My parents met at the Kingdom Hall and married a year after my mother graduated from high school. Both are highly intelligent but neither went to college.  I was born a little over a year later, and always loved going to the "Kingo Haw," as I pronounced it in infancy.  I was commenting as soon as I could speak and loved my pink Great Teacher book.  My parents love to tell how when I was about two years old, I stunned a well-meaning clerk at the grocery store who asked if I was ready for Santa Claus to visit my house.  My reply?  "Santa Claus is from the devil!"  My first memory of field service was when I was three and was stung by a sweat bee that had got up my dress as I sat in the backseat of our Fiat.

I was giving talks (the two sister kind, the only kind women are allowed to give) by the time I was eight and spent every Saturday morning in service.  I remember waking up on Saturdays, wishing for the quiet that would mean neither of my parents were going in service, because I longed to watch Saturday morning cartoons.  I was proud of my many return visits, mostly older people who were probably too kind to turn me away, or else fascinated by a small child spouting such large doctrines.

I remember hating having to color plain pumpkins with no carvings around Halloween and endless inoffensive snowmen at Christmastime.  I never understood my parents hatred of the Christmas displays at stores and was rebuked for humming Christmas carols absentmindedly at the grocery store.  Thankfully, my parents were semi-reasonable and did not consider "Jingle Bells" a Christmas song.  I was happy to have one song I could sing in music class.

I remember being the only one in my class in first grade who memorized the Pledge of Allegiance and the only one who did not recite it.  I remember not being allowed to play soccer because it was competitive.  As a straight-A student, I remember stunning my fourth grade teacher when I explained that I would not be going to college, but would work part-time as a beautician when I grew up so that I could pioneer.  I remember not being allowed to take choir or band classes at school because they had too many patriotic and holiday programs.  I remember not being able to play with my friends from school on weekends, although I was allowed to play with the worldly neighbor children, since I didn't have to be driven to their houses.  I remember having to tell a school friend's mother that I could not take the free piano lessons she had offered me because spending time with her daughter after school would be bad association.  That phrase haunts me like a mantra:  bad associations spoil useful habits.  The battle cry of the Watchtower discouraging wayward children from making ‘worldly’ friends.

When I was thirteen, we moved to yet another town, another congregation.  At our first meeting there, I met my best friend "Rachel."  We have been nearly inseparable since then, although I spent most of my teenage years grounded from her bad association.  I was baptized at fourteen, she two years later at sixteen.  We auxiliary pioneered in the summers, often going in service with an older, scatter brained friend who had return visits all over the area and didn't notice that we suggested going from one in the far north part of our territory to one in the far south.  I got my first job at the donut shop where we took our breaks.  He knew the Witnesses were honest people and their teenagers were hard workers (we had to be if we wanted spending money, our families were all poor!)

In my congregation there were a great many young girls and not so many guys.  The only single men under thirty were single for a reason.  So we looked forward to the district convention every summer--finally, some social activity!  We wandered the arena hallways looking for boys and friends, checking out who was wearing what (too much make-up? too short a hemline?  too high heels?) and gossiping.  Once we were old enough to sit by ourselves we sat in the nosebleed section and wrote notes and spied on people with binoculars.  Still, in all the playing we did, I felt the zeal of thousands of people singing as one.  I loved the sound of Bible pages flipping in unison.  I always took long and extensive notes during the talks.  Of course, I doodled in the margins and threw those spirals away after the assembly.  I never read them again.

I was always dutiful in studying my lessons for the book study and the Watchtower study.  I was required to comment at least twice each meeting.  Sometimes I waited till the last second to put my hand in the air, hoping somebody else would be called on.  My comments were always rehearsed and intelligent.  The older people complimented me on my comments and talks.  It was very important to me that I not be placed in the category with those my age who didn't comment or join the "school" and spent most of their time running back and forth to the bathroom.  I always got my ten hours a month in service.

I was also bored.  I hated how I got caught up in the excitement when someone was reproved or disfellowshipped, wondering what they did and trying to figure it out from the none-too-subtle talks in the following weeks about weaknesses of the flesh.  I soon discovered my own weakness when boys at school began to ask me out.  My first relationship began at the end of my sophomore year in high school.  We skipped school one day and went to the movies, where I was kissed for the first time.  I was so nervous about getting caught that I threw up several times that day.  Thankfully, the school year ended and he moved away.  After the district convention that summer, I had an attack of conscience swore off worldly boys.  I would have been allowed to date a JW boy, if there had been any around.  The ones I liked were sporadic attendees or just studying.

When I returned to school for my junior year, I began dating my ex-boyfriend's best friend.  Dating is a rather euphemistic term.  We only saw each other at school and a couple of times in town.  Regardless, I was a wreck.  I was so nervous I woke up vomiting every day.  I lost thirty pounds in one month and hardly ever made it to school.  Then my boyfriend began to hint around that he wanted to sleep with me.  At only sixteen, I knew I wasn't ready for that, religious or not, and told him so.  He wrote me a note in reply, trying to convince me.  I was usually careful with my notes, but I forgot and left it in my pocket.  Unbeknownst to me, my mother did laundry that night and discovered the note. 

I knew something was wrong by the way my parents were behaving and I started vomiting again.  By the time I had composed myself, they were ready to drop the ax.  That's when I discovered how sneaky my mother can be.  She simply told me she knew what was going on, so I might as well spill it.  I must have spilled a lot more than she bargained for, because I thought my stomach problems were punishment for my sins and began to tell her about not only this boyfriend, but the previous one as well.  More vomiting. 

The next day I had to go to school and clean out my locker.  I took all my books to the vice principal's office and told him I was quitting school.  Being the student I was, he was taken aback and as I tried to explain things as vaguely as I could, I began to cry.  He brought in one of the school counselors and I explained things to her as best I could.  She felt it was such an outrage, for someone who loved school as much as I did to drop out, she offered to help me take the matter to court.  I told her I feared ending up in foster care or even worse, having to live with my parents treating my like a leper, as they had been doing, for two more years until I turned eighteen.  So the matter was dropped and I left school.

I began to take some home school courses, really pathetic courses.  I completed an entire semester over one weekend.  The highest math courses they offered were algebra II and geometry, both of which I had already taken.  I felt intellectually starved.  My parents allowed me to find a day time job, and I started working in a pizza place.  If they had only known the atmosphere there!  I was working with twenty-ish men who cursed non-stop and talked about sex constantly.  I thought they were hilarious!  I loved being there, but I missed school.  I felt like a freak when my friends from school would come in the afternoons, and here I was with a uniform on, wasting my chance at having a career.

I hadn't planned to go to college because, even though my beautician dream (ha ha) had died and I no longer wished to pioneer, my parents had made it clear they wouldn't give me a dime to do it.  I had no idea that a student with my GPA and good ACT scores could get a full-ride scholarship.  Until one of my teachers called my mom.

I don't know what exactly she said to my mom to convince her, or what my mom said to my dad to convince him, but my parents sat me down the day after the phone call and told me that I had scored so highly on my PSAT that I was on my way to being a National Merit Scholar.  I knew what that meant:  scholarships.  They were going to let me go back to school because the home study course I was doing was not considered an accredited school and I would be disqualified.

I was elated.  I had broken up with my boyfriend recently, after hearing from a friend that he had been cheating on me.  I prayed to God in thankfulness for getting to go back to school and vowed never to date a worldly boy again.  But I was human, and a teenager.  After a few months back at school, I had a new boyfriend.

By this time I had a car and a little more freedom.  One of my JW friends was getting married and had a sleepover bridal shower at her new house.  My best friend Rachel and I had befriended a new girl our age in our congregation, and the three of us were decidedly bored by the Bible Win, Lose, or Draw game that the other girls thought was good, Christian entertainment for a shower.  Jokingly I suggested we go buy some condoms to blow up and decorate the house with them (I had seen something similar on "Steel Magnolias").  "Samantha" thought it sounded like fun, for real!  So she, Rachel and I feigned going to the store for snacks and set out to get the condoms, as well as some toilet paper and shoe polish.  We had a blast blowing up all those condoms in my teeny car, then commando crawling around the yard shoe polishing the cars and toilet papering everything in sight. 

While we were in the back yard, some strange motorcycle guys saw our decorations and came up to the front door to ask if they could come in and party.  Of course, the other girls were all scandalized and upset about this, when we came bursting in, ready for them to see our handiwork outside.  Needless to say, no one was amused. 

The next day, the groom-to-be called me and proceeded to chew me out about the whole affair.  He was especially angry that we coerced strange men into coming to the house, jeopardizing the safety of all the girls present.  I explained to him that we hadn't meant any harm, it was just a silly joke for fun, not meant to offend anyone.  And we certainly hadn't had anything to do with the motorcycle guys, but he insisted that whether we asked them to play a joke or not, if it weren't for the condoms everywhere they wouldn't have come to the door.

I called Rachel and found out that he had called her also, but was very polite and explained to her that the elders were now involved and he hoped she didn't get into too much trouble over this misunderstanding.

When I was called in to the elders, I found out that they were told that the whole thing was my idea and I talked Rachel into doing it with me against her wishes (she had not yet met with them, so I know this came from the fiancée, not from her).  They had not been told that Samantha was involved, and when I told them, they said that they were sure I pressured her into playing the joke as well.  She would never do anything like that.  They were especially upset about the sexual nature of the joke.  I had no idea that condoms were "dirty."  These were two people were about to start using them when they got married!  I was let off with a warning.  Ironically, my parents saw my point of view, that we had made a bad judgment, but hadn't caused any harm.  They placed most of the blame on the fiancée, who had obviously lied and the elders who chose to believe him over Rachel and me.

Another matter was brought up at this meeting.  My "dear" friend Samantha had called my mother and told her about my boyfriend at school.  I had also been visiting him at his parents' home when I was supposed to be with Rachel.  My mother surprised me by sleuthing out this boy's address and showing up at his front door one afternoon when I was there.  I was grounded from Rachel, who was the "bad influence" on me, never mind that she had never dated anyone, Witness or worldly.  This time the elders grilled me on the nature of my relationship with this boy.  When I told them he would give me a very chaste kiss when he said goodbye to me (the truth) they couldn't believe a worldly boy would not be trying to take liberties with me, or that I, the The Dater Of Worldly Boys, wouldn't be letting him. I was privately reproved, with the understanding that any more problems out of me would result in public reproof. 

I was getting pretty fed up with my whole life being shared with our congregation.  Stories were going around about me, from the way people were treating me.  I didn't and still don't understand why the particulars of a child's actions are any business of the elders, or why discipline isn't left up to the parents.  I certainly had no faith in these elders.  One was our former neighbor and had attended our former congregation.  I had known this man since I was a small child.  I was mortified to have him know such personal things about me.  I was also angered to be judged by a man who I knew spent little time with his own children, and spent most of that criticizing them.

During these years, Rachel's parents had been having a lot of problems.  When she was a child, her father used drugs, often in front of her.  Since I was at their house a lot, I knew that he was emotionally and verbally abusive to his entire family.  He was cruel to her mother and often threw things when he was displeased.  But he put on a wonderful show for the congregation and was made a ministerial servant.  Her mother left him for a while, taking Rachel and her younger sisters, but she worked cleaning houses, as many JW women do, and couldn't afford rent and groceries.  He told her she couldn't live without him, just as he had predicted.  He bought her a nice gift, and they were back together.  She went to the elders several times over the years about how he treated her and the girls, but he was never disciplined.  She was rebuked for not being submissive enough, forcing him to discipline her verbally.  She was a bad influence on her daughters, causing them to disobey.  They told her if she divorced him, she would be disfellowshipped.  She told them her daughters' friends were witnesses to what went on in their home.  We were never asked by the elders if what she said was true.  Rachel's father eventually stepped down as a ministerial servant.  Her mother divorced him and moved away.  She has told the elders at the congregations she has attended since then about her history and no action has been taken against her.  Rachel's father stopped attending meetings and married a worldly woman. 

Back to myself, in the summer before my senior year, I was asked out by a guy that I had a crush on, and I arranged to go on my first actual date with him.  I told my parents I would be at work until closing, but I actually left work early and went out with this young man.  We had a quick dinner, then sat on a blanket by a pond where he read poetry to me.  He had brought along a bottle of cheap wine that I think we each had about a glass of.  It was all very innocent, and I thought very romantic!

I went back to work to change back into my uniform and found out that my parents had been there looking for me.  I went into a complete panic, knowing that this time they would sell my car as they had threatened.  I didn't go home that night.  I stayed with some of my coworkers and eluded my parents all the next day.  I was so nauseated I felt like I wanted to die.  I went home that evening, after finding out that the police were involved (they were calling my car a stolen vehicle so they could look for me without my being missing the usual 48 hours). 

My car was sold and I was forced to quit my job, since the people there had covered for me.  I spent two months locked in my house.  If my mother left, she unplugged all the phones and took them with her.  I only went to the library and to the meetings.  This time, when I was grilled by the elders (was there passionate kissing? was there touching of genitals? were there genitals pressed against each other? were any clothes removed?), they decided to publicly reprove me for being repeatedly disobedient to my parents.

I was a normal teenager.  I wanted to have normal dates and normal friends.  My life consisted of school, homework, meetings, service and a full-time job.  I had never had a social life.  I had put so much effort into my schoolwork that I had earned a great number of honors and scholarships.  I was burned out and exhausted at seventeen from constantly trying to please everyone.  And yet I had no power at all over my own life. 

I was terrified that my parents would institutionalize me as they had threatened.  They sent me to a psychologist who told me that I had an incredibly healthy attitude for someone who had been through what I had.  She said I didn't need therapy, but she was the only person I was allowed to talk to, so I went anyway. 

When she told my parents to ease up on me, they suggested that they could save the money they were spending on therapy to buy me another car.  Of course, I jumped at that.

By the time I went back to school for my senior year, I had begun hearing voices.  A little socializing helped that in no time.  I joined every club I could.  I told my parents it would help me to win a spot in All-Sate, the top 100 seniors in our state, which was true, but it also got me out of the house.  I did become an All-Stater and a National Merit Scholar and made plans to attend a university nine hours away.  I stopped attending meetings.  I told my parents I would spend my time with whatever girls or boys I wanted, but agreed to be home by midnight on weekends.  I got my old job back.

But the damage was done.  Years of being treated like the original demon seed had made me feel like if everyone thought I was bad, no matter what I did, I might as well be bad.  The year I was eighteen is what I call the year I took leave of my senses.

I was angry with God and everyone else.  Rachel and I had a falling out that lasted a year.  I went to college, but never went to class.  I finally had freedom, and I tested it to the limits.  I walked by myself after dark.  I didn't care what happened to me.  I was especially naive about men.  I had no idea what they were like having had very limited experience.  What I knew about sex and birth control I knew only from magazines.  My parents told me to wait until I was married and that was that.

I became pregnant right before my second semester at college.  My boyfriend was much like Rachel's father:  insulting and cruel.  I didn't know any better.  He said he loved me.  I intended to stay at school and make it through with help from friends, but I was ill and needed to get away from my boyfriend, who was cheating on me (all my fault, he said).

So I moved back in with my parents, and surprisingly, they were very supportive.  I lived with them off and on for several years.  My son, who is now five, adores them.  But I am still bitter.  Being a JW destroyed my family and nearly my life. 

My father was very bitter when his mother was disfellowshipped.  She had been inactive for years when my cousin died of cancer and she felt the need to attend meetings again.  She was unable to give up her tobacco habit in the time the elders allotted her, and she was disfellowshipped.  Although he was allowed to visit his own mother, he felt betrayed by her and refused to call her, even at my mother's urgings.  One of the times when I was in trouble as a teenager, he told me he wanted to punch my face in.  Then he began to cry and said he didn't want to lose me like he did his mother.  He only lost his mother when let his convictions come between them.  He rarely ever attended meetings, only used his faith when it served him to condemn others.  When his mother developed cancer he started to visit her again, but even though she has been gone almost ten years now, he still has not overcome his anger at her or his guilt for not spending what time she had left with her.

My parents still don't feel they did anything wrong in my teen years.  I bear some resentments, but more towards the organization than towards them.  They did what they thought was right.  And I am responsible for myself.  I can't blame my bad decisions on my upbringing. 

Now I have made my peace with God.  About a year ago I found myself praying, something I had not done in years.  And I felt for the first time a friendship.  God was not sitting there, waiting for me to mess up, it was humans trying to play God who did that.  I have joined a Methodist church because they are very understanding that people believe all sorts of different things about God and the Bible.  There are some Biblical issues that I still have a lot of trouble with.  It's hard to completely clear your mind and sort out all the things you were taught as a child.  But there are enough JW doctrines that are blatantly wrong that I know I made the right decision in leaving.

Rachel and I were talking the other day about the end coming while there are still people living from the generation of 1914.  We were both still a little paranoid until I came across this website and found out that the Society has changed its mind once more on this issue.  The point is that all of us should live each day as if it were our last, enjoying all the things God has given us and striving to follow the example Christ set for us.  For me it is a great freedom to know now that my Judge is in heaven, not in Brooklyn!

AK

Dear Randy,

I came upon your organization one night while surfing the Internet. I was curious to see if there were any sites about Jehovah's Witnesses. I was amazed to find so many!!

I want to share my experience with you, so that you may share it with others. I was born into this religion, thus giving me no choice to explore and find out exactly who I was or what I wanted out of life. I remember growing up in the typical Jehovah's Witness household. As children, we were told that whatever our parents told us to do we had to do just because they were our parents. I remember that I could not go to my parents about any problems because if you had problems, you weren't a good Witness. I also remember that my family was never quite "good" enough because my father worked a lot to support his family. My mother choose to be a stay at home mom, and this naturally placed more responsibility on my father. I was okay until those teenage years began to creep in.

When I was thirteen my neighbor attempted to rape me, and this was a very traumatic time in my life. The police and social workers told my parents that I needed counseling, but the elders in the congregation decided that we did not need "outside" help. They felt quite qualified to handle my problem. They even began to accuse me of bringing the attack on myself. This was hard to bear. As I got older I decided that I did not like not being able to go places with friends, have boyfriends, or do any of the normal things teenagers do. I rebelled in a large way, that is for my family. I didn't go on drugs, use alcohol, or smoke but I did like to lie. I felt that I had no other choice. I had to be a good Witness, or I would make my family look bad, and we couldn't have that. I lead the classic double life. I was one thing to the people at the Kingdom Hall, and completely different at school and work. I had boyfriends and loved it. I did not have conventional boyfriends though, I wasn't willing to sneak out or things like that for fear of what would happen if I did.

 

 

Then there was that fateful day when I met the one guy who would win out. I was already deep into trouble at this point in my life. I had gotten caught doing things I shouldn't have been and caught in several lies. I had tried to come clean, but couldn't let go of the double life. This guy played me well and used my ego to the fullest potential. I was what is know as a "tease", and he was determined that he would get what he wanted. I dated this guy because of fears from my boyfriend before him. This guy was a real nut case. He was the typical stalker. He was doing all sorts of crazy things to me and I was afraid of bodily harm. The only way to get the protection I wanted was to "put out", so I did. Well, I wasn't very smart about it because I got caught in the act. I was never so embarrassed. The bad part of the whole thing was that it was on the school grounds. You can imagine what happened after that. My parents were called in to the principals office about the ordeal. My mother was furious and embarrassed. The school offered to cut me a deal and not expel me because I had told the truth, I hadn't missed any school that year, and my grades had me on the honor roll. My parents didn't go for it at all. They jerked me out of school that day. I never stepped back into high school after that. This was because they felt that I was out of control and the only way to control me was to lock me up in the house and make me go to meetings. I was sixteen and a junior in school. I felt my life was over.

My parents, doing the right thing, went strait to the elders. Now I knew my life was over. They called a committee meeting to find out "all of the facts". I mean "all", right down to the point of how I felt during the experience, and so forth. This was an interrogation and humiliation, because my father had to be there for the whole thing. Can you imagine how you would feel if you had to hear every detail of the sexual encounter of your child? I am a strong willed person though, so I decided that this would not be my undoing. The elders at the congregation decided to "disassociate" me, as I was not a baptized Witness yet.

I did everything I could to get back in good graces with the organization. I was baptized six months later. I still wasn't a good Witness though. I really didn't have it in my heart to do every thing the "Witness" way. I managed to struggle through. I moved to a new congregation, made new friends, and had a couple of good years. Then my desires began to resurface. I began to date an older man, and this was not well with my father at all. He found out from some elders that because I lived in his house he could control my every move. It was so bad that I couldn't even go to the store with out permission, so somebody would know why I was late getting home from work.

 

 

They wanted to make sure that I was not with the man I was dating. We were going good until my father made it impossible for us to date. It turned out to be a good thing, but I would have rather been able to make my own choices. I ended up in trouble again, a few months later. I was really depressed and turned to a friend for comfort. It turned out that all he wanted was sex.(This friend was a ministerial servant at the time.) Well by now I had grown to love the organization and had to come clean of my mischievous behavior. By this time I was in my early twenties and wanted to live a good life, so I went to the elders. They called a committee meeting and for the second time there I was, with my father, telling all of the details of a sexual encounter. My father was devastated and felt I was a failure to my family and the organization.

I was not as strong this time, I didn't bounce back as quickly. It took me a year to get all of my privileges back. I moved to another congregation and started over again. The next year would prove to be the turning point in my life as a Witness.

I got into a routine and stuck with it. I became an auxiliary pioneer and was doing well as a Witness. I, however, still had a desire to date and get married. I began to date a man who was studying. I saw nothing wrong with it, but the elders had a different opinion. They called me in and informed me that if I did not quit dating this man that I would be removed as a pioneer. I was ready to be removed. The man was a man of honor and did not want to tarnish my reputation or hurt my position. He broke up with me after a month of trying to figure out how to make it work until he got baptized. There was no making it work. We cared very much about each other and wanted to be together, but because of their rules we couldn't. I got very depressed and sad because of the turn of events. I couldn't wait forever and it did not seem as though this man would become a Witness, somewhat because of this situation.

I met my husband just a couple of months after this event. His family had been friends with my family for a number of years and his mother kept pushing us together. I had no desire to go out with him so shortly after my heartbreaking break up. His mother had been pushing this for a long time and neither of us wanted it. I decided that I would get her off of my back, so I set him up with a friend. Boy did that backfire. My husband wanted to go out with me after all. I finally conceded. On that first date I knew that we would be married and six weeks later we were.

I thought, finally I would be able to live a good Witness life. I was married to a Witness, I would not have to worry about dating any more, and I could still pioneer. I was never so wrong.

My husband had gotten into some trouble before we met and lost his privileges. That wasn't an issue for me, I had been in that situation before. We knew he would get them back soon, he was doing everything required of him to show repentance. We got the first real blow that just could not be overlooked. I had overlooked a lot in my time, but not this one. The elder on his committee told him that because he had taken his sights off of the organization and focused on his new wife, that he would not be getting his privileges back. I was furious. He had done everything required except stay single. I just couldn't understand. Then came the rumors of why we had gotten married. I was "pregnant". I never had been and to this day, almost four years later, still am not pregnant. The elders said we had to overlook the rumors and had brought it on ourselves for getting married so quickly.

We began to attend the Kingdom Hall where we lived. Our meeting attendance was not the greatest, but we were trying. I called several elders to come to our home to make a shepherding call. They never came. Finally, one elder did show up. He turned out to be terrible. He would call if I was not at the meeting, but he would call during the meeting. I got tired of this and told him not to call anymore. Then a situation arose which turned out to be the end of it all.

A sister who was a friend of mine was disfellowshipped. I was close to the entire family. Her husband called me for comfort and this placed me in an uncomfortable position. I did not want to talk to this man about his intimate marital life, yet he insisted on calling me. I knew he liked me, and did not respect the fact that I was married and so was he. I went to the elders about this, to no avail. They just told me not to talk to the man. Well, time went by and his wife was re-instated. I was told by her of her intentions to once again leave her husband for another man. I was told intimate details of the events, knew of this ongoing affair. I encouraged her to tell the elders but she would not. I felt I had no choice but to go to them my self. I went to them to let them know they had a problem with her but did not want to go into detail. They told me if I did not tell all, they would disfellowship me for lying. I believed them, so I told. Well, this sister got wind of what I had done, so as revenge, she spread malicious rumors about my family. The elders just said they knew it wasn't true and forgot about it. That was it, that was the end. I decided that I had taken enough of this. I didn't want it anymore.

This was the fall of 1994. I just became inactive for a while and tried to figure out what to do. I wanted justice for all of the wrong doing and lies. I tried to go to the congregation overseer and district overseer, but to no avail. I did not want to leave the organization, yet I could not be a part of it. I felt lost and abandoned. A year had passed and we had only been to the memorial. I still had a love for Christ and what he had done for us. I just couldn't understand how Jehovah could allow all of this to go on. I still secede answers. By now it is early 1996 and my husband and I are moving into our new home. We still wanted to belong to the organization, both of our families are Witnesses and we did not want to be outcast, We tried, but just could not get over all of the wrong doing, so we just coasted for another year.

Now it is April 1997. My mother-in-law caused the final decision to be made. She called one night all upset over a situation at the Kingdom Hall, ready to commit suicide. This cause a chain reaction. My husband could not stand anymore. He went ballistic. He begged me to take him to the mental health hospital or he was leaving me. We began therapy to figure out how to deal with all of the emotions of the situation.

While in therapy we learned that our situation could be overcome. We were in a deep depression because all of our values had been lost. We were being rejected by his family, my family had quit going to the meetings already, had lost all of our friends, and had to find out just who we were and what we wanted out of life. It has not been an easy path to take. We have come upon much opposition from his family. Things are not as strained as they once were, but it will never be a close nit relationship. We did find out that if your family really loves you, they will continue to associate with you. We also found out that you can live with out the restraints of the "Witness" way. You can still be a good person. We are happier than we have ever been in our entire lives. We are both going to college, we go out with friends, and this past year we celebrated all of the holidays. It felt good to be normal. We have been released from therapy and are happy to say it was all worth it.

We have had to rebuild our values of right and wrong. Our entire belief system has been lost. It is easier for my husband than myself. I want to believe in God, Christ, and the bible, but just can't trust that there is any truth to it at all. I may never again be able to worship a God, but at least now I do have my life, and for that I don't need a Godlike organization to rule my life.

To everyone who may read my account, please be sure that you will make it through the transition from "life in and out of the 'truth'".

Sincerely,

Gwen Page-Suter

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