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Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Losing Nothing and Winning Everything by Morgana Fae Walter


 
Contributed by Noel Parsons

My father, Joseph, was raised as a Jehovah's Witness and could remember back in the days when Jehovah's Witnesses celebrated Christmas and his father smoked a pipe.  My Father would travel around with a wind-up gramophone, playing a J.F. Rutherford record in the street.  He married another Jehovah's Witness, Christine, and they had three sons, A*, St* , P* and a daughter S*.  Christine fell away and committed adultery, so my father and Christine were divorced.  

My mother, Patricia, was in an abusive marriage and had three sons, R*, N*, M*.  She divorced her husband when she found "The Truth," which is what the Watchtower Society claims their religion to be.  They met in the Leicestershire congregation and after a short engagement, they were married in November, 1977.  I was born in December, 1978.   

Our combined families consisted of six half-brothers and a half-sister, some living at home, some visiting at weekends.  My mother's boys stayed in touch with their biological father and the abuse continued to them.  My father's children only came to visit on the weekend and they hated my mother.  My mother's children hated my father.  We all were raised as Jehovah's Witnesses.  As you can well imagine, my parents children all hated me, because they saw me as some kind of special favourite.  Having said that, my father dealt swift and tangible judgement to any of us, by means of a wooden meter stick or slipper. 

For several years, my father had his Ministerial Servant position taken away, then was reinstated, and became an Elder.  We had the Tuesday book study and field service at our home.  I later discovered the reason was that my parents had consummated their marriage the night before the wedding, but had fully repented, getting away with a figurative slap over the knuckles.

Two of my mother's boys sexually assaulted my father's daughter when she was seven years old and they were ages seven and nine years.  I have memories of a similar nature, though no one can or will substantiate it or admit to it.  I would have been between one and two years of age.

When I was fifteen years old, I was baptized at Dudley Assembly Hall, Midlands, UK.  My father's two oldest boys A* and St* and daughter S* had stopped attending meetings.  His youngest son P*, was baptized ahead of me, and is now an elder.

My mother's two youngest boys N* and M* went to live with their biological father.  The eldest R,* also was baptized at the same age as the other half-brother, in a sort of competitive way.   When I was between fourteen and sixteen years old, R,* who was a DeeJay in local nightclubs, was involved in a sexual incident with a minor at my school.  This was dealt with privately and nothing more was said.  After R* married, things in his private life went from bad to worse and he was disfellowshipped. 

While I was at high school, I met RR,* a boy from another congregation.  We spent lunch times together, shared our love of The Beatles, picked Daisies and occasionally had a quick cuddle.  It was all very innocent; nothing as dangerous as our parents thought.  RR*'s mother came over one Saturday afternoon with her son and made him break up with me.  

I was devastated, totally bereft.  I packed my bags and went to my half-brother R*s flat.  During my stay, he propositioned me.  I left and went back home.  Once back home, during the following months, I got a Saturday Job at a bookshop, where I found myself in a newspaper article and received a caution from the elders.  I began to slip away and fall in with a bad crowd that used alcohol, cannabis, speed, and did shoplifting, arson, poaching, spiritualism, and of course, sex.  What can I say?  I finally could do what I wanted to, and didn't feel restricted or judged. 

I met a guy and moved in with him.  I was disfellowshipped.  I was abused and raped by him and his friends, while I was stoned on drugs.  I was locked in a room and left to rot.  All of this was happening a mere two minutes around the corner from my parents home.  Finally one day when he had to go out and left me locked in his flat, I escaped through a window and went home.

I was pregnant.  I had two choices, repent, or f-ck off.  I was reinstated.  My first son was born June 11, 1997, and I moved to a different part of the country when my parents retired.  I met new friends and the cycle began all over again with another abusive boyfriend and I was disfellowshipped again.  Then I met my saviour, an unlikely barman called D.*  He helped me find myself.  Although our relationship ended sadly, I will always hold his memory in my heart, for helping me discover my true self-worth.

In 2000, I began a relationship with my husband, B.*   Although I had unfortunately friend-zoned him, we got past that and we now have three children, Et*, R* and E.*   When we had Et,* I wanted to get reinstated, so my parents could enjoy their grandchild and any future grandchildren.  It wasn't in my heart to return to the Watchtower Society, but I wanted my parents to be involved with my children.  I managed to get away with being an infrequent visitor to the Kingdom Hall, and kept my nose clean, hiding under their radar.  I got away with that for a good nine years, before it became too much of a burden.

My father developed Cancer, Hodgekins Lymphoma, but he managed to recover.  Then he contracted Non- Hodgekins Lymphoma.  He became very ill and was taken to hospital, where it was discovered that he had somehow also contracted septicaemia.  He knew the Cancer wasn't going away and declined treatment. 

I remember the day before my father died.  He was so pi$$ed off and he didn't want my "Holier than thou" brother P* reading scripture to him.  Neither did he want my mother to see him die.  He just wanted me with him and, to me, that says so many things.  I loved my father.  He was a good man.  He was a Jehovah's Witness, but his conscience and soul went beyond that.  He was a truly, lovely man in his heart.  I was privileged to be with him when he passed. 

After my father passed, my mother developed a bizarre attitude, considering that she's a Jehovah's Witness.  First, she was going to marry the man who was my father's best friend growing up.  I asked her, "If you truly believe in the resurrection, what do you think my father will think about this, when he is resurrected?"  Then again, she was a local widow.  I wonder if my mother ever believed or if it was just a convenient way out. 

My mother and I have never been close.  It was always my father, who was there for me.....when i had my first menses, he hugged me when RR* left me, ran me a bath when I escaped, etc., and always fought in my corner and pushed things through with the body of elders. 

I sent in a letter of disassociation (resignation) at the end of last year.  I do NOT want to be affiliated with Jehovah's Witnesses.  They are heartless people without souls. 

Regarding my eldest son, to whom I gave birth when I was age eighteen, he is now living with my mother and she has poisoned his mind against me.  He has little, if any, contact with me, his step-father or his siblings.  I am just grateful that he hasn't obligated himself to baptism yet. 

My life now, since my resignation from the Watchtower Society, is much happier.  I am free at last.  I am an orphan, but I am no longer judged as unworthy association and I no longer have to answer to anybody.  At thirty-five years of age, that is most liberating. 

Since my mother told me I was dead to her, I have changed my birth name to a name of my choice, I am following a path that fills my spiritual box and hurts no one (paganism) and am happy that my three younger children will never be torn to pieces by this sickening, twisted cult. 
Morgana and her happy family....