It was miserable. My grandma died when I was five from not taking a blood transfusion. Then I started school and was constantly humiliated during holiday times, such as when kids gave me Valentines and I had nothing to give them in return. I excelled in some classes and won awards, but my parents refused to come to awards night. It was a minor miracle I did well in school, since I was kept out late on meeting nights due to some dipsh*t always calling an elders meeting. I did homework as late as eleven PM under the Kingdumb Hell parking lights.
Then came the terrifying nightmares, of persecution, torture and what I called my "demon dreams." They were so frightening and vivid. I laid frozen in fear on meeting nights.
When I became a teenager, my father would inspect me before I could get in the car for the meeting, was my skirt too short, were my shoes scuffed at all, did I have a run in my panty hose? l had to set the example and make my dad look good. I was an only child, so there was nobody to play with or talk to. I became a loner (and still am) and developed trouble with my self esteem. The stress led to anorexia and my weight dropped to 98 lbs because I stopped eating.
This didn't mean I got to stay home from meetings, even when the panic attacks started.
Needless to say, I moved out to my own apartment the minute I was able. Saddest thing is, my parents still cannot figure out why I stopped going to meetings. My mother started in about it recently, and I reminded her the stress of those meetings nearly killed me, so why would I put myself through that again?