Oh, Here's the thread...
I will share my story, it is V. long (and v. boring). It's 1500 words. BEWARE!
My aunt (my mother’s sister) became a Witness when she was in her early twenties. My mother studied with her and became a Witness right around the time I was born in 1975. Mom divorced my father, soon got remarried to my stepfather, and was disfellowshipped. Mom continued to associate with my aunt until she received “The Letter” – a letter from her sister which contained a Watchtower article (early 80s) that advised Witnesses not to associate with those who are disfellowshipped or disassociated. Once her sister had “cut her off,” Mom started taking steps to get reinstated.
Dad (adopted me at 3, he was never “step” dad) hated the Witnesses. He saw how disrespectfully the elders had treated my mother (threatening her instead of helping her to deal with my father’s adultery and addiction to pornography, disfellowshipping her even though she hadn’t met with them to discuss anything) and told my mother if she went back to “those people,” he would divorce her. She didn’t listen, got reinstated, and before too long Dad became a Witness, too.
I was the oldest of 4 children in a small rural/suburban community in Northeast Ohio. Our congregation was small at first, only about 100-150 publishers. Later, (about 15 years ago now) it split into two congregations. Mom pioneered for years, and Dad was made a Ministerial Servant, and then an Elder, a position he holds to this day. My parents were very foolish with their money; they bought a brand new house as soon as they were married, and filled it with new furniture and appliances. Then Dad decided Mom should quit working and stay home with us kids. Noble idea, but they didn’t budget and were totally unprepared to support 2 kids (at that time) on one income. Bills and debt started piling up, they had the third child, and then had to sell the house. We moved into an apartment, Mom had the last child, and then in a few years, we lost that apartment as well. We ended up living in the upstairs half of a one-family house owned by a Witness family. There were five of us living in three rooms; their family lived downstairs in three rooms. We shared the kitchen, dining room, and laundry facilities. I hated it every minute of it, but to this day I appreciate the selflessness of that family in our family’s time of need.
I started reading at 4, joined the Ministry School at 5, was baptized at 14 and auxiliary pioneered until I discovered boys at 17, at which point all bets were off. I started sneaking out, lying about who I was going out with, “seeing” a slew of different boys (worldly and Witness) at the same time, mostly unbeknownst to my parents. Fortunately, in high school I decided to take control of my education (since my parents had no active concern about me furthering my education – college was still very frowned-upon at this time). I attended a vocational facility for Business Ed, graduated valedictorian of my class, and started working full-time right away.
At 18, I was increasingly at odds with my parents, fighting with my mother almost daily. I finally moved out of the house and into an apartment with a Witness woman I’ll call Sister D. Sister D. was going through a divorce (her husband had cheated on her with a woman from our congregation I’ll call Sister S.). I was let go from my job and had no money and no prospects. I stole a check from Sister D. and cashed it, and was arrested and convicted. I paid restitution and did community service. In the interim, I had moved into my grandmother’s house and gotten reacquainted with a childhood friend, and we began dating. Seven months later, I found out I was pregnant, and we were married within two months – less than a year after we started dating. We didn’t tell anyone about the pregnancy. I was 19.
One week before our wedding, the elders from my old congregation (minus my Dad) called to tell me that they wanted to meet with me. I agreed and met them after the Sunday morning meeting. They told me that Sister D. had complained to them about the situation with the check and wanted to discuss it with me. I asked them “what’s to discuss” – it had been handled by the police and the courts, I’d paid restitution, done community service, and apologized to her for what I had done. I couldn’t understand why this was being brought up now. After a nice little meeting, they called in another elder, turned it into a judicial matter, and inside of an hour, I was disfellowshipped. I appealed the decision and although the appeal committee found that the original elder body had definitely mishandled the proceedings, the disfellowshipping would stand.
I was devastated. Part of me accepted the disfellowshipping as punishment for being pregnant, even though the elders didn’t know about the pregnancy. Maybe that’s why I didn’t fight it too much.
The wedding went as planned the next week. It was very small, immediate family only. No one had said much about the short amount of time we’d been dating. After all, it’s the Witness Way! =) The week after we got married (technically our “honeymoon,” which was really just a week off of work for the both of us so that we could go to movies and play video games) my new husband took me to have an abortion. I’ve never forgiven myself for it, and have to pray about it every day.
Our marriage was fraught with difficulties. We had no money, and had to resort to living above his parent’s garage. We lived there about six months, and then moved to a larger city in Northeast Ohio. I attended a District Convention by myself during this time. My husband dropped me off and said he had to go into work, but he’d be there soon – then left me all day, and finally came to get me at six o’clock that evening. During that convention, the “new light” about the “last days” generation was released. I remember sitting there in my chair, shaking my head in disbelief and wondering to myself, “what is this bulls**t?!” For the benefit of our families, I continued to pursue reinstatement, and was finally reinstated about a year later, at which time I promptly quit attending meetings.
I made friends with some of the women I worked with, and started going out with them to local bars a few times a week. We moved again, to a larger, more expensive apartment, and then my husband started taking trips to Pennsylvania to visit an ex-girlfriend, sometimes staying over at her house. Then, he started inviting her to stay at our loft when she was in town. When I came downstairs one evening and found them laying on the futon together, I said “enough.” I told him to choose – this girl or me, his wife. He responded with, “please don’t make me choose between my friends.” That told me his decision. I left. I moved out by the end of the month and we were divorced soon after. I was 21.
I heard later that he began telling the Witnesses that I was a lesbian and that was why he’d divorced me. I’m sure he had a difficult time explaining his lies when I got remarried this past September to a wonderful, loving, strong Christian man who has been very supportive of my difficult and emotional path of deprogramming. My parents hated my ex-husband, and were thrilled to find that I was getting remarried – they like my husband very much. We dated for three years (I wasn’t taking any chances on this one!) before we decided to get engaged.
I started reading Raymond Franz’s “Crisis of Conscience” and my eyes were opened. I started looking for other ex-JWs and researching the origins of the beliefs of the Witnesses. That’s how I found this Web site, along with Randy's and Kent's.
I have seen my parents once since the wedding seven months ago -- recently, Dad had a heart attack and I took Mom dinner at the hospital. I haven't heard from them since.
When I was disfellowshipped, they had no problems with calling me up to see how I was. After that, I was the only one who called. I was the only one who e-mailed. Sure, my Mom would respond to my e-mails and chat with me on the phone, but I was always the one initiating the effort. We were always the ones to go visit them (an hour & 15 minute drive one way for us). But now that I’m stable, I’ve got my life together, I’m not a druggie or an alcoholic, and there’s no chance in hell that I’ll go back to the Witnesses, my family has no use for me.
How can they allow their religion to come between family? I’m not surprised, I guess. I just hope they understand that they are doing damage that cannot be undone. I’m fully prepared to get a letter (my mom is too chicken to handle it face-to-face) telling me that they cannot associate with us any longer. It’s not easy to think about, but I have to accept it.
In the meantime, I have a wonderful family that I would do anything for – my husband’s mom and dad and eight brothers and sisters, their children (and grandchildren), cousins… they truly ease the pain and sorrow that I am experiencing in losing my own family. I have been blessed countless times by these people (Catholic!!! Oh my God!! The Whore of Babylon herself!! =) who have welcomed me into their hearts and lives and homes, and made me part of their family.
POSTSCRIPT: One of the elders who disfellowshipped me was himself disfellowshipped less than six months later – he was having an affair with a woman from the congregation. He was in his sixties; she, in her forties. He had a wife, children and grandchildren; she had a husband and 2 children, all of whom were devastated by the events.
Sister L. later married the brother of Sister S, and became sisters-in-law with the woman who had cheated with her husband.