Over the next years leading up to my first set of real school exams, my sense of isolation grew and grew. I had only one friend. The only members of the opposite sex I saw were Jehovah’s Witness girls, and I knew that Witnesses could not be trusted.
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.
[...] This story continues at Jehovahs Witness [...]
[...] This story continues at Jehovahs Witness [...]