John Briggs: From Fear to Freedom: Escaping the Grip of Shunning and Addiction

I was born in 1966 and raised as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Some of my earliest memories as a child weren’t of play or joy—they were of fear. I remember my family saying things like, “Any day now,” “Not much longer,” and worse: “We’ll be standing there watching their eyes rot in their sockets and their tongues rot in their mouths… The birds and animals will eat their flesh so we don’t have to bury them.” I was five years old.

Fear wasn’t just present—it was the air I breathed, especially in those years leading up to 1975, when we were told the end of the world was imminent. Of course, 1975 came and went. Nothing happened—except for the unraveling of my family. My father had already left the religion, and my mother remarried a “worldly” man who was severely abusive, both physically and emotionally. Most of my childhood was stolen, not just by fear, but by violence and emotional isolation. That trauma followed me deep into adulthood.

In 1980, I turned 14 and started to rebel. By then, I was already labeled. One brother told me decades later that people in the congregation called me “rotten.” I didn’t see it at the time, but I was being quietly shunned. Parents wouldn’t let their kids hang out with me; I was the “bad influence.” So I did what many isolated kids do—I found acceptance elsewhere. The neighborhood kids welcomed me, and by 15, I was drinking heavily. By 16, I was publicly announced as “bad association” and shunned by nearly everyone I knew—except my mom.

I’ll never forget going to one final meeting, sitting there while no one even looked at me. I was a teenager, invisible in a room full of people I had known my whole life. That rejection poured gasoline on what would become decades of alcoholism and drug addiction. I lived in constant fear that Armageddon was coming and I would die. I believed in God—but I also believed He hated me. The guilt of not doing what I was taught was “right,” combined with my growing inability to cope sober, became unbearable.

There’s so much more I could say. In fact, I am writing a book because this story spans over 30 years of running scared. I found meth early on. Alcohol and other drugs numbed the pain, but meth seemed to erase it—or so I thought. The truth is, it only buried it, and every time I came down, the fear, guilt, and shame came roaring back. So I kept using. The spiral pulled me deeper—into crime, homelessness, and eventually, prison. I served three years.

In 2005, during my time inside, I reconnected with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I was released in August 2008, straight out of solitary confinement, where I had spent over eight months. Three days later, I met my wife at a book study. We got married less than five months later. But the next few years were hell for her. I would disappear for days at a time, still lost, still caught in the grip of addiction and trauma. But we held on.

I’ve now been clean for 12 years and am still married to that incredible woman. Both of us are fully awake—and fully out of the clutches of the organization. Today, I can honestly say I’m grateful I was labeled “bad association” all those years ago. Because if I hadn’t been pushed out, the indoctrination might’ve held on too deep, too long, and I might never have found the freedom, healing, and clarity I live in now.