Hygh's Story

by Hyghlandyr 43 Replies latest members adult

  • Hyghlandyr


    I was born on December 18, 1967, in Cleveland. A suburb somewhere, Lakewood, or Berea or something. Who really cares? In later years when I looked up where my sperm donor claimed I was born, it was wrong. That's ok my egg donor didn't know the right place either. In any case a couple of years later my sister Dawn was born, then my sister Tracy, yet a few more years. We all shared the same sperm donor and the same egg donor.

    I will breeze through the first few years of life because I simply don't remember them. Neither does my sister Dawn. Tracy remembers her early years. In fact it is around the time that she was born that Dawn and I begin our memories. We do both share a couple memories of our sperm donor at the time. For instance I recall standing between him and my egg donor, as I held a frying pan, because he was beating her.

    Well when I started writing this I thought I remembered more of him, but I don't. Not in that time period. The last thing I remember is standing outside of the projects my egg donor had moved us into when she seperated from him. He had squated and told me at age seven that now I was the man of the house. That I had to protect my "Mom" and sisters. That begged the question of who had protected us from him and who was now going to protect us from her inability to make quality judgments.

    We remained there for a length of time, that I do not recall. Perhaps around a year. She met a truck driver, decided to marry him, and move to Colorado, where he lived. The night he was making his last run I will never forget. He was carrying a load to Ohio. A few days later we were to leave with him. That entire night was ominous. I often have a sense of the tragic when it occurs. Never before. That night I was sick all night, emotionally. I was crying, and simply knew something had happened to him. During the night his rig crashed and he died. We got the news the next morning.

    Naturally the egg donor was distraught at this time of her life. Which leads to an interesting sidenote. Her personality type was such that in this and other cases she just shut down. Nothing would get done, no housework got done, the place became a wreck (yeah ok, actually that was her pattern the rest of her life, or rather all of her life that I remember). Well thankfully a woman came to her door. Yes, she was one of Jehovah's Witnesses. She did not listen to the woman much, but the Witness had noticed the condition of her apartment. She returned sometime later and cleaned the entire place. SHe did this several times. This was my first experience with Jehovah's Witnesses.


    My egg donor decided to exude a degree of the independant woman persona. So with myself, my two sisters, and some chick that was around 18 years old, she moved to Colorado. It was a misguided effort for her to remain connected to her dead fiance, keep us away from our sperm donor, and show her family that she could do it. Over the years many times I heard her say that they had told her she couldn't do it, what was she thinking, she had three children to think about. And by God she could do it and she was going to show them. Show them she did...I never figured out what 'it' was supposed to be. Perhaps it was living on welfare, working low wage jobs, jumping from man to man, smoking and drinking coffee incessantly, while placing her children around the most irreputable people she could find.

    When we first moved to Colorado we stayed with the family of her dead fiance. That time is mostly a blur. Except for one thing. I had been playing tag with the 18 year old chick. Yummy. She was absolutely fine. Dark very curly hair. Tall, well of course I was seven so she might have been short. I ran down a set of stone steps in the garden. As she tried to catch me I slipped and skinned my knee and hands on the stones. I hope I didn't cry, I dont recal. It would totally suck if i did. Still, she sat consoling me, telling me she was sorry. And then she kissed my hand. Did I say yummy earlier? Well, yumfuckinmmy. I sit here now adding up my age. Thirty-four minus eight is twenty-sex. Er twenty-six. Twenty-six plus eighteen is forty-four. Hmm. Still within range. Well I dont remember her name. But, whoever you are darlin, if you're reading this, give me a ring, maybe we can play "Hygh falls down and goes boom" again.

    Over the next few years we moved from place to place in Colorado. Johnstown I think. Or Jonestown. Something like that. Then Denver or a suburb there. Also some little town I cant remember. But it's the town where Mork lived from the show Mork and Mindy. We were all pretty damned proud that one of our little towns was in that show. I was in Jones/Johnstown at time it premiered. I went to school the next day with my clothes on completely backwards. Ah memories. Even back then I was Aorthoir.

    I am getting a bit ahead of the story though. While we were still living with the pseudo in-laws, the egg donor had found a place. "You can go out the back door and the mountains are right there," she told us. Kids take things way too literally, kind of like christians take things way too literally. I had visions of mountain climbing, cables holding me suspended, hunting, fighting dragons. I was a bit disappointed when I saw the mountains were instead off in the distance.

    We lived there for a time. A couple of years perhaps. Despite the lack of mountainal access, I found ways to entertain myself. Oh yes, I did. She was a cute little dark haired girl. We went everywhere together. One time we tried climbing onto my egg donor's car, using the radio antenna as a support. Can you say SNAP boys and girls? "Mom, look, someone broke the antenna on your car!" (Yes at that time I called her mom, not 'egg-donor') So my girlfriend and I shared a dirty little secret. Nothing like secrets, and the possibility of getting caught, to draw two people together.

    So we oft found ourselves smooching. One time in particular myself, her, my friend, and his girlfriend were all in my house. My egg-donor had told us not to be inside but to play outside. He was with his girlfriend I was with mine, each couple sprawled out in what I considered at the time a splendid make out session. And in walks the egg-donor. Instantly we were sitting, prim and proper. It was like a movie. We were nervous as hell. When she said that she had told us not to be inside, we simply said we forgot and rushed outside. More dirty little secrets. It was great.

    Then my birthday came. I got some cheap-ass 'remote control' car that was remote controlled by this stupid rod that was held in the hand, and the tip was placed on the top of the car, to push the damned thing around with. Still I was a kid, dirt poor, I didnt know about real remote control cars. I thought I was totally cool. So this little chick is playing with it in my room, and then all of the sudden comes out with this guilty look on her face. The car is no where to be seen. I didn't think anything of it until a few days later I found it, and the rod, which was snapped in two, under my bed. Ah, now I know why she came out like she did, I thought. That sort of ended that. (Note to self, lying is a benefit in a relationship as long as everyone knows you are lying and what the truth is.) So yes I was a dog even at that time.


    Around this time my egg donor started getting fairly heavy into esoteric bullshit, er um I mean ahem "spirituality." We had pyramids around the house. Went to Charismatic churches. Had our palms and auras and tarot cards read. And read palms and tarot and auras. I was very adept she told me, at recognizing people's auras. I recommend everyone make their judgments about the quality of a human being they seek to have a relationship with, on the reading by a child of the aura of the person. Knowing the color that surrounds a person will insure that they are the type of people you want around your children. Um...yeah.

    So began my exploration of religion. I went to a number of churches on my own and was eventually baptised in a baptist church or some other. Honestly does it really matter what church it was? I did take communion there also. Watched a great flick with Mr. Magoo as Noah. Attended sunday school. Bible schools. Read the bible through several times. Got saved a couple of times. I was less interested in being saved though, than being a friend of god. I never thought too much about heaven, hell, paradise earth. Again simply, how could I be a friend of god? It wasnt a bribery thing, he didn't have to give me a reward to attain my friendship. Though I did not think of it in those specific terms. Like whatever. Who cares.


    Eventually we ended up in a Golden. Then the dream of egg-donor's life. She met a millionaire. She always knew she would. He would sweep her off her feet, give her a big mansion, cars, the life of Riley. Someone should have told her that the Riley sept (Irish have septs not clans) was dirt fuckin poor.

    Frank was his name. He just happened to have written all the songs from all of her favorite country music singers. Oh and wrote all her favorite movies. Can we say CHECK THE CREDITS? And those couple times that she did and his name was not there, he claimed it was the producers who changed it. When a movie was edited for television, the editor always placed his name as the writer and director rather than the original. I was a kid, but even to me it seemed dubious. Some women though are incredibly gullible. One of the artists whose songs Frank had written was Marty Robbins. It didn't matter that we saw him on a television interview saying he had written his own songs. Nope he was lying.

    Ah but there was even more proof. He had all of this movie equipment. Video taping equipment. Cameras, lighting, you name it. Obviously he was a film director, writer and song writer. After all where did he get all of this stuff. She somehow forgot that he got that stuff after meeting her. After she introduced him to a couple that were her friends. After they loaned him and her nearly fifty thousand dollars for a movie project. After he took that money and blew it on equipment he had no idea how to run. And of course that was because they had manufactured it all wrong, they weren't following standards, he was going to file a complaint with ASCAP or whatever the hell organization it was.

    Yes I know you are thinking at this point the same thing I was, what the fuck. But it gets better. Yes sir it does. Hold onto your hats boys and girls because you are about to be taken on a ride. Though not as much of one as my egg-donor had been.

    She decided to marry him. We were sent back with my uncles for a little while. She and us. In ohio. Met our cousins had some great times, though my cousin Mike was a bit odd. However the cousins of my cousins, were a light to my life. For there was one girl that was totally a joy to observe. Yummy. Years later when I grew up and again returned to Ohio and saw her, my chin hit the floor. Just freakin shoot me.

    Well the egg-donor went to meet him. She told us she was going to California. But at the airport it said Atlantis at her gate. I thought that was pretty cool. She's going to Atlantis. Where is Atlantis. It's that place where that man is from. You know, The Man from Atlantis. So there are people there who breath underwater. I know I was a bit old for such delusions, but many more people besides me continue their delusions right to their graves, for instance christians and buddhists both thinking those figures are actual historic people, and not fairy tales made up by men smoking hashish, plagerizing other yet more older delusions of yet even more hashish smoking plagerists.

    A short while later we joined them. Ah it was in Florida. Spent sometime in Pensacola. He was working as a painter by this time. Dont you know all millionaire, song-writing, movie producing, directors do that. It is a way for them to stay in touch with the common man. That way they can know what you all think and feel, and then write for you. Isnt that lovely and cute?

    And here is the kicker. As it turns out he wasn't painting just for that reason. We weren't in Florida just so he could be with the normal fella. We hadn't had to stay away from his mansion so that he could experience life. No no no. As it turns out, he was a secret government agent that worked for an agency that no one, including congress knew about. He had in the past asassinated foreign nationals. Among some that he had executed in covert government operations, were some high level Iranians. Of course it just so happened that we found all of this out right after some students had entered the US embassy in Iran, and taken everyone hostage. Naturally the President had informed him that there was a price on his head. The Iranians were hunting Frank now.

    Cough cough cough. Choke choke choke. Yes well as I said some women are gullible. You will pardon me if I excuse my personal gullibility at this time, I was after all only twelve years old. Besides that my mom, er my egg-donor, had told me it was true. We had to protect this man. Did I mention earlier, who was going to protect us? Well certainly not her.

    For thus began a seven year journey. Literally. We moved all over the United States. Texas, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Lousiana, Utah, Montana, Wyoming, (Colorado was conveniently avoided...we knew too many people there), Arizona, Kentucky, were all a few of the states we lived in. Constantly on the move with the Iranians hot on our tail. Naturally we could not attend school, because the Iranians had a vast network of spies in the United States and they were tapped into all of the computer systems. School records, driving license bureau's, welfarm systems, church records, those Iranians had their hands in everything. And they always somehow found us. Usually in the form of someone questioning why three children were not in school. Yes they were everywhere!

    So up we would move. A police officer at our door, asking too many questions, a representative of the local schools, or a neighbor, all wondering why children were at home during school hours. Why was this man a bit too affectionate to his grand daughters, er daughters. Yes I failed to mention he was hideous. Looked incredibly old. But he was in his early forties. Ah well that is easy to explain. He had cancer earlier in his life. Had chemo and other treatments which aged him. I think its in the Physicians Desk Reference, an contra-indication of chemo, old age. Must suck to be old and get it.

    So in each case we would have to move quickly. Rapidly. Pack up literally in a couple of hours and be on the road agian. Leave behind the friends we had yet made again. Relationships of all sorts became completely transient for us. For me. Thus you see it is not any toughness on my part that can shrug off any pain should I ever find myself disfellowshipped. It is simply that most of my relationships growing up were temporary. So knowing that a specific relationship will end does not specifically bother me.

    Sickening news and helplessness

    Perhaps we had been with Frank a few months. Maybe a year. My sisters would know. We were in texas, working on a house in the country. My sister Dawn had a dragonfly pet. That was fairly cool. Just a dragonfly that hung around her from the area. It let her pet it. It would return day to day and flutter around her. Land on her shoulder. One day it suddenly flew off. Then returned a while later with another dragonfly. Like I said it was pretty cool. And I needed a good memory since there are folks around me as I type this...before I break down in tears. So you will understand if I hang onto that dragonfly memory. The memory of my sister's power.

    My other sister came to me. "Frank made me kiss his dingy." I was placed in a mental/emotional cage. I could not function. I didn't know what to do. Obviously she did not trust our mother. She didn't tell her. I was supposed to be her protector.

    I failed.


    Many times over the next few years we tried to get her to send us to our uncles. We fought... argued.. pouted.. begged. She would agree..then he would come home, they would go out for coffee. Return a short while later, and everything would be the same as usual. Whenever we heard they were going out for coffee we knew we were going to be fucked somehow. Royally. Up the ass with a big black nigger dildo. I am not very fond of coffee.

    Both of them were repeatedly molested over the years, on an almost daily basis by this fucknut. And I failed. I should have helped I should have done something. I did not.

    Many times during this period we went hungry. Sometimes more than a week at a time. Nothing. We didn't have money. Except they did have their cigarettes. Often she would even give us the money for the cigarettes, and send us to the store to get a pack. Even though we had nothing to eat that week. Then, to really build up our self esteem, they would take us to restaraunts, like Denny's, and order something for themselves. While we sat there, hungry. Angry.

    As we grew into teens we became very angry. But were still playing the good children. I was always the good son. Good son, lousy fucking brother. I can remember being in Arizona, living in one of the many motels we lived in. They were inside, my sisters and I were outside by the pool. (Wow a pool, yes it was a splendid time of our lives) And we were tossing the finger at our hotel room.


    I had read the bible pretty much during all of this time. I determined I needed to go to church. For whatever reason Frank decided it was a good idea. My egg-donor went a couple of times with us, but it was rare. We ended up at a series of Pentacostal churches. And Apostolic. All were charismatic. Churches, tent meetings. In tears at the Crystal Hill Baptist Church I took the hand of one of the members, crying, "Please pray for me." A few days later my sister Dawn and I were baptised.

    As it turned out, in addition to all of his other careers, Frank was also a preacher. Had been for years. Oh the stories he had to tell about that now. In addition to that he was a descendant of King Solomon from the Bible. In fact, all he had to do was go to Israel and he could lay claim to the throne. It was his legal right.

    Around this time the intense guilt trips they had already put on us, only increased. This time with God's approval. I was accused one time by Frank of lusting after my sister. He pointed on the wall and said look there. I did. Look here. I did. Look there. I did. "SEE! I can tell what you are looking at by the direction of your eyes! I SAW you looking at her pussy!" I was like..what the fuck. Tried to defend myself. Then he told me to go into a closet in the building we were painting. And told me to get an erection. I was in a daze standing there. For half an hour or so he kept storming in asking me if I had it yet. Then when I could not get it up, he stormed off and yelled at me.

    That was the closest I came to being molested. I can only guess what he intended. I think now perhaps an effort to cause me to feel shameful. That I would thus not bring up things about him, and would be easier to control. Definitely very cultlike behaviour.

    We tell

    We moved again from that place. At this point my sister was going to work with him instead of me. Tracy talked to me and told me outright he had molested her. Not too many details but enough. Somehow, we gathered the courage to tell our egg-donor. She would surely send us home now, and probably leave him. We were in for a surprise.

    "God wants you to forgive him." So we listened to her. We prayed. Frank and Dawn returned from work. She had us all sit down. Frank, her, me, and my sisters. Then she told us to say what we told her. Frank was glaring at us. It was incredibly hard. Tracy and I barely were able to speak. As we did, Dawn began shaking. Violently. Then she informed us that he and her were married. A few weeks or months earlier, he had taken her into the bedroom. Sat her down, his hands in hers. Then he informed her that god had told him they were to be husband and wife. So they performed some kind of ceremony.

    He was ranting and raving. Storming about, shouting. I cannot remember what he was saying. Perhaps he was calling us liars. It didn't matter. She also was ranting. Shouting at him. Again I cannot remember what she was saying. But it was clear that she was not so much mad that he molested her children, but that she was jealous that he had been with someone else. Another woman. Fuck her.

    Can you guess what happened next? Where they went? If you said for coffee you win the prize. When they returned, we were to pray. To ask god for forgiveness for our sins. OUR SINS! Fucking cunt. Obviously we didn't get sent home to our uncles. She did watch him for a little while. But the abuse intensified. Beatings. Prayers. Isolation. We were cut off from everyone. We were not allowed outside at all now. We were not allowed to watch radio or tv, both were from satan. (Child molestation is never from satan, but tv, radio, friends, christmas, birthdays, and other such things always are...many of you here can relate to that)

    Often we would be made to kneel at the foot or side of the bed, the three of us all in a nice little row. Praying to god. Asking him for forgiveness. All the while they, he and she, would be swinging a belt down on our backs, or hitting us on the top of our heads. Literally telling us they were going to beat the sin and satan out of us. "I love you" was said over and over again. "I love you" again, yet again. Smack, "I love you." Punch, "I love you." "God loves you." Love love love love love, pain, fucked, hurt, lied to, abused, rejected, killed emotionally and spiritually. If you are a chick, or a dude, do me a favor, dont tell me "I love you." Especially if you are a chick. Use french or spanish, je taime or te queiro. Or Irish...if you ever find out how to speak it. But dont smack me in the face with the I love you bullshit. And I am no going to apologize that I dont want to hear it.

    Unthinking Stupidity

    This continued for months. It grew worse and worse. Coffee breaks increased, our only respite. But to be followed with more abuse, and emotional trauma, and mental manipulation. Finally I broke. Too fuckin easy. I was nearly 18 at the time. I do not remember the entire thing. I just remember sitting in a restaraunt. And he had convinced me that indeed they were married. And god wanted me to help him get away from my mother with my sister. Like a drone I complied. I convinced her to leave with him. She has said she's forgiven me.

    I say I've never sinned. Well I should correct that. For even though I am amoral today and do not believe in sin....I believe in defending those that cannot defend themselves. I not only did not defend her, I placed her in mortal danger.

    My one sin.

    My unthinking stupidity.

    This is the single most traumatic event of my life. The fact that I did not protect my sisters when I should have. It is worse than the beatings. It is worse than the psychological abuse. It is worse than the names I've been called by both my parents. It is worse than the things religion has done to me. It is conceivably the most terrible feeling I shall ever suffer in my life. Because it is my own doing. Mark that as a warning for a personal hell that awaits those of you that are protecting child molestors and hiding them.

    So they left. Gone. He sent money back to my egg-donor on occasion. We barely existed in that motel room. She was brooding. We got to watch tv agian. I dont remember how long it was. A few weeks, a couple of months. My sister can tell you the stories of what happened while they were gone. How she tried to get away and almost did a couple of times. Where she had been. But eventually they returned. To the same town. Not with us.

    One night my sister took his pants and wallet. She hid his clothes. She got a cab and returned to us. She told her all. What had happened. At this point remember she had already been gone at least a few weeks, but I think it was a few months. Then a knock on the door. Yes it was Frank. Any guesses what happened next? Coffee. I fucking hate coffee. Again, "God wants us to forgive." Then again more beatings. Far more intense than before. My sister basically said fuck it and just left with him again. He knew his trade well. And he had a willing accomplice in our egg-donor.

    They would pick me up to go to work. We would work all day. Then they would drop me off. Painting of course. Usually sub-contracting. Then one day I came home. She says to me, come with me real quick. So I followed her out of the motel room. Down the hall. Into another motel room. Two men.

    My uncles.

    I cried instantly. I cried and cried. I embraced them and they me. My sister Tracy was already gone. They knew what to do. All the things I didnt know they knew. A police officer showed up and tried to play bad cop. But still, we laid out a plan. I would go to work the next day as usual. They would follow me. The police. I told them what restaraunt we would usually eat breakfast at. As soon as we parked, a car pulled up beside us. Another. Then one behind us blocking us in. I dont remember the specifics about how it happened. But within a few minutes he was arrested. We went to the police station. And they got as much information as my sister would give them. Not enough though.

    They held him for a while. My sisters went to some kind of group home for a few days. My uncles drove me home. To Cleveland. They had a wedding they were going to, so they took me. My egg-donor was arrested. Since the incidents of sexual abuse were not in Louisville, or they could not get enough evidence of them, they let Frank go eventually. More on this later.

    Dont forget family, ever

    I was a skinny, 18 year old at this point. Very pale, and sullen. My eyes were sunk in. My cheeks and body were bones. 105 lbs. I sat at the wedding nervous. Unable to do much. Dancing was a sin. Some of you dont know that but it is. Just ask Frank. I turned around though, and someone was leaning forward to say hi to me. My cousin Rene. I saw cleavage. Which of course made me feel even more guilty. Still she was lovely and it was nice talking to her. As well as the rest of my family.

    My uncle Mike took me to his house. His wife and kids treated me well I ate well and slept well. But I was still apprehensive. My sperm donor was upset that they had taken me to the wedding. That he had to wait one more day to see me. I suppose he was pissed that he had to wait one more day before he could abuse me and totally fuck me over.

    I sat in the restaraunt with him. He informed me that I could tell him anything I wanted. But I had better check out all my facts. He attemped to be very intimidating. It worked. He was unhappy that I had buck teeth. So he leaned over and stuck his hands on my mouth, like I was a horse, so he could examine them. I forget what he said. Most of what he says I have removed from my memory.

    One abuse Another abuser

    I spent three years with that man. We finally went to school. I performed fairly well. I always did in school. I think there is a skill to it like anything else. I was placed in the eleventh grade. My sister was placed in the ninth grade and my other sister in middle school. I think sixth. She could not read, or had barely learned to read. By this time she was twelve.

    He had remarried at this time and also had two daughters. Our two half-sisters. Everything had an appearance. They were there for us to help us. But each event was carefully designed to degrade us even more. If our sisters accused us of something, we were never believed. If their dog shit in the house, ours was blamed. They had now three ready made house cleaners, dishwashers, yard workers, and baby sitters. Even the fact that I prayed was unacceptable. Each time I was challenged on it.

    Then he said to me, to us, if I am going to worship god I better know about god. And he took me to a Kingdom Hall and set up a book, er I mean "bible" study for me. The people were nice enough but I was aghast. How could there be people in wheelchairs. Didn't they know you could heal those people, in the name of Jesus. While still with Frank, I had, while in a K-Mart with him and my sister, shouted very loudly, "IN THE NAME OF JESUS GET UP AND WALK" to a woman in a wheel chair. She said she felt a tingling. It's all rather comical now, in a dark sort of way. But I think it illustrates my frame of mind.

    Mostly I found the meetings incredibly boring, unlike the lively, noisy meetings of the charismatics. I spent most of my time itching and falling asleep during them. I only went because it meant I did not have to work with my sperm-donor in his wood workshop on the weekends, for a few hours anyhow. I studied with one individual who eventually moved away. Another young man replaced him. I did not try to hard to get into contact with him though.

    Still for about a year the witnesses were at best a sidenote to my life. They were there but I had school, and track and my homework. I had a lot of activities to keep me busy. And I was working very hard to get A's in all of my classes. I succeeded. For the most part.

    Ohio, School and other sundries

    One day I turned in a quiz, and I got a C. The teacher handed all of our tests back to us and I just looked at that C. I couldnt believe it. I broke out crying right there in class. Balling, not a few trinkles. He kindly sent me to the principle's office. They talked with me and realized I was taking on too much, including the fact that my sperm-donor was pushing me and my sister to get a job. She wanted the job just to be away from him. Myself I had been working almost full time since I was twelve. At least that put those plans on hold.

    I should mention that the summer that we returned, right before we went to school I was outside of my house across the street. I started to cross, a car pulled up, and out the window leans Frank, with an envelope in his hands. I had been told up to this point, all of us, if we ever saw him just scream at the top of my lungs. It wasnt the brightest thing to do. He simply took off. I told my sperm-donor's assistant abuser (wife) right away.

    My uncle Mike came down. We sent my sisters, to the assistant abuser's family in north eastern Ohio. Then me, sperm donor and Uncle Mike, went to each motel in Cleveland, in the areas I knew he would be, looking for him. We could not find him.

    Then out of no where there was a knock at our door. It was a young woman, about 19 or 20 from the area. Frank had been using her to spy on us. He had fed her one of his stories and she believed him. But somehow she was able to wake up and realize it was all bullshit. She told her family. They all came to us. I can imagine it was very difficult for her though. Still because of her we were able to lay another trap for him. The Cleveland prosecutors office ran a check on him after they had him in custody, and found out.... That he had escaped from prison, I believe in California. So he was sent back. Any guesses what he had been in prison for?

    Well a newspaper reporter came and interviewd my sperm donor and myself. He got a nice heroes welcome in the paper. Not a huge write up but enough to make him feel good...look he had saved his kid. Out of the hands of the demon into the hands of satan.

    During this time my sister became "rebellious." She was out at all hours with a boy that the abusive units did not like. She was resisting his rules. She was arguing with him. Knowing what I know at this time in my life I suggest you all watch "Lost in Space" over and over and repeat this many times, "WARNING WARNING WARNING WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!" Such behaviour as my sister exhibited is often a sign of continuing abuse. She left to live again with the egg-donor. I thought it was just because he was overbearing. But this time my uncles were there to protect her so our egg donor was unable to harm her.

    I continued with my schoolwork. My other sister did as well, and joined choir. Gradually we became more and more involved with the witnesses. I am sure Tracy did not really want to participate. Sperm-donor did not want to let her participate in a winter festival. But the elders said as long as she didnt sing the christmas songs it was ok. Gradually I dropped my plans to go to college. The school officials were not thrilled since i had been scoring so well in school. I was in fact in all of the honors classes I could be, english, history, math. I was a member of the national honor society, was twice honored by my school for academic excellence, received the presidential academic fitness aware, was a letterman in my school, not for sports, but for academic achievement. I had offers from universities for complete scholarships. And I decided to give it all up, and work at McDonalds.

    Now this probably was not the wisest of decisions. Certainly more freedom would have been mine if I were well educated and well paid. On the other hand, I do plan on going to a University in the future. When I go, I will be studying linguistics, rather than computer science, which would have been my chosen field of study back then. So I do not regret the decision either.

    My sperm donor and I were baptised on the same exact day. He was crying, what the fuck ever. I continued moving in the direction that was amiacable to the witnesses. I was a true blue believer. I was not however someone that thought I had to accept or do everything the watchtower said. In fact over and over I had been told that is not what was required. I thought I based my decisions on the bible. I had been back for about two years when I was baptised. I think I was twenty. Then around age twenty one I started to Pioneer.

    Leaving Hell, er um Home

    While the sperm donor did not beat me, he had on occasion hit and tried to beat me. The very last time was over an arguement about my first convention. He had made arrangements for one of the older sisters from the hall to stay in the motel room with him and his family. He thus wanted me to go with someone else. I did not want to nor could I afford it. Still he pressed. I saved up the money and agreed with the brothers in question. So I gave them a down payment. Four of us, two were fleshly brothers, another brother whose mother had died and me.

    Well the older sister changed her mind for some reason. So I was called to make up the financial loss. Well I didn't have the funds. It was not me who decided to go with them, he wanted me to do that. I said I had given my word and I didn't have the money to help anyway. So he tried to hit me. That was it. Nearly two years of fuck you, you little bastard, you can get A's but you can't swing a hammer, you are nothing but a little boy... Nearly two years of him ruining my possessions, tossing dishes, an entire sink on my bed, because one plate wasnt perfectly clean, nearly two years of him mocking me in front of everyone he could, and nearly two years of him at times trying to hit me. I clenched my fist, I pulled back, and I punched.

    We had placed drywall onto the concrete walls with firing strips. That was in my bedroom in the basement. He ducked out of the way at the very last second. I put a hole in the drywall and cracked the concrete. Me, with my little tiny buck toothed, 105lb bodied fist. Fuck you you fucking mother fucker. He wanted to talk about it. I just kept telling him I was going to fuck him up. He scadadled out of my room, and never tried to hit me again. Remember abusers are abusers, as long as you allow them to be. Also remember that FUCK is an incredibly freeing word, say it often and say it with passion.

    Elders Assistance?

    Sometime later I had talked to one of the brothers about getting an apartment together. When I was not sure, he took me to task since I had told him I would. Since I did not want to live with the sperm donor anyhow I told him I wouldn't back out. But I wanted to talk to the elders anyhow. I especially wanted advice on how to live. I called the fella who was conducting the study of the sperm donor Bob B.... On the phone he wanted nothing to do with it. He was uninterested in even talking with me, or offering me any counsel. (If I had molested a child he would have been there for me to protect me...as you will see...but not if I am a desperate soul seeking help)

    So I just decided I was going to do it without them. I started buying things I needed, sheets, blankets, dishes. One day I was at a yard sale, buying a box of dishes and who walks up the drive? Yes the fuckin sperm donor. The box was closed but he was anxious to find out what I had. Other people had given me furniture. And other things. Then I told him I was moving out. That night at the meeting, said elder, decides to take me out for coffee afterwards. Did i mention coffee earlier?

    "What if your dad forbids you from moving out?" he asks me. "What if he tells me to marry this sister or that sister? Are you telling me that ANYTHING my father tells me to do I have to do?" He shut up about it and didnt bring that topic up. He brought up that I might not like living with the particular brother I was going to move in with. But I evaluated. Well they must have talked to him, because he backed out. Still I was going to move on my own. I had an ok paying job programming software that looked like it was going someplace, so I could afford to live, reasonably on my own.

    Then a sister told me, one I still adore to this day. That if I could learn to live with him, and take his idiosyncracies, I could handle anything. So I thought about it. I was not being beaten. I could handle the cussing. He was more of an attempted bully than anything when it came to me. My sisters were another story. So I stayed another year. I eventually quit the company I was working for over idealogical issues, and went to work for my sperm donor's company.

    Not long after his partner decided to dissolve their partnership. It was probably related to the fact that he was a witness. I used to sit and listen to his answers during the meetings. It was always preposterous. One time he was on the platform for a presentation, him and his assistant abuser, talking about how their entire families had cut them off becuase they were witnesses and no longer associated with them. I was thinking, that's bullshit, you cut yourself off from them.

    Another time, much earlier I had given my first talk to a packed back room. Public speaking is just a skill I have, I do it very well. After the meeting his response was "Now I have to give a better talk than he did." Well that is a laugh. And no, he never was able to give a better talk than me.

    Well as his company broke up I was laid off. But being the son of the owner, I was still expected to work. I approached him and said, tell you what, I'll go ahead and work to wrap up what you need to with this company, and in exchange I just dont have to pay rent. I had been paying rent in the amount of 45 dollars per week since I started working while still in school. "To teach me responsibility." Ok ..um yeah. I had said, well why dont I just pay you 180 a month all at once. No no, it will be easier if you pay weekly. Well yeah, and that is also an extra month's rent. In any case his answer was, well the rent was between his assistant abuser and me. But that work was between him and me. And that while working for him, full fuckin time, for free, I still had to come up with the rent. Um yeah ok...

    So I told him I could not work for free and needed money if I was going to work. He finally agreed. Then one day I went to work and was to pick up my check. He did not have it. But wanted me to go out on a job anyhow. He had written notes that I could not understand. So I was asking him questions about it. He kept getting madder and madder. Then started cussing at me. So I said you know what fuck you, just give me my check. He bitched, I insisted. He stormed up the steps to go to the back, shouting back at me to get out of his house. I shouted I would. He shouted to do it that week. I retorted that I would. And I did.

    I called my grandmother. His mother. She agreed to let me stay. I went home, loaded my things into my car. His assistant abuser came home about this time and smiled smugly as I packed my car. She called him and told him, he wanted to speak to me, and to know where I was going. I refused, loaded my car and left. Well naturally grand mother told him. He convinced her of any one of a number of things about me. She wanted me out relatively quickly. To the ex-JW naysayers, she was not a witness.

    I eventually found my own place, worked for a witness. Had a life for a fair while. I enjoyed my little apartment. It even had murphy beds, it was great. I started, had started while I was in school actually, programming freelance. So that kept me in some income, as well as working various jobs, such as Burger King. Rumors were flying about what I was doing. I was accused by many witnesses of being a thief per his word. I finally told them, if I was doing such things I would be disfellowshiped and they needed to go to my elders. But not to bring this petty nonsense to me anymore. Some reasonably good looking broad at work asked me on a date. I thought about fucking her senseless. But declined. I was still a true blue believer.

    Back with Egg-Donor

    I was renting a mother-in-law suite in an attic of someone's home. Unknown to me the bank was trying to take it from him. He told me about a month before I had to move that he had lost the house. I was fed up with the Cleveland JW scene and so moved down to Wooster Ohio with my egg donor. By this time my other sister had started to study and had gotten baptised. So we had that in common and hung out a lot together. I had not attended her wedding a year or so prior because she wasn't a witness.

    Well my youngest sister came down to visit. Then they decided she was not moving back, that she was going to live with the other sister. Then one day they asked me to sit down. Did I know why she was not going back to live with my father? It was like someone punched me in the stomach. I just knew. Just as you know now. Any doubts to why? I didn't think so.

    I called an elder, not Bob B. No I had learned well from him. I called another elder who was a very nice fella, and caring. I told him to sit down and I could hear him choking as I told him. They came down to my sister's apartment in Wooster. They even asked her if he had ever done anything to her as well. She got nervous and said no. The told us that unless he confessed, it would be difficult to do anything to him. They called him and said, there have been accusations made. His response was, the accusations are true. So he was disfellowshipped, for a wopping six months. (Word to the wise, if you are going to be dfed for something, you stand a better chance of reinstatement if it is child molestation. On the other hand if you are raped, well you are better off not reporting it, because the penalties will be far worse for a woman who is a victim of rape than for a man who is the victimizer of a child- Go fuckin figure)

    We rented a house together, all three of us children. We had our problems, fought and struggled, barely managed to pay bills. The child support payments stopped fairly soon. And were mediocre anyhow. But I enjoyed the congregation. I was still pioneering during this time. I often went out door to door by myself. It was peaceful, relaxing, uplifting, exciting. Most of the people in that congregation I thought were grand. In any case they were often caring, but confused people. They are unaware of the things that went on with the lives of myself and my sisters. So I do not hold them to account for it.

    My youngest sister eventually decided to go back to live with our sperm donor. He and his assistant abuser made her many promises. The most important was that she could return to wooster for the wedding of a close friend of hers. None, including this one, were fulfilled. On the phone she said to me "you have to respect our decision." Um, no. I cannot do anything about it, but I do not have to, nor do I, respect it.

    Eventually my sister just did not come home from school one day. We had no clue where she was. She was living with a friend from school. Her parents had taken Tracy to the police. Sperm donor was arrested. We had gone to his house a couple days later to offer any support we could, because we thought he had repented, and to assist with his daughters. On the phone from prison he said to me that Tracy had put him in a pickle. I responded that if he had not done what he did, he would not be in a pickle. Then at dinner the next day he said, "I don't know why Tracy is doing this, I never did anything to her. I never did anything to you did I Dawn?" Dawn's husband turned at him with an angry face and said "That's not what I heard."

    We had earlier gone over with the elders and his attorney what could and could not be said when the police called. That since he had confessed to so many people he had lost his privilege. The attorney did not tell us there was a mandatory reporting law in Ohio. When we returned to Wooster, Randy, (my sister's husband) and Dawn and I talked. We determined that he had not repented, and that he was trying to cover over his actions. In fact that is one of the signs of repentance isn't it? Not covering over your actions?

    We had a meeting with our local elders. We informed them of the situation. They told us that we could not 'go to the police' or take a brother to court. But that if the police came to us we should obey the law and answer all of their questions, but not offer information. So we eventually met up with my sister Tracy. Then the police called us. We did not..ahem.. contact them. We then said to them what the elders told us. We cannot offer information because of our religion, but ANY question you want to ask, no matter HOW DETAILED we can answer completely and truthfully. Which we did.

    They offered him a plea bargain, dismissing all of the numerous lesser charges, and leaving him with only the charges of felonious penetration. He spent a year and a half in prison. The government definitely helps protect people as much as the elders. In any case there was and is a court order preventing him from contacting us. I have not seen him since before I was married. More than ten years now.

    Speaking of Marriage

    Right before I had moved to the Wooster congregation, they had a troupe down from Detroit, to help where the need was greater. Wooster being a place where the need was greater. One of the sisters decided to stay. I often went out with her. She was in her fifties? Or sixties? Not sure. As it was, she was one of the few people that were out when I was, so we often went in service together. Then It was suggested that people might start to think. I thought it silly but it made me paranoid. I was always super extra duper careful not to be called into question. Even when I was stranded in Akron, where I did some computer programming for a brother's business. I had been broke down, and one of the managers sent his wife to pick me up, so I could stay the night at their house. I sat in the back seat.

    One of the friends of the sister from detroit, who had also come down with the group, came to visit her. We talked here and there, and she was pretty, but I did not think much of it. Eventually I got tired of barely subsisting in Wooster. My sister and her husband had gotten their own place. We had lost the house we were renting. One of the Brothers from a cleveland congregation had let me stay at his place a while, and offered me permanance if I wanted. So I called the sister that lived in detroit, and asked her to send me a news paper from there, the want ads.

    This led to me talking to her now and again. Latina was her name. I called her on a fairly regular basis. Then one day I got her mom again. They all seemed to like me. And her mom said that She, Latina, thinks about you all the time. So nervously I asked, if we could talk about being more than just friends. She said ok.

    I will rush through this too because it is a bit hard. Some of you have heard me say that the only one that can hurt me now is my wife. Some think I talk about divorce because I dont care about her. But I talk about it because I do care for her. If I did not, she could not hurt me. And I think she is unaware of the degree of hurt that she can cause me. Little things that you all would think petty but they mean something to me. She thinks they are petty things as well.

    So we met, again. I went to detroit several times. All of this was around the time of the events with my sperm donor's incarceration. Eventually I asked her on the phone to marry me. On September 22, 1992 we were married. It was a harsh day for me but a happy one as well. Both of us were unskilled really. Over the years we have been seperated and back together and seperated and back together again. That was when i was a true blue believer. Now that I am a full blown ex it is very difficult.

    My Exodus

    But again I am ahead of myself. We had been married a mere three years or so. It was, as I said, difficult for us both. Eventually, the financial situation was simply too difficult to tolerate anymore. My sister Dawn had moved to Cincinnati. I had mentioned to many witnesses that I was thinking of us moving down with her, including the elders. They knew I was talking with her on the phone. She had told me the job situation in Cincinnati and the cost of living. It appealed to me. So I came first, then a couple of months later, my wife.

    Around this time, I had been introduced to AOL. I dont know how. but I set up an account. My wife argued with me about spending so much time online. I told her, that they listen to me online, that she doesnt. If she wanted me to spend less time, then talk with me, listen, share. She didn't. I met two women, actually a lot of women, online chat rooms seem to be a huge meat market. But two of them were talking to me seriously. I then moved to Cincinnati. Both of them came, one had to come for business, the other had a lay over on her way to another city, also for business. Though they wanted me to, I did not meet them.

    Of course I was filled with guilt. Several months passed and I attended no meetings. I would not even drive her to the meetings, my new brother in law, Jason, had to. She still hasnt forgiven me for that. I thought i was a heal back then but now I see I needed to get away. If need be now I drive her to the meetings. But then I am comfortable with going. Back then I was not.

    I had determined that we were not meant to be married, and I was not good enough for god. So I told her I wanted to seperate. She found a place. I told her I was not longer one of Jehovahs Witnesses, that I would not live a hypocritical lie. I considered myself at that point a non-practicing witness.

    It was around this time that I found my first medical study facility. It was located in Cincinnati. For the next five years doing a study here and there kept my head above water. I tried a couple of business ventures with various people, which I shall forego since they are more boring than anything at this time.

    I began to meet a lot of people, in person and online. In particular I started running a chat channel (chat room) on the Undernet IRC network called #Bondage. It was a bdsm chat room, with a lot of fantasy elements. A lot of such chat rooms end up being bars, taverns, or such things. Usually with naked women in chains serving drinks while the men talk about religion and politics. Often very little sex. And of course this is all VIRTUAL, for those that dont get it. just words on a screen. Though they will tell you that the feelings they experience are real. Which I agree, just as when I watch a movie, the feelings I experience are real.

    So I was a complete dog. Though I was fairly inexperienced with women I seemed to have the right knack. A creative mind, a desire and a sensuality. I thus created a virtual world within this chat room, a flavor a bit different from others. We openly practiced cyber sex, but as one person said who watched me once, "That was a religious experience!" Because of the environment we had many people that came to it. And I started getting a lot of attention from women. A lot. But it all came natural. It just seemed the thing to do. It felt good.

    Of course if you have been online for any length of time you are aware that there is a lunacy to it. That it has a strange politic. That people will talk about and say the funniest and oddest things. I had discussed with a couple of the women, meeting them, this was after some time talkng to them. Now I am of the additude if some chick wants to meet me cool if not cool. Whatever comes comes, only time will tell. I have eventually met a few people from chat rooms. Back then I was fairly insistent that I had to be with a woman. I did not want to be alone. After having been with them in an online setting, my additude is adjusted. What comes comes. Se la vive.

    But at this time my wife returned to me. She knocked on the door. She looked so beautiful standing there. And she still does. She has no idea the beauty she has, and nothing I can say can ever convince her of it. In so many ways we are compatible. The things she likes, gothic things for instance, I like. But those are not enough when the fundamentals are different, and there are so many misunderstandings.

    In any case she came in and we talked. And fucked. It was great. I had told her about the women online before we fucked. Told her to find a nice brother to be with. I can say that was one of two times in our life together that she initiated. Men being what we are, contrary to the claim that women are like this, I got that affection feeling. Thinking this meant she cared for me, that I for her, that we could make a strong go of it.

    I told one of the women online, in fact the last one I was with. The others had gone hither and thither over time. This particular woman had also at times scurried off. I would msg her and console her, basically running after her in a virtual manner. I simply decided that I could not, would not, continue to do that. Some will think it silly, but I cared for this woman. I also cared for my wife. A couple days later, maybe a week she msged me, saying why didn't I run after her. Then I felt it was a game to play with my emotions. So I ended it. Told my wife. We got back together.

    Of the course of the next few years we were together and apart. And now we have been together for about 2 years or 3. Again all of this time I was a non-practicing witness. I had met people here and there that gradually opened my mind to realize that people were not as bad as the witnesses claimed. I had studied other things, like Irish history and customs and beliefs. And I slowly began to object to things in the bible. Such as the fact that a woman who was raped could either be stoned, if engaged, or forced to marry her rapist, if unengaged. I began to despise the god of the bible. But my opinion swayed here and there. I of course felt I was nearly pure evil.


    Then in December of 1999 my wife had surgery. As a present for her, while she was in the hospital, I decided to print up the Society's website. What was it? Oh yes jehovahswitnesses.com that seemed logical. But it wasnt't the right website. I found it interesting that I could have for instance josephfrantz.jehovahswitnesses.com and [email protected] and Latina could have her own as well. So I clicked some more, ending up at quotes.jehovahswitnesses.com .

    I was aghast, slowly I was angered, more and more. I ran into my basement and searched through the books I had, trying to find those that were quoted. I was fortunate to have many of the older books. And sure enough there were those quotes. Now I must explain that at this point I was not angry because the WTBTS had foretold things, and failed. I was not angry that they changed their doctrines. I was not angry that they flip flopped on doctrines. I was not even angry about the dfing a rape victim thing. After all it did say in the bible to stone them, so you can't bitch about that if you think the bible is righteous.

    No, I was angry about something else. And we all have our straw. Mine was this. That they had claimed, both in writing and in meetings and in teachings to me, that they had never said A, B, C or D. There is plenty of information about what those things are so I will not go into them here. But I had been specifically told they had not said or taught certain things in their past. I had read those things in their literature. And yet here in fact were those very things said. Not only that, I had trusted the Index, listed info on all topics, and on key topics, like 1975, if you looked it up in the index, there is listed only a couple of references, usually not to the publication upon which the objection is being made.

    I sat there stunned. I thought to myself. Why would a religion of truth, from the god of truth, need to lie in order to cover something over. If it is truth, and a mistake, why not just admit the mistake and say sorry and be done. In the space of about a three hour time I went from being a non-practicing witness, to a former member of Jehovah's Witnesses.

    I ate everything I could. I got a hold of In Search of Christian Freedom. I downloaded websites to take with me. The most helpful was http://www.beyondjw.com/ which I downloaded to an E-Book reader that I had. I then went on a medical research study, so I had plenty of time to review all of this. Everything I checked just verified their claims.

    Sad to say that before I went on the study, my wife came home from the hospital and I bombarded her with questions, and quotes and examples... I way over did it. I continued to do so for a few months, trying to get her to agree to anything. Naturally it did not work. Now I try ...try...to not bring anything up. Once in a while I slip. And sometimes a non-topic relates to a JW topic. Oh well.


    Now I live in Cincinnati still. I have spent a lot of times having a great deal of fun on the JW chat rooms on yahoo. In fact we have completely driven most of the active witnesses out of there, to paltalk. Thus when new actives come in, they do not have the corrupting influence of the Elite JWs from paltalk, and often get to find out we exes are normal every day people.

    I have accepted who I am. I have searched my ancestry and their customs and found them to be often identical to things I have done my entire life anyhow. I have created my own world view, or rather I am creating it. I am eliminating christianity, JWism, evolutionism, atheism, all other forms which are fine for other people, from my life. I have instead decided to live nothingism, for the time.

    I have met some splendid people and I have some great relationships with people who have differences with me, and are similar to me. I fight, argue, swear, stomp, listen, cuddle, talk, share, party, though I did give up drinking a few months ago.

    I have gone through the things people often do at a younger age. I have decided that I like vices but I do not need them. And that I get pleasure from many aspects of my life, and that the pain is beautiful at times.

    I still do medical research on occasion. I am working with a couple of fellas in order to place some ads, get some custom programming clients. To do other things in business, perhaps purchase property to rehab.

    I have especially met some pretty cool ex witnesses. Especially the broads. I do not object to having been a witness. And witness broads are total hotties. Which of course means ex witness broads are total hotties. So that is cool. Now to learn techniques to brainwash them into my harem..hmmmmmm

    Now while this particular story may be dark to some, I do not know. I am not intending to make it seem that my life was miserable. I had a great many things in my life that I enjoyed. And even when I was suffering, I was always just thrilled with life. I mean being alive is just an awesome thing.

    Whether I was living with the egg-donor, the sperm donor, in bad situations, my lovely wife, in some bad situations some good, but not nasty...whether I was living alone, or when I was homeless for a spell, or when I lived alone....if I live in a commune (cults have to have communes:) ).. just about in any situation I have been in, have been great in their own way.

    Yes I am angry about the abuse. And I react accordingly. But the core, the sacred essence, is what is beautiful to me. My sacred essence...and yours. Even those folks I dont like. (except serious abusers, and assistant abusers, fuck them)

    I will answer any questions anyone has. But now you know Hyghs Story.

    Joseph James Frantz (My Birth Name) A former member of Jehovah's Witnesses. Congregations: North Olmestead and Wooster Ohio. If you know me feel free to contact me.
  • LeslieV

    All I can say after reading your story is how sorry I am that this happened to you and your sister's.

    I read alot of guilt on your part as far as protecting your sister's. YOU WERE A CHILD!!!!!!!!!!! It was not your responsibility nor were you in a position to be able to protect them. That was your mother's place. I know that just saying this doesn't take that feeling away. The men in your family's life were monsters. They had complete control over all of you through fear, intimidation, power, religious dogma etc. You will have to forgive yourself for what you had no control over or it will eat you up.

    As painful as this was probably to write, there is alot of healing in seeing it in print. It happened, and by you documenting it, you will give others in the same position in life strength to be able to put into words the abuse they also have suffered.

    Thanks for having the courage to tell you story!! My thougts are with you and your family.

  • flower

    ((((((hygh))))) i hope writing this out was theraputic for you. I agree with Lesli..you are not at fault and shouldnt blame yourself. You were just an innocent child and as much a victim as your sisters.

    Thank you so much for sharing your story.


  • SYN

    God. I'm getting all religious over here...this is one for the archives for sure...I can't even begin to describe how your story has made me feel...wow...I'm going to be sorting out these emotions for some time yet. Thank you for sharing this with us. Damn, it took nearly 30 minutes to read through that, but it was worth it! Every paragraph of your essay is another nail in the coffin of the Tower. This must be one of the most brilliant pieces of writing I've seen on this site for AGES...

    Oh, man. This makes my life look incredibly peachy, honestly!


    PS. I thought you were Irish or something

    "If men were like their personal ads, they wouldn't need personal ads."

  • Cygnus

    I feel fortunate to have met you and stayed at your home for 5 days. You're one righteous dude, dude. And you are welcome here anytime you're near upstate NY.

  • Mimilly


    Je t'aime mon amie. Milles merci pour raconter ton histoire.
    Je pence que tu est un bon homme, et que tu est tres chaud ;)
    J'excuser moi si ma francaise n'est pas bon.

  • Hyghlandyr

    Mimilly, No your original post did not offend me I found it lovely. I had not read it when you came into the room and went and read it and came back and you had left.

    My comments about reading what you wrote and being angry were to Nancy Jean's Comment in the room about a situation in her life and how she was treated badly. I was saying I was angry that she was treated badly.

    But by the time I got back you were gone and it was too late to explain to you what I meant. Because I was reading your comment and smiling and about to tell you how beautiful it was and thankful I was for it.

    So if you have it, do repost, it was grand.

    Hope that explains this misunderstanding....

    Joseph James Frantz (My Birth Name) A former member of Jehovah's Witnesses. Congregations: North Olmestead and Wooster Ohio. If you know me feel free to contact me.
  • Nathan Natas
    Nathan Natas

    What a story, Joe!

    I can only say two things:

    1. To echo Leslie, I hope you learn to forgive YOURSELF for what you think were your failings when you were a child - they were not your failings.

    2. You have become quite a good and decent MAN.

    Don't make the mistake of thinking people will judge you harshly. I would be proud to call you my friend.

  • plmkrzy

    Cyber Hugs (((((((((((((Hygh's Story))))))))))))))


    Dear Hygh, It is amazing how healing it can be to simply talk. Express your feelings openly and honestly is sometimes one of the hardest things we people do. But when we finally step out and start talking about the sea of shit we sometimes have to swim through it inevitably opens new doors for us and we begin to heal. Not over night but eventually.
    Keep talking and sharing. One thing is for sure you are very good at it.

  • flower


    Je suis d'accord avec Mimilly. Je me suis développé pour vous aimer dans le short tandis que nous nous sommes connus. Vous êtes une personne merveilleuse. N'oubliez pas jamais cela.


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