(((Strawberry)))
Your story so mirrors my own - it's uncanny. I grew up in a divided household as well - scared to death of everything/everyone. Being "persecuted" in God's name - I remember only to well. I remember at the age of 5, while mom was studying the "Great Teacher" book with me, and explaining how I would be most likely taken from her and placed all alone, maybe even be physically tortured beyond any "spanking" she had ever given me (and how awful were those beatings!!!). I remember taking my bath afterwards and crying - I never knew lack of fear in my life until almost 20 years later.
My father (non-JW) was given no respect or honor in our household - except what HAD to be given by JW standards. I was taught not to listen to him, not to count on him nor to go to him with my needs. I wanted to love him, but it would have been wrong in God's eyes - because we are to hate the world. I grew up very torn. When I finally left, I also had the priviledge and honor of getting to know my father, and beginning for the first time traditions that had never been given to me as a child. Those times I had with him until his death are so precious to me now - enjoy every moment you can! There's alot of healing in that.