It was a dark and stormy night…
It probably wasn’t, but I was born during the month of February, so it IS possible (I’ve just always wanted to use that line somewhere…anywhere, in fact…. and it seemed that this would be the likely place for it.) In the beginning our family was fairly normal—lapsed Catholic, no JWs in sight—but that was soon to change.
I spent my first seven years as a normal child, celebrating holidays and birthdays, and having friends with whom I played. Our family had its problems; namely, my father was a functioning alcoholic. My parents hid things very well, and I never really knew that he had a problem other than his constant rages at my mother for no apparent reason. Since she lived in an age when women did not generally work, and since she did not have a driver’s license, she was pretty much at the mercy of a man she loved, but also feared. Her social life was nearly non-existent, and she was prime fodder for the JWs.
Mom no longer attended church, but she wanted my sister and I to have a Christian background, and to that end, she sent us to the Salvation Army church that was just down the street. I enjoyed going there, since we would not only learn about God and the Bible, but they also planned lots of events specifically for children around Halloween, Christmas, and various other holidays. I even got to play the part of David in the Sunday School skit of “David and Goliath”. What power! Life was good.
Then, my sister ran into a JW doing street work and accepted several magazines. She was quite interested in them, and gave her address to the Witness. Several weeks later, a brother stopped by our house on a Tuesday evening. At that time, evening Witnessing before the Book Study was a popular thing.
Mom expressed some mild interest in the literature, and told the brother that she wanted her children to get a good knowledge of God and the Bible, and that she wanted something for us that was a little more formalized than the Salvation Army. Brother Kriegel invited her to attend the Public Talk and Watchtower Study on Sunday. He assured her that he would pick her up and take her there himself.
Mom was a little hesitant, but she asked him if there was a Sunday School for children there, to which Brother Kriegel replied, “Yes, it IS a Sunday School for children!” So began my descent into the abyss. I can remember sitting through the talk and the Watchtower thinking that there was NO WAY that THIS was a Sunday School for children, but Mom got love bombed and was hooked. Here was an instant social group for her, and there were BIBLES, too!
My childhood as a JW wasn’t particularly traumatic, although I can remember standing out in the snow on Christmas Day while out in service looking wistfully at all the decorations and thinking that I did NOT want to disturb these people on that day of all days.
My father was very anti-JW during these years, and he would frequently threaten to burn all of the JW literature. He and Mom would get into vicious fights about her spending all her time with the JWs, but, of course, we just interpreted his attacks as persecution for having found the "truth”.
Mom was not extremely strict, so I was allowed some playtime with a couple of worldly friends. Other than that, I was pretty much alone. Mom still didn’t drive, and there were no JW children who lived anywhere near me. As I got older and more indoctrinated, I curtailed the non-JW friendships because I wanted to be pleasing to Jehovah. Pioneering became my “goal” in life, despite the urging of my teachers to prepare for and attend college. Of course, my junior high and high school years were spent during the 60s, when the specter of 1975 loomed large on the horizon. College was also considered to be concomitant with joining Satan’s army, and was something that was, for all intents and purposes, forbidden to young JWs.
I got baptized at 13, even though I wasn’t absolutely sure that I was ready to make that kind of commitment. Peer pressure was strong, however, and I took the plunge. Although I believed firmly that this was the “truth” I still began to have doubts about various things. I blamed myself for not being spiritually strong enough, however, and stuffed the doubts as deeply as I could.
I pioneered for three years right after high school, and stopped only because my health fell apart. I found myself hospitalized and facing death at the age of 22 with a severe form of Crohn's disease. My blood count had fallen so low that the doctors doubted I would survive without a blood transfusion. I staunchly refused, however, and somehow made it through.
An announcement was made at the Kingdom Hall concerning my being removed from the Pioneer list due to health problems. Instead of receiving support from the congregation, however, I could sense their deep disapproval at my not being able to “measure up”. Thus began the major theme that would result in my eventually leaving the “truth”. Although I had been hurt many times while growing up because of the cliques in the congregation, the lack of love had never really struck home until that point. I thought constantly about the scripture that stated, “You will know them (true Christians) by the love they have amongst themselves.” I couldn’t see that love. I had never been able to see that love, but it hadn’t really bothered me until that point.
I continued on, doing the best I could as a publisher and striving to “adjust my thinking” so that I wouldn’t allow doubts to creep in. I still felt alone and isolated, however, and was definitely NOT in the popular clique. Since I was of the “good little dubbie” class all through my teenage years, I was also abysmally naïve about things. This resulted in my getting into a situation I could not handle, and I, therefore, sinned.
Of course, being a “good little dubbie” still, I went to the elders and confessed all. My repentance and grief over the situation was real and obvious, so my only “punishment” was “private” reproof (naturally, it was mere days before everyone in the congregation knew the exact nature of my “sin”…such is the nature of the elder grapevine).
I was so upset over my failing that I wanted to die. I felt unworthy of life, and I felt as if I was the grossest sinner to ever walk the earth. In fact, after leaving my judicial committee meeting, I broke down sobbing and was unable to drive home.
One of the elders stopped to see if I was okay, and to his credit, he suggested that I stay overnight with his wife and himself. He said that he would follow me home the next day to make sure that I was all right. When we arrived back at my apartment, I asked him to please come in and talk with me awhile. I told him that I was still extremely depressed, and I was afraid that I might take my own life. His reply chilled me, and simply reaffirmed my conclusion that I was worthless. He told me that, “It would not look right to the World for a brother to spend time alone in a single sister’s apartment.” With that statement, he turned and left. With that statement, the next step I needed to take became eminently clear.
I spent the day trying to figure out the neatest, least painful way to die. I decided that pills would be the best option. Before carrying out my plan, I attempted one more time to seek help from my "Christian brothers”. I called someone I had considered a friend. I told her that I wanted to die and I asked her to please come and spend the night with me because I was afraid. She told me she was “too busy” and hung up.
I began taking pills. The only thing that saved me that night was that I was afraid that I would throw up if I took them all at once, so I spread the dose out and was taking several pills every few minutes. I never figured that I would get to the point of a non-lethal dose that would simply prevent me from walking back to the bathroom….and so I survived.
My depression did not dissipate, however. In fact, the only time in my life that I have ever felt such deep depression was during my tenure as a JW. The “happiest people on Earth” indeed!
I eventually got through this period with the help of a couple of good-hearted souls, both of whom were eventually considered “bad association” and/or were disfellowshipped.
My doubts continued, but I once again tried to correct “my” thinking. After several years, I met a brother who was very new in the “truth” and we began dating. In fact, he had gotten baptized so that I WOULD date him.
While we were engaged—we were both 28 years old—we committed the “sin” of heavy petting—no sex, mind you. I was once again overwhelmed by guilt and made sure that we reported our “sin” to the elders. Reproof once again, and the admonition that we were not to spend time alone together, which is difficult to do when both parties are on a strict budget and both parties are living alone in separate apartments. Let me assure you that planning a wedding under these circumstances is in no way simple.
After our marriage, my husband became quite ill and was hospitalized with a severe prostate infection that backed up into his kidneys. He was laid up for over six months. During this time, I continued to attend meeting and go out in service. I would frequently ask the elders to announce my husband’s illness from the platform in hopes that someone—anyone—would visit, send a card, or call him. No one bothered to do anything, however, until the rumor got out that my husband had started smoking. Almost immediately, three elders first phoned and then showed up at our door threatening my husband with disfellowshipping.
My husband explained that he had become very discouraged and that he wanted to build himself up spiritually. He asked the elders to come and study with him, and they said that they would. Three weeks later, we received a call from one of the elders saying that he “forgot” about the study…so sorry. He never did show up.
I became sporadically inactive after that incident, and my main meeting attendance was the Memorial. I did try to get to meetings occasionally, but every time I would try to go, I would find myself standing at the door, dressed for the meeting with my study books in my hands, shaking and crying and unable to go. The few meetings I did attend were filled with severe panic attacks and hyperventilation. I asked several times for brothers to help me reactivate myself, but to no avail.
I spent quite a few years in a state of limbo, unable to go to meetings, but still a JW through and through. I even attempted to bring my daughter up as a JW, which was patently unfair to her, since she had rules but no association.
We eventually moved to a new house in a new town, and my husband and I decided that we would work together to reactive ourselves. To that end, we searched for and found the Kingdom Hall, and began attending meetings.
Initially, all was well. We were “new” as far as that congregation was concerned, and we were included in various social functions and received the attention accorded “those with whom you are allowed to count time”. The elders began studying with us, and since my husband had determined that he would really make a commitment to this, he began asking a LOT of questions…. questions that the elders could not answer. Repeatedly he was told that he would have to “accept that on faith” or “wait on Jehovah”.
I could tell that the elders were becoming more and more nervous, and that they were thinking that my husband was trying to be a troublemaker. Eventually, one of them noticed an empty ashtray on the coffee table and asked my husband if he was smoking, to which he replied that he was. They then issued a thirty-day ultimatum—quit smoking or be disfellowshipped.
I was in a panic. Here was our opportunity to become active JWs going down the drain. I asked the elders if there was anything that could be done other than disfellowshipping, since my husband hadn’t really understood the implications of baptism. He had done so only so that I would date him. He hadn’t studied for longer than a couple of weeks, and they had never gone over the pre-baptism questions with him.
One of the elders suggested an annulment of the baptism. He said that it wasn’t often done, but that it WAS an option. He then told me that he would pray about it and let us know.
To my great joy, this elder informed me a couple of days later that he had received an answer to his prayer and that it was to annul the baptism. We went to the judicial committee hearing in great spirits, expecting that we would soon be able to start over with a clean slate, so to speak. Imagine my horror when they instead disfellowshipped him.
I questioned the elder about this out in the parking lot, and he told me that although the committee had wanted to annul the baptism, the Society would not allow it. I then told him that I would write to the Society and ask them about this. The elder laughed and said, “Go ahead. Write them. It won’t make any difference. The Society ALWAYS backs up the decisions of the committee.”
The fool didn’t realize that he had just lied to me twice in five minutes’ time. He also didn’t realize that he had just done me a very great favor. I walked away at that moment and never went back.
The repercussions from thirty years as a JW did not end there, however. Although I no longer attended the Kingdom Hall, nor did I wish to, I still felt isolated. I had no idea how to function in the real world, and I thought I was totally alone. It was years before I had access to the Internet and all of its many resources.
One afternoon after getting online, I was helping my nephew to find some ex-Mormon sites (poor boy, not only an ex-JW, but also an ex-Mormon). Just for a lark, I thought I would key in “Jehovah’s Witnesses” to see if there were any sites out there. I was astounded to see the number of information sites and support sites—primary of which was Tishie’s board—this board.
I registered and spent the better part of the next several weeks reading experiences and thoughts posted by others and sobbing. At last I knew there were others who could understand what I had endured. At last there were others with whom I shared a common bond. The rest is history.
Sorry this is so long, but you need to remember that I am very old, and my life story is, therefore, of necessity, long.
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