Ever since I was born, I’ve been a Jehovah’s Witness with my parents and brother. Every Sunday and Tuesday, we’d go to church and every Saturday morning, we’d go preaching door to door. I never really thought much about it. I didn’t think it was what every other kid was doing, but it was all I knew.
I felt envious when I saw other kids participating in holidays and birthdays while I sat back watched. Growing up, I always felt like a big chunk of my childhood was missing. I never got to wake up early on Christmas morning and run to the tree and open presents. I never got to dress up as my favorite Disney character and go trick-or-treating on Halloween. I never got to go Easter egg hunting. I never got to pass around Valentines cards. I never sat around with my family and ate a big feast on Thanksgiving day. I never got to blow out birthday candles or got presents on my birthday. I felt embarrassed at school when I had to excuse myself from the classroom as they threw holiday or birthday parties. I felt like I wasn’t growing up how kids should.
I know other kids have it a million times worse, but as a kid, I thought I had it pretty bad, so it wasn’t a fun childhood. The best parts I remember were going to family gatherings at my grandmas house and hanging with my cousins. Those were my ‘holidays’.
I never said anything to my parents because I thought it would break their hearts. And it did. Plus, they told me that people who disobeyed Jehovah would die in Armageddon and not live forever, happily and perfectly, in paradise on earth. So all my life, I kept my mouth shut. They also told me Jehovah could read my thoughts, I couldn’t even think for myself mentally! I was so scared of God killing me, I spent a majority of my childhood trying to restrain my thoughts from questioning him even a little bit. But it didn’t work.
I developed strong obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) around second grade. Part of my OCD was having obsessive thoughts that didn’t go away no matter how hard I tried to stop thinking about a certain negative thing. Fast forward to late elementary school when I was standing in front of a mirror in the women’s restroom at church, mentally yelling at myself. Bad words had been repeating themselves in my brain all day and I felt even worse about it being at church. I thought God was ‘up there’ hearing my mind say these awful words and judging me, deciding I would be one of the many people to die in Armageddon. I was twelve and I already began thinking I had no future to live for since God was going to kill me anyway.
I got to seventh grade and I became really depressed. I started self harming and wanting to run away just so I wouldn’t have to deal with my restricting religion. I also become suicidal. Around that time, I got a Twitter account and it became my safe place. It was the only place where I could speak my mind and say whatever I wanted. I had also began to not believe my religion as much anymore. One day, my dad picked me up from school. But he seemed a bit off. I was confused, and then he spoke up. He told me he found out about my account and I got in trouble. It doesn’t seem that bad, but at the time I was so scared. It was were I vented my feelings and he made me delete it and I no longer had an outlet to the rest of the world. Jehovah’s Witnesses have a thing of completely separating themselves from the world. They want nothing to do with it unless they’re spreading their religion. Middle school was the worst time of my life for many reasons. I hated my religion, I hated my OCD (even though I didn’t know it was OCD at the time), and I had terrible grades. I was also constantly anxious about God somehow letting my parents know about my true thoughts on our religion. Again.
Another reason why I was so scared of them knowing I don’t agree with their religion is the fact that when someone stops being a Jehovah’s Witness, they get shunned. They get shunned from all their friends and family in the religion. They do this as a way of emotionally blackmailing someone to come back to serving Jehovah. I never wanted my parents to have to stop talking to me.
As of right now, my parents know fully well that I don’t agree with their religion at all. I’m lucky that they still talk to me. But it doesn’t help the fact that I felt I couldn’t share my true thoughts all my life.
Nowadays, I don’t really believe in my parents’ religion anymore, but I still do get the feeling… maybe, just maybe they’re right. I hardly have any motivation to do anything, both educationally and socially. Growing up, feeling trapped, caged, paranoid, held back, and most of all, terrified has had a deep, deep impact on my mental health. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to recover, but it sure won’t be easy. I think a part of me is always going to wonder if they were right all along.
I don’t know what point I’m trying to make except maybe it’s not such a good idea to force your religion on your child. Especially one so restricting. Let your child have a free mind, let them imagine with no limitations, and don’t ever make them feel like they can’t come to you for anything.
Let your child have a childhood.
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