First published April 16, 2018
“Everything I’ve ever done, ever thought, ever experienced, and ever felt, has led me up to this moment in my life. And after accumulating and culminating it, all I can say is, “Ahhhhh!
Jarod Kintz, Great Listener Seeks Mute Women
It was a spring night back in 2006. I was laying on the floor of my bedroom late at night. I had gotten into a huge fight with my Dad. The incessant rain of Wenatchee was beating down on the house as if to echo the torment in my heart. I laid on the floor in a sobbing heap. This night I had thought to do the unthinkable. I had an idea how I could bring about my own demise. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it; I was too much of a coward. I wanted nothing more than to die, and I prayed to every god that had ever existed. If the universe cared about me at all, I would not wake up the next morning. Well I did wake up, and here it is eleven years later and those feelings will resurface every now and again. As I reflect on my life and how it has led me to this very moment, there is really one common thread that has defined my life, and the lives of every person who is closest to me: the religion we were all raised in.
Up until October of last year, I would have proudly identified myself as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was like a badge of honor, to show that I was a cut above the rest. We and only we had “The Truth.”. The other human beings in my life were merely cogs in the machine of Satan’s system that played no role in my life, other than being soundboards for me to spread the Gospel to. That mentality really did seep into every aspect of my life. However, in the cursed month of October 2017, information came to light that cast a dark shadow on the religion I had dedicated my entire life to.
Unless you have been intimately involved with a member of the religion, you might think it odd to connect a small Christian sect with something so terrifying as suicide. You might know Jehovah’s Witnesses (from hereon referred to as JWs) as the smiley faces that knock on your door Saturday morning. They’re the ones whose kids do not salute the flag. They don’t celebrate holidays. They don’t accept blood transfusions. Apart from these oddly defining characteristics, you would think them to be just good Christians. But when you pull the curtain back, you find so much more.
The purpose of this paper isn’t for me to tear down a religion I once belonged; but there are key aspects associated to being a JW that tie back in with the scenario I presented at the outset. You see, even the name of this assignment well illustrates a key rhetoric of the JWs; they see themselves as “no part of the world”. They are temporary citizens in a world that will soon be destroyed by god at Armageddon. Hence, they actively tell their parishioners not to “become part of” this beautiful world we live in. It is that forced separation from reality that forces many JWs into seclusion. Seclusion is what led me to the situation at the outset.
My parents are loving people. They truly are. But life threw a lot of curveballs at them, and they kept finding that striking out was almost inevitable. Dad had his rowdy adolescence, my mother opted for a more civilized life of missionary service. They met and wed, had their first child, and life was going as they had planned. That is, until they became pregnant with triplets. My mom felt funny one day, and was devastated to learn that the babies had asphyxiated in the womb. After a period of mourning they became pregnant with me. The Doctors told them that I would be born with every problem known to mankind: I’d be born with down syndrome, I’d be born without a spine, I’d be born without a head. They encouraged my mother to abort me, yet the fact that you’re reading this today shows they didn’t make that decision. Then my sister came along and life was still going great. Until the final pregnancy, when my mother again would miscarry.
Interspersed in all of this tragedy, my father was working at his father’s business that was failing. For over 20 years he put his heart and soul into keeping the family business afloat. It got to the point that we would either lose everything, or my father would have to make a career change at the age of 43. When most men settle down in their careers, my father had to start a new one.
The purpose of me sharing all of this with you, the reader, is to show how two wonderful people can become shells of their former selves. With so much pain and loss in their hearts, my parents became reclusive to a fault. When you add in the JW rhetoric of not being “part of this world” and living like Armageddon will come tomorrow, it is little wonder that my childhood would be plagued with extreme feelings of insecurity and self-hate. The inhuman teachings of the JWs and the tragedy in the hearts of my parents, it only makes sense that they would impose their skewed view of the world on their children.
A key teaching of any Christian-based religion is that we are all born sinners. We are alienated from god and need the ransom of Jesus Christ to give us the hope of one day becoming reconciled as children of God. JWs take this notion and turn it up to eleven. It isn’t just that you’re human and you made a mistake; if you make an error then you are a miserable human being. I spent so much of my youth trying to be the perfect child. I did this by bringing home top marks at school, staying out of trouble, and following every teensy little rule my parents had set for me. When times were good, they were good. But when I stepped out of line even slightly, it was as if the spawn of Satan himself had come to mete out justice. My parents didn’t believe in discipline and correction; they brought down the hammer with punishment. I began to loathe life.
Eventually we come to this night back in 2006. I had begun to grow and experience life outside of the JW bubble my parents had made for me. But the backlash was terrible. I wanted so badly to be a regular boy, to have my friends at school that I could hang with, to play on the basketball team. But my parents would have none of it. We had to spend our evenings doing bible reading and personal study. We weren’t allowed outside of the house without their supervision. My brother and I found internet gaming as an outlet, and soon lost ourselves to this world. The deeper I explored cyberspace, the deeper my depression became. It all came to a head when my father angrily confronted my brother and I about our activities. Normal they were to anyone else, except for us. I spent that night hearing all kinds of character defamations. How could a man who gave me life think so little of me?
I survived that night. Through sheer force of will and the timely support of a few counselors, I was actually able to rebound. My teachers saw the brilliance I was hiding, and they were delighted to see me regain my sanity. I qualified for running start and excelled in my studies at college. I spent a good three years putting the pieces of my life back together. It was if life had finally gotten on track for me.
I truly believe that there exists a muse who watches our lives. When we start to think that life is going great, that’s when she pops out and decides to mess with it if for no other reason than her enjoyment. That’s what happened with me. I was excited to be using my natural talents for education. But then the economy decided to tank in 2008. The academic opportunities I was excited about seemed to vanish. My brother also grew gravely ill that year and nearly died. With these events weighing on my mind, I sat down to decide what I wanted to do with my life. I came to the conclusion that I would terminate my education and devote the rest of my life as a Nazirite, much like Samuel. I promised my god in prayer that if he would take care of me, I’d use every last ounce of my energy in his service.
I did exactly that for nearly eight years. JWs equate “serving God to the full” with serving the interests of the Church. I took it upon myself to enlist as a local missionary. I then set about learning Spanish to be able to preach to immigrants. I gave talks in the congregation. I sold every possession I had and moved to New York City to work in their headquarters. Life was on autopilot; all I had to do was wait for Armageddon. Then as quickly as it had all begun, life came crashing down on me yet again. I found myself ten years later in the exact same predicament; laying on the floor sobbing, praying to god to end my life.
Suffice it to say that I no longer believe in a religion that equates spending your life in the servitude of men with serving god. When I reflect on the amount of my time, energy, and resources that I used that were ultimately treated with contempt by the very church leaders who said they loved me, I can’t help but wish I had spent it in better pursuits. But now, that has become the driving force for what I do. I spent the majority of 2017 recovering emotionally and mentally. I had never before sought professional help for any emotional or mental health issues that I had. But I am proud to say that with an understanding counselor and good friends, I have regained control of my sanity and have a fire burning in me to make a real difference in the world.
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