“Being in the Truth has never been easy, but . . .”

I’ve been gone for a while. I’m sorry. I’ve been relocating from Sydney to Melbourne and taking a bit of time to settle in. But, now I’m back.

I switched offices, left behind the people I knew, left behind my crappy apartment, left behind my routine. I left everything behind … again. It’s at times like these that I’m most keenly aware of my absent family. I don’t think of them excessively, but it’s times like these that I remember the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the incredible impact they’ve had on my life. And not in a good way.

It got me thinking about a common phrase parroted by countless Jehovah’s Witnesses. It’s on that I’ve decided to explore with you.

“Being in the Truth has never been easy, but . . .”

God, I weary of hearing these words from Jehovah’s Witnesses. They’re the same words spoken in countless letters I’ve read from parents to children who have dared to leave. They’re words expressed by tired publishers. And the humour of it all is that they believe those words to be words conjured by their own minds. This could never be the case with the same words spoken by hundreds and thousands of mouths in nearly the exact same order. The concept that they all, independently, came up with the same concept is laughable.

There are few things easier than handing over the keys to your mind and allowing others to choose your actions and thoughts for you. I would argue that being a Jehovah’s Witness is one of the laziest decisions you could make.

Want to understand the Bible? Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll understand it for you.

Want to receive a guarantee on how to gain God’s favour? Don’t worry about discerning proper morals and ethics for yourself. We’ll do it for you. We’ll write publications that expressly provide you with a list of dos and don’ts.

Want to spend eternity in paradise with your loved ones? Just do as your told, toe the line, and your ticket will be sent in the post.

Jehovah’s Witnesses tell themselves repeatedly that their lives are “never easy” with such frequency that they’ve managed to convince themselves. It allows them to mock and disparage anyone who chooses to leave, as “weak ones”. You left, because you were “tempted” by the world’s offerings. You left, because you didn’t wish to trouble yourself with Jehovah’s high standards. You left, because you lacked discipline and sought to do as you pleased. You left, because you’re weak and couldn’t withstand the “difficult life” of a Jehovah’s Witness.

These people have an unparalleled persecution complex. Please . . . let me tell you about a life that has never been easy. Do, let us compare notes.

Talk to me about a difficult life when your entire social network dumps you like a diseased corpse without burial beside the road.

Talk to me when your own mother hasn’t spoken to you in greater than a decade.

Talk to me when you’ve had no one to turn to and had to sell everything you owned to avoid homelessness.

Life on the outside has not been easy. Watchtower made sure of that. Truth is, it would’ve been a lot easier—and lazier—had I stayed. But I would rather suffer a thousand injustices to live authentically. This is me. I will not be controlled or subjugated. I will not and neither should you. We are able to determine for ourselves what is right and wrong based on the conscience beating in the hearts of our chests. Don’t dare let them tell you what is right or wrong, these other humans, with no greater discernment than you. They are not closer to God than you. They have no right!

My family buy into this silliness. Well, shame on them! I’ve been robbed of them. Well, Watchtower can have them, but they’ll never, ever, have me.

8 Tips for the Steadfast Jehovah’s Witness

8 Tips for the Steadfast Jehovah’s Witness

I know, I know, I’m not going to change your mind anytime soon. You’ll stop reading now, or halfway through, or well before the final line. I assure you I come in peace. I’m not going to try to convince you to abandon your faith or turn away from Jehovah. The internet is already awash with such material. I’m approaching this from a different angle. What follows is my advice for Jehovah’s Witnesses, accepting the fact that they’re not going to leave. I’ll treat that as a given. Fine, you’re a Jehovah’s Witness and that’s never going to change. Okay, great, I can dig that. So, here’s my advice.

These are my eight tips—eight hopes, really—for those determined to maintain their loyalty to Watchtower.

 

  1. Love each other, always

I cannot describe the exquisite pain felt when your family—the ones you hold most dear—choose to cut you out, ignore you as though you were a stranger, or vermin. You needn’t fear that, of course. You’re determined to maintain your convictions and I’m not here to convince you otherwise. But life happens. You lose people. Things go wrong. So please, hold your mother close, tell your father you love him. Remind your children that they are valued and loved for the unique individuals they are. Of course, you can’t tell them that you love them no-matter-what, but at least tell them you love them very much.

One day your son or daughter or mother or father might decide that they don’t believe in the Watchtower’s teachings. I know what you’re thinking. It would never happen to your family. My family felt the same way. And yet here I am, twelve years shunned. I’ve had to mourn the loss of my family just as they have had to mourn the loss of a son and brother. I hope it doesn’t happen like that for you, but life happens.

So, hold your loved ones close. Cherish them. Your time in the sun may be brief.

 

  1. Try not to judge too much

You’ll try to convince me that you don’t judge at all, but let’s save that for the “worldly people”, a term which by its very nature is one of judgement. I was one of you, remember, so let’s just speak honestly.

Try not to judge too much. Try not to sneer in disgust when you see homosexuals. It’s not good for them and it’s not good for you. Try not to value the lives of non-believers as inferior to yours and your brothers and sisters. Of course, you will to some degree, but try not to let it overpower you completely. Don’t let it erase the compassion in your heart. Other people matter too. They love as deeply as you and in many cases, much more deeply than you could imagine.

I know that this will be hard for you. You think that you must see outsiders as “unclean” or “worldly”. But, you really don’t. I’m asking that you see them as people. Just people. Don’t label them. Don’t dehumanise them. I know doing so makes it easier to devalue and judge them, which is why I’m asking you not to do it. I’m not asking you not to judge them at all. Such is the nature of your faith. I’m just asking that you try not to judge too much.

You don’t know what lead to the hooker selling her body to get by.

You don’t know what horrors the drug addict experienced as a child, why he needs to numb the pain.

You don’t know how the teenage girl wound up getting pregnant.

You – don’t – know.

So, please, try not to judge too much. It’s not good for them and it’s not good for you.

 

  1. Know your religion

This one seems obvious, but you would be surprised how few people know their own religion. And that extends to many denominations, not just yours. Adherents are often born in and keep on doing the things they do and believe the things they believe simply because they always have. That’s not really a good enough reason though, is it? You owe it to yourself to know why you live the life you do.

That’s why I don’t proselytise or wave anti-Jehovah’s Witness literature in your face. I’m not going to do your homework for you. There’s no point. You wouldn’t read anything like that, coming from someone like me. Besides, we live in the “information age”. If you want to learn the truth, it’s not hard to do so.

I will give you a head start. Your primary concern should be whether what you believe in is true. For that reason, I cannot stress enough, that history is where you should look. Any organisation that pertains to have God’s favour must have a solid historical basis for such a claim.

Let’s pretend that you were interested in becoming a Muslim. I know, I know … that’s a silly idea! You’re a steadfast Jehovah’s Witness, but just stay with me for a moment. Pretend you were considering the Muslim faith. Where would you start? Would you be most interested in their practices today? Of course not! That can be said for secular organisations, but not for religion. When it comes to religion what matters is whether or not it’s true. So where to start? History. Did God speak with the profit Mohamed, or not? It’s a “yes or no” question. You must examine the past to determine your future.

How much do you really know about the history of the Watchtower? Sure, you vaguely remember the names of a few of the presidents. You may have an inkling of Beth Sarim … but is that really enough? Don’t you owe yourself a little more detail than that?

 

  1. Try not to bleed

Look after your health as though the world wasn’t coming to an end, just around the corner. This is a point of pure concern for your well-being. I never paid particular attention to my health as a teenager because I didn’t honestly think I would age another year or two before the end came. Now I’m thirty-one years old. One day, I’ll be sixty and hopefully much older. You may age as well, but you might not have as many medical options as me.

Take care of yourself and try not to bleed. Your faith won’t allow you to replace the blood you lose. Also, when you abide to point three, you will learn that at times the Governing Body has forbidden organ transplants, but I won’t go into that, as that’s for you to investigate.

The point is, take care of yourself. You never know what medical options will be available to you at any given time. This life is precious.

 

  1. Save some money for yourself

It is not selfish to do this. I attended the same meetings as you. I remember the example, time and again, of the old woman putting two coins of little value into the contribution box. She was praised for having given more than the wealthy man because she’d given everything she had. You remember those talks, right? You can be honest, it’s just you and me and we both know it’s true.

Save some money for yourself. I know, I know, the end is just around the corner. What use is it building up wealth on Earth when you should be building it up in “the Kingdom”, am I right?

Save some money for yourself. In 1914, millions then living thought they would never die. Prior to 1975 (for reasons you can investigate at your leisure), countless brothers and sisters sold their homes and took out bank loans they couldn’t possibly repay so that they could spend their final years in this system in the preaching work. That’s great. That’s admirable. They scrounged up the metaphorical two coins of little value and put them into the metaphorical contribution box.

You mustn’t live this way. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Maybe, just maybe, the end isn’t so close as you think. It’s conceivable, right? It’s even conceivable without breaking any Watchtower rules. All you have to do is acknowledge how long your religion has been around: well over a hundred years, right? For that entire time, you’ve been preaching that the end is imminent, right? Well, if it’s been imminent for a hundred years, it could conceivably be imminent for another hundred years, right? Who really knows what “imminence” means to Jehovah?

I know, I know, you’ve got to contribute something. I’m not telling you not to. You’re a steadfast Jehovah’s Witness and nothing is going to shake your faith. Fine, I’m cool with that. But maybe, just maybe, you’re going to get so old that you won’t be able to work. You’re going to have to feed and house yourself somehow and guess what, Watchtower’s not going to contribute back to you. Their funding is a one-way street from your pocket to theirs. If you get too old, you’re on your own.

Save some money for yourself. Be practical. Get real. Plan for a future that just might come, after all.

 

  1. Do not trust other Jehovah’s Witnesses completely

This is a tricky one to negotiate without going into matters you’re probably unwilling to hear, but I’ll try.

The congregation is a spiritual paradise, right? Well, not always. Think about it this way. You think apostates are wicked. Let’s run with that. Well, before they were outed as apostates, these people were in congregations just like yours. That means “wicked people” can exist, however briefly, within the congregation.

Other kinds of wicked people exist in the congregation as well. I’ll demonstrate with an example from my own life, rather than using second or third-hand accounts.

When I was in my early teens I had a best friend, also a Jehovah’s Witness (naturally). I often slept over his house. I found out years later that he’d been molesting his cousins and younger brother. He had likewise been molested. Wickedness existed in my congregation.

You wouldn’t trust “worldly people” with the care of your children beyond your supervision. I know, I know, you naturally trust Witnesses a hell of a lot more than “worldly people”, but I’m asking you not to trust them completely. The congregation isn’t always quite so clean as you think.

 

  1. Don’t be cruel

I get it. You have to shun or “limit association” with ex-Witnesses and non-Witnesses. Just don’t be cruel about it. If your loved one leaves your religion, don’t sling insulting terms at them when they reach out to you. They’re only following the natural instinct to engage with someone they care about. Remember, they have every bit as much right to—and as little control over—believe in whatever they do, as you.

I know you’re not supposed to share a meal, but refusing even to acknowledge them is just cruel. Keep the conversation brief if you must. Remind them that you cannot have a relationship with them because of some arbitrary beliefs, but don’t ever let them walk away thinking you’ve stopped loving them. Don’t hassle them with your literature. Many of us have read it all our lives. We know what’s in there. We know what it’s about. We don’t magically forget once we leave. Hassling ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses to return to your way of thinking is about as useful as ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses hassling you, the steadfast Jehovah’s Witness, to read apostate literature. It’s not going happen.

So, if you cannot talk about doctrine, what can you do? Don’t be cruel. Tell your disbelieving loved one that you do in fact love them. Tell them that because of the way a handful of admittedly imperfect, fallible men in Warwick in the United States of America have interpreted the scriptures, you cannot speak to them. Admit that it’s not your interpretation, nor do you necessarily understand it. Remind your loved one that you know they haven’t turned to sin, that they just don’t believe in a few things that have absolutely no biblical backing. Tell them that you’re just in so deep with your religion that you are willing to suppress all natural affection to obey the interpretations of men.

Just remind your disbelieving loved one that you love them and that if the men at Bethel ever change their minds about shunning, you too will immediately change your mind about it thereby proving that it was never your personal belief to begin with. When that day comes, let your loved one know that you will associate with them freely, but if the Governing Body changes its mind again, and reintroduces shunning, then you’ll change your mind back. But if they change it yet again, you’ll embrace your loved one again. Then if they change it back again … oh, you get the point! You’re a mindless puppet. Just try not to be cruel to the ones you love and let them know that you do in fact love them, in whichever limited fashion you’re allowed. Because, after all, you’ll do as you’re told.

 

  1. Keep something of yourself for yourself

You are a steadfast Jehovah’s Witness. You give all of yourself to Jehovah. Well … I’d suggest that you exercise some caution in doing this. Keep something of yourself for yourself. Nurture a hobby, not related to your faith. Find a passion for something you enjoy, not related to your religion. Find something that makes you, you.

Please do this. Keep something of yourself for yourself. Because if you don’t, when you wake up, and yes, eventually you will wake up, you will have nothing left. There will be nothing left of you.

Shepherds of the Flock

Shepherds of the Flock

I’ve realised that what first triggered me along the path of awakening. It was the attitudes of the elders toward me. They’d always treated me well, until my late teens when I became a “troubled youth”. This was when I truly became disillusioned with the organisation. I’d expected that in such circumstances, the elders would gather around, take a personal interest, try to reach this wayward sheep. No sir! They removed my “privileges” without reason, treated me with contempt and told my friends to avoid me. At the very time I needed them most, they abandoned me.

And I hadn’t done anything against the rules. I was just “troubled”, as brooding teens may be.

I’m not saying that I expected a pity-party, but I had issues, and I’d been led to believe that these men were responsible of taking care of such people. Many have been advised not to seek professional help; instead to rely on “Jehovah’s arrangement”.

Nobody cared. That was a hard life lesson, but one learned well.

I went off on my own, sorted myself out, discovered a love of life, but I’d lost all respect for the elders. When I finally did break the rules, these would be the last people I’d turn to. If they treated me with such ill-regard when I was a sheep who’d wandered a little off the road, how much less would they care to shepherd when I approached them a little battered?

These were not men who forsook the flock to search for the precious, lost sheep Jesus spoke of in Luke 15. These men watched the animal wander astray, turning their attention back to the flock to ensure none followed. These men watched the sheep slipping away and scorned it for daring step out on its own. Should it ever return, they wouldn’t welcome it back like the prodigal son, but would make sure it suffered further still.

Should that little sheep ever find his way back, wishing only to gather among his family for love and warmth, these shepherds would sneer at his bruises and blood-caked fleece. They would nudge him to the back of the flock, to walk behind the others so that no one could pay him any attention. The little sheep would limp after the others for months and years without medical attention, constantly fearful, the most likely to be picked off by wolves. Should he survive through tenacity alone, become healthy again despite being ignored by the ones he holds most dear, then maybe, just maybe, he would be allowed back into the flock. But he’d be made to suffer well.

The little sheep would go through his life, never quite treated the same. He’d be regarded with suspicion from the flock and the shepherds alike. Eventually he would wander away to fend for himself in the fields, to be beaten and bruised, if only to escape those who disparaged him. Again, the shepherds wouldn’t trouble themselves to stop him. The flock would jeer and mock the tainted sheep. They would nudge each other and say, ‘See, the dog who goes back to its vomit? He was never to be trusted. We always knew he was no good.’

Throughout the years that followed, the shepherds would occasionally go out into the field, seek out the little sheep where he hid in caves, shaking, black with mud and blood and abandonment. They would make a show of welcoming him back, but the invitation was never true. He would be welcomed back, but only to walk behind the others, as they whispered, kicking dirt up in his face.

He’d prefer to take his chances alone.

Sheep and Goat.jpg
Yes, I saw how the elders treated wayward sheep and it had no representation in Luke 15. If you’ve wandered once, even dared to place a single hoof off the trail, you will never see freedom from the shepherds’ persecution and suspicion. You are tainted.

This little sheep will find his

love among the goats.

Calum

Ex-JWs: We Are Fish

Many Jehovah’s Witnesses cannot understand the angst of ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses. They can’t understand the anger, the malcontent, the outrage at the way we’ve been treated. Many, current Jehovah’s Witnesses perceive ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses as liars, over-exaggerators, and monsters.

Why?

Why is it that we, as ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses, can have such an entirely different perspective on our experiences with the religion than those currently living it? How can we say it was horrible, whilst they say that it is the most wonderful way to live? I believe that it’s because the greatest damage is done, or at least noticed when you l ve.

We are fish.

We are fish with hooks in our brains.

Some fish swim about their lives, eating morsels, when one day a hook sinks deep into their brain. Other fish have a hook in their brain the second they’re free from their egg, a hook brought into them by their parents; already hooked.

The fisherman is a silly old bastard, half drunk and sleepy in the afternoon sun. He doesn’t always know when he has a fish on the line. So, the fish go about their days with hooks in their brains. They’re quite unlike the other fish, who look at them suspiciously—with great shining rods sticking up out of their heads—but, for the most part, they feel as though their lives are somewhat ordinary.

You are a Jehovah’s Witness, with hooks in your brain. You swim about your day. You eat like the other fish. You sleep like the other fish. You defecate like the other fish. But you have hooks in your brain. You just don’t know it.

The true damage of being a Jehovah’s Witness is when one day you wake up, or at least, the fisherman does. He yanks hard on the rod and you are reeled in. Chunks of your brain are torn out as your flesh splits and scales spiral into the grey sea. Your family scatters, hooks in their brains, praying that they aren’t too, reeled in.

On your journey to the surface, you are waking up. It’s not something you can control or undo. Oh, how much easier it would be if you could have just kept on swimming with hooks in your brain. You’d never be free, but you could have functioned. You would have appeared slightly odd to the un-hooked fish, but you’d have felt normal.

But now . . .  Oh, now the real damage is done.

Everything you thought you knew is torn out. Chunks of your brain go missing. Your school of family and friends; lost. Yes, a great deal of damage was done when you were a fish with a hook in your brain, but you only truly appreciate it when you’re torn to the surface; when you wake up.

That’s why ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses see so much more than current Jehovah’s Witnesses, because the true horror of what has occurred is amplified exponentially when the hooks are torn out.

The fisherman only fishes for sport, so he throws you back. Your face is haggard, your head is half collapsed. The fish with hooks won’t come anywhere near you, repulsed by your appearance and fearful of a shared fate. The free fish stare at you in wonder and bewilderment, wondering how you ever allowed yourself to become hooked in the first place. You hide away.

You hide under rocks.

Your head is half collapsed. You wonder how you will ever be a normal fish, whilst knowing that you never will.

You hide under rocks. Occasionally, you glimpse out your disfigurement to the black sea, hoping for your father, praying for your mother; a friendly face . . . anyone? But you have been discarded, your deformities too great for the ones you hold most dear to lay eyes upon you. They know the rock beneath which you hide, but have already decided you’re dead. They blame you for the damage the hook did, the hook they guided you toward to begin with. They condemn you for the calamity you remind them could be theirs, should they ever wake up the fisherman.

But.

Yes . . . but, you smile.

Although you hide beneath rocks and swim in deep shadow, you smile. For you are free.

Suicide Salve

I sat on my bedroom floor. It was dark, but for candles flickering: dancing shadows, praying demons.

My special knife sat before me, its blade painted red. I’d made it that way. I coloured it with my special brand of human paint. My arms–hidden always from the family outside, laughing at whatever stupid program was now on TV–bore scabs and scars and fresh lines that oozed red atop clear plasma. Bundles of toilet paper surrounded me. I used it to keep the blood off the carpet. I couldn’t leave a sign. On this occasion, I did it more out of habit, really, as it was no longer a necessity. After tonight I wouldn’t exist, so why did it matter if I painted the carpet too?

Nobody wondered what I was doing in the pitch gloom of my room, the sorrow of existence. Recent months had rendered me a shadow. Before me: two boxes of painkillers. They would be my mechanism, my suicide salve. They would send me into that horror sleep, the one through which I’d reach the other side and be granted all the answers. Whatever was next, I was ready to embrace it. I was done with this world. I was done with this place.

I would wake up in heaven, or hell, or a paradise Earth (I hoped). Or I would never wake at all. I didn’t really believe that that would be the case though, so why not push on to the next world? I’d gotten everything I was going to from this one.

I opened the boxes of painkillers and popped every last pill out of its blister-seal. But I wasn’t ready yet. My eyes slid, shifting their focus. I needed more. I needed the rush to help me do this.

The knife was in my hand before I could stop it. Cold steel bit into my flesh. Shivers of pain . . . and pleasure. It’d used the damn thing so much that it had somewhat blunted. These days, it wasn’t enough to slide it across my flesh, but I had to kind of shake and wiggle it side to side as I went. This made it more painful, but that was okay with me.

I checked the wound, parted it hard with my fingers, looking to see if I’d gone deep enough. It was important not just to break the skin, but also the weird white layer of stuff beneath it. It was a testament to my accomplishment. I was about to run the blade back across the fresh wound as I was accustomed, but something bumped outside and I jumped in nervous fright. It was now or never.

I scooped up a handful of pills, threw them into my dry mouth, raised a glass of water and swallowed hard. My eyes watered and I gagged, but I managed another handful. A couple more and I’d gotten most of them. A few rolled beneath my bedside table, but that was okay. You were only supposed to take two of these every two to four hours. Surely, I’d taken enough.

I laid there listening to my breathing. I rested my head back against the bed and then made a few new cuts. I lay back again wondering how many thoughts I had left. But more than anything I wondered, how had it come to this?

Now I laugh at that naïve little boy with his puny concerns. It was beyond his wildest imaginings to dream up the creature he would inevitably become.

A Brief Review of my Parents

I don’t know why it was me. To this day, it’s still a point of contemplation. I endured no more or less of the indoctrination every single living relative I have was subjected to. So why is it that I alone woke up? Why me?

I don’t regret it. How could I? Of course, I lost my entire family and everyone who ever mattered to me. That’s the way it goes. It’s kind of like living your entire life in a sewer and then someone shows you that there’s a better way up top. You try telling your family to join you in the sunlight, but they refuse to believe you and keep hiding in the dark. You have no choice but to leave without them. They don’t trust you anymore. They won’t speak to you. They call you a liar and wallow in the perceived safety of their filth. So, you go alone. That’s how shunning works. Still … I regret nothing.

My father may as well have been a born-in, as he was only two years old when his parents became Jehovah’s Witnesses. It’s the only life he’s ever known, so I’m not sure how accountable he should be held for staying stuck. No more or less than of the born-ins. Mind you, I too, was born-in … so.

Father was an authoritative disciplinarian. That’s the only role I remember him playing. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that he was never in good humour. I’m just saying that whenever he was, it was tenaciously balanced.

‘While you live under my roof, you follow my rules,’ was one of his go-to expressions.

I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish with such rigidity. It doesn’t exactly open up the discourse. He never learned the motivation behind any “misbehaviour” his children had engaged in. The only purpose it served was to encourage me to bite my tongue and bide my time. I would wait. The day would come when I would be able to support myself. Then I wouldn’t be “under his roof”, and I would do as I pleased. That doesn’t seem like a sensible approach to parenting. Surely, you don’t simply wish to postpone undesirable behaviour, but rather, to change it. Of course, my parents never expected me to reach adulthood in this world. By the time I was an adult, we would be living on a paradise Earth.

Unlike Father, my mother was a fountain of warmth and love. I loved her dreadfully. “Loved” … I must apologise to my readers. When you’ve been shunned as long as I have, people who mean the world to you become subjects of past tense. I love my mother, I suppose. It just seems a strange thing to say; foreign. I don’t know her anymore.

An Introduction to Me

I’m using a fake name [No I’m not, I now go by my real name, Cael]. It’s the name I’ve used in secret times of my life. It’s the name I was almost called by my parents. I’m not so naïve as to think that people won’t start to figure out who I am eventually [They did, much more quickly than I anticipated]. When it happens, I’ll deal with it. But this story needs to be told [And so I’m still telling it, as my true self, Cael].

I’m an ex-Jehovah’s Witness. What does that mean? It means that my entire family and social network, developed from birth until I was about nineteen, are shunning me. I’ve not heard my mother’s voice in over ten years.

I’m alone. Well … when you’ve got no one to turn to and shit goes wrong, you’re left in a situation where you’ve got to make some pretty dusty choices. Nothing gets given to you. You’ve got to fight for your place in the world. That, or lay down and die. I’ve never been one for dying.

So here I am. Here, I will write my darkest truth; words written, never spoken.

How did I fall from grace? God, it sounds pretentious, written out like that. It’s not something that happens by accident. Still, the question needs to be asked. How did I, Calum [Cael], go from being a polished Jehovah’s Witness to … to whatever the hell I am now?

I suppose we should start at the beginning. Come with me, back to the life of a Jehovah’s Witness boy. Let’s learn how a child of innocence, became a monster.

This is my story.