Hi all,
Well, the year is nearly out, and as the new one approaches I'm thinking back on 2 years of being in the online exJW community and, in June 2002, my four year anniversary of my df'ing.
When first I came to H2O seeking comfort and support in January 2000, I had been df'd for a year and a half and online nearly 4 years but never had the guts to type "Jehovah's Witnesses" into a search engine. That search led me to Freeminds (thanks, Randy *hug*) and then, to H2O.
What a journey its been. I've gone from devastation at losing my family, to anger, through the anger to numbness, back through sadness, and now after much soul searching and a chance change of circumstances last summer, come to look at my disfellowshipping in an entirely new light.
Those who know my history know that I was born into the Borg, baptized at 12, married at 19, and was a very loyal, unquestioning dub until the age of 24 when the elders told me that my miscarried babies had no status with God. No hope of a future, nothing. I had known in the back of my mind this was the Society's view but when I was grieving, the idea caused such rage inside of me that the unwavering faith I'd had in everything the org said being divine caught fire.
It burned down from there.
When I finally ended up disfellowshipped after attempting to da myself (see my website for the full gory details) I was devastated that my family was shunning me. Even though a few members chose to ignore that counsel (My jw sister, my mother, and recently, my grandmother) most of the family made it painfully obvious that I was persona non grata to them.
Last summer, when my father became suddenly, critically ill, the family was once again forced to deal with me, since my sister and I were keeping vigil by my father's bedside, in shifts, 24 hours a day. Some took every pot-shot they could at me, some ignored me as if I wasn't standing by the bed.
However they reacted to me, though, they were forced to acknowledge and meet my second husband and to see (no matter how they tried to deny it) that he is a wonderful, loving man. Even my hard-nosed elder uncle admitted to my mother that he was very impressed by the way that my husband cared for my father during the hospitalization and after, when he stayed with us for six weeks. It also spoke volumes that my father was, and felt, more welcome in the home of his disfellowshipped daughter than the one who was "faithful" and married to an elder (who, consequently, did not want my father staying with them).
During the time my father stayed with us, some of my extended family even went so far as to come to my house to visit him. One evening, my uncle, aunt and a cousin played cards with my Dad (at the doctor's request, to test his memory) and drank coffee, ate doughnuts, and looked at my wedding pictures. For three hours, it was almost like we were a normal family.
Almost.
Except for the fact that I knew when they left that I wouldn't see them again until someone else in the family died, or was deathly ill.
That evening spent with them was magic to me, though. In that it broke the spell of my feeling that I was really missing out on something because they shun me.
I realized that we have absolutely nothing in common anymore. Their belief system is so vastly different, their air of haughtiness and self-righteousness (the "we know the answers to everything" trademark JW attitude) is now too much for me to take. It's totally alien to me.
I watched as they squirmed in my presence, trying to ignore how happy a household I have now (I suffered terrible depression in the years I was close to them) and I know that they kept asking themselves why, since I am not 'doing anything wrong', don't I ask to be reinstated.
I was around them enough throughout Dad's illness to see them through new eyes. The clear eyes that I have now after being out of the Tower for so long. I've seen that their patterns of behavior have not changed. My cousins are going down the same destructive path I did when choosing my first husband: one of them just announced her engagement and I am actually relieved that I'm not invited to the wedding, instead of being beside myself with sorrow like I was when her sister married in 1998. I know that the marriage is a bad match. I don't think I could watch it even if I were invited. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything.
I don't feel envious now of my sister anymore, who is still in close contact with my cousins. They were once as close as sisters to me, but now they are such drones, incapable of an individual thought, and I know that it would do nothing but frustrate me to have to watch what they are doing. I know too much. I see them tap dancing on the tracks, blind to the light of the oncoming train. The same train that ran me over and nearly killed me.
I wish I could save them the grief. That they would learn from my experiences and realize there is so much more to life than they have been taught. But they won't hear me. So I have come to terms with that, made peace with it, and for the first time, I'm all right with it.
I know now that shunning has been a protection to me in that if they hadn't done so, I probably would have stayed a slave of the WTS. If they had been loving, forgiving, and reasonable at the time of my divorce instead of going along with the crowd in shunning me and not even asking why I did what I did, then I would have been sucked back in. With devastating consequences to myself, my child, and my new marriage.
I have come to realize, that as sad as it was, their cutting me off has been one of the biggest blessings in disguise that I've ever gotten. Because I would have put up with their continuing emotional abuse of me, disrespect for my feelings, and all the JW baggage that goes along with that. (and we're not talking carry-on, folks!) Now, I don't. And even if they opened their arms up to me tomorrow, there would be new rules of behavior required for them to be in my life.
If they ever leave the org, of course I will help them to work through the issues as best as I can. But I am no longer waiting for it, dreaming of it. They have made their choice, just as I have mine, and I know now that I can go on just fine without them.
They look at me with such shock when they see that not only am I happy with my life, I'm perfectly fine with the fact that I'm disfellowshipped. It doesn't bother me, in fact, I rarely think of it unless someone brings it up.
I am me, that's all. Their judgments can't touch me. I don't need their approval or acceptance to know that I'm a good person. And that annoys and confounds them to no end.
To those of you newly struggling with the loss of family to disfellowshipping, I give you my sincerest sympathy and understanding. I've been there. Just hang in there and do whatever you have to do to be happy with your own life. To surround yourself with people who love and respect who you are, not what they want you to be.
I feel so fortunate as the new year arrives to know that I'm free of it. I didn't know if I ever would be, but I am. And I wish the same for all of you in this situation.
Life is too short to live as a slave to sadness. Being free... it's a feeling I can't describe. Such peace. And I know that as hard and hellish as it has been, I never would have gotten here if I hadn't been shoved out the door and shown the true nature of the organization.
I hope that all of you can find peace for yourselves, too.
Happy New Year Everyone!
~Esmeralda