Suffocating ImperfectionsI was born into it. My mother had survived multiple abusive relationships and childhood...the witnesses, the "truth" gave her a level of security in life she'd never known. The indoctrination process is so slow and thorough, my mother is the most logical person I know, yet when speaking of Witnesses you almost see her eyes glaze over.
I grew up in a "split" household, my mother constantly feeling inferior in the kingdom hall because her mate was a non-believer. As a child I was painfully aware that I wasn't quite acceptable due to the fact my father wasn't a baptized member. My dad was a Hell's Angel, ironic match, and his lifestyle plagued my ability to have friends and interactions with other children my age within the kingdom hall. I was all but born bad association due to this.
I remember walking the aisles, measuring my steps, image, thoughts of others perceptions. One foot in front of the other, a perfect line, one stare at a time. The feelings never stopped. I was confused, constantly being dictated to me a standard that wasn't my own. My mother simply told me that I needed to pray for more guidance, that I wasn't trying hard enough.
As I got older, my constant thoughts were part your hair, remember every strand represents Jehovah. Smile perfectly, bat your lashes, convince them you are normal. Talk easily, remember keep eye contact, this makes them feel important. Practice your approach , your delivery, you need to save these people....to prove your worth in the amount of magazines you can distribute. It was so conflictive.
They instilled me a fear of the unknown, that I never measured up, that I should pray to Jehovah for forgiveness for sins that weren't my own...for the sin of simply existing. Children weren't encouraged to have, what was the point? Armageddon was constantly around the corner. College, pensions, non-essential as well. I was taught non witnesses were “Worldly”....we shunned our own family, friends, community ba
As a teen, I was ogled by boys in the kingdom hall, my spiritual brothers. Being touched in private and told it wasn't happening. My mother battled bipolar and abused us severely. When the elders were approached by my older sibling, we were told that she was imperfect, that we were over exaggerating. My mother has the ability to present a face in front of the congregation that deteriorated once home and in private. She hurt us, and they didn't listen.
When I turned 17, i'd had enough. A fellow sister had embezzled mass amounts of money from our mutual employer. It was easy to point the finger at me, I was the one with a chaotic household, not the perfect pioneer she hid her true personality behind. I was offended, offended that these examples of how a men should be weren't listening to me. These were my brothers, my elders, my friends, and yet seeing their fingers being pointed at me seered in ways I still have a hard time comprehending. I was disfellowshipped.
At first, being "worldly" was confusing, i'd never known anything outside of the congregation. I didn't know my extended family, I had no friends, nothing. I was ostracized in my own home, taking meals separately from my mother...lacking in conversation and interaction. I was another embarrassment to her.
My father divorced my mother that year and saved my life. He saved my sanity, telling me simply "Don't let anyone tell you there is something wrong with you." As I stayed away, I met people, normal people, who lived their lives in the moments, with the best skills they had...that valued me for my smile, my laugh, my imperfections. True love...without expectations and requirements. I finally understood what it mean to feel ok, to just breathe...i've never gone back.