Micki: Real Life is Better—My Journey Out of the Jehovah's Witnesses

2020 was the year I realized I had spent most of my life in a doomsday cult. A perfect storm of events propelled me into researching my religion: a breakup, the pandemic, conspiracy theories, and job loss. One day, while on Reddit debunking QAnon conspiracy theories that my aunt was sending me, I stumbled upon r/exjw. Fear and curiosity bubbled inside me. Before I knew it, I had clicked into the subreddit, devouring personal stories, YouTube links, and resources like JWFacts.com. I was now deep into "apostate material," and the only way out was through.

Over the course of a weekend, I knew without a doubt that I had been part of a man-made cult. It felt like being told your entire life that the sky was pink when you could clearly see it was blue—and finally feeling validation: Yes! The sky is blue! I had been lied to. Discovering the white supremacist beliefs in the early literature, the leader who wrote approvingly to Hitler, the cover-ups of child sexual abuse, the devastating "two-witness rule" (which I personally experienced), and the pervasive misogyny and homophobia that never sat well with me was eye-opening.

Between October 2020 and February 2021, I attempted to quietly fade from the religion. I connected with other former Jehovah’s Witnesses, started a new job in my dream career, and began educating myself extensively on cults, propaganda, and coercive control. By February, it became clear that the friends I desperately wanted to keep had already noticed my absence from meetings and preaching activities. They began subtly shunning me. I realized these relationships had always been conditional—they cared only for the JW version of me.

After being uninvited from a close friend's engagement party, I publicly announced on social media that I no longer wanted to be part of this religion, preferring to live authentically and kindly. I expressed love for my friends and promised I would always be there for them. That night, I received some of the most hurtful and manipulative messages I've ever experienced. Instantly, I lost everyone I knew.

My journey into Jehovah’s Witnesses began in childhood. My mother was converted through door-to-door witnessing when I was five, and by age seven, I was studying the "Learn From The Great Teacher" book with a "sister" from our congregation, while my younger brother studied with a "brother." My parents divorced when I was three, and my father wasn't part of my life. My mother remarried when I was around seven; my stepdad never became a Witness. Growing up, my mother was verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive, and the Kingdom Hall became my escape, the one place she couldn’t harm me. I became the epitome of the religious "good girl," but nothing was ever good enough at home or at the Hall, a damaging belief I still grapple with today.

My mother was baptized when I was fifteen, and I followed at nineteen after multiple unsuccessful attempts—never previously deemed "good enough." From age nineteen to thirty-five, I lived as a devout, baptized Witness. My mother soon became inactive, which I used as an excuse to distance myself. Due to the competitive environment fostered at home, my brother and I had a strained relationship, though we've since partially reconciled.

For years, I threw myself into the religion—meetings, assemblies, conventions, preaching, socializing exclusively with JWs. Women were taught to see themselves as lesser, discouraged from attending university. From seventeen to thirty-three, I worked in a supermarket before moving to a JW-owned carpet cleaning company, always struggling financially and trapped without realizing it.

In my early twenties, I was groomed and sexually assaulted by a "pioneer," the son of an "elder." I internalized blame, and when I sought help from congregation elders, they told me I should have fled, invalidating my freeze response. Without a willing "second witness," despite another friend witnessing the act, he faced no consequences.

I didn't have my first boyfriend until I was thirty-three, hoping marriage would allow me to work part-time and pioneer, a typical aspiration for JW women. After dating for two years, we broke up in February 2020, just before New Zealand's April lockdown. Living alone amplified my isolation, intensified further when I lost my job in July. With newfound free time, I began debunking my aunt's COVID conspiracies, leading me directly to the ex-JW community online.

I reconnected with another aunt, who became my confidante and supporter as I transitioned into the real world. After unofficially leaving the Witnesses in February 2021, I actively sought new friendships through Bumble BFF, meeting amazing women who helped me navigate life and supported me through the unfamiliar territory of dating and experiencing sex for the first time at thirty-seven—a surprisingly normal and joyful aspect of life.

Since leaving the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I've embraced life fully. I've made and sold art, openly identified as bisexual, pursued my passion for working with dogs, moved to London, started traveling, and engaged in online activism. While Witnesses claim theirs is the "Best Life Ever," I proudly counter: Real Life Is Better!