I'm reminded of the one time I dieted and stuck with it. It was one of those rare heroic events where I was able to rise above my natural sloth and lose some serious weight over a six month period. I got down to a size fourteen or so, and for the first time I was skinnier than my mom. Was she proud of me? Did she encourage me to stick with it? No.
She kept asking if I were anorexic, and plied all kinds of food on me when I visited. With sickening dread I realized my mom was not cheering my success but rather jealous that I had succeeded where she had failed. She'd rather I wallow around in failure with her, than to leave her alone in her own misery.
It's true, to move past the WT sickness is the best thing. There is joy in freedom. It's the ties that bind, family and friends, who would rather we sacrifice our happiness on the altar of their own dysfunction, that cause the most pain.
The bravest thing to do is to live large even when betrayed by those closest to us. As ex-JW's, you all have done that, and I applaud you.