Well.......I figured it's about time to tell my story...Bear with me, it's close to bedtime and I'll probably have to break this up...
I was born on May 22, 1985 into a family full of dubs minus the dad...my father never had much to do w/ religion. After that, it's pretty much blank, except for what was recounted to me by family members.
1.) On a trip to the mall, my mother bought me a balloon from a store that had questionable material, so obviously it was demonized. They tied the balloon to my crib that night and the possessed balloon had a bad habit of ''untying'' itself from my crib and floating into my parents room. It developed an evil face and my father had to run over it 20 times w/ the car to finally pop it.
2.) My cousin and his mother came to visit after a somewhat ugly divorce from my aunt's husband. My cousin trashed my room (his mother was very liberated and was never one for discipline) and of course being the funloving spirit i was/am, I did nothing to stop him. My mother walked in on the bedlam and immediately, ''snatched me up by my hair and proceeded to scream at me and hit me. My father then ran in and snatched me from my mother. He drove off with me in his pickup and we went out for icecream. We finally came back when the situation had calmed down.'' (Quote is from father)
3.) I actually remember this one.........I was about 4 or 5 years old and we were washing up for supper.
I always felt like the bad child b/c I never enjoyed meetings or fieldservice unlike my other sisters or brother. For many years, they had a bookstudy at our house, and my sister was always having to come get me out of my parents bedroom where I was watching tv w/ my father while the bookstudy was being conducted. I loved/still love and always will, my father with all my heart. And it always hurt me intensly when my mother would remind me that ''he was going to die at Armageddon...enjoy him while you can.'' I have a vivid memory of my father falling asleep in bed w/ me after reading to me (it had been one of those long nights) and I laid there awake, sobbing....I didn't/couldn't understand how Jehovah...such a loving god could take my father away from me....I stayed up that entire night praying and crying for my father to accept Jehovah so that I would never lose him.
**Fast forward 10 years**
Then the thread broke and something inside of me snapped.....I had always been intrigued by mystical things, and at some point it seemed to take over my life. Maybe it was the intrigue of being able to control events in my life. Curiously enough, this all happened following my parents divorce. Maybe I could save my father from jehovah's inevitable fist of fury...who knows...I just figured that I obviously was Satan's spawn and was past saving. I needed something to believe in so I turned to Wicca. (disclaimer...I know that there are some actual Wiccans on this board, and I hope that nothing I say from here on out offends you...it's just what happened...I was young, uninformed, and ignorant)
I soon found myself wearing nothing unless it was black or blood red. I drew pentagrams wherever I could, cut myself so that I drew blood, and prayed to every god or goddess that I could...I prayed for them to deliver me from this hell and to just take me up and let me die. Of course I didn't and I thank god.........
>Insert mayhem here< I moved 3 times in the course of a year. All moves were divised by my mother to save me from myself. The worst town was Grenada, MS....To this day, I swear that the town has an evil vibe left over from the 1950's...it is still segragated in ways that can't be explained, and I was never raised to be racist...therefore I suffered in the worst way. I made the ''mistake'' of dating a black boy. The death threats I received were so intense that I finally had to break up w/ him much to his dismay. (I'm sorry Richard)...
I was the weird chick at school...I hung out w/ the goths and I was always sullen and withdrawn. I knew that everyone was out to get me...b/c my mother told me that exact same thing everyday...Satan's gonna gitcha if you let him...Here comes a memory....
4.) I was babysitting my niece and nephew and I had finally had it up to here with EVERYTHING. I was convinced that Satan himself had taken over my body and that there was no more hope for me. I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor w/ the door locked and a steak knife to my wrist, sawing away, seeking the artery, the release.........something to get me away from all of this pain. Then my niece and nephew, my babies, my lives...started banging on the door to the bathroom...
''JOJO!!!!!!!!! COME OUT!!!!!!! WE WANT TO WATCH >insert movie here<. AND WE'RE HUNGRY!!!!''
I couldn't leave them like this....I SCREAMED AT SATAN..........''LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!! I HAVE A LIFE TO DEAL WITH! I WILL NOT LET YOU HAVE THEM!!!!!!....(for some reason, I was convinced that unless I saved my niece and nephew, they would suffer the same fate)........IF YOU WANT THEM, YOU'LL HAVE TO TAKE ME FIRST!!!!!!!''
I'm sorry...I can't do anymore tonight...this is harder than I thought it would be....
luv, jojo
So then I exited the bathroom and entered upon some very stunned children. They weren't sure what aunt jojo was screaming at, and to this day I hope they never find out.