Although its frowned on to attend college my parents required no persuading to let me attend, in fact had I indicated a desire to skip college, I suspect they would have been angry at me for not following through on my education.

College opened many new freedoms for me, and the system of learning was so much superior to secondary school that I genuinely had a great time there. Due to my association with the witnesses, I could not partake of all the partying, relationships, and fun that was the life of a normal student – but I still managed to make good enough excuses to stay over in a worldly friend’s house up to ten times a year.

I had decided that becoming number one in my class of 260 students was the most likely method to secure my eventual freedom – so I attacked each year, and did reasonably well. College was also a ‘free-zone’, no other witnesses attended, so on the campus, I could be myself without looking over my shoulder.

Since I had only minimal exposure to women during my formative years, I was very shy around the opposite sex – this was a real shame and caused a lot of embarrassment. I feel being unable to relate and speak with the opposite sex is a problem lots of ex-witnesses carry into later years. I know I did for many years.

As with all students college was a time to explore myself and life, I dabbled a lot in the occult, drinking, and smoking the odd joint. In some cases I went further than the average student, but then my barriers had been all the more strict growing up.

By second year of college I was working as a contract cleaner for a very friendly and decent Jehovah’s Witness – one of the good guys. Due to my double life being mainly away from home – very little trouble other than the usual elder sniping occurred in the congregation. They had seemed to have given up on me, especially since I would regularly have a few beers before getting on the bus to return home for the meeting, and the smell was obvious.

Half way through the second year of my degree, I started my own IT business, and worked both jobs while completing my degree. This business was later to provide the springboard for my eventual freedom.

I was also getting more freedoms at home in these years being able to visit pubs for live music, but not nightclubs – they apparently were places where people had sex! I was also allowed to attend my yearly graduation parties. Its strange saying that I had these ‘freedoms’ as I was nearly 20 years old at this point.

In short college was great as I was further away from the religion than ever before. In the fourth and final year of my degree, I made the decision that my parents would not throw me out of home before I completed the last few months – and so I decided to push my boundaries even further.

In the next chapter I will relate my final disassociation, the problems immediately after, and how proud I was of my fathers stand.

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By my final year of school, I had decided to do a business degree in the closest college to my home. I was not allowed to stay at the college – but thank goodness my parents had the common sense to see that education was important when it came to securing a good job.

Just prior to school graduation I was attacked again by Elder-Evil – this time it was sex before marriage multiple times (I was a virgin), drug use, contact with demons, and alcoholism. My father by this point, was fed up, and essentially told the other elders to ‘piss off’. When I heard about the accusations – enough was enough.

Elder Evil’s daughter and best friend had been sneaking out of their window to meet up with ‘worldly’ boys for a number of months. I knew the ‘worldly’ boys and knew that these ‘sisters’ were drinking and engaging in promiscuous and immoral behaviour. The boys also claimed full intercourse, but I suspected that this was a male claim as opposed to reality.

I told the elders the full story – expecting that there would be some kind of reprove – but as was always the case, Elders children despite admitting to the behaviour, were left alone and not publically named and shamed.

Around this time, I had secured my first part time job, was making my own money, and had started to become self sufficient. I had successfully completed school despite being suspended another two times and being in fights most weeks for the first three years. Life was starting to look better for me. My parents surprisingly allowed me to attend the graduation celebration and party and for this I was very happy – perhaps my social leper status was starting to be a thing of the past!

The congregation had lost seven of its teenagers, only five remained. Of these only three remain in good standing today.

College beckoned and with it a new beginning, and the start of the best years of my life. Despite a few hiccups along the way – the next four years of my degree were smooth enough, until my eventual parting of ways with the religion.

In the next chapter I’ll cover the college years, and the preparations that I made to leave in my final year of the degree.

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Lying in my hospital bed, in the throes of an exhausting labour, I was in agony and feeling very frightened. I’d gone into labour ten weeks early and my twins were in the breech position, so it was likely I would need a Caesarean.

As a first-time mother, it was a terrifying moment – but worse was yet to come. As the consultant obstetrician looked through my notes, he suddenly lifted his head and said: ‘I see you’re a Jehovah’s Witness.’

I nodded mutely, overcome with fear, as I knew what would happen next. The doctor left the room and called the Jehovah’s Witness Hospital Liaison Committee, a group of the religion’s senior members – or ‘elders’ – who are on call to negotiate with doctors about blood transfusions.

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At this time every single ‘young one’ in the congregation had either been smoking, drinking, engaging in immoral behaviour, and in certain cases taking ‘soft’ drugs. Not a single person between 14-18 was free from this behaviour. I know because I was right there involved with them. We had a status quo – you don’t tell on me – I won’t tell on you. This situation was end as I turned 16.

The seeds for this shattering of the status quo started much earlier with the son of Elder-Evil, himself a pompous twit, frequently reporting minor infractions to the Elders. I recall being in trouble for ‘violent’ computer games – this was back in the days of sprites on the screen, as opposed to today’s GTA and other genuinely violent games.

I don’t recall exactly what started the next two years fight, but I remember this five foot hobbit and his father, deciding that my music tastes were anti-Jehovah – and pushing for a full censure. Since I had some ‘dirt’ on him, I made sure this was also brought to the elders’ attention. And so we began a tit for tat war that eventually involved the entire congregation.

I didn’t help the situation by growing a goatee beard and showing up to witness barbeques with Metallica t-shirts. The key difference was that while I was openly rebellious, the children of this Elder were very pious in the congregation but away from their fathers eyes – they were just as non Christian as I.

By the time my 16^th birthday arrived five kids had already left and one was seriously ill with anorexia. I was now this Elders primary target, and the accusations had increased to immorality, spiritualism, alcoholism, and just about everything else they could think of. I eventually admitted to some immorality with his daughter – which further enraged this elder, although that’s what I wanted!

The congregation of 35-40 members was fractured right down the centre with certain families ignoring each other. There was no ‘Christian-love’ and the atmosphere within the meetings was acidic. Elders would ‘stare down’ other elders during talks and these talks would be used as attack platforms with entire diatribes focussed on how bad an individual member was.

Part Two Soon……..

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In our congregation there were thirteen ‘young ones’ in their teen years, four of the girls got pregnant out of wedlock and in their mid teens, they were hushed away but not DF’d, four of the guys got up to all sorts but were allowed to drift away without being removed.

Of the remaining five, each and every single one of them performed acts which without repentance would have been a DF offense, and many times these acts were repeated over and over again during the course of many years. Only one of the remaining young ones who did not have an Elder for a father was ever publically censured for his actions.

The elders in our congregation were a supremely inept bunch of blithering idiots. The air in the congregation was frequently toxic with family’s feuding, rifts, and people refusing to speak with each other.

The group was let by a PO who was so emotionally cold that his daughter developed severe anorexia and nearly died, both of his children left the religion, one turning apostate (after being a special pioneer), the other becoming a teen mother. This man was so devoid of human feeling that his wife was permanently doped on anti depressants, and used to beat her head against the wall in what I can only describe as an act of desperation. You could see the sadness mixed with a certain wildness in her eyes – this was a deeply unhappy human.

Another Elder was a particularly evil man, small in stature and mental abilities, while seemingly limitless in his capacity for cruelty. If apostasy is defined as turning away from the truths and beliefs once held, this man was by far the best apostate in the Midlands of Ireland – he actively drove more than 10 members out of the faith. He was my primary sparring partner – more about this cretin later.

The remaining Elders included my dad who worked hard and tried to keep within the rules – but was frequently thwarted. There was a travelling pioneer, who was a genuinely hard working and nice person (although others disagree with me). The final elder was a slightly slow man, who never seemed to contribute anything other than frowns, and the only memory that stands out about him was his constant beating of his kid during the meetings for crying.

I don’t want to give the impression that it was always bad; I do recall a number of happy occasions centred on summer barbeques, weddings, anniversaries, and group outings. There were also a number of superb Elders in other congregations who were humble, hard working, and loving to their flocks. At this time I also had the ‘privilege’ of looking after the congregations ancient record player and organising the songs – this caused much merriment as it frequently failed to work, and for the laugh I would sometimes play the wrong song to see if they would sing anyway – they usually did!

You should now have a feel for the congregation and the constant problems it faced, in the next chapter I will describe the ages 16-18, my school graduation, the extent of ALL the ‘young ones’ double lives, and my continuing battle with Elder-Evil.

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I was in a dark place and frequently cried myself to sleep as I could see no escape route. I couldn’t leave as my father, at this time an elder – and as zealous as ever would throw me out of the house. How would I support myself? Would I sleep on the streets? I had no money, no supportive relatives, and no one with whom I could speak. I was alone.

I realised that it was very important to get the best education possible so I worked hard for my junior exams – and achieved one of the best grades in the year. I achieved 9 honours, 1 ‘A’ and 8 ‘B’ grades for those who may know the Irish system. This was the first time I had been truly happy in months, I wanted to celebrate; I wanted to go with my friends to a non alcoholic disco. This was forbidden, but much worse, no alternative was offered, no family dinner, no congratulations party – just a nod and a well done son.

My one Jehovah’s Witness friend, who was perhaps 14 at this stage, was due to stay over in our house that weekend. After my parents largely ignoring my scholastic success, I decided that I would like to try vodka – so I bought a half bottle and that night I got drunk for the first time with my only ‘friend’.

As the weeks wore on I became more and more disillusioned, I was aching inside and it felt like a punch in the stomach permanently. I prayed to Jehovah at night with tears running down my face, quietly crying so as not to draw attention – there was no one who could understand, no one who could help. Jehovah was silent. Eventually I grew morbidly interested in methods of suicide; pills could take up to 48 hours, no guns in Ireland, perhaps monoxide poisoning? I was searching for the most efficient way to kill myself.

I eventually settled on slitting my wrist. So with a fresh bottle of vodka and three Stanley knife blades, I wrote my goodbye letter – it was the fault of the elders and the religion, I wrote, they had driven me to this point and this was the only way out. When my parents were asleep I started into the vodka, then with the bottle finished I made the first cut – but it wasn’t deep enough, nor were the next ones. Eventually I cut and cut and cut again into the same opening making it bigger and bigger. It hurt like hell even through the alcohol – I squeezed my arm, begging for the vein to open. Tears drenched my face and I considered the nothingness that I could escape to – freedom from the daily pain. I could not cut deep enough and I was cutting vertically not down the vein as I later discovered was the ‘correct’ method. In frustration I cut more and more lines into my wrist – at this point my arm was very bloody and sticky red but still no vein was found. Blood flowed as from any large cut, but not fast enough.

Angry and in lot of pain, I decided to make one more cut, and sleep in the vain hope that the blood which flowed from my arm would be enough to not wake up again.

The next morning I woke with a thumping headache, a bloody letter, sheets covered in red, but still very much alive. I hurriedly removed the vodka bottle, the note, and cleaned my arm up. I have always had nose bleeds which at times were quite severe so I blamed the sheets on this.

The next days were a blur and a half reality, I was supposed to have died, and I hated myself for not having the guts to do the job properly.

Everything changed the next weekend. The family went for a walk in the forest and I found myself alone amongst the trees in the special silence that only nature can provide. Like a flash, I realised that everything was joined together, the smell of pine needles and wood sap, the birds singing, the sun filtering through the leaves, the warmth on my skin – it all condensed and I felt for the first time like I belonged to the Earth.

It was at this point that I realised no matter what my situation in life, I could be responsible for my future – I determined how my life would map out, not my parents, not their religion, nor any other person. This sense of personal capability lifted me right up – I could see clearly that whoever I wanted to be, I had the ability to mould myself into that person. No more would I accept sadness, isolation, and depression which were foisted onto me by others – I was responsible for my life and I was going to make it a good one!

My parents didn’t learn of this suicide attempt till a few years later when I told them as I was leaving the house and their religion.

I was now ready for a true double life, and to start preparing myself to leave their oppressive religion. The story of this phase is in the next chapter along with those of the other witness youth who left.

I had many more lessons to learn about life, and many more demons to exorcise, but a new faith had emerged, the faith of self determination which I believe everyone on this planet deserves.

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Finally I was ready to once again approach the Elders about getting dunked. The questions were a breeze and it was agreed that I should be baptised at the next circuit assembly.

I can’t say that their affirmative response to my request to get baptised filled me with happiness; it was a hollow victory. As I write this, I wonder how my life may have been different if the first set of Elders had agreed to let me be baptised – perhaps I would still be trapped?

Eventually the circuit assembly came, and as I sat in the changing room, I had no feelings other than a sense of ‘what am I doing?’ As I waded out into the pool I was kind of glad that without my glasses I couldn’t see my parents looking at me. As I was submerged, my heart was empty, no holy spirit, no dove, no sense of happiness at being Gods servant – just cold, numb, and quiet. I think at this point part of my consciousness accepted that this whole religion was made up.

I tried for the next few weeks to be a model Jehovah’s Witness, but with the pressure gone to get baptised, that final ember of belief died.

It still wasn’t time for me to split into the all too common double personality of a Jehovah’s Witness youth. Before this happened, I would face my darkest days, and inflict the 11 cuts that I still have on my wrist as scars. The darkness, isolation, and lack of any visible escape route pushed me into trying to take my own life.

The next chapter will deal with my suicide attempt and the new reality I woke up to the morning after.

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I want to take a break from my story and finish the story of my first girlfriend and the horrific abuse that she suffered and the contribution to this abuse made by the local body of elders.

She was viewed as a bad association particularly by one family, and they made a point of making subtle and not so subtle attacks against her any time they were with people. At the time still bruised from the break up I lapped this all up and joined in, I can only hope that I have done enough good in my life to make up for this severe misjudgement, I’m truly sorry N.

Remember that this was a girl of 14, not a grown woman.

As this family of harpies attacked more and more, the girl and her older sister were pushed out, no love was shown, and the brothers openly talked about how bad they were. She was shunned. The two girls were isolated from all but a few genuine people.

It was later discovered, although I suspect it was known for some time, that their father had abused both the girls sexually, physically, and mentally for a number of years. He was a serving MS at the time. By the time this truth was revealed my ex girlfriend was 16 and dating ‘worldly’ men. Witnesses from the congregation would ignore her if they passed in the street, and it was terrible to see that once beautiful face twisted by a series of horrendous circumstances. No attempt was made to help her or reach out to her in light of what she had endured, in fact if anything the badmouthing got worse. I don’t recall if the father was disfellowshipped (that’s not even a word), but I do not recall any public announcement. He disappeared shortly after.

The lack of love, and in fact rabid hatred of this girl did not cause what happened next in her life, but it made it worse. This was the least Christian thing I have observed in the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

She became pregnant at 16, with a drug dealers baby. The man if I can call him that, regularly beat her, and pulled clumps of her hair along with skin from her scalp. I would see her sometimes in town with bruises, and those sad eyes of a person who has been defeated. The father was put into Mount Joy – Ireland most notorious prison for drug offences and swore he would kill all the family is he was released. The mother and two daughters ran from the country.

I don’t know what happened after this – but had even basic Christian principles been applied, I don’t believe her life would have been so hard. The particular elder that instigated the campaign of hate went on to start on me next.

In the next chapter I’ll get back to my story, including my attempted suicide at 16 – and the final clarity this experience brought to my life…

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Within two days of moving to Ireland, my Father suffered a severe brain haemorrhage, and had to be rushed to hospital. The survival rate for this condition is very low. For a number of weeks he was on the critical list and could have died at any moment. Until this point I had viewed my Mother as sometimes weak and unable to be strong. I was wrong. I have nothing but respect for my Mother now, and the strength she showed in those months was incredible. She daily faced the prospect of loosing her husband and still managed to smile, and tell her now three sons that it would all be ok. I only hope that if life throws something like that at me, I can show the guts that she did!

I don’t recall the local congregation helping us, but this is likely due to being so caught up in my own emotions and not noticing, as opposed to any lack of love from the Brothers and Sisters – many of whom were genuinely nice people.

I didn’t see my father for the next month as he was in intensive care, when I finally did see him; he had tubes coming out of his skull to drain fluid and looked like a skeleton. This sight has given me a mild phobia of hospitals to this day. He was on the mend though – our family is made of tough stuff and it’s hard to knock us down.

While he was recovering in hospital, I met a local JW girl whom I almost immediately fell in love with, and it was mutual. We spent the long summer exploring our feelings, kissing, holding each other, and talking for hours and hours. Neither of us were particularly spiritual at this point but I think with my Dad in hospital no one wanted to criticise my Mother for not putting a stop to this friendship. Lack of guts on the part of the elders as opposed to love!

With a girlfriend my confidence grew and when I started school at the end of summer I was feeling nearly human again. My school was a boy’s only catholic boarding school; however I was a day student. It was a hard place ran by priests, and in those days, only 17 years ago, if you were bad, you got hit. This must read like I was forever being physically abused, however no lasting damage was done, and I won’t treat my kids the same. Those were less enlightened years – and I deserved almost all of what I got.

The congregation was very small compared to the UK, and was in a small room behind a pub and next to a gambling shop which stank of alcohol, cigarettes, and vomit. The place was tatty, and so were the members. Ireland at this stage was a quite poor country and was rapidly trying to catch up with the rest of Europe. Many of the brothers like us were English blow-ins, unlike my father however they didn’t have good jobs and it’s my suspicion that many of them ran from England because of problems with their old congregations. At least that’s how I explain 50% of them being sociopathic.

After a few months my Father was well enough to return home, but he was not the same man (he did eventually return to normal), he saw this as a second chance at serving Jehovah and was full of righteous zeal. I didn’t know who this man was in the house with me.

As I turned 14, myself and my girlfriend split up, I was devastated and withdrew into myself once more. I also am ashamed to say that I came to hate her for the pain she caused me. This shame is all the greater as in subsequent years the story of her family life was revealed, the sexual, physical, and metal abuse she endured was severe. The elders led by one particularly evil man, treated her and her family in an obscene and unscriptural manner. In the next chapters I will tell the full story of this shocking and disgusting abuse of power.

The first year in school passed relatively quickly and easily, although all that was about to change.

In the next chapter I will tell of my quickening fall from grace despite getting baptised, my problems with school, and the systematic abuse of a family by the body of elders. I’ll also explain why more than 70% of the ‘young ones’ left the congregation…….

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