I'm Just... Me.

I was raised a Jehovah's Witness. I got baptized at 10, and my dad was soooo happy. He and I were always the closest - I mean, I am his baby girl. Growing up, my dad was VERY strict, very over-protective. My teenhood was extremely stressful, and very unhappy. My brother and sister both left Dad's house to live with my mom. Ever since they divorced when I was 7 my mom was the fun parent, let you do whatever, go wherever; my dad was the opposite. I couldn't even so much as have a guy call the house or I was on punishment for months. No lie. When my brother and sister left, leaving me the only one in the house, I felt trapped, and also responsible for my dad's happiness. I felt guilty and ungrateful for wanting to leave, and be "free". So I became everything my dad wanted me to, and more. I pushed myself academically, I was involved in the Congregation, never got in any trouble. Ever. I’ve never even so much as been on suspension. But I was craving to be on my own. I was suppressed.

When I graduated from high school I got a taste of freedom by getting my own place. Then, my whole mindset changed. I embraced self-expression, individuality, and knowledge. There was a whole world of possibilities and potentials that I didn't know about. I began questioning my beliefs I'd always known, wanting to know more and the reasons for "policies" and certain traditions. I had a talk with my dad that I wasn't interested in attending meetings or preaching anymore. He told me if I ever chose to leave the congregation he would have to limit his communication with me. It hurt, but I was determined to be who I wanted to be and not live just to make him happy anymore. At the time, when he said "limit," I was thinking "Okay, that means I probably won't be over to wash my clothes or watch Sunday football with him anymore." Never in a million years did I think he could uphold it though.

As I matured, and mended the temporarily ruptured relationship my Dad and I experienced after high school graduation, my dad and I became SUPER close - talked at least 3 times a week, he was with me when I bought my house, my car, graduation, he never missed a beat in my life. 2 years ago you couldn't tell me my dad and I wouldn't be talking today. But when I announced my disassociation, since that day, he hasn't said ONE WORD to me. Not a phone call, a text, a visit, an email. I reach out, he doesn’t reach back, or my stepmother either. And it's going on a year and a half now. When it first happened I was Crushed. I don’t know if I could describe in words how painful it was to be divorced from a parent, while I was still grieving the death of the other. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep. I would just stay awake, thinking, crying, wondering if I’d made the wrong decision. As long as I was the person my dad wanted me to be he was happy, we were happy, well, no HE was happy.

But I wasn’t. I was pretending. Even when I started college I started living a double life. Friday nights I was wrapped up in some company, Saturday nights I was partying hard with the girls, and Sundays I was at Kingdom Hall, making up false stories about why I hadn’t done any door-to-door service in a while or what happened when I missed last Tuesday’s meeting. The truth was I wanted to get tattoos, I wanted to have a boyfriend, I wanted to drink and experience the effects of alcohol untainted. I wanted to question doctrines, I didn’t want to be 24 married with 3 kids, living off my husband's money, I wanted to read about the history of religion, I wanted to have my own voice and make my own money, I wanted to travel with my “worldly” friends, I wanted to prove that I’m still a good damn person, even though I don’t share the same religious beliefs as you. Dear Dad, that’s all I wanted to do… but I’m afraid he doesn't see it that way. In his eyes I’m probably doing drugs (of which I’ve never tried, by the way, DAD!), or whoring on the corners (of which I’d never do, DAD!), or going out on dates and laying up with some “worldly” man (of which I have done, and will do, and don’t see a problem with because I’m smart, I’m careful, and I’m grown, dammit!).

But I’m not too old to remember the type of man my father was, before religion wrapped its choke-hold around him and turned him into the heap of honorable zealot he is today. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with having beliefs. I have my own. I’m saying when a “principle” interrupts your ration that you cut your own daughter off, that she has nightmares the next time she’ll see her father is looking over in his casket, that the very essence of your happiness only occurs when others are pretending to be something they are not, that is when there is a problem.

I am proud to say I’m glad I left. And I will never, ever speak ill of any organization. That is not the purpose of this post. I am saying I am glad I left because I never felt freer, clearer, me-er (yes, I made that up) But I am ME. I am shaping myself into the woman I want to be, so that when I look back I can say “This is the woman I made. Not anyone else.” I must say, my spirituality has never been stronger. I pray, often. I am thankful, I treat people with love and kindness, I live my days with purpose and responsibility. The image I maintained of the perfect girl, the perfect daughter, the perfect servant, was a façade, and I was a great actress. I deserve an Emmy for it! But I will NEVER go back to being someone I can’t be proud of.

Is it sad I have to feel like a fatherless child because I refuse to accept a religion? Of course. Is it unfortunate I consider myself, technically, an orphan because I'm parentless? Indeed. But there is a freedom in being yourself. And if this is a growing pain, then consider me 5 inches taller, and climbing. I can only be me, and anyone who has a problem with it doesn't deserve to know me.