My life from my eyes: I was born in Montreal, QC, Canada, into a family of three half brothers. I was my father’s firstborn, but the 4th for my mother. I later had two additional brothers. We were raised with some Catholic background. I had my first communion at five and was confirmed at eleven. Although I wasn't really sure what was what with the Catholics, I did know that I didn't think it right to have to run to a priest and do confessions when he was a man like any other.
Somewhere around the age of five, I was being sexually abused by the son of a friend of the family. This abuse occurred off and on for until I was about thirteen. I was finally able to say, " NO” to him, which stopped him, and I ran. Around the age of ten or eleven my two older half brothers (seven and six years older than I respectively) took me into the washroom and sexually abused me as well. I was too young to realize what was going on, so I let it happen, although I found it very unpleasant and hated it. Sex continued to be disgusting to me even later on in life.
My oldest half brother left to join the army at sixteen, and a year or so later he started bringing his army buddies home. Since I was the only girl in the family, I was abused by them, also. It seemed never ending.
My younger brother, Steve (NHRN), who was born just eighteen months after me had a wonderful birthday cake and party when he turned eleven. I was told that for my thirteenth birthday I could have a party with friends and a beautiful birthday cake. WOW!!!! I was so excited. But wait! I had no friends. We moved every two years, and although I didn't realize it at the time, I know now that my father was part of the Mafia and he had to keep moving.
I remember my parents losing friends to death, but I couldn't quite comprehend why. I was very oblivious to all of this part of my life. I discovered later in life that I had even had a phony name, which I initially found quite confusing. My cousins called my father "Uncle Doe" (NRN). I had a hard time understanding why they were calling my dad by his last name? Did I miss out on something? Yes, I vaguely remember being baptized as a Catholic at age three or four. But I didn't realize that that was my second baptism. I was renamed taking my father's first name as our last, (as I found out years later).
My father was a very harsh man. Disciplinarian is putting it mildly. We were beaten if we did something wrong. Many times he worked in another city some eight to ten hours away, so we never saw him on a daily basis, but only every other week. We'd get our beatings when he got home, then have to love on him by getting him tea & toast, and combing his hair, and snuggling up to him while he slept on the couch.
My life was filled with abuse from birth. I can remember going to school crying every day about "hating my father" and "wishing him dead." I was the object of ridicule at school even before we started to study with the JW's. My father didn't believe that women should wear jeans, so I was forced to wear polyester elastic waist pants without zippers. My pants were always tooooo short, since I was tall for my age. The only other option was to wear dresses. Obviously, I didn't fit in with the other kids in class.
The thirteenth birthday party, which I awaited with great anticipation, (at least the cake part), never happened. In March, two months before my birthday, we started to study with the JW's as a family. I found out later that my father initially wanted to study with the witnesses as a ruse, since it was a way for the Mafia to leave him alone, believing he wouldn't snitch or tell the police anything as a JW.
Unfortunately, he eventually decided this was the "truth." By this point my three older half brothers had all been kicked out of the house by my father for not following his rules. I was next in line with my two younger brothers, but for us to leave early would NEVER happen. We started to study and I hated every moment.... sitting there.... trying to find answers.... being bored. I hated having to go to school and being unable to sing the national anthem or say the Lord's Prayer and being shunned at school.
Fortunately, I had a teacher who was quite understanding and treated me nicely. Many of my teachers thought it strange for a child to have to go through all of this. The ridicule and the beatings I got from school classmates was humiliating. I was so lonely and I could never make friends, it seemed. I was called all kinds of names.
I was not a homely child by any means, but I certainly was not a gorgeous girl either. I was a plain Jane. My clothes did not fit in with what was in style, my activities were limited. Since I was so tall, I was very good at high jumping and the school wanted me to participate in the school's national high jumping contest and win for the school. Of course, as a JW I was not allowed to do so. My parents told me, "no!". I was never allowed to skip history (which I hated) and practice. It was tempting so many times and even the teachers would say, "Your parents don't need to know". I was so frightened of my father, however, that I didn't dare. I felt that if he ever found out I did something wrong, he would probably kill me. I had not only a fear of God, but a great fear of my father. Although I joined the band, I couldn't play at the concerts, since I would have to play Christmas songs, or songs that were not appropriate for the Witnesses. So I never did more than just the actual class assignments.
I remember 1975 coming close and I didn't want to be destroyed, so in 1973, at the age of fourteen, I was baptized hoping this would be my salvation. At fifteen, with just a year and a half left before graduation, my parents pulled me out of school so I could spend 100 hours a month in service as a pioneer. In addition to this, I was expected to hold down a full-time job with my cousin, who now was living with us and studying as well. My parents expected me to turn over my paycheck to them and they, in turn, would give me $5.00 per week to buy lunches, bus tickets, clothes or anything I wanted. I was not allowed to ask for more. If I needed clothes, I had to wait until my mother decided she didn't need anything then maybe I could get something. Unless it was a dire need, like underwear, I got nothing. We lived in an area with severe winters, but good boots were not considered a necessity. I had to make do with cheap boots, even though I was outdoors for hours at a time. Needless to say, when I finally quit pioneering 2 ˝ years later and went to work in a bank full-time, my paycheck was set up as a direct deposit to my account. I lied to my parents in order to keep more money for myself. I couldn't survive on $5.00 a week. I was at least able to hide about $20.00 and give them the rest.
But what a great pioneer I was! Yeah, right! I remember going to some return visits and making chance phone calls, making dates with guys and lying to them, etc. Of course, I never did go and meet these guys, but I would make another return visit to these men a day or two later and say "hey, where were you? I was there and didn't see you?", if only my parents knew.
Many times, having been pushed out the door, barely clothed properly to go door to door in the -40 Degree C weather, we would sit in Dunkin Donuts and drink hot chocolate or go to the local mall and walk around. It was easy to write down 100 on those monthly slips. No, I was not a good pioneer. We did give it our best at times, but those times were few and far between. I hated the idea of doing it and when it was really cold, it was difficult. We had no car, and had to use buses, or walk many miles to our return visits, etc. The congregation was not helpful to my cousin and myself. Being young didn't matter to them. We were totally on our own.
When my cousin was eighteen, she was forced to move out of our place because we wanted to move out and my parents thought she was a bad influence on me. We were looking for an apartment, but that was never to be.
When she was forced to leave, it caused a big rift in our relationship. We had been very close, but her move changed all that. She had freedom while I was still stuck in an abusive home. I was so frightened of my father. He still struck me when I would complain about legitimate health problems. I was praying to meet someone and get married.
At nineteen I met this young man in the Witnesses, who was twenty-eight. He was kind of a nerd, but I felt he was nice and he paid attention to me. Just what I needed...or so I thought. He was not very bright and was very dependent on his parents, although I didn't realize this at the time. I had to push marriage because we were dating, which to me was forbidden unless we were getting married. We were married when I was just past twenty years old. My parents planned the whole wedding, and I was not included in the decision making for my own wedding. I didn't get to choose the flowers, cake, dress, bridesmaids, or anything else. It was really my parents' wedding. I just had to go along. Of course, my husband was too much of a wussy to put in his 2 cents. He never said anything.
Shortly after our marriage, I realized that the sexual abuse was having an adverse effect on our relationship. I decided to tell my mother what her oldest sons had done to me, but all she said was, "don't tell your father, he'll hate the boys even more." She said this because the three older boys were his stepchildren, so I kept quiet and said nothing. My mother showed no concern for me and took the side of my half brothers against me. To this day, my mother has little to no contact with me. I was even abused by a family physician from the age of fifteen to twenty-one until I became pregnant and had to go to a real OB/GYN and find out how medical exams are really done. I did make a formal complaint to the law when I realized what had happened but it was his word against mine and I didn't win for lack of proof.
My mother is still a JW to some degree. She goes to the memorial and some of the assemblies, but she is not a true practicing JW. She does celebrate Christmas and such. Her new husband has money, so now she can indulge herself in the luxuries of life that she couldn't get with my father. My father died from a heart attack twelve years ago as a faithful JW. My brothers put a DNR on him because he could have been put on life support for a new heart due to the fact he was only sixty-one. Again, a fight ensued in the hospital over my younger brother's authority over me, since he is oldest boy of the family and as a female, even though I am older, I should be in subjection to him. Yeah, Right!!!
Well, after my husband and I were married, his parents pushed that they wanted a grandchild. I was pregnant five months later. I tried to be the great JW wife. I pushed my husband to strive for MS, but it didn't work. He wasn't very strong in the witnesses, but he was faithful in going to the meetings. We were not really accepted well, since I was an English JW and he was a French JW. We were always outcasts. Never had any friends. Never could make any friends. His parents were the center of our lives. In the eighteen and a half years we were married it was doubtful that we had six months alone.
His parents were always in the picture and they were not too pleased when I ended up having two girls. My father-in-law wanted me to have a boy. But sorry, my decision was to stop at two. I had troubled pregnancies and wasn't about to risk going through it all over again a third time to have another girl. I didn't want boys anyway. I was abused by boys, I wanted girls and I got girls. YEAH!!!! After staying in the French congregations for years, we decided to move to the English. Maybe there I could find friends. Maybe there I would be better. I wasn't. My husband by that point managed to make MS, but elder was never in the picture for him. My in-laws were also very upset that I had decided to stay home with the girls when they were little and not work. They felt that I should be working, but for me to work and pay someone to look after my children would have been counter productive. I wouldn't have made enough since I didn't have an education. I later did go back to school and finish my high school and got my diploma. I did that in the early 1990's.
When my oldest was twelve, I started to work for a JW and got more accounting background information that I had acquired when I was younger and would help my mother with my father's business. After being laid off from that job, I went back to school to get my accounting certificate, even though that meant full-time school for a year. My children were furious with me for furthering my education and I had no real support from my husband. I did it and was proud of myself, no one else was. I was alone.
I was the sole disciplinarian for my girls. My husband would let them do whatever, whenever, however. We had many arguments in private over this. Those conversations never did stay private. Besides him telling his parents, he also went to the children telling them everything I would say. His parents always thought I was too harsh, too strict, with the girls, and probably at times yes, I was. I regret many things, but I did the best I could. Now that I know better, I do better. My in-laws always kept tabs on how much of an awful person I was and made sure that I was quite aware of it at all times. I could never live up to their standards and their ways.
When my daughters started to get in their early teen years, they would question me about why they could wear shorts, but not short skirts. How do you answer them when you can't explain it to yourself? I would just reply "Well, that what the society says and we have to listen to them." I had my doubts, but was afraid to express them.
The straw that broke the camel's back came when I found out that the children were communicating with my abusive family, and that my in-laws were instigating the communication. They told MY children to use their address and hide it from me. They supplied my children with lock safes to hide their letters and such from me. My in-laws had more say on raising my children that I did, and to this day they admit that they are more parents to my girls than I ever was or will be. When I confronted them they said, "so, they have a right to know their other side of the family."(meaning my side). I explained to them my past and told them that it was not up to them but up to me to know what was best for my children. I was so angry at them. They again brought out how bad I was and my family at the wedding, etc., that I left their place crying. I tried to handle the situation alone because I knew my husband was not supporting me. He knew all along what was going on and said nothing to me.
When I got home, I told my husband what his mother said and that it was not appropriate and I expected an apology, but I would not do it at their place but would rather go to a public restaurant where they would have to keep their tempers safe. He called them to explain that to them but he cowered to their replies. I could see he could not stand up for me. But we did manage to get a meeting at a local donut place. That was a mistake, because upon our meeting, I was told that they said all those things to me on purpose to show me just how much I had hurt them throughout the years since I first married their son. I couldn't believe my ears. How dare they? My husband did not stand up for me or anything. He sat there like a real wuss. I was alone. I realized it then. After all that time. Seventeen years and now I was really alone. After much to do with him trying to convince him to talk to his parents and get them to realize what they did was wrong, it didn't work. I was fighting a losing battle. Finally I realized that our marriage, despite going through six years of therapy was not going anywhere positive. I was fighting with a teen daughter who was totally horrid. She even yelled at me at the Kingdom Hall that she wanted to "cut out my heart and put it in acid and burn it." She was downright wicked at this point in her life. She was sixteen. I was livid. I couldn't live like this anymore. I moved out several times, only to come back and still be abused mentally by my family. I attempted suicide twice, but I didn't succeed--as you can see. I had had therapy during this time for the sexual abuse and to try to save my marriage. I saw it crumbling before my eyes. It was also during this time that I found out that my so-called maiden name was not my real name! I was raised with a false identity and decided that I wanted to take on my real birth name. What a change that was. What a fiasco. I had many trials during that period of my life as well. One evening I finally asked my husband, to make a choice--"Either your parents, or me and the girls." He said he'd have to think about it. He went for a drive. I fell asleep. The next
morning I faced him and asked him what his decision was. He said, "I can't leave my parents." I wasn't asking him to leave his parents, but merely to put them on the back burner and make us his priority. He couldn't. So I replied, "Are you saying our marriage is over?". "I guess it is," was his answer. I asked him if he wanted a divorce and he said he guessed so. I knew then to find a lawyer.
Not knowing how, where or what to do, I was lost. Being a witness, you don't consider divorce. But I was faced with no choice. Divorce! What an awful word. For me it was the worst sin I could commit. To this day, I hate DIVORCE--for me, that is. It doesn't bother me when I hear others have been divorced once, twice, or even three times. But I just cannot handle it or the idea of it. I am the type of person for whom divorce is unforgivable. I had to either live up to my husband's abuse and continued being ignored, or be free and live a real life. When we confronted the girls, I asked them where they wanted to go. "Who's going to take care of Daddy?" was their reply. They wanted to stay with their father because they also knew they could get away with murder (so to speak) whereas I was the JW, law-abiding mother. So, to my detriment, I moved out. I was the one who was considered rebellious. I left him with everything and took next to nothing. What a mistake. If only I could go back.
After telling the elders we were divorcing because life was unbearable and after many requests from them for help, I never stepped foot back into that Kingdom Hall. I decided that I would eventually go back but not there. I was afraid. I was later disfellowshipped. He still was accepted by the JW's. Real justice! He was the one that said our marriage was over, he didn't want to try to fix it, but I was the one who was punished.
The lawyer that we saw said that I would have to be living on my own for a year before I could even apply for divorce, which would then take another year. That was not acceptable to me. I had lived six years celibate due to the abuse of my past affecting the intimate part of our life and my husband not helping in that area either, and I could not bear being able to go on with my life like this for another two years. So the next meeting I said to the lawyer that I had committed adultery. (LIE) My husband knew that I hadn't and I knew. I figured, so what. At least this way, we could get our divorce within six to nine months. My husband backed up my lie and never told the lawyer any different.
While in my own apartment, I started to get more and more onto the internet and meet with XJW's. I listened but was frightened. I also at that time, met with a man that was going through a divorce with a mama's girl, as I was with a mama's boy. How strange! He was not an XJW. He was in the States in a coffee chat room. We had a lot in common and we decided to just be friends. Needless to say, we are married now. But to back up a little, when I told him I was a JW, or almost disfellowshipped JW but wanted to go back, he was quiet. He was hesitant. He never said no, just "oh." We continued our friendship and he knew a lot about the Witnesses and especially about the bible. He was able to reason some things with me that didn't make sense. For instance, "why should I be shunned when Jesus himself never shunned anyone?" I hadn't thought about that. I started to reason more things out. I got a copy of Ray Franz's book "Crisis of Conscience" and saw the real understanding about the Watchtower Society. But my very first book was "What's so Amazing about Grace." It made me see a side of God that I had never considered. He gave out his grace to all. I was not as bad as I had thought.
I have since married this wonderful man who I met on the internet. He is definitely not at all like my X. He is very loving and I decided in Nov. '98 to never return to the JW's. I do not regret that decision. My only fear at that time was that my children were still involved. However, they have since grown up some and both have left the witnesses. My oldest is married to a JW, both are baptized but both have just left without cause. So far so good for them. I do try to provide some tools for them to use in the trek out of the Witnesses. My youngest, now nineteen, is in University and doing well. She also works and is doing something wonderful with her life. Both my girls still have a lot of growing up to do, since their father turned to them during our divorce as surrogate wives and told them everything they didn't need to hear about the divorce. He also told them things that were not true about me--most of it twisted. One day they will see the truth for themselves.
My X has since remarried another controlling woman. She, too, had to push him into marriage for he didn't want to get married. I have NO contact at all with him since both my girls are now past the age of eighteen and are on their own. I am glad because he only infuriates me more and more. When the girls will talk about him or his parents, it makes my skin crawl. I really don't want to hear about him. My anger for him for what he did, has not been able to be settled yet.
My life now is work and school. My present husband is helping me go for my dream. I am going for my Bachelor's in Sociology with my Major in Criminal Justice and if all goes well, I want to become a Family Attorney. It will take me some time, but I will fulfill my dream. Each day that goes by and each class I take is one day closer to my goal and dream. Then I will be able to put up for my future. I know I'll probably be in my late fifties by the time I'm finished but what the heck, women are still working then and I will be one to help others; especially women like myself who didn't know how or where to turn when a divorce was necessary. I will then be able hopefully to start putting aside for a retirement. I know it's not much time, but both my present husband and I were taken advantage of during our divorces and we both have had to start totally anew. We had and still don't have much. But one day we will be better off. I don't want to be a millionaire, but would like to be comfortable without having to live from paycheck to paycheck.
I am now a non-denominational Christian. I do not follow any church since I don't trust man-made rules, and my husband is very much in accord with that. He was raised Methodist and even Baptist and has seen too many rules. He, too, is still on the search for the right move. We are just not ready yet.
I know my story is long and tedious and many other things happened during this lifetime, but I have tried to bring it down to bare minimum for the sake of keeping your attention. I could write a book one day, and maybe I will with all the stuff that happened. Am I well adjusted? No, not at all. I still fight demons, especially in trying to learn how to make friends. I have trouble in making and keeping friends. Why? I wish I knew, but that is something I am working on. Most probably because of all the control of the JW's it definitely has had an effect.
To wrap up my family story of who's who now, my oldest half brother is still somewhere in the world, from what I heard from a distant relative, he's in Africa for something to do with the Army. I have no contact AT ALL with him, being one of my abusers. My mother never keeps me informed of anyone in the family. My second oldest half brother is still a JW, but not strong, and won't have anything to do with me either, because I told him of his abuse to me and he has denied all of it. My mother has stuck up for her two older sons and has told me to never to move to Edmonton or come and visit. She doesn't really want anything to do with me, unless she can email me and brag that she's going here and there in the world with her new husband. My third oldest half-brother is in BC. We have little to no contact only due to the fact we have nothing in common. He left home very young and most of his youth was spent living with relatives so I never really got to know him. He is not a JW. My brother just younger than myself is a JW, somewhere in Ottawa or QC, but a very deceitful, dishonest one. He will not have anything to do with me because I am disfellowshipped. My youngest brother, lives somewhere in QC, I feel is an alcoholic, but I do not have legitimate proof, so I must say he is an alleged one. He too, will not have anything to do with me since I am disfellowshipped. So in all essence I have no family except my present wonderful husband and my two daughters who live in Montreal. I am originally from there, moved to Ottawa for a while after the divorce before moving to the States and getting married. I am what you can call an orphan. But I do have a lot of acquaintances from the internet that are friendly to me, and I pray one day to find that one true friend that I can rely on as best buds. If that happens, then I will rejoice. I've never had that.
Let us all be happy to find a way out of that cult. I just finished reading the book by Diane Wilson called "Awakening of a Jehovah's Witness." I must say her story almost parallels mine. If you get a chance, read it. I have sent each of my girls a copy of this book. I continue to pray for their safety and their continued survival outside the JW's. My relationship with them is still a little strained but it is getting better each day. They live in Montreal, QC, Canada, whereas I now live in TN. I think of all who have left the JW's and am very happy for them in whatever trek of life they take. WHAT FREEDOM!
|