Become Uncomfortable

I'd lie in bed with open eyes. My mother said "Jehovah's people will suffer worse than anyone ever has. He may not save us." How would I be tortured? How would I be murdered? Would I remain loyal to Jehovah? Sometimes I wished I didn't know the "truth." Would Jehovah save me? Would He judge and kill me? I would constantly tell Jehovah, "I love you," in prayer. I would tell my parents I loved them and then I would wonder if the three of them would cut me off.

I was taught hatred and told it was love. That environment conditioned me for abuse and disrespect. I couldn't trust myself. I decided to make my decisions after considering them from the viewpoint that they were someone else's. Mom will shun me forever. I don't know anybody outside of the cult. She's divorcing me. I don't have a car. I have so much debt. I won't be able to see my son every day. I want to die. If I die all he'll know about me is what they tell him. He would have it worse than I had. There were no shortcuts. I couldn't evade my problems.

I knew that my mother had failed me every time I needed her -- when my father was dying, when I was depressed, suicidal, in debt, lonely, in an unhappy marriage, and when I was homeless. She is indoctrinated and I know that she believes she is loving. Despite having a desire for my mother to love and accept me I knew that she did not. What was I even missing? It was true, horrifying, and liberating.

I opened my mind and decided to seek who I authentically. I had said that I only had one regret. When my parents took me to Bethel we also visited The World Trade Center -- my dad had gone to the top but I had been too afraid. After he died I had intended to go back and stand where he had. I couldn't after the September 11th attacks in 2001. That had felt like one of my defining characteristics. Suddenly my regrets were piling up. Each day I'm the oldest I'll ever be and I'm the youngest I'll ever be. I thought about the things that were most important to me -- I was without all of them. I had some collectibles but they hurt to look at. My clothing hurt to wear. My words showed me who I had been -- who I had forgotten.

I had ideas. Some were divisive. I reconciled potential positive and negative outcomes. I reached out to people and experimented with ideas to promote my writing as I wrote my first book. To my surprise people supported me. My development was arrested by 37 years as a Jehovah's Witness and I made choices I regret. It's a complex issue. Do you mock things that others hold sacred? People have died and been abused inside of what is considered sacred. People have killed themselves because they thought they weren't worthy of what is "sacred." It was disheartening for people to not see what I was trying to communicate or to believe that it was coming from a place of hatred. Things are so easily misinterpreted and often on both sides. There are shades of gray to almost every issue -- even the bleakest darkness. One of the reasons I wrote my memoir was to apologize to someone. It's the first apology I gave without the expectation of an answer. It can't have been any other way. The relationships with my former friends and family feel so superficial in comparison to the ones I've made since leaving.

There are problems without solutions. Sometimes there is no closure. My mother thinks I have joined forces with "Satan." I just wanted to create, see my child, spend time with my friends, and try to be happy. It felt unnatural, painful, and uncomfortable.

I couldn't grow without becoming uncomfortable.