Part 8
The Undiscovered Country.
I call this part the Undiscovered Country because #1... I’m a sci-fi (and star trek) fan, and #2... that’s exactly how I saw it when I delved into the “truth” of the truth.
It started around the end of 2000. What really started it was a death of a close friend. It was a moment I’ll never forget in my life. It was at the wake of this friend that it all started. She was a 50-something year old woman, and I had worked for both her and her husband. Their names were Bob and Louise. She died suddenly and without warning. It was a shock to all of us. When I got the call from a friend of mine, Christine, I couldn’t believe my ears. But it was nonetheless true. I went to the wake and stayed for the entire evening. During the wake the priest gave a sermon, a talk of sorts, about her and her life. What was the most touching part was Bob and his stepdaughter giving their eulogy for Louise. I listened to the experience of a lifetime. About how they had met, fallen in love, and made a life together. It was one of the most touching moments of my life. It actually reached inside me and pulled at emotions and feelings I had not had the courage to face.
On the ride home I cried my heart out. This wouldn’t be the first time or the last. I faced a great many things. My unhappiness with my life, specifically my marriage, and the dreaded feelings I had been harboring regarding the Watchtower. By the end of the year I made 3 resolutions. To examine my situation regarding the two aforementioned things, and to examine myself and make decisions on all 3. I knew even as I made these decisions, my road was going to be rough, and it was going to be ugly. Was it ever.
By February 2001 I had already joined this discussion board after lurking for a very short time. Through all that’s posted here, I weeded through specific areas that were of concern to me. I knew all along something wasn’t quite right with my religion, but had never been able to point to it. Somewhat out of fear, and somewhat out of denial. Something had already caught my eye, and that was the truth about pedophiles and cover-ups. This was all new to me, and it was very disturbing. I read letters all over the net and I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Prior to making the decision to investigate my beliefs…www.witnesses.net was closing. Though they would never allow me in (kinda strange, I WAS a dub!) they had posted a large amount of links to jw and non-jw sites when they closed the site down. I book marked as many as I could, but never actually looked into them. I just saved them because I knew something was wrong and I would open them at a time when I was ready.
My fear at the time was greater than my curiosity for truth.
I bought and read Ray Franz’s Crisis of Conscience. Those who have read it know what and eye opener it is. Those who haven’t, find out quickly. I read the book in 5 days, using my lunch times and over free moments to steal a reading of a page or two. As most of us who were still in, I had to hide the book. Gwen had tried to warn me of how the book may affect me. She knew I bought the book, for I told her I had ordered it from Amazon.com. I spent those days with every emotion I ever felt all coming out at once. I have to say it was one of the darkest times of my life. Yet, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to know more, so I ordered In Search Of Christian Freedom.
By the time I finished that book and had done some of my own research, I was already on the brink. Some people call this a crossroad. Mine was a “T”, where I could choose left, right, or go straight ahead and off the cliff. That’s how I felt. I was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Now I know why so many keep the blinders on and go through life like a lemming. It wasn’t for me and I could not longer follow. But I did, for a few more months anyway. Going to meetings was agony. The blinders were off which made it worse, and better, because now I could “see” hypocrisy right in front of me.
By May of 2001, I was finding out about my faith and what it really was. My plan was that with more research, by the end of the year I would be sure of its validity and know if I would stay "in" to keep peace, or bail and have freedom. Even with all I was discovering, I felt I HAD to make sure for myself.
One Sunday night that May, my wife pushed me over the edge and I admitted that I wasn't satisfied with the "truth". After I confided that, she went on to drill me for hours, to the point that I told her that I would not be attending any more meetings. It was then that she let me know that if I did not attend meetings, then we had no marriage. I've heard stories as such, but never expected that to happen to me. But there it was. Now what? The bitterness of reality, being in the Watchtower.
At this point I made an effort, though she would not allow professional help for us, to try to make it work. But inside, I knew I could never continue in the watchtower, and eventually, I’d have to face my own reality. I also confronted her with respect to her lack of, well, lets be direct here. Sex. It had already been 3 and ½ years or so. As of this time in May 2001, it didn’t get better. I insisted again we should get professional help. No, she wouldn’t hear of it.
Around this time, I approached my boss. I was feeling very desperate. I needed someone I could talk to, someone I could look in the eye and watch their reaction to what I was telling them. I couldn’t talk to any of my “friends” who were “in”. Now she, Christine, had always known I was a jw. Yet one of the things that bothered her was that I never talked about my religion at all. I told her I had been harboring my feelings for years. It was only within the last 4-6 months that I started my investigation of this religion I had been a part of all my life, and ultimately found myself in the situation I was in. She offered to find me some professional help, as she could see how deeply disturbed I was. She wasn’t successful in this but told me there has to be some sort of support group, someone you can talk to online, that shares this type of situation. I told her I already had, but I was looking for more. Nothing compares talking faces to face with another human, which can watch you, listen to you and see the pain you feel.
If ever you people out there feel, like you need help, go for it. If you feel that leaving the watchtower is too much and you need help, find the councilor you need, quickly. I made the huge mistake of thinking, I was a strong person, and I could do this without help. I’m just a human. And it was the wrong decision to make. My experience, though I’m not so good with the words and descriptions of my feelings, was very traumatic. I should have sought professional guidance on my own, just with dealing with all the issues about the watchtower and the control they had on me.
It got so bad, I drank. I could go long periods, years even without a drink. Then there were times beer could always be found in the fridge. I was flexible. It didn’t help, that my wife hated my drinking at all. “Why”, She would ask? Over and over. During this year I gave my reason, finally, to her. To kill the pain. Yes, I was in pain. Lots of pain.
I started talking to my family. My sisters first. Then later my mom and dad. Throughout all the years, they all had drifted away from the watchtower. They could and did go quietly. I was the last one. And going quietly was not for me. I couldn’t. And if I tried, I was going to be pursued. When I told my family, I found out just what a family I had. I had drifted away and practically cut them off. Partly under pressure from my wife because they were “worldly” now, and partly because I was just not good at calling and keeping the ties close. I was only 25 miles away from most of them and there was no excuse for what I did. None at all. But what I found is they were there for me when I was at my lowest. Whatever I would need, eventually they would provide. Without question, this gave me the strength I needed, knowing that they would be there for me REGARDLESS of my reasons, feelings, and thoughts this was MY FAMILY! And I learned a valuable lesson from this. My family loves me for me. For whom I am, whatever that may be and entail. They had lost me for so many years. They were sure glad they could see I was coming back. Even if not physically, at that time, at least I was opening my door when theirs had been open all along.
From May till September, it was all a blur. I lost my grandfather and my best friend in death. While I wasn’t really that close to my grand father, I was close to my friend, Bob. I did post about his loss here. And even now, I still miss him so. He was not a dub, but “worldly”. Even so, we were friends for years, an unlikely match, he being so opinionated, my being so stubborn; yet, we never had harsh words, ever. Just good talk, on the ham radio, in email, and in person. His passing was a great loss to me. He was at least 25 years older, though I never asked, because, it didn’t matter. I went to his funeral and participated in the ceremony even while still technically a dub. I didn’t care. This was my friend. And while in another church or not, I was doing this because of him and what he meant to me. No one ever asked about it and I never volunteered any information. This was between Bob and myself. The dubs had no business intruding into my life there.
During those 4 months I struggled to grasp the situation and to figure things out. It was a very dark time, and I struggled with everything I did. Even if it was nothing. I was so down, that to pick up a fishing pole was too much to ask and too much work. I wasn’t suicidal, mind you. Just very depressed. I didn’t know what to do, where to turn, and how I was going to get out of the watchtower. I only knew I could not continue in the course I was going. It was literally killing me. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.
The Undiscovered Country rears its presence again, in late August, early September.
While at work, posters from this board, post a link to the UN site and the NGO/DPI page. I read it and vowed that whatever I was doing that night, a letter was going to the UN, everything I had planned was at a halt. This took me over, gave me a new outlook, and was something I could get into, reviving me temporarily.
I was on a mission. The letter went. I never received a reply. I posted that letter here, and its effects were unprecedented. Later in September I took my vacation. By the time I returned a week later, I could not believe what was happening. The lid was blown off this issue, and the watchtower had been exposed, by some very good people on this board, who dug in and found the evidence. Hours and hours of research, time, money, and effort was put in. Though I wish I could say I had a greater part, I was still in and had to be very careful.
I made plans while painting my parents house, with my youngest sister. I had faced reality. And I now knew that my leaving the watchtower meant the end of my marriage. We talked and she had a place for me. “Move in with me”, she said. Damn. I hardly new my sister. But family was family. And she was more than willing to help out her hurting older brother.
Between the beginning of October and the beginning of December, I had the darkest, deepest troubled times. Reality was catching up to me. It faced me square in the face and left no room for doubt. I had sent the watchtower a letter. Now, I KNEW what the story was regarding the UN, but for my own reasons, I had to get something in writing. I HAD to do this. I received the reply on November 6th. I had posted it here, and it’s on my website. Once I read it, I knew I was leaving the watchtower for sure, and for good. I only had to face the fact now that I was going to dissolve an 18 year marriage. Though not a great one, it still bothered me terribly that she had forced a choice on me between her perceived “god” and myself.
One more situation developed between the two of us. Though it would just seem to be another quarrel to the outsider, it was the finishing touch to making my decisions, and setting out on new pathways of life.
While at an anniversary party for my elder friend John, whom I went fishing with often, I made the mistake of saying that my sister is pregnant. Now amongst all the “stuff” I had been going through, I honestly had forgot to tell the wife about that. So she was shocked and mad. She announced out loud in front of everyone, “You have to get out.” Now she didn’t mean out of the party. I know her well enough to know that she meant get out, move out, and be on your way.
I was so mad that she humiliated me yet again. I put my coat on and walked out the door. She ran after me and said, “Don’t do this to me.” Not, “I’m sorry”, just “Don’t do this to ME!” Who did what to who? In disgust, I walked the two miles home and left her the car. I took my time and did a lot of thinking. This was the last time I was going to live with humiliation like that. I had heard, repeatedly throughout the years, from her own mouth “if you don’t like it, you can leave”. I confronted her about that after I told her I was leaving for good. I said, people who love each other, NEVER say anything like that. EVER! I can and have asked many people married and those who aren’t, if that has ever been said by themselves or their partner. The answer was almost always a no. Her excuse? “Its just something you say when your mad”. I reminded her for the last time, it is NOT something you ever say for any reason, unless you mean it. I took her advice, after listening to it for 18 years. I started packing my $hit. (male PMS ) On December 7th, 2002, I made the last trip to work from my home. The home I lived in for nearly 18 years.
On the way, she called me on my cell and asked me not to come home, that she couldn’t “bear” to have me there, she couldn’t handle it all. Believe me, I was more than willing to accommodate her. I had already made plans to sleep over my parents house. In the two weeks prior to this, my parents, knowing I had reached the end of the rope, prepared a room for me at considerable effort and expense.
During my workday she called again. This time she asked me to meet her at a local restaurant to “talk”. I reluctantly agreed. When I did meet her, she told me how sorry she was, and that she would change. She said, “I looked at myself through your eyes and I didn’t like what I saw”. You know, that’s too bad. It took this, my leaving, to get an apology out of her. NOW she wants to see a councilor. NOW she wants to make big changes. I said, “It’s too late”. The one thing I knew is that nothing would change. Maybe short term, but eventually, I’d be back to my miserable self, unhappy and grouchy. Abused, degraded, unloved and not wanted, I was not the person I used to be. I was a crushed unhappy shell of my former self. I knew the road to building my existence, my self worth, and confidence, would be a long and difficult one. I left her there that night with only one thought in my head as I rounded the entrance ramp to I-195-w and to my new home, in Rhode Island. That I knew I was going to be all right.
Next part 9
The voyage home.
Unseen Apostate Directorate of North America
U.A.D.N.A.--Rhode Island