Content note: Some stories here may mention religious trauma, shunning, and mental health struggles. Please take care of yourself as you read.
This is where the pieces live.
Some of these stories are clear; some are foggy around the edges. They’re the memories, flashes, and everyday moments that still echo from a high-control, high-powered religion I left 35 years ago.
Some will be dark, some will be light. Some will be funny and some will be sad. All of them are me, trying to get what’s in my head out into open air.
If you read anything here and feel a twinge of recognition or uncomfortableness, I welcome you. No strings, no expectations—just a quiet place to sit with someone else’s ride.
What drew me in
It all started in high school.
Remember all those confusing hormones and feelings? Add to that just realizing you are gay in the 80s. My friendship with one of my female friends grew into something more for me. It was one-sided, but that’s a whole other story.
Another layer on top of that: my parents’ divorce.
This friend—I’ll call her Kay—belonged to the religion called Jehovah’s Witnesses. I had no religious upbringing at all, but I was curious. In order to be closer to Kay, I started studying the Bible with her.
I spent many hours with her large family. Their home was busy, structured, full of people and routines. It filled a hole I had from the divorce.
My studies brought me into the local congregation, where I was, un-ashamedly, love-bombed. At the time it just felt like finally being seen and wanted.
Feeling seen was especially important then, because I felt I had to hide being gay. This was something the religion did not accept. I think throwing myself in so hard and so vigorously at first was my way of trying to dim those gay feelings.
Another story for later: you can’t do that.
I became very active, taking on the door-to-door ministry as a kind of career.
An answer to the prayer? I discovered chat rooms. I found out that I can talk in real time with actual gay people. Of course, I had to keep this as a secret from my husband. Once I found some women online that I could confide in, my depression began to lift. I had to go outside the congregation to seek these conversations. Each and every one told me to pray and read my Bible. I don’t think I need to explain how empty that answer was.
Cult survivor warrior 