Since I have been out, I am still amazed when I find someone who is no longer a JW. The funny thing is, I am always amazed at how many people it is just a casual fact about their past that they don't think anything of. The more and more I think about it, the more I realize that most people were just able to blow it off, and then there are a few of us who it actually left deep marks on us. They may not be visible, but my scars run deep. Yet, they have healed up pretty nicely.
I came from a family who a good percentage of were JWs. There was my mom, my aunt and uncle, and my second cousin. All of them had kids. It was me, my brother, my cousin, and two third cousins. Not a single one of us kids remain.
Growing up, I remember being scared that I was going to die and never be reserected. But, it was just a way of life. As a matter of fact, it was fun. We would have so much fun getting ready for the conventions, and it was exciting to get to see so many different people. I loved singing louder than my friend who had the horrible voice. All and all, I was actually happy.
But that was before I got to the age that I started to think for myself. When I was 13 or so, my brother had just graduated high school and my mom decided to take me to a different town. I got baptized with my best-friend right before I left so that I could do it in front of everyone I knew (bad reason to get baptized). My brother moved in with my dad while he went to college and I moved all the way across state from all my friends and everyone I had loved. Well, I did not get into the congregation. There was only one other girl my age and she was from a very "spiritual" family. This didn't mix well with my family (which basically consisted of me and my mom who were constantly struggling with everything). I tried so hard to be accepted. I studied and tried to do everything that I could. I read the bible every night before I went to bed. I even had the Young People Ask book in my back pack. But the only time I had any people my age to relate to was at school. I got to know a kid who I soon found out was gay. This shook my world. He was a GREAT guy and how can someone that great be so bad? I didn't get it. And the more I looked for answers, the less I found. Well, I soon told my mom that I didn't believe in her faith. She told me that I just needed to pray more and look to Jehovah. I tried this. I tried very hard, and I prayed most nights with tears in my eyes. Time passed and I started to get depressed. I wanted to die. At the same time, the only person who made me happy was a guy at school who asked me out. That was when I went back to my mom. I told my mom that I was so depressed that I wanted to kill myself. I had also told her on a previous occasion that I was dating a kid at school. She decided to call the elders in. I was so scared and upset. I'll never forget sitting in the living room with those two elders. I trusted them as I had always trusted them. No, no one did anything sexual. What they did almost as much harm. They told me that having a "worldly" boyfriend was wrong. When I told them I didn't want to live anymore, they ignored it. They didn't care that I wanted to commit suicide. They kept going on and on about bad influences. It hurt so bad. They didn't care whether I lived or died, they only cared that I stop seeing this kid from school.
That is when I moved into my father's house. It was rough and to live in a house without everything that was so... so... I can't even describe it. Structured maybe. A few years later, I went through all my books and literature. I threw out everything that I had drawn in and underlined. Everything else I packed in a box. I drove down to the closes KH and knocked on the door. I gave them the box and it was amazing the looks they gave me. It was more just intrigue than anything, and then mistrust. They started asking me where I got it and a ton of other questions. They then told me that they would have to carefully look at everything. Like I was going to sneak in "apostate" literature.
Soon, I went to college and started my life as an adult. Well, even in college, I would wake up at night with cold sweats thinking I was going to die. There was one occasion that I remember waking up in my dorm room to the beautiful red and pink sunrise. But instead of seeing the beauty of it, my heart stopped. All I heard was the siren on the silent streets and the red in the sky and I started crying. I kept thinking that this was it... this was armageddon.
As I have gotten older and am now married, I have had a lot of time to reflect on everything. I have moved on past everything that has happened. My brother has made something of his new life and doesn't think twice about JWs. My cousin on the other hand has had a worse time.
He was disfellowshipped. I am not sure of the details, but now his mother and father do not talk to him. He is so angry and I feel for him so much. He does everything he can to try and force his parents to leave. It is sad to see it happen. However, I do know that he is not the most pleasant of person to actually be around. Plus, his drinking and smoking pot have gotten the better of him. I think that whether he actually got disfellowshipped or not, they would still kind of cut things off with him... So, I can't really blame them at all.
My mother and I are on really good terms. She at least sees that though me and my brother have left, we are still a couple of good kids. Sometimes she does pressure me to come back, she knows that it is just futile attempts. What I always end up telling her is, "I know you want me back, but would you want me back without me believing or would you want me back on my own full free will? I am not going back just because you want me there. You know I don't believe and it would be hypocritical to actually come back and not." She agrees with me and then stops.
I have learned not to hate it. It saved my mom's life. Without it she would probably be dead right now. My uncle would still be an alcoholic and my aunt would still be extremely violent. My aunt and uncle probably won't ever talk to me, but you know what, I still love them, and if ever they do decide to treat me as a member of their family again, I will welcome with open arms. Until then, I will support them in whatever decisions they make. Learning to communicate with the real world and make friends has been hard. I used to resent it, but time heals a lot. Coming to terms with all of this has been really hard, but in the end, it really has made me a better person.
I still to this day have never been disfellowshipped and never have written a letter to disassociate myself. A couple of years ago, I talked to a couple elders and they told me that they won't disfellowship me, but if ever I tried to come back, or tried to associate with them, they would have to. Go figure.