Sometimes I don't know why the hec I feel the need to explain my story, at least, this is the feeling today, however, there are a few matters that I am absolutely furious with the Society and the elders for instigating. More upon this later perhaps. Maybe I have lost the belief that putting my story across will do a blind bit of good, who know's, but still I take that chance that it may benefit even one or two. In many ways, my life has moved on so far beyond JW issues that no longer do they impinge upon my thinking processes, I just want to leave all the issues behind, rather than reliving painful memories, which in turn, give rise to feelings of anger inside me, an emotion which I have struggled to come to terms with and feel that by now, I have dealt with successfully. I just want to be getting on with my life now.
However, today I'll continue as best I can. Falmouth Congregation was looking back particularly loopy, a congregation, which, because of my naiveity as a child, I probaly in my own way deciphered what was going on around me as being completely normal, even if as far as groups of people go, you might have been hard pushed to find a more dysfunctional bunch anywhere.
Do not get me wrong. Falmouth was wonderful in many respects. Perhaps my vision was blurred by the fact that it only took a minority to make my early life years as miserable as hell. Years I spent in isolation. Singled out as bad association from a very early age, instead I took pride in knowing what my true qualities were underneath, that other more stupid adults could not see my inner potential was their problem. I particularly have always enjoyed looking after people, especially the older brothers and sisters in the congregation, who I would visit with great regularity, going out for them on errands, visiting them, reading out loud for the sight impaired, offering lifts when nessarsary etc.
In writing this as I speak, I am trying to identify the contributing common denominators of those who, rather than looking at my potential, sought every opportunity to belittle and humiliate me, grass me up for things I didn't do or to get me into trouble with my dad. OK so I was full of myself too, I already thought (and knew rightly so, that I knew it all, at least better than their interpretation), and wasn't afraid of speaking my mind, sometimes with disastrous consequences.
Of those who took a particular dislike to me, especially does that soddin old bat Joan Barber come to mind, looking back now and knowing what I do about psychology etc, a very disturbed individual, who would seek every opportunity possible to get me into trouble, along with Joy Bearman and Ron Brazier (still an elder). Ron Brazier was and still is an absolute bastard, if it wasn't for the fact that he is in a wheelchair I could quite happily batter him to kingdom come for the utter misery he often caused me, continually, year in, year out. These were just a few of them, very psychologically disturbed individuals.
So, on the one hand, there was in my child like mind, this wonderful prospect of paradise, perfection and on the other, this sheer hell that made no sense to me whatsoever. I grew up to believe I must truly be a very bad person, which looking back was absolutely rediculous.
Thats about all I can manage for today, I'm in such a stable and darn good mood, that for now, I've got better things to do with my time than to relive those painful days. Part 4 of this exceptionally long and complicated true life story will follow shortly.
Hope you're having an excellent day everyone!!
Celtic Mark