I remember being perplexed at how my mother would just ignore the situation when he made these demands of me. I quickly learned the rules and learned to stop protesting. I learned not to have a preference and that life was easier to just eat the food I was given even if I didn’t like it. I learned to just wear the clothes I was given even if I did not like them, even if they didn’t fit, without protest. I remember crying while I got my hair cut because I didn’t want to have short hair like a boy when I was six but I knew better than to protest, so I just quietly wept while it was being cut and my mother watched without comment. She never even asked me what was wrong.

According to Jim, my stepfather, I was always acting like a baby — I was always standing wrong, sitting wrong, eating wrong and talking wrong. Sometimes it was my mother’s turn to be picked on and he would complain about the meal she worked on all day and made entirely from scratch. It was not what he wanted, it was 10 minutes late, it was not as good as it was the last time she made it. Tears only made him stronger. Spanking was his favorite punishment. He never talked to me like a parent; he only dictated the rules and his expectations.

When I was nine years old, I remember being sick and having abdominal pains. I told my mom how I felt, stayed home from school for a few days and I really tried to not act like a baby, so I sucked up the pains and put on a good face. Eventually, we discovered my appendix had burst for three days before they brought me to the emergency room. I could have died; most people die when this happens. I still remember the doctor reaming out Jim while he was washing up before my emergency surgery. I did not understand everything he was saying at the time, but looking back, I remember him talking about how he was thinking about calling Child Protective Services and reporting neglect. By the way, my mother was a registered nurse at the time this happened, but her opinion did not count and she learned not to push the point when she disagreed to keep the peace.

After my surgery, my life was in danger from the infection that spread through my body. The doctor said in three days we would know, live or die. Obviously, I survived and Jim was very nice to me for a couple of months after that. I think he was afraid I would tell my dad the details of what had happened. I did not understand the severity and so I never did. My mother has tremendous guilt to this day about this incident.

As I grew up, I remember dreading when Jim would come home from work. I learned to keep my mouth shut but I never let him break my spirit. I remember telling my mother that I was never going to raise my children like this. I would never forget how it felt. Jim never changed his methods as I grew. My opinions still did not matter. He interfered with everything, such as my friends in the Kingdom Hall. He used his eldership to monitor my friend’s families and eventually they learned not to invite me because it was inviting Jim to interfere.

Jim was an exception and not the rule as far as headship but the headship rules allowed someone like him to become a tyrant and a bully. It enabled him and fueled the fire. It told us that we had no choice but to accept his controlling dysfunction. Jehovah’s Witnesses’s did not endorse this behavior but they enabled it. Jim was an elder, a leader, an example. Others suspected things were bad at our house but on the surface we looked nice and they chose not too look closely. We had money, nice vehicles, built a new home, nice things, had parts in assemblies, went to quick builds and visited Bethel. We really looked the part. However, Jim was the man, the head of the house and he had the power to make it as twisted as he wanted. He also had the power to influence how the elders saw us by being an elder. Jehovah’s Witnesses created the situation that allows tyrants like him to flourish. I know my story is not the worst one out there. Others had it worse. Somehow, I managed to get away with my sense of self intact.

I went to college and earned a degree in early child development because I did not want my children to feel misunderstood as I did. Going to college was one of the best decisions I could have made for myself. I learned about the world and met people who were very different from Witnesses. I was encouraged to express myself, develop interests and become proactive in the world. I learned how one person could make the lives of others better and about the joy you find upon doing so. Going to college helped to bridge the gap between being a Witness and fitting into the world. It gave me options, a voice and a purpose I did not know existed and empowered me as a person.

When I first moved in with the man who is now my husband, I had this vision of how a woman should be. I thought it was my job to keep the house clean, cook and so on. One day, my boyfriend straightened me out. He pointed out that it was not my job. It was silly — we even worked at the same place. Both of us equally contributed, so why did I feel that it was only my job to keep up the house and cook? What if I had been with a person who just sat back and let me do everything?

Today I am a teacher, committed to helping others reach their potential in life. My mother is still a Jehovah’s Witness, married to another elder after having finally divorced my stepfather after 20 years of marriage. Her new husband is much nicer to her; her former husband is now disfellowshipped. My mother explains that it was Jehovah who finally rooted him out of the congregation. I wonder why a “loving god” would take so long and allow a faithful wife and her three children be treated as second class citizens for almost 20 years, long enough for their lives to be forever tainted by the whims of an unstable leader in the congregation, allowing him to use the Bible and Watch Tower Society teachings to justify his abuse. Really, I know Jehovah had nothing to do with it. After Jim kicked me out of the house at 19 years old, I managed to give my mother a copy of a book written for victims of domestic abuse. It helped her to identify her toxic marriage and enabled her decision to leave him.

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Happy ToB Free is a recovering Jehovah’s Witness.