I went to a "witness school" here in Tucson for one year. The school was completely run by witness volunteers, all the teachers, office staff, etc all witnesses. Not all the teachers had degrees to be teachers, most of them did not. Every morning we would begin the day with all students gathered together to sing kindgom songs, then we would go to class. When the school first started, most were unpaid volunteers. As the years went by, staff was eventually paid. My parents had to pull us out because we were not learning anything, my brother had to repeat a year of school, it set him back so bad. Up until at least my early twenties, the school was still in existence, all for witnesses, all run by witnesses, but I dont think its around anymore.
Posts by Netty
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25JW Prep Schools?!
by imallgrowedup ini was just reading another thread that mentioned something that knocked me over!
this thread mentions the existence of jw prep schools!
can anyone enlighten me on this topic?
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You Reap what you SOW??!!
by Netty ini am so bummed right now.
my sister, who is df'd, has so many medical conditions, she suffers alot.
she has recently been dignosed with fibromyalgia, and is in such extreme pain, she had to have cortisone injections into various trigger points into her neck and spine.
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Netty
I am so bummed right now. My sister, who is df'd, has so many medical conditions, she suffers alot. She has recently been dignosed with Fibromyalgia, and is in such extreme pain, she had to have cortisone injections into various trigger points into her neck and spine. Very pain ful ordeal. SO, she was sharing with my brother, who is NO LONGER a witness either, mind you, and heres what he told her:
"I want no part of your pity party, I think you know why these things are happening to you, YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW, both you and Netty, and I think you both know what you need to do." waaaa
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10
The Last Supper...... again.
by Nosferatu inmy dad is going for a biopsy next friday.
the doctor told him that there is a slight chance that if they bugger up the surgery, he'll bleed to death.
my dad is making a mountain out of a molehill again.
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Netty
We have so many similarities with our parents. Thats exactly what my parents do, both of them, everytime there is some new health crisis. Last time, my father discovered he had diabetes, he gathered us all together for the "this could be our last family discussion". I feel like they're trying to guilt me back, using their health problems, to coming to the meetings. RETARDED is right!
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5
Born Here In This House
by Undecided ini went by the old house i was born in the other day and took a picture.
my grandparents lived here in 1936. it was 1:30 in the morning in one of the upstairs rooms.
it was the coldest feb 10 since that date, i wonder if i had anything to do with that?
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Netty
Hi Undecided,
I really think there is some deeper meaning to you being drawn to this home. For the longest time, I have been dreaming about the house that I grew up in. It drives me crazy, doesnt matter what the dream is about, somehow the house is ALWAYS in the dream. The only thing that I can think of, is that I must have been longing for the comfort of being the innocent child I was when I lived there, I dont know.
I really do think it has a meaning though.
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51
What have you replaced religion with?
by logansrun in(obviously this question is for those who are non-religious in any conventional sense).
what have you replaced religion with in your life?
(by that i mean the religious life with it's rituals, worship and group identity) what is your raison d'etre?
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Netty
THis is funny because my mother, sarcastically said to me the other day "You're Line Dancing is your religion" She's right it is, I line dance two times a week, 3 hours a day, then prepare for class during the week. There's the whole ritual and group dynamic thing to it. But it is WAY different for one reason, I LOVE doing it.
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30
Hello
by Netty injust wanted to write a post to introduce myself and say hello.
im new here, although i've read many of the posts here for a few months now.
i was raised as a jw since i was 4 years old, elders daughter, pioneered the whole bit.
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Netty
Not sure how I managed, but I guess I posted my story two different places on this board, I'm on the learning curve.
Thank you all so much, its just great to be among people who have the same experiences. NOT that its great that you had the experience, just that we can relate.
Nosferatu, I think its amazing how people who have hurt you can have such selective memory. I can relate to you there, once it got back around to my father through the "family grapevine" that I accused him of hitting us if we didnt answer at the meeting. WOE, the war that ensued. He adamently denies it ever happened. Tell that to my scars (emotional ones that is). I was so upset that he could not just admit what he did. Kind of made me feel like the La Toya Jackson of the family I respect you for wanting to confront and bring things out in the open, I hope some day very soon you succeed at doing this with your mother.
Thanks again for the warm welcome!
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11
Thanks for all the kind welcomes!
by Netty inthank you so much for all the kind welcomes!
i finally feel ready to put my story together, after months of gathering my thoughts.
so, here it is, way too long i think, but here goes: .
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Netty
Thanks you guys!
How funny to think that your story is so unique that no one woud ever understand, then to find a so many people who have been through very similar things. It really helps and means alot to me. Gumby, I'm from Tucson, where did you live for 16 years?
Thanks again!
back to you ((((((Rayzorblade)))))
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11
Thanks for all the kind welcomes!
by Netty inthank you so much for all the kind welcomes!
i finally feel ready to put my story together, after months of gathering my thoughts.
so, here it is, way too long i think, but here goes: .
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Netty
Thank you so much for all the kind welcomes! I finally feel ready to put my story together, after months of gathering my thoughts. So, here it is, way too long I think, but here goes:
In 1970, when I was 4 years old, my mother had grown sick of the physical abuse in her marriage, and decided she was going to commit suicide, and take her 5 children with her. Her plan was foiled by the notorious "knock at the door" the title of the magazine for sale "what are your children learning in Sunday school?" We were catholic, and had not been learning a thing about God at our Sunday school classes.
My mother was baptized in 1971, my father followed in 1972.
Ironically, my mother was always the first to put other religions down by saying that people convert, not for logical reasons, but due to some highly emotional traumatic event that causes them to RUN to and be overtaken by the religion. What was our situation? She was going to kill herself and her five children because of an emotionally traumatic situation that caused her to run to and be overtaken by a religion.
In 1975 I was nine. I clearly remember all the hype in my congregation and others around us, about the end of the world. This is a very heavy thing for a school-aged kid to carry around in their heart. How scary to be told and think that your friends that you play with every day, were going to die when Armageddon strikes, and that you were not going to die because you were, well, better than them. When the end of the world did not come in 1975, I remember a very close friend of my fathers, the man who studied with him, appearing on TV and sweeping the entire thing under the carpet. Right after 1975, I remember hearing stories about brothers who lost everything, quit high paying jobs, had gotten themselves into debt purchased new homes, boats, etc, because they knew the world was ending. These people were looked down upon and gossiped about. We were taught that they just took things too far, all blame was removed from the society for the lives that were ruined over the 1975 issue.
I was a painfully shy kid. In school, I was always in constant fear that some activity was going to be done where I would have to speak up and say that I could not participate; like the flag salute, a holiday or birthday celebration. It was embarrassing and very humiliating to me, to be the only kid "not allowed" and to have to explain why. I did get the opportunity, several times throughout my grade school years, to defend my parent’s faith. My explanation, made no sense to me, it was a canned explanation that I was forced to practice over and over and over at home, in hopes for the opportunity to use it at school so my parents could have something to brag about. Now that I have children in school, I can’t imagine EVER putting them through something like this, all for the sake of bragging rights.
I started giving talks at 10 years of age. Even from such a young age, there was so much pressure that you were a bad or weak witness if you didn’t stand up in front of a group of 200 people and speak for an entire 5 minutes. I was so frightened the first time I gave a talk. I was in the back school, and in the middle of the talk I started to quietly cry. The sister who was my householder could see me, but I don’t think many of the audience members really could. After the talk was over, I really started to cry uncontrollably and could not stop. I’ll never forget how cruelly my father treated me. He was so embarrassed by the whole thing; after all it made him look bad. He told me to go out to the car, where I waited all alone, crying in the dark, until the rest of the family came out. I realize now it was just a release of emotion from all the pent up pressure and anxiety leading up to the time I was to stand up in front of the group and speak. Although I never cried again as I gave talks for the next ten years, I always suffered what I now know to be anxiety/panic attacks.
Somewhere in the very late 70’s I believe, my father beat my oldest brother until he broke his arm, and then qualified to be appointed as an elder.
So we studied every single day of the week, in order to prepare for 5 hours of meetings per week. During our "loving" family study, if my youngest brother, who was dyslexic, would struggle with his reading aloud, or mispronounce a word, my "loving elder" father would throw a shoe at him from across the room, and hit him in the head with it. We also had to wake up every Saturday morning, to go out on field service. I hated field service. In later years, I would lie when I reported my time, just to keep the elders off my case. I remember a friend recently asking me who my favorite cartoon character was growing up, I didn’t have an answer, I never watched cartoons.
I remember my father interrogating us "DO YOU HAVE A PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH JEHOVAH? If we did that would be personal wouldnt it?
We would be yelled at, disciplined or hit if we did not answer at the meetings. I would sit through the meeting, with such nervous gas in my stomach (which I now blame my gastrointestinal problems on) I was so scared to raise my hand. Then when we would get in the car after the meeting I would be drilled, "what did I learn?" Well, not much, I was a little busy having an anxiety attack throughout the entire meeting, for fear if I didn’t answer I’d get hit, oh but I did learn the craft of how to silently release gas during the watchtower study so no one notices.
Every time the news would come on and there was some major world event or crisis, all the children were called to gather around the TV. The fear was that THIS was Armageddon. Especially if either of the two words PEACE or SECURITY was used in the news cast. And, most certainly if the two words were actually used TOGETHER. "Whenever it is that they shout Peace and Security, then sudden destruction will be up on them" yadda yadda yadda... Another wonderful way for a young child to grow up, in constant fear of Armageddon striking.
My parents always prepared us with how in the end we would have to be willing to die for our beliefs. We would have to hold fast our integrity to our beliefs even if we saw our mothers fathers brothers and sisters being murdered before our very eyes for sticking up for their beliefs. We were going to be faced with the same types of things HItler did to the Jews in the concentration camps. This scared the crap out of a poor little kid who should have ONLY been being taught that GOD LOVES YOU, and Adam ate the apple, that’s it!
When I was 13 years old, my grade school sweetheart, was kidnapped raped beaten and murdered. This horrible crime shook up not just our neighborhood, not just the city but the entire state. These types of awful things were not as common as they are today. I would sit up at night and listen as my parents watched the news, as the search was on, then to hear that a body was found, then to hear that dental records matched. I had met Craig in 2nd grade and we were inseparable all the way through 6th grade. Neither one of us ever asked go to steady, it was a given an understood thing, everyone knew we "liked each other". I was not allowed to attend Craig’s funeral. As my witness parents knew that if we set foot into Babylon the Great we would be struck dead at Armageddon. I was not allowed to pay him my respects. I was devastated by what happened to him, and never once uttered a peep of it to either one of my parents. I hung my head as low as it could go the days before and after his funeral as all the kids at school were asking me if I was going to pay my last respects. I had to answer no; they disliked me for it. I hated my parents for it.
Masturbation. My son does it, I know it, I simply say "son stop doing that" I am not going to cause the serious psychological damage that can be done to a person if you cause them serious embarrassment over this. My dad would sit the entire family down, then question my brother in front of everyone, are you doing this, then get violent on him for doing it, all because per the society’s thinking this was such a big a no-no.
When us kids were in our teenage years, my father was so surprised to hear that we had a difficult time approaching him. He had a violent temper, was tyrannical, angry, over bearing and domineering. He would say, "then why is it that all the young brothers and sisters in the congregation can come to me?" Bottom-line, he was a completely different person with them. He could spend all his time and energy helping and encouraging people who were not his flesh and blood, but his very own children were not shown that same love, patience or understanding.
I have suppressed so much anger over the years. It was my survival mechanism. I had to hide the anger, pretend like all was well and tell myself constantly since the time I was about 13 years old, that as soon as I turn 18 I will move out and this will all be over with. I hung on to that thought, it was the only thing that kept me going. I learned office skills through a COE class in high school, where you worked part of your school day. I am surprised I got away with working while in school instead of pioneering, only (which I did too!). But this was because we were not well off, and this way my parents would not have to worry about my expenses.
My teenage brothers were kicked out on their ear when they were 15 and 16 years of age. This was all about the whole elder thing "not keeping those under their roof under submission" I forget the whole absurd reasoning. But it was all about his reputation as an elder. So many elders had teenage sons that were experiencing normal teenage boy things. Rather than step down as an elder and help the boys with these normal life’s occurrences, my father, as did others in our congregation, kicked their babies out on the street to fend for themselves. When my brothers would start disobeying Jehovah, my father would say this "I’m going to have to CUT HIM OFF" those words still cut me right down to my bones. How could a parent cut off his own child? Especially now that I have children I could never imagine cutting a child off. But this is what he taught us to do. And we had to do it, case closed. Rules strictly enforced! As I look back I know this caused a problem for me in developing and maintaining friendships and close personal relationships. How could I know how to keep and cultivate a long lasting personal relationship when I was taught to be able to completely turn off feelings, to disregard ignore and cut people off.
I had a best friend in high school; she was very patient with all the witness stuff. I would go to school with my heart up in my throat, and my bible in the glove box. I had to save her. I wanted to be able to associate with her, and knew that with high school ending I surely would never see her again. I had to get her recruited, yet I could not bring myself to preach to her. I knew then that I would be blood guilty for her when she died at Armageddon. These are definitely not feelings a normal high school kid should have to experience.
I was smart in school yet; I was not prepared to learn how to do anything for my future. I was taught the future was not going to be here. I got A’s and B’s in school with no effort at all, yet I found out that per the society there would be no college in my future. With new light, I know that now there are witness kids attending college right and left. Hmmm…guess I missed out on that one.
As I approached my older teenage years, my sole purpose in life was to marry an elder and have elder babies. Yet, in Arizona, and during the eighties, there were about 100 eligible young brothers to every one sister. I never stood a chance. According to my parents, I was to be faithful and wait on Jehovah. Who for, for me? No, for my parents. Never did they think about the complete torture I was experiencing while I waited on Jehovah, to save face for them. They already had their spouses, they had been together since 16 years of age. Because of their love for the organization, they put a harsh requirement on me, to remain without love and be lonely, when they had absolutely no clue what I was going through. They would never have to experience it.
As we got older, at assemblies my father made it clear he did not want what was left of us children around. He would complain if he had to take us with him to lunch or dinner, he made it so obvious. He would say this thing in Spanish, which when translated means: F’n kids! At that time, with all the difficulties young ones have to go through to try and stay in the truth, a loving caring welcoming touch would have maybe helped to keep us around.
I found myself unable to keep up with all the things required of me to be a witness, yet I knew that if I didn’t I would die at Armageddon! I felt like I was being a hypocrite trying to lead a JW life. I didn’t like the system, the rules, I hated going door to door, and I was bored out of my mind at the meetings. I taught myself how to wander off into my thoughts, daydream I guess. And yet, taught myself how to listen for that "lets turn in our bibles" so that I would be ready to flip my bible at the same time as everyone else so that my parents would not know that I was drifting.
At 19 years of age, I put forth my last effort to try and be a witness, I decided to get baptized. I guess I thought something magical would happen that all of a sudden I would have an appreciation of the truth and everything would fall into place. That was not the answer, and later that year I moved out of the house. So many people remember their baptism date as such an important milestone in their lives. I couldn’t’ even tell you my baptism date if you paid me. I simply don’t remember it at all. I only remember my age, 19.
I just could not be a hypocrite; I could not accept so many things about the JW religion. I kept telling myself I cannot lead a double life, I did not want to be one thing to my parents and the congregation and somebody completely different outside of that. It was just such a strain on me physically and emotionally to continue to simply go through the motions of doing something I had no passion, or even a like, for. Although I knew I had to move out of my parents house, I still decided other than that, the most honorable way of leaving, was just to drift away so as not to offend or hurt my parents.
From my new apartment, I would call on the phone and my dad would answer. When he heard my voice he would abruptly say "HERE’S YOUR MOM" He would have nothing to do with me for years. He could not even say hello to me on the telephone. I was treated the same as a disfellowhipped person. I still cry, am even crying right now, when I think about that painful time in my life. It makes me so angry, almost angry enough to go ahead and show him what I am writing here. Then I think about breaking his heart, and can’t bring myself to do it.
When I decided to leave, the total assumption, by my family and the congregation was that I wanted to do bad things. I was not promiscuous, never did drugs per say, except a few marijuana experiments in junior high, I just did not like the JW lifestyle and did not want to be part of it. I still remember a conversation I had with my brother only 4 or 5 years ago, where he had assumed I was out screwing the planet, when I left the organization. All part of the haughty arrogant self -righteous attitude that they would assume anyone who leaves is automatically scum of the earth murderers, rapists, sluts, and drug addicts. He was shocked to hear that my husband is the first and only man I have ever slept with, (YES, before we were married, we lived together).
Before and after I left, I constantly prayed to God "please help me to differentiate between the strict controlling demanding dogmatic tyrannical way I was raised by my father, and the society, the organization, or the truth. Because I still felt the truth was right, but that I just had too much mental and verbal abuse about living the truth, from a tyrant for a father.
Once in my early 20’s I thought I could go back . I thought I had been gone long enough to get away from my fathers control, still had all the teachings and ways of thinking beaten into me, and believed I was going to die still if I did not get back into the organization. I thought I had been away from my father long enough to separate, his controlling tyranny, from the organization. Yet, I failed again, I still didn’t like the meetings, I didn’t like service, I didn’t like studying, I still couldn’t do it. And for the longest time, I still thought, I still have not been able to separate my father’s control from the actual truth. I prayed about it, over and over, till I went completely nuts, why was I still failing at separating the control from the watchtower?
For the longest time I couldn’t pray, I thought I was not allowed. I had one very close friend who I met at work, who would get so upset at me when I would tell her this. She helped me to see that everyone is allowed to pray, even the murderer on death row. I had always been taught that disfellowshpped persons were not allowed to pray to Jehovah, and although I was not disfellowshipped, I was still in the same status. My parents engrained this into us, how disfellowshipped persons are not allowed to pray. How dare they? Now I know, Jehovah listens to everyone and anyone. In my mind, I still refer to him as Jehovah, but not publicly. Around my husband and children I simply call him God.
At one funeral my mom successfully guilted me into attending, I saw the mother of a sister I grew up with. She immediately asked me what congregation I was going to. My answer was "none" Her reply was "Well then I think you know what you need to do!!" Hey, nice seeing you too sister By the way, she was the mother of a young girl I grew up with whose very own "elder" father had sexually molested her, and surprise remained an elder the entire time. Looking back I wish I could have said something smart alec back to her like "you mean like you knew what you needed to do, when your husband was messing with your daughter," but I just cant find it in my heart. I cannot muster up the meanness to do it.
Probably the worst witness related pain I’ve ever experienced was when my father refused to walk me down the aisle when I got married. This was THE very first wedding on mine and my husband’s side of the family. I cried for days and days when my father "took his stand against me" and passed his test of integrity to the organization in exchange for my broken heart and crushed soul. I was and still am referred to as the goody two shoes in the family, always the good one, the perfect dutiful daughter. Yet my father steadfastly took his stand and in his mind, this was persecution, and a test of his integrity to Jehovah, which only made him look so much better to the brothers. My brother walked me down the aisle instead. Such a dark cloud hung over my wedding, to this day, ten years later; I can’t even bring myself to order my wedding pictures. I just don’t want to go back to the pain. Still, I decided that no matter how badly I was treated that I should suck up the pain, forgive my parents for the sake of trying to build a relationship with them. I have succeeded at doing this and now I do have a relationship with my parents. But it just so sad, we could be so much more as a real family. Whenever I want to try and arrange a meal or a get together, I experience such stress, the migraine headache type of stress due to their treatment of my sister who has been disfellowshipped twice now.
Which is such a major issue for me. My sister’s life is so ruined over the ridiculous rules in the organization about shunning disfellowshipped persons. We are both finding comfort together right now, in the experiences I am finding on the Internet from x-JW’s. But she still has so much guilt. I am so incredibly sad for her, and I try like crazy to help her come out of the depression she is in. I know exactly what it is that puts her there; she has been treated so AWFULLY by my family and the witnesses. The first time she was disfellowshipped, she was just a teenager. She asked me to go with her for moral support, to talk to the brother as she was about to turn herself in, because she just did not know how to go before this man and start telling him that she was having pre-marital sex. It was such an ugly awkward situation, as she had to sit there and describe to this human in some detail exactly what she and her boyfriend did. I shared with her something Randy Watters wrote about how disfellowhipped persons still defend the organization. It is all out of guilt. She agreed, and said she does the same thing, and she just realized at the moment I read it to her, that the reason she does it is out of guilt, just like Randy wrote. Even if there was nothing else to my story, the shunning issue with my sister alone would be bad enough. I don’t know how to describe the psychological damage it has done to her. My heart bleeds for her.
When I see the unconditional love my mother in law gives to her children, it really drives home for me, that I don’t have that, and it hurts. I never have had it, not growing up, not now; it was always based on how much of a witness I was.
My mother complains that she and my father never get to see my kids, and makes it clear to me that her opinion is that I put other activities ahead of taking my children to see the grandparents. Yet, as we are trying to make arrangements to get together, its always "oh no not that day, we have book study", or "no not that day that’s my service day", or "no not Sunday with the meeting at 1:30 it just blows the whole day". Yet, I am still the one blamed for her not being able to see the grandkids. During times when I have had trials and stress in my life she would make these types of remarks to me "you may not be serving Jehovah, but your father and I are, so when you are put under stress Satan does that to get to US because we are serving Jehovah" About 4 years ago, my husbands niece died from Meningitis, just one day before her first birthday. She was my sons little play mate, and I my heart was crushed along with my husbands entire family. My moms words of comfort to me at the time were "I just don’t understand why they don’t turn to Jehovah at a time like this". I did manage to let her know I took issue with that sick statement, of course they were turning to God, their God, his name just didn’t happen to be Jehovah , but they were most certainly turning to God. My husband gets so frustrated with all this. He says I should lay it all out on the line with her, but still, my heart wont let me do it. I cant hurt her.
Right around the birth of my daughter, she is now two and my son is six, I once again for the sake of my kids tried again to go to meetings. But something was very wrong with me. I was so exhausted and was in constant pain; I suffered from extreme fatigue to the point where I was so exhausted I could not even lift a finger. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, post-partum depression, panic attacks, arthritis of the lower spine, hiatal hernia, stricture of the esophagus, hashimotos thyroiditis, and even few other things. It was bad enough that I had to get it together to go to make it to work during the week. So, when my mom would guilt me about coming to the meeting on Sunday, so many times I would tell her, "Mom I NEED HELP, I am too exhausted, I need someone to come over here and help me get the kids ready for the meeting". She never once offered to come over and help me. But she would sure do something like that for a bible study, or an interested person for the recognition and brownie points it would earn her. But not for her own flesh and blood. She did however defer me to my brother’s 20-year-old fiancée who called once and semi halfway offered to help and never pursued it again when I declined. I was not comfortable asking for help from someone I didn’t even know.
Only this year 2003, did I finally come to realize, after all the information I have found on the Internet on former JW sites, freeminds webiste, reading Crisis of Conscience, that it was not my father’s control, it was the organizations. I just learned that very difference in 2003 so many years after I prayed so hard to find a way to separate the control from the organization, did I learn that the control IS the organization. Only this year, have I for the first time in my life, felt a relief from the constant anxiety, anger and frustration I have felt for my entire life. This year, I have been able to successfully wean myself off the Prozac that I for so many years depended on to feel right, or good. I no longer need that lifeline and this is a major turning point for me.
After all I just wrote about my parents, my father particularly, I still would never want them to know any of this because it would seriously hurt them. My father has changed drastically over the years. He is, a kind understanding gentle old man now. I think he is trying to make amends for the past. So, I have to give him that, I have to forgive him. He’s not in the best of health, neither is my mother. I truly love them both with all my heart, and unconditionally. I know that I may not have them much longer, so I must live for the moment with them.
I am happy to be free, and am now happy in my life and with my little family. We sit around the dinner table together, we all hold hands, and we take turns praying, to God. That’s what we call him, and when its my turn to pray, I don’t even have to run and put a piece of toilet paper over my head. I have a few very close, very loving friends around me, and despite my story, I truly do consider myself to be blessed. I am successful at work, and have a talent for dancing, to the point that I have now become the dance teacher. As my side job. I manage a dance team and am also the choreographer, and bring dance events to the city where I live. I have a very supportive very well-balanced, husband, and together we are searching for a nice non-denominational church to take our kids to on Sunday, ONLY, and that’s it. I want them to learn little Sunday school stories, just basic stuff. I will never take it any further. I would never put them into the pressure cooker I grew up in. I am having a BLAST as I watch my children have so much fun at birthday parties, and this time of year is now very special to me as my little ones are enjoying being with family for the holidays. We are spoiling them rotten for Christmas, and I would have it no other way. I get a very warm homey type of feeling inside around the holidays, and truly love being Martha Stewart decorating the tree, baking holiday goodies, and turkey dinners. I am enjoying myself so much as I watch my son get into the things he wants to do like baseball games, and his oodles of toys. I will let him and my daughter, simply be children. I will allow them to get all they can out of their childhood!
.Thanks for letting me share, so sorry this was so dang long!
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Hello
by Netty injust wanted to write a post to introduce myself and say hello.
im new here, although i've read many of the posts here for a few months now.
i was raised as a jw since i was 4 years old, elders daughter, pioneered the whole bit.
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Netty
Thank you so much for all the kind welcomes! I finally feel ready to put my story together, after months of gathering my thoughts. So, here it is, way too long I think, but here goes:
In 1970, when I was 4 years old, my mother had grown sick of the physical abuse in her marriage, and decided she was going to commit suicide, and take her 5 children with her. Her plan was foiled by the notorious "knock at the door" the title of the magazine for sale "what are your children learning in Sunday school?" We were catholic, and had not been learning a thing about God at our Sunday school classes.
My mother was baptized in 1971, my father followed in 1972.
Ironically, my mother was always the first to put other religions down by saying that people convert, not for logical reasons, but due to some highly emotional traumatic event that causes them to RUN to and be overtaken by the religion. What was our situation? She was going to kill herself and her five children because of an emotionally traumatic situation that caused her to run to and be overtaken by a religion.
In 1975 I was nine. I clearly remember all the hype in my congregation and others around us, about the end of the world. This is a very heavy thing for a school-aged kid to carry around in their heart. How scary to be told and think that your friends that you play with every day, were going to die when Armageddon strikes, and that you were not going to die because you were, well, better than them. When the end of the world did not come in 1975, I remember a very close friend of my fathers, the man who studied with him, appearing on TV and sweeping the entire thing under the carpet. Right after 1975, I remember hearing stories about brothers who lost everything, quit high paying jobs, had gotten themselves into debt purchased new homes, boats, etc, because they knew the world was ending. These people were looked down upon and gossiped about. We were taught that they just took things too far, all blame was removed from the society for the lives that were ruined over the 1975 issue.
I was a painfully shy kid. In school, I was always in constant fear that some activity was going to be done where I would have to speak up and say that I could not participate; like the flag salute, a holiday or birthday celebration. It was embarrassing and very humiliating to me, to be the only kid "not allowed" and to have to explain why. I did get the opportunity, several times throughout my grade school years, to defend my parent’s faith. My explanation, made no sense to me, it was a canned explanation that I was forced to practice over and over and over at home, in hopes for the opportunity to use it at school so my parents could have something to brag about. Now that I have children in school, I can’t imagine EVER putting them through something like this, all for the sake of bragging rights.
I started giving talks at 10 years of age. Even from such a young age, there was so much pressure that you were a bad or weak witness if you didn’t stand up in front of a group of 200 people and speak for an entire 5 minutes. I was so frightened the first time I gave a talk. I was in the back school, and in the middle of the talk I started to quietly cry. The sister who was my householder could see me, but I don’t think many of the audience members really could. After the talk was over, I really started to cry uncontrollably and could not stop. I’ll never forget how cruelly my father treated me. He was so embarrassed by the whole thing; after all it made him look bad. He told me to go out to the car, where I waited all alone, crying in the dark, until the rest of the family came out. I realize now it was just a release of emotion from all the pent up pressure and anxiety leading up to the time I was to stand up in front of the group and speak. Although I never cried again as I gave talks for the next ten years, I always suffered what I now know to be anxiety/panic attacks.
Somewhere in the very late 70’s I believe, my father beat my oldest brother until he broke his arm, and then qualified to be appointed as an elder.
So we studied every single day of the week, in order to prepare for 5 hours of meetings per week. During our "loving" family study, if my youngest brother, who was dyslexic, would struggle with his reading aloud, or mispronounce a word, my "loving elder" father would throw a shoe at him from across the room, and hit him in the head with it. We also had to wake up every Saturday morning, to go out on field service. I hated field service. In later years, I would lie when I reported my time, just to keep the elders off my case. I remember a friend recently asking me who my favorite cartoon character was growing up, I didn’t have an answer, I never watched cartoons.
I remember my father interrogating us "DO YOU HAVE A PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH JEHOVAH? If we did that would be personal wouldnt it?
We would be yelled at, disciplined or hit if we did not answer at the meetings. I would sit through the meeting, with such nervous gas in my stomach (which I now blame my gastrointestinal problems on) I was so scared to raise my hand. Then when we would get in the car after the meeting I would be drilled, "what did I learn?" Well, not much, I was a little busy having an anxiety attack throughout the entire meeting, for fear if I didn’t answer I’d get hit, oh but I did learn the craft of how to silently release gas during the watchtower study so no one notices.
Every time the news would come on and there was some major world event or crisis, all the children were called to gather around the TV. The fear was that THIS was Armageddon. Especially if either of the two words PEACE or SECURITY was used in the news cast. And, most certainly if the two words were actually used TOGETHER. "Whenever it is that they shout Peace and Security, then sudden destruction will be up on them" yadda yadda yadda... Another wonderful way for a young child to grow up, in constant fear of Armageddon striking.
My parents always prepared us with how in the end we would have to be willing to die for our beliefs. We would have to hold fast our integrity to our beliefs even if we saw our mothers fathers brothers and sisters being murdered before our very eyes for sticking up for their beliefs. We were going to be faced with the same types of things HItler did to the Jews in the concentration camps. This scared the crap out of a poor little kid who should have ONLY been being taught that GOD LOVES YOU, and Adam ate the apple, that’s it!
When I was 13 years old, my grade school sweetheart, was kidnapped raped beaten and murdered. This horrible crime shook up not just our neighborhood, not just the city but the entire state. These types of awful things were not as common as they are today. I would sit up at night and listen as my parents watched the news, as the search was on, then to hear that a body was found, then to hear that dental records matched. I had met Craig in 2 nd grade and we were inseparable all the way through 6 th grade. Neither one of us ever asked go to steady, it was a given an understood thing, everyone knew we "liked each other". I was not allowed to attend Craig’s funeral. As my witness parents knew that if we set foot into Babylon the Great we would be struck dead at Armageddon. I was not allowed to pay him my respects. I was devastated by what happened to him, and never once uttered a peep of it to either one of my parents. I hung my head as low as it could go the days before and after his funeral as all the kids at school were asking me if I was going to pay my last respects. I had to answer no; they disliked me for it. I hated my parents for it.
Masturbation. My son does it, I know it, I simply say "son stop doing that" I am not going to cause the serious psychological damage that can be done to a person if you cause them serious embarrassment over this. My dad would sit the entire family down, then question my brother in front of everyone, are you doing this, then get violent on him for doing it, all because per the society’s thinking this was such a big a no-no.
When us kids were in our teenage years, my father was so surprised to hear that we had a difficult time approaching him. He had a violent temper, was tyrannical, angry, over bearing and domineering. He would say, "then why is it that all the young brothers and sisters in the congregation can come to me?" Bottom-line, he was a completely different person with them. He could spend all his time and energy helping and encouraging people who were not his flesh and blood, but his very own children were not shown that same love, patience or understanding.
I have suppressed so much anger over the years. It was my survival mechanism. I had to hide the anger, pretend like all was well and tell myself constantly since the time I was about 13 years old, that as soon as I turn 18 I will move out and this will all be over with. I hung on to that thought, it was the only thing that kept me going. I learned office skills through a COE class in high school, where you worked part of your school day. I am surprised I got away with working while in school instead of pioneering, only (which I did too!). But this was because we were not well off, and this way my parents would not have to worry about my expenses.
My teenage brothers were kicked out on their ear when they were 15 and 16 years of age. This was all about the whole elder thing "not keeping those under their roof under submission" I forget the whole absurd reasoning. But it was all about his reputation as an elder. So many elders had teenage sons that were experiencing normal teenage boy things. Rather than step down as an elder and help the boys with these normal life’s occurrences, my father, as did others in our congregation, kicked their babies out on the street to fend for themselves. When my brothers would start disobeying Jehovah, my father would say this "I’m going to have to CUT HIM OFF" those words still cut me right down to my bones. How could a parent cut off his own child? Especially now that I have children I could never imagine cutting a child off. But this is what he taught us to do. And we had to do it, case closed. Rules strictly enforced! As I look back I know this caused a problem for me in developing and maintaining friendships and close personal relationships. How could I know how to keep and cultivate a long lasting personal relationship when I was taught to be able to completely turn off feelings, to disregard ignore and cut people off.
I had a best friend in high school; she was very patient with all the witness stuff. I would go to school with my heart up in my throat, and my bible in the glove box. I had to save her. I wanted to be able to associate with her, and knew that with high school ending I surely would never see her again. I had to get her recruited, yet I could not bring myself to preach to her. I knew then that I would be blood guilty for her when she died at Armageddon. These are definitely not feelings a normal high school kid should have to experience.
I was smart in school yet; I was not prepared to learn how to do anything for my future. I was taught the future was not going to be here. I got A’s and B’s in school with no effort at all, yet I found out that per the society there would be no college in my future. With new light, I know that now there are witness kids attending college right and left. Hmmm…guess I missed out on that one.
As I approached my older teenage years, my sole purpose in life was to marry an elder and have elder babies. Yet, in Arizona, and during the eighties, there were about 100 eligible young brothers to every one sister. I never stood a chance. According to my parents, I was to be faithful and wait on Jehovah. Who for, for me? No, for my parents. Never did they think about the complete torture I was experiencing while I waited on Jehovah, to save face for them. They already had their spouses, they had been together since 16 years of age. Because of their love for the organization, they put a harsh requirement on me, to remain without love and be lonely, when they had absolutely no clue what I was going through. They would never have to experience it.
As we got older, at assemblies my father made it clear he did not want what was left of us children around. He would complain if he had to take us with him to lunch or dinner, he made it so obvious. He would say this thing in Spanish, which when translated means: F’n kids! At that time, with all the difficulties young ones have to go through to try and stay in the truth, a loving caring welcoming touch would have maybe helped to keep us around.
I found myself unable to keep up with all the things required of me to be a witness, yet I knew that if I didn’t I would die at Armageddon! I felt like I was being a hypocrite trying to lead a JW life. I didn’t like the system, the rules, I hated going door to door, and I was bored out of my mind at the meetings. I taught myself how to wander off into my thoughts, daydream I guess. And yet, taught myself how to listen for that "lets turn in our bibles" so that I would be ready to flip my bible at the same time as everyone else so that my parents would not know that I was drifting.
At 19 years of age, I put forth my last effort to try and be a witness, I decided to get baptized. I guess I thought something magical would happen that all of a sudden I would have an appreciation of the truth and everything would fall into place. That was not the answer, and later that year I moved out of the house. So many people remember their baptism date as such an important milestone in their lives. I couldn’t’ even tell you my baptism date if you paid me. I simply don’t remember it at all. I only remember my age, 19.
I just could not be a hypocrite; I could not accept so many things about the JW religion. I kept telling myself I cannot lead a double life, I did not want to be one thing to my parents and the congregation and somebody completely different outside of that. It was just such a strain on me physically and emotionally to continue to simply go through the motions of doing something I had no passion, or even a like, for. Although I knew I had to move out of my parents house, I still decided other than that, the most honorable way of leaving, was just to drift away so as not to offend or hurt my parents.
From my new apartment, I would call on the phone and my dad would answer. When he heard my voice he would abruptly say "HERE’S YOUR MOM" He would have nothing to do with me for years. He could not even say hello to me on the telephone. I was treated the same as a disfellowhipped person. I still cry, am even crying right now, when I think about that painful time in my life. It makes me so angry, almost angry enough to go ahead and show him what I am writing here. Then I think about breaking his heart, and can’t bring myself to do it.
When I decided to leave, the total assumption, by my family and the congregation was that I wanted to do bad things. I was not promiscuous, never did drugs per say, except a few marijuana experiments in junior high, I just did not like the JW lifestyle and did not want to be part of it. I still remember a conversation I had with my brother only 4 or 5 years ago, where he had assumed I was out screwing the planet, when I left the organization. All part of the haughty arrogant self -righteous attitude that they would assume anyone who leaves is automatically scum of the earth murderers, rapists, sluts, and drug addicts. He was shocked to hear that my husband is the first and only man I have ever slept with, (YES, before we were married, we lived together).
Before and after I left, I constantly prayed to God "please help me to differentiate between the strict controlling demanding dogmatic tyrannical way I was raised by my father, and the society, the organization, or the truth. Because I still felt the truth was right, but that I just had too much mental and verbal abuse about living the truth, from a tyrant for a father.
Once in my early 20’s I thought I could go back . I thought I had been gone long enough to get away from my fathers control, still had all the teachings and ways of thinking beaten into me, and believed I was going to die still if I did not get back into the organization. I thought I had been away from my father long enough to separate, his controlling tyranny, from the organization. Yet, I failed again, I still didn’t like the meetings, I didn’t like service, I didn’t like studying, I still couldn’t do it. And for the longest time, I still thought, I still have not been able to separate my father’s control from the actual truth. I prayed about it, over and over, till I went completely nuts, why was I still failing at separating the control from the watchtower?
For the longest time I couldn’t pray, I thought I was not allowed. I had one very close friend who I met at work, who would get so upset at me when I would tell her this. She helped me to see that everyone is allowed to pray, even the murderer on death row. I had always been taught that disfellowshpped persons were not allowed to pray to Jehovah, and although I was not disfellowshipped, I was still in the same status. My parents engrained this into us, how disfellowshipped persons are not allowed to pray. How dare they? Now I know, Jehovah listens to everyone and anyone. In my mind, I still refer to him as Jehovah, but not publicly. Around my husband and children I simply call him God.
At one funeral my mom successfully guilted me into attending, I saw the mother of a sister I grew up with. She immediately asked me what congregation I was going to. My answer was "none" Her reply was "Well then I think you know what you need to do!!" Hey, nice seeing you too sister By the way, she was the mother of a young girl I grew up with whose very own "elder" father had sexually molested her, and surprise remained an elder the entire time. Looking back I wish I could have said something smart alec back to her like "you mean like you knew what you needed to do, when your husband was messing with your daughter," but I just cant find it in my heart. I cannot muster up the meanness to do it.
Probably the worst witness related pain I’ve ever experienced was when my father refused to walk me down the aisle when I got married. This was THE very first wedding on mine and my husband’s side of the family. I cried for days and days when my father "took his stand against me" and passed his test of integrity to the organization in exchange for my broken heart and crushed soul. I was and still am referred to as the goody two shoes in the family, always the good one, the perfect dutiful daughter. Yet my father steadfastly took his stand and in his mind, this was persecution, and a test of his integrity to Jehovah, which only made him look so much better to the brothers. My brother walked me down the aisle instead. Such a dark cloud hung over my wedding, to this day, ten years later; I can’t even bring myself to order my wedding pictures. I just don’t want to go back to the pain. Still, I decided that no matter how badly I was treated that I should suck up the pain, forgive my parents for the sake of trying to build a relationship with them. I have succeeded at doing this and now I do have a relationship with my parents. But it just so sad, we could be so much more as a real family. Whenever I want to try and arrange a meal or a get together, I experience such stress, the migraine headache type of stress due to their treatment of my sister who has been disfellowshipped twice now.
Which is such a major issue for me. My sister’s life is so ruined over the ridiculous rules in the organization about shunning disfellowshipped persons. We are both finding comfort together right now, in the experiences I am finding on the Internet from x-JW’s. But she still has so much guilt. I am so incredibly sad for her, and I try like crazy to help her come out of the depression she is in. I know exactly what it is that puts her there; she has been treated so AWFULLY by my family and the witnesses. The first time she was disfellowshipped, she was just a teenager. She asked me to go with her for moral support, to talk to the brother as she was about to turn herself in, because she just did not know how to go before this man and start telling him that she was having pre-marital sex. It was such an ugly awkward situation, as she had to sit there and describe to this human in some detail exactly what she and her boyfriend did. I shared with her something Randy Watters wrote about how disfellowhipped persons still defend the organization. It is all out of guilt. She agreed, and said she does the same thing, and she just realized at the moment I read it to her, that the reason she does it is out of guilt, just like Randy wrote. Even if there was nothing else to my story, the shunning issue with my sister alone would be bad enough. I don’t know how to describe the psychological damage it has done to her. My heart bleeds for her.
When I see the unconditional love my mother in law gives to her children, it really drives home for me, that I don’t have that, and it hurts. I never have had it, not growing up, not now; it was always based on how much of a witness I was.
My mother complains that she and my father never get to see my kids, and makes it clear to me that her opinion is that I put other activities ahead of taking my children to see the grandparents. Yet, as we are trying to make arrangements to get together, its always "oh no not that day, we have book study", or "no not that day that’s my service day", or "no not Sunday with the meeting at 1:30 it just blows the whole day". Yet, I am still the one blamed for her not being able to see the grandkids. During times when I have had trials and stress in my life she would make these types of remarks to me "you may not be serving Jehovah, but your father and I are, so when you are put under stress Satan does that to get to US because we are serving Jehovah" About 4 years ago, my husbands niece died from Meningitis, just one day before her first birthday. She was my sons little play mate, and I my heart was crushed along with my husbands entire family. My moms words of comfort to me at the time were "I just don’t understand why they don’t turn to Jehovah at a time like this". I did manage to let her know I took issue with that sick statement, of course they were turning to God, their God, his name just didn’t happen to be Jehovah , but they were most certainly turning to God. My husband gets so frustrated with all this. He says I should lay it all out on the line with her, but still, my heart wont let me do it. I cant hurt her.
Right around the birth of my daughter, she is now two and my son is six, I once again for the sake of my kids tried again to go to meetings. But something was very wrong with me. I was so exhausted and was in constant pain; I suffered from extreme fatigue to the point where I was so exhausted I could not even lift a finger. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, post-partum depression, panic attacks, arthritis of the lower spine, hiatal hernia, stricture of the esophagus, hashimotos thyroiditis, and even few other things. It was bad enough that I had to get it together to go to make it to work during the week. So, when my mom would guilt me about coming to the meeting on Sunday, so many times I would tell her, "Mom I NEED HELP, I am too exhausted, I need someone to come over here and help me get the kids ready for the meeting". She never once offered to come over and help me. But she would sure do something like that for a bible study, or an interested person for the recognition and brownie points it would earn her. But not for her own flesh and blood. She did however defer me to my brother’s 20-year-old fiancée who called once and semi halfway offered to help and never pursued it again when I declined. I was not comfortable asking for help from someone I didn’t even know.
Only this year 2003, did I finally come to realize, after all the information I have found on the Internet on former JW sites, freeminds webiste, reading Crisis of Conscience, that it was not my father’s control, it was the organizations. I just learned that very difference in 2003 so many years after I prayed so hard to find a way to separate the control from the organization, did I learn that the control IS the organization. Only this year, have I for the first time in my life, felt a relief from the constant anxiety, anger and frustration I have felt for my entire life. This year, I have been able to successfully wean myself off the Prozac that I for so many years depended on to feel right, or good. I no longer need that lifeline and this is a major turning point for me.
After all I just wrote about my parents, my father particularly, I still would never want them to know any of this because it would seriously hurt them. My father has changed drastically over the years. He is, a kind understanding gentle old man now. I think he is trying to make amends for the past. So, I have to give him that, I have to forgive him. He’s not in the best of health, neither is my mother. I truly love them both with all my heart, and unconditionally. I know that I may not have them much longer, so I must live for the moment with them.
I am happy to be free, and am now happy in my life and with my little family. We sit around the dinner table together, we all hold hands, and we take turns praying, to God. That’s what we call him, and when its my turn to pray, I don’t even have to run and put a piece of toilet paper over my head. I have a few very close, very loving friends around me, and despite my story, I truly do consider myself to be blessed. I am successful at work, and have a talent for dancing, to the point that I have now become the dance teacher. As my side job. I manage a dance team and am also the choreographer, and bring dance events to the city where I live. I have a very supportive very well-balanced, husband, and together we are searching for a nice non-denominational church to take our kids to on Sunday, ONLY, and that’s it. I want them to learn little Sunday school stories, just basic stuff. I will never take it any further. I would never put them into the pressure cooker I grew up in. I am having a BLAST as I watch my children have so much fun at birthday parties, and this time of year is now very special to me as my little ones are enjoying being with family for the holidays. We are spoiling them rotten for Christmas, and I would have it no other way. I get a very warm homey type of feeling inside around the holidays, and truly love being Martha Stewart decorating the tree, baking holiday goodies, and turkey dinners. I am enjoying myself so much as I watch my son get into the things he wants to do like baseball games, and his oodles of toys. I will let him and my daughter, simply be children. I will allow them to get all they can out of their childhood!
.Thanks for letting me share, so sorry this was so dang long!
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Hello
by Netty injust wanted to write a post to introduce myself and say hello.
im new here, although i've read many of the posts here for a few months now.
i was raised as a jw since i was 4 years old, elders daughter, pioneered the whole bit.
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Netty
Hello there,
Just wanted to write a post to introduce myself and say hello. Im new here, although I've read many of the posts here for a few months now. I was raised as a jw since I was 4 years old, elders daughter, pioneered the whole bit. I've been in the "drifted away" status for a good 17 years now. So many light bulbs go off in my mind, and heart, as I read different stories and experiences that are posted here. I relate so much to it all. I have way to long a story to post, maybe some day, for now I just wanted to say I am so glad to find you all!