of what has been said about me or done to me.
In the moment when I had uttered those life-altering words, "I am sorry for what you will have to do, but I am not sorry for what I have done," I knew that I would rather live my life alone than live the life that others wanted me to. For me, being able to look myself in the face each day with respect and dignity finally became more important than having the approval of others.
I used to think that I "lost," that being true to myself cost me more than it was worth. I was wrong, though. I won. I won because I was faithful to what I believed in. I won because I did not compromise myself. I won because I rose above what was done to me. I won because I survived.
My father once told me that two people could stand atop the same mountain but that the view, and what it meant to be there, would be different for each person. The one who had needed to fight to reach the top would appreciate it far more than the person who had not. I could never have imagined that I would have to climb alone.
Yes, I have struggled, and yes, I have reached the top. The view, though, is marred and it always will be. Something is missing.
I wonder what my father's view is like. I'm sure that something is missing, too.
Monica Truman lives in Waterloo, Ont.
Original Story -
Gill
That's a very moving story Gerard.
Glad you posted it.
Just proves what a destructive cult the WTBTS really is when it tears apart a family. Why couldn't that little hand have stayed with it's father. Unconditional love is a wonderful, wonderful thing. It's something I have begun to learn only since leaving the cult.
As my children and husband left the cult, I followed. At first I thought we were choosing death but then I realised we had chosen to actually live the only life we had.
Again, Gerard, great post.