A guilt driven life
So we move around for my first five years, but it’s ok, we have this wonderful worldwide family right? We live in 4 states before I start kindergarten following my dad’s jobs. I had an imaginary friend, her name was Cherry and I think that made the moves easier. Between her and my brother at least there was someone to play with, even though my brother and I didn’t like each other all the time. When we moved to the town I would call home for the next 30 years, I left Cherry living in her tree in Tennessee. I’m not sure why, but I can tell you that this promise of this big family was already ringing hollow. To make matters worse, you aren’t allowed to play with the “worldly” kids from your neighborhood. Forbidden fruit, I wanted to play with those kids so bad, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
I did have a few long term friends in Tennessee, a couple I still keep in touch with. My mom was friends with some people who were also Jehovah’s Witnesses and they had kids, these of course became my friends. Along with one of these friends came my first struggle with my faith. Most Jehovah’s Witnesses would probably say I never had faith, I disagree, I don’t think asking questions constitutes lack of faith. Especially when an answer could strengthen your faith. One of my mom’s friends had a little girl named Tiffany, a little younger than me, but we became quick best friends. I looked forward to going to the Kingdom Hall to see her and even better when we could go to her house and play. We enjoyed all the regular little girl things, I still remember our last sleepover like it was last week, the sounds, the toys, all the details. We didn’t live too close, so we didn’t get to play together all the time, but we went to meetings at the Kingdom Hall three times a week, so I got to see her alot. Then we moved, I was heartbroken. Now for the struggle, Tiffany got sick, terminally ill. Cancer, leukemia, I don’t remember. Her parents did what they could to save her and I remember the stigma associated with them. They showed their lack of faith by turning to man and medicines God didn’t approve of to try and save their baby. Can you imagine? All it would take is a blood transfusion to save your baby, but you can’t because of your religion, wouldn’t want to make God angry. Of course, this was more serious, but I’m glad they did whatever it took to try and save her, as a parent I’d rather live with that guilt than live with the guilt I didn’t do everything I could to save my child. Even back then, had I been in charge, I’d have done anything, God approved or not. I didn’t want to see her again in Paradise on Earth, I wanted her to still be here now. God knew what I was thinking and he was at least disappointed in me, if not angry with me. I carried that guilt for a long time, selfish little girl that I was.
Kids say silly things, I was guilty of that too. I remember one day I was sitting on the couch and it was raining. I said maybe God was peeing. Stupid? Sure. I got in trouble, what a horrible thing to say, I guess God was above peeing. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.
When I was five I spent the night at another Jehovah’s Witness girls house with some other little girls. It was Friday night, so of course the next morning we had to get up early and go “out in service”(knocking on doors preaching to people). This was the routine every Saturday, no cartoons, no sleeping in. Up and at it, out the door in your dress, tights and uncomfortable shoes to go waking people up on Saturday morning. I usually just went along as window dressing, but this day my friends mom was determined I was going to talk. She prepped me on a little speech and shoved me out of the van. So here I go up to the door, knock lightly and then start to pray. Sounds good right? Except I’m praying they won’t come to the door, praying I don’t wake them up, praying they won’t be naked (I’ve heard the adults talking) and trying to breath. More guilt to add to my list. I quit praying for people to not come to the door eventually, but I never quit hoping.
I was going to end there, but I decided to share more guilt. Like the time my neighbor, of course he was a Jehovah’s Witness and I were reenacting a scene from a movie we had seen the night before, there was some kissing and naughty stuff, we didn’t actually touch each other at all, we were little kids, I was 7 or 8 and he was younger and it was just something to do. I remember my mom calling me in, I knew she had seen through the window, but I don’t remember if she even said anything. She didn’t need to, I knew already I was imitating a “worldly” movie I shouldn’t have watched, much less incorporated into playing and the guilt was already growing.
Those strong moral principles are not in themselves wrong. No sex before marriage, although I don’t agree with it, I know many still do. It works for some people. There are extremes though, these principles were so ingrained in me from such a young age that my Barbie’s had to get married before they could sleep in the same bed. How could that lead to guilt? I would get a new Barbie and of course the best Barbie and Ken had to be married. So now my Barbie’s have to get divorced and one of them has to cheat so the other can get remarried and be happy. This is what I’ve learned happens at the Kingdom Hall and the cheater gets shunned. Crazy huh? But my principles even have to govern my imaginary play, I can’t violate God’s rules even while playing, but I do it anyway, but I feel guilty about it. What if this is the wrong that gets me destroyed at Armageddon? Any of these could. Maybe I took it to literally, but I’m sure I’m not the only one. I think of my own little girl and how impressionable she is and I see how any kid could reason the way I did. I got in trouble for reenacting a scene in a movie, so obviously even my Barbie’s would be held to the same high moral standard. I even had them go to meetings. I disfellowshipped one once, but that was not a fun way to play, so my Barbie’s morals just weren’t that stellar.
