I sense that this may be where I am in my life right now. The storm has blown over, the house has landed, the bed has stabilized, and I am just looking up and realizing that there is a door to a whole other world just waiting for me to open. I am not sure if my door will lead to my technicolor dreams over the rainbow, but I am sure that I have entered a whole new world, which is vastly different then the one I was raised in.

After I went to Seattle and stayed with my friend Jenne, I realized something. People with kids can go to college. People who are married can go to college. Fathers can come home to families who announce, “Daddy is home from school”. It can be a fulfilling lifestyle, not a temporary hardship on the family. I decided that this was what I wanted to do with my life right now. I wanted to be a student, a mother, and a wife. I saw that this could be done, and what had been holding me back suddenly didn’t seem like an obstacle anymore.

My biggest challenge was actually enrolling in college. I had no idea how to do this. My parents had not attended college, my siblings had not, only James had attended community college and this was my only frame of reference. I searched for an affordable college. I applied to community college as a back up plan, though this was not where I wanted to be. I tried to apply to the U of M, but I was unimpressed with them. They didn’t want me to even apply since I didn’t have an impressive academic record, and they told me that was all that mattered to them. They also require all their students to take language classes, which I have zero interest in doing. They did not care about the volunteer work I had been doing in the last few years, only my high school GPA. I toured two private schools; Augsburg University, and St. Catherine University. St. Catherine’s was my first choice. It was where I wanted to be. Their campus is beautiful and they are a women’s college. They stress leadership and social advocacy. They are supportive of women and mothers and even told me I could bring any future baby I had to class! Which was really the selling point for me. Everything they said after that, I just wanted to say, “you know what, you had me at ‘you can bring your baby to class’”.

The problem was that St. Kates was really pricey. Much more expensive then the U of M. The only way I could mitigate that cost would be to get their scholarship that they award to students with high GPA’s. The tuition would still be more then I could afford, but my first goal was just getting accepted to the college, my second goal was getting that scholarship, and then I would worry about the rest later. I went to my high school and got my records. My GPA was just under what I would need to qualify for St. Kate’s scholarship. I almost broke down and cried right there in my old high school. The woman said, “maybe they will make an exception…” I glared at her, angered at her ignorance. People don’t make exceptions for me; or so I thought.

My dilemma was this: The St. Kates scholarship is only given to first year students. I could not go to community college for two years, and then enter St. Kates with a higher GPA and expect to get that scholarship. St. Kates was now or never, and it didn’t look like it would be now. I almost didn’t apply I was so discouraged. But I finally crafted a plan for myself that made me feel better. The U of M had a program where if I got a high enough GPA I could automatically transfer after two years of community college. I simply had to fill out a form stating my intentions. This was my least desirable option, but one I worked towards putting in place in case my other options failed. My other option was that I could attend community college for two years and try to get a good GPA. Then, I would apply to Augsburg, which did give out scholarships for transfer students (unlike St. Kates). The great thing about the Twin Cities is that there are a ring of really great colleges here. If you attend one of the five, you can take classes at any of the five. St. Kates and Augsburg are both in that ring. So, I decided that if I got accepted to Augsbug after two years of community college, I would then take all my classes at St. Kates. This was not the ideal solution, because I would not be a St. Kates student or graduate from St. Kates, but it would have to do. I also figured I would still apply to St. Kates just for the heck of it, but I didn’t feel I had any chance. I was already applying late, and even if I did get in, I was sure the scholarship funds had been used up by now.

I wrote an essay as part of my application for St. Kates. It was about informed consent in maternity care. I also wrote a personal statement which talked about my life being raised as a Jehovah’s Witness. I wrote this specifically to address why I did not have a great GPA in high school or any extra curricular activities to put on my application. I was literally not allowed to do extra curricular activities, and I wanted to explain this so I didn’t look like a huger loser. In the space on my application I wrote all about my volunteer efforts and what I have accomplished in the last few years. About a month later I received a letter from St. Kates congratulating me on my acceptance. I was stunned, but reserved my happiness knowing that I still needed the scholarship to even consider going. I planned to contact the school and ask that they make an exception for me and consider giving me the scholarship anyway, even though I didn’t qualify. I didn’t have to though, because a couple days later I received a letter telling me that I had been awarded the scholarship that I needed! I had no idea how this happened. I guess they liked what I wrote. I am sure it was a very different perspective then the 18 year olds applying had.

You would think that at this point I would be thrilled and shouting my news from the rooftops. But no, I was still not convinced that this was really happening, that I had really been accepted to St. Kates, that I really had just been awarded a scholarship. I still felt it was too expensive and I struggled with not wanting to put our family in so much debt. But, then I received the financial aid package. They had awarded me another scholarship, and I had received grants and loans from the government as well. The scholarships and grants covered enough where the loans will be for less then the tuition that the U of M would have been. Of course, had I gone there I would have gotten loans and grants as well making that an even cheaper option, but being able to go to the college of my choice is worth some extra expense. Besides, our life is set up for being able to live off of one income. So, after I graduate and get a job, we will just continue living off of one income until I pay off my loans.

So, here I am, about to start college in a months time. I will be co-majoring in Women’s Studies and Sociology. James will be attending college again as well as his job pays for it and he felt it was high time he started taking advantage of that provision. Owen will start preschool. We will be a school family this fall, and it is sure to be a stressful adjustment for us all. I am still more worried then excited, and more scared then happy. I am not sure how to balance life, and Owen, and possibly new babies, and a husband, with something as intense as college. But I am hoping I will be opening a door to an amazing technicolor experience, and not another sepia colored storm. Only time will tell I guess.

Take Back Your Life: Recovering From Cults and Abusive Relationships by Janja Lalich and Madaleine Tobias

After being interviewed by Janja Lalich about my experiences as a Jehovah’s Witness, she sent me this book in the mail. It hadn’t occurred to me to read a book about cult experiences even though I knew that Jehovah’s Witnesses fit the definition of a cult. To most people cults conjure up images of a crazed lunatic keeping all their members on a compound and having a deadly shoot out with the government in the end. I had accepted that I was raised in a cult, but I didn’t think literature about cults would apply to me since my experience was not that severe and I lived a relatively “normal” life as a Jehovah’s Witness. I was surprised to find that much of the book did apply to me. It was obvious in reading it that many cults are much more severe, and I was grateful that my experience had not been that way. However, I was able to recognize the common threads that weave through all types of cults and it was very interesting to recognize things in the book about myself that I hadn’t realized were from being a Witness. Much of the book focused on people who had joined and then left a cult, which is really a very different experience then being born into one. When I was interviewed, Janja had been seeking people to interview who had been raised in and then left a cult, so perhaps a book is in the works about this facet of the cult experience. There were a couple sections of the book that I really appreciated. One was the chapter called “Former Cult Members and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder”. Having had PTSD from another experience, it was interesting to see the different manifestations of the symptoms as experienced by a former cult member. I identified with many of them, and though I do not believe that I would have fit the criteria for diagnosable PTSD only from my cult experience, it was very interesting to see how these specific symptoms had sort of piggy backed on my PTSD from the other experience. I think many former Jehovah’s Witnesses could identify with the explanation of these symptoms from a cult perspective, since many of them have experienced trauma from leaving the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I have never heard of any former JW’s who had been diagnosed with PTSD (probably since the diagnostic criteria is very strict and there is no milder form of trauma that can be diagnosed), but I do hear of many who identify with a lot of the symptoms. The other section I found helpful was the section for therapists. I brought the book to my therapist so she could read this section. I think that it helped us both understand some of the reasons why certain aspects of therapy were so challenging for me, and it was beneficial to discuss these things. Even though much of the book did not directly apply to my situation, I still found it to be an interesting and helpful source of information.

A Man Without Words by Susan Schaller

This was a book that I picked up at a library book sale. I have been somewhat intrigued by language development ever since Owen’s speech delay and him creating his own signs to facilitate communication. This book was about a man from rural Mexico who was deaf. He had grown up without having learned sign language and was unable to communicate with the outside world. By chance, he meets up with a young woman who takes on the task of teaching him sign language. She discusses her frustrations in trying to teach him, and also her frustrations in trying to find information about other adult individuals without language and how they were taught. Initially she thinks she that this is an extremely rare circumstance as everywhere she looks and everyone she talks to says it is impossible to teach an adult language. However, she soon finds that this is not the only adult this has happened to, and is perplexed about why this is not researched or written about more. The story of the man who learns sign language for the first time as an adult is fascinating. I really enjoyed this book.

The Chemistry of Joy by Henry Emmons, M.D. with Rachel Kranz

I was given the book by a practitioner that I see. The cover states: “A three-step program for overcoming depression through western science and eastern wisdom”. I was intrigued by this notion, because I am a strong believer in taking a holistic approach to pretty much everything in life. I often consult with western clinicians as well as research herbal cures and seek out non-traditional therapies for whatever challenges that our family is facing. This has proven very beneficial in the past, because without finding out about fish oil for apraxia, Owen may still have had severe speech issues to this day. This book was a well balanced read and discussed the western ideas of depression, the Indian Ayurvedic personality types, and the Buddhist emotional types. The book explained how pharmaceutical anti-depressants work, and how vitamin or herbal supplements work in the brain. It discussed which ones can be taken together, and which should not. It explored the different reasons why one would choose one over the other. The book also discusses in depth the eastern personality types and how those cultures suggest working with your personality type. Many things are recommended in the book: from supplements, to diet, to breathing or meditation techniques. The book does not advocate throwing away your prescribed medications and taking herbs in their place, but it does explain how and when this can safely be done if a person so desires. I found the book to be very informative and balanced. Since reading it and working with a practitioner I have successfully balanced out my mood by taking vitamins and supplements. I do not personally respond well to anti-depressant medication for a variety of reasons, and having this book available for people like me could be a life saver.

Have You Seen My Mother by Brian Lee McGlothin

Sorry, you can’t really look inside, this was just the only image I could find. This book was written by a man who had been kidnapped by his Jehovah’s Witness father in order to get him away from the bad influences of his non-Witness mother. Taken from his mother, he was now left to be raised by his father and step-mother who didn’t really seem to want him around. Though the story was interesting, this book was so poorly edited that it was an extreme distraction to me. I found myself wanting to grab a red pen and start editing the multitude of mistakes that I found on almost every single page. I was also disappointed that the author never explained what caused him to leave the religion. It seemed that by the end of the story he was tired of writing about the religious aspects and would sum up large amounts of information in a single paragraph. This is what he did when he addressed leaving the religion, when he causally mentioned his departure in a sentence or two, leaving me to wonder what exactly caused him to leave. Everyone has a story about what it was that caused them to depart, and though he had a whole book to do it in, he failed to tell us his. His Jehovah’s Witness upbringing was a prominent part of the first half of the story and then just faded into the background by the end of the book, It was never really concluded to satisfaction. The other aspects of the story were interesting and the book was worth reading, especially if one had been raised as a Witness, but it was not a very polished book and many readers will find that distracting.

I’m Perfect, You’re Doomed: Tails From a Jehovah’s Witness Upbringing by Kyria Abrahams

If you were raised as a Jehovah’s Witness in the time of the Smurfs, then this book is a must read. It was hysterical and I laughed out loud several times. I love the cover art, I loved the chapter titles, I loved the glossary, and I loved the overall content of the book. This book was written in a very unique writing style that not everyone will be a fan of. Unlike most memoirs, the characters are not fleshed out, but just caricatures of themselves, including the author. The author doesn’t mind painting herself in an imperfect light, and seems to just be telling us these stories to get a good laugh. That is fine with me, because I would rather laugh about my Jehovah’s Witness upbringing then be sad and angry about it. Many criticize the author by saying that most of her problems were her own fault. I don’t really see it this way though. She doesn’t provide enough information to make a judgement like that, so it is hard to tell, but in my experience and from what I have seen of people in the religion, her behavior could have been a product of being raised in an oppressive religious group. I found the book to be uniquely written and very funny. I identified with enough of her life to find the story of her exit from this cult interesting and satisfying. Many aspects of her life I did not identify with because I was always more of a good girl in the religion, however I was able to relate those experiences to others I knew growing up and it provided a bit of insight into their behavior. I think that there will always be as many different stories of leaving the Jehovah’s Witness religion as there are people who have left, but I really appreciate it when people put there experiences out there for others to read and learn from, and in this case, laugh over.

Closure was not the only reason I wanted to attend an assembly though, I missed the familiarity of it all. I longed to return, even if I had to do it incognito.  I also was having dreams of being at the meetings or an assembly as a child with my parents and siblings, and suddenly wondering what I was doing there since I no longer believed it was true. These dreams kept plaguing my sleep. I began to wonder if going to a meeting or an assembly just one more time might be a good idea. I wondered what it would be like to go again. What would I think of the people? How would I assimilate the information differently then I did before? How would I feel about being there? How would I feel about what was said now that I had the ability to think for myself?

I had never been to a meeting, assembly, or convention as an unbeliever. The last hour of the last convention I was at was spent going back and forth between thinking it must be true and panicking about that realization, and thinking it must not be true and panicking about that realization. Since I spent that last convention in a state of panic and extremely high anxiety levels, I never knew what it was like to sit there and observe, knowing it was not true. I wanted to do that for some reason, and I am not even really sure why. I just had a sense that it was part of what I needed to do to complete this leaving the Witnesses adventure. So, when James presented the opportunity, I readily accepted. Once I did, my constant dreams of being at the assembly with my family changed to being there as an adult. Instead of suddenly realizing it wasn’t true while I was there, it was now a known fact in my dreams and I was no longer there as a participant, but as an observer. The dreams started to come less and less, and then not at all. I took this as a clear sign that I was doing the right thing.

Since we didn’t want to bring Owen, and since we didn’t want to go to an assembly where we knew people, we decided to leave Owen with my parents and drive a few hours up north to a nice little tourist town and go to the assembly there. The assembly was a two day event, Saturday and Sunday. The talk James wanted to record was on Saturday afternoon. We rented a room at a nice hotel. It was right on Lake Superior where there is a canal that leads to a harbor. The hotel overlooks a lift bridge that lifts when large ships arrive. Our room had a fire place, a hot tub, a deck, and large windows that spanned the room and overlooked the harbor. The room was great, the view was awesome, and the hotel had a nice continental breakfast. We had a great little trip there, aside from the assembly it was a really relaxing getaway. We went up there on Friday night and stayed until Sunday, when we drove back home just on time to give Owen his Easter basket and then go celebrate Easter with our relatives.

On Saturday morning we got dressed in our casual clothes and had breakfast. The convention center was right across the harbor, so we watched the Witnesses all morning with the binoculars provided by the hotel. It was really eerie, and I started to get really nervous and have second thoughts about going. Why did I even want to go? What exactly was this supposed to do for me? Was this weird or wrong?  James and I talked it over and we both felt the same way, but, ultimately we both felt compelled to do it.

This is the part were we realized that going to an assembly as an unbeliever would take more then gumption. It would take alcohol. We finished off our Champaign from the night before, and this relaxed us both a bit. We then started in with copious amounts of swearing. Apparently, it takes lots and lots of swearing to balance out going to an assembly. We threw swear words back and forth as if it was part of our every day conversation, and for some reason their presence in every sentence we said was perhaps a subconscious reminder that we weren’t one of them. It was creepy, we were dressing up in our skirt and suit, putting on our nylons and tie, and preparing to go to an assembly as Witnesses. We needed to remind ourselves that we were not really Witnesses, and swearing incessantly seemed to do the trick.

It was finally time to go, and so we started our walk from the hotel to the convention center. Once we got going our nerves seemed to ease up a bit. I felt some embarrassment because I didn’t want any “worldly” people from our hotel, or who just happened to be out on the street that day to think I was really a Witness. This was a familiar feeling, only this time it was alright to admit it to myself, and to not feel guilty about it. I suddenly realized that I now felt more set apart from the Witnesses then the “worldly” people. We walked into the convention center and the assembly was still in intermission. We began to see Witnesses as we walked through the halls, first only a few, then more and more, and then whole bunches of them. They smiled at us. They seemed open and trusting, and didn’t seem to recognize that we were apostates right in their midst. We were raised to be Witnesses, not to go to college or have careers, but to don suites and dresses and wide smiles and spend pointless hours in fruitless activities. Not surprisingly, we did this task so well that no one was aware that we were really not Witnesses anymore.

We found two seats up high on the balcony, which I was happy about since this made us a lot more inconspicuous. James went to use the bathroom and got us some programs so we could follow along. He also borrowed a song book from lost and found. The program began and we sang a song. It wasn’t a good song, just one of the unmemorable boring ones, which was kind of a disappointment. Being there seemed familiar and comfortable. We knew when to sit and when to stand, when to sing and when to bow our heads. It was normal and natural and the motions were involuntary and rote.

The afternoon program started off with experiences. The circuit overseer and his wife were interviewed. James wanted to tape this, but I discouraged him thinking that then he would have to change his tape during the talk which was supposed to be one hour long, which is the same length as a tape. He ended up having to change his tape anyway when the talk went overtime. The wife of the circuit overseer said that they had many challenges, such as having to cut off association with a member of their family who had been disciplined by the elders. She said this was especially hard since they were in a position where others looked to them to act in a certain way (I thought this sounded like perhaps they would not have shunned their family member if they were not in this position?). Then the wife talked about how insanely crazy she got because she went through… MENOPAUSE… and the audience burst out with laughter. You know, because those female “problems” are hilaaarious! Then her husband chimed in that an alien had abducted his wife for a time, and the audience just burst out laughing again, because, wow, these female issues are sooooo funny!

After that lovely session of minimizing a woman’s milestone in her life, we went on to the symposium about what Witnesses shouldn’t be doing because they are Satan’s snares. We learned that they shouldn’t be buying new technology, attending college, or taking vacations unless they are to serve where the need is great. This is the part that James recorded, so I don’t have to go into great detail since the highlights will soon be on YouTube, but suffice it to say that they are cracking down a bit over these things.

After the talk, another song was sung and another talk was spoken, but James and I decided we had gotten everything we needed from this experience and got up to leave. As we walked back to our hotel, as soon as we were clear of any Witnesses, the swear words started to pepper our speech again, as well as much conversation about the total looniness of everything that was said. This was also not really that different of a reaction then when we were Witnesses, only again, this time we didn’t have to feel guilty about it.

Listening to the Witnesses speak and observing them for the first time as a non-Witness was interesting. What struck me first of all was that the inconsistencies, the things that make you realize it really isn’t true, are pretty subtle. Of course, they are pretty obvious to an unbeliever, but when I put myself back in their shoes, literally, I remembered what it was like to be in that mentality, and it became clearer to me that I wasn’t so dumb for staying so long after all.  It just wouldn’t be that easy to figure out.  It also struck me that pretty much any time they quote from an outside source, they cite that source without really citing that source.  For example, instead of saying “a recent article in Time Magazine said…” they would say “a recent article in a popular magazine said…” They did this quite frequently, where they would give the illusion of citing a source without really citing the true source. As a Witness I never thought anything of this, but now that kind of thing would just never fly with me. Somewhere along the line I learned what true research was, and the Witnesses don’t present credible research. The strange thing is that what they are saying may be true, but they make themselves sound less credible by hiding the source of who said the quote. It’s a subtle way of telling the audience that what they are being told is the ultimate “truth” and the people doing the telling are such authorities that the audience need not be concerned with actually checking to make sure they are quoting accurately and from legitimate sources. Their quotes are often very misleading as well. For example during the anti-education talk, the speaker said, “one recent survey showed that over 60% of college graduates don’t even get a job for what they majored in”. As a Witness I would have fell for this because I was so uneducated, I wasn’t even educated about education. Now I know that this is pretty ridiculous, because if someone majored in Sociology as an example, then what job are they supposed to have? There are probably hundreds of occupations this person could have where they use their education and degree to advance in the field of their choice. Most of them are probably not Sociologists, but that doesn’t mean their education was for nothing. They likely hold a job that their education prepared them for and that a person with no degree would not be able to hold.  They also probably are making a lot more money then someone with no degree. Their use of quotes at the assembly is just like it is in their literature, it is half truths and misleading propaganda; only at the assembly the original source is often not even cited so no one can even look up the real quote.

I think what struck me the most being at an assembly again was seeing the mothers and their babies. Perhaps I tuned into them because the last time I was at an assembly I had a 14 month old baby and I was struggling with the reality of raising my child in that religion. As I observed the families and the interactions between parents and children, and mothers and babies, at first I thought that perhaps I had been too harsh with the Witnesses. After all, it had been a decent way of life. It hadn’t been all that bad, had it? But then it suddenly struck me. There was something wrong here, something that I had never noticed before on a conscious level. These mothers, as they held their infants in their arms, only had conditional love for their babies and could not love them fully. Though they definitely love their infants, there is a glaring exception to their love. If their child grows up and leaves this group (which according to the Pew Survey, 2/3 of them will), they will no longer show love to him or her. Even at this tender age, this realty holds a presence, and the parents comfort themselves with the hope that their children will be the exception and all stay in the “truth”. Witness parents never think to themselves that they will support their children in whatever beliefs they decide to have.

This realization was the missing piece, the light bulb moment, the reason I had come. This was what my son had taught me when he was still in my belly waiting to be born. He was whispering to me that I couldn’t believe in this religion anymore, that I now had a love greater then the organization, and that love would soon lead me away. I didn’t listen until he was 14 months old, but I eventually accepted his message and put my child, and my husband, and myself first above the organization. I will forever be grateful that I found my way out of there. I’m sad for the inevitable fate of the majority of these children, and the pain they will experience when their parent’s love is removed from them.

I feel this experience was enriching and did indeed provide me with a sense of closure. It was as if the circle of my life as a Witness was completed, and I could tie up the loose ends and leave them there. I’m now reborn as a wife who is equal to her husband, as a mother who has unconditional love for her child, and as a woman who is ready to start really living in the world. I have no need or inclination to ever return to a Jehovah’s Witness function again.

1. I went to a JW assembly! It was crazy, and a post about it will be coming.

2. I went to Seattle to work on Solace stuff. It was such a great trip and a great experience, and I may be writing a blog post about that as well.

3. It’s Owen’s birthday today! He is four years old. A wonderful thing that happened this year is that I experienced no anniversary effect leading up to this day. If you’re not familiar with trauma or PTSD recovery, “the anniversary effect” is a time of increased emotional turmoil, similar to the original reaction to the original traumatic event. This usually shows up leading up the anniversary of the trauma, and goes away shortly afterward. I have had this happen each year, except for this one. I of course was thrilled to realize that this year I could simply enjoy my child’s birthday and not have to stop to go crazy while I planned for it.

4. We are having a birthday party for Owen on Sunday. However, hardly anyone is invited this year. Owen just doesn’t do well in large groups, so only our closest family members are invited. This will be much better for him. So, if you were invited last year and are not invited this year, don’t be offended, cause barely anyone is invited this year.

5. I have lots of blog posts in the works and in mind. I am feeling pretty busy lately and have a lot to get done. My blog posts are one of the things I keep thinking about and never quite get to, but I will eventually, so don’t think I’ve abandoned my blog to Facebook.

Enjoy!

His mother informed him that Owen and I are welcomed to come, since Owen is an innocent child and since the elders told her that I could go. When James asked why I could go she said, “well, Jennifer never made a public declaration that she didn’t want to be a part of the religion.” James told her that my name was on the letter too, and that I celebrated Christmas and birthdays too, and that I had stopped going to meetings (church) and out in service (preaching) before he did. His mother didn’t know what to say, but said that the elders said it was fine if I was there, but that he could not attend.

I am just so shocked by this. Not by the fact that we can’t attend her wedding, because, though very sad, it was expected. I am just shocked that I am considered okay association for Jehovah’s Witnesses and that the elders specifically said that I could be at the wedding. I get no credit for having my own mind. I am the one who realized it wasn’t true and was able to admit that to myself long enough to do something about it. I’m the one who carefully approached James and gradually convinced him that there was a life worth living outside of the confines of the Watchtower. I was the one who found the letter online, adapted it to our situation, and prompted James to send it once he was approached by the elders in our old congregation. I was the one who insisted on celebrating holidays. I was the one who made the first move in contacting friends who left before us who were considered “apostates”. I was the one who designed and uploaded James website about the Watchtower Society as well as linked to it from our website stating “Our Other Site”. I was the one who scoured the internet for images and inserted them into our YouTube video based on the talk “You Will Be With Me in Paradise” given by a Bethal speaker. I was the one who wrote blog posts talking about how my brother and sister treated me, and telling my entire story of leaving the religion. I was the one interviewed by a sociologist specializing in cult behaviors about my experiences with the Witnesses. I was the one who wrote a short narrative of my experience of leaving for a book that will host a collection of these narratives. If that is not enough of a public declaration then what would be? What have I not done that James has? If the elders think it is okay for me to associate with other Witnesses, then why are my brother and sister shunning me?

It probably seems odd that I am upset that I am not being shunned at the same level as James is, but this just brings up so many feelings for me. Am I really that invisible to people that a religion that prides itself on hunting people down and kicking them out is failing to even notice that I am just as deserving, if not more so, then James of being shunned? Don’t I matter at all to these people? If they think I am some innocent who has been caught up in James evil ways, then why have they not tried to contact me in the last couple years? Why did the elder come to my door and ask for James? Why did that elder only turn to me after multiple attempts to get James to provide a reason for our absence? Why did he not accept my reasons of depression from postpartum issues, and instead said, “yeah, it is hard to have kids at the meeting” in one dismissive sentence before his inquiries moved back over to James again? He didn’t even care about what I said. He didn’t even listen closely enough to allow it to sink in and provide an appropriate response. Nobody in that religion ever cared about me and this is just a brutal reminder of that reality.

The reason the elders only called James and only wanted to talk to James was because they are blatantly sexist. Their religion is steeped in sexism, but I really failed to notice this until I left and it become so much more obvious. I never realized that I wasn’t even really a person to those elders. I didn’t know that once I was married, I wouldn’t even be considered worthy of talking to about my own problems or issues. James would be the one they would ask to talk to, the one who was forced to deal with them even when he didn’t want to. They called him, they asked for him when they showed up at our door, and they only talked to him, only looked at him, and only cared about what he said. They didn’t want to hear answers that pertained to me and my issues, they only wanted to hear about James and help James to go back, thinking I would automatically follow like the dutiful little wife. They have never once through this whole thing tried to contact me individually. They simply called James to arrange a meeting through him, with both of us present. They never considered I had a mind of my own, that I had my own reasons for leaving, and that I was not following my husband.

I’ve never mattered to them at all, and now I don’t even matter enough for them to notice what my status is; something most Witnesses are overly obsessed with finding out. I think of how good I tried to be. I think of how difficult it was to go to all those meetings and do all that preaching and feel all that guilt for not being spiritual enough. I wasted so much of my life in that stupid religion. No one ever noticed any good that I did or tried to do. They even told James not to marry me because I was “unspiritual”. Not just the elders, one of my good friends told him this too. People in my congregation were telling James friends how unspiritual I was in the hopes that they would talk some sense into him. Either I wasn’t noticed, or I was noticed and I was labeled unspritual. I was always walking in James shadow. I was always looked at skeptically by his family and others in the congregation because they thought I was pulling him down.

I finally made a brave move. I stepped out from under James shadow and made a decision for my own life on my own. I didn’t make this move because of James, in fact it was a risk because there was a chance he would not go along with me. I did it because I knew it was the right thing to do and because I knew I couldn’t be a Witness anymore and didn’t want to raise Owen that way. It was my proud moment, my striking out on my own to do something that finally felt right for me. But now I find out that my moment of pure independence has not even been recognized by the people I decided to be independent from. It feels almost more insulting then the shunning, knowing that I don’t matter at all to these people and never did after giving so much of my life up to them.

I feel terrified of time these days. I feel like it has become so slippery, yet so defined ever since Owen was born. In my mind I can easily journey across time, back to the past or into the future. I have the most trouble staying in the present. Anxiety comes when I go backward, and when I go forward, which is why I really need to learn to stay in the here and now. The only problem with that is I need to plan for the future now. I don’t have forever anymore, and I become more and more aware of that fact every single day. It’s like when you’re on vacation and there is that lingering feeling in the back of your mind that you can’t shake that keeps counting down the days, no matter how much you try to ignore it. There is a constant ticking of a clock, an occasional chime to mark something significant, and a hopeful winding up again and holding my breath that the mechanics will carry me as far as I can possibly go. There is also an ever present fear that time will stop for me too soon, or even worse, for someone I love.

I feel like I’ve barely had time to really live. I’ve been alive, but not making decisions based on reality. When I got married, when I had a baby, it was all under the assumption that we would all live forever in paradise which was coming very soon. We weren’t supposed to face retirement, or our child’s teenage years, or college expenses. I panic when I think of the things that are coming down the pike, and I feel so ill prepared for them, only just realizing that they are indeed going to happen to me too. Other people are raised knowing they will someday get old and die, but I’ve only been grappling with this fact for 2 and half years. Owen is likely more at peace with the idea then I am, though he also insists he will never die and neither will I. I find myself wanting so badly to agree with him, and to tell him the paradise will come soon so he doesn’t have to ever worry about that. But that was the same lie that was fed to me, and though it made it easier in the beginning, it made it much harder in the long run.

Realizations of my own mortality and the realities of growing older are ever present in my life now. The older I get the faster the time goes and the more urgent it seems to make something of my life. I feel like I need a direction, but I don’t know which way to go, so I sit and I wait. But the act of waiting is limiting my options. I turn 34 in April, so, next year I will be 35. Theoretically, that puts any pregnancy I have after that time at higher risk in many ways, including a higher risk to the fetus of abnormalities. I am also overweight right now, which would increase the risks to any pregnancy I should have. Owen will be 4 in May, and I am not even pregnant with a sibling for him yet. How wide should that gap really be? How do I balance out a ticking clock, current risk factors, an increasingly wider gap between first and second born, and my own personal pursuits? How do I make decisions for a future that I didn’t think I would be living in? How do I fit things that a young and unburdened adult would be pursuing into the life of a married woman with a child? How do I decide to have a baby now that I know that it wouldn’t be immune to sickness, or death, or old age, or any of the other hardships of life? The harsh reality of the world is so much worse then the blissful utopian view of it I had for Owen. It seemed right to bring Owen into utopia, and it seems wrong to bring a person into this harsh reality we call life, yet I have to be logical and realize that reality is likely more harsh to me because of the contrast between it and paradise.

What about college? When do I get to do that? Can I pursue having one or more children, and college at the same time? Is that unreasonable? Should I wait on college? Should I just give that idea up and focus my energy elsewhere? Am I now limited to only one more child because I’ve waited so long? I could squeeze one in before 35, but, is 35 really some kind of expiration date that gets stamped on to every woman’s body as soon as she reaches that age? Perhaps my pregnancies would be healthy until 40, it seems that this stuff must be somewhat individual. It isn’t a sudden free fall into risk factors either, it is a gradual progression towards increased risk. So, at 35 the risk factors slightly increase and keep gradually increasing as you approach 40. It isn’t as if you wake up on your 35th birthday to vast amounts of more risk then you had when you were 34.

Perhaps I’m over thinking this whole thing. Lots of people just have babies, sometimes without even wanting or trying to. Why do I have to be the type to obsess over an instinctual evolutionary behavior? There is always risk involved for any pregnancy and birth. Maybe this all boils down to birth and death, the beginning and ending points of our journey. Seemingly polar opposites, but similar in their life changing and spiritual qualities. I can’t hide from death, and I don’t want to regret anything when I’m old and close to dieing. Giving birth again will lift that veil between life and death, the result of which can be frightening, even terrifying. It could also be spiritual, and beautiful. Maybe I need to start taking more risks, otherwise I will forfeit my opportunities simply by waiting to make up my mind about them.