Rachel Wade: The High Cost of Being Raised a Jehovah’s Witness

I was brought up as a Jehovah’s Witness (JW) from the age of six after my mum answered the front door to a Witness. She quickly got baptized [a formal initiation into the JW faith] after studying the Bible with them, believing she was doing the best thing to save our lives. A few years later, my father followed her into the religion. Before this, we celebrated birthdays and Christmas, and I have vague but happy memories of those times. Little did my mother know what the future held for us—a family left totally broken.

I attended meetings [religious services at Kingdom Halls] with my parents and my brother until around the time he turned 15. That’s when cracks began to form. Growing up, starting secondary school, and making new friends outside the religion created pressure. At 16, my brother left home after clashing with my parents about his choices. During a fight, my father threw him out of the house. Witnessing that devastation left me feeling like I had to "people please" constantly to keep peace.

School life as a Witness became increasingly difficult. I was severely bullied for sitting out of classes, assemblies, birthday celebrations, and any "pagan" practices [activities considered forbidden by JW beliefs]. I felt completely isolated. The only friends I had were those I knew from meetings. I grew up believing this was normal and that pleasing my parents was doing the right thing—until I turned 17. I met a boy outside the religion, fell in love, and left home and the faith.

After that relationship ended, I struggled to find myself and fell into addiction. Eventually, I realized I didn’t want that kind of life and returned to the Witnesses and my family around the age of 20. At that time, Channel 4 [a major TV network in the UK] was filming a documentary on our congregation and asked if I would participate. It was seen as a perfect "Prodigal Daughter" story, returning to the fold. For a year, I was followed and filmed, feeling the constant pressure to perform and say what others wanted to hear.

During that time, I reconnected with a young man I had known growing up. We quickly became involved, and within six months of my return, I was pushed into marriage—but first, I had to be baptized [only baptized Witnesses are permitted to marry within the faith]. Vulnerable and desperate for love and approval, I agreed. I truly believed I was making the right decisions, desperate to show my parents I could turn my life around—all while still under the gaze of the documentary cameras.

Once the filming ended, I was married to an Elder’s son. My life quickly descended into darkness. Over the next three years, I suffered sexual, financial, physical, and psychological abuse from my husband. The final year of our marriage, I begged the Elders, and both of our families, for help—but I was repeatedly told I must "be submissive" and stay with my husband, no matter the cost to my well-being.

I finally reached my breaking point and found the courage to leave, knowing it meant I would lose everything and everyone I knew. The Elders then conducted a witch-hunt to find grounds to disfellowship [expel and shun] me. They falsely accused me of having an affair and living with another man—who was actually my brother and a lodger. They disfellowshipped me for this. Meanwhile, I later discovered that my husband had been having an affair himself and wanted a divorce so he could remarry. For this, he received only a public reproof [a mild disciplinary announcement].

Since then, my parents have shunned me for over 25 years. Even at family funerals, they have not acknowledged me or my children—not so much as a hello. Over time, they have become complete strangers to me. I recently rewatched the documentary, having had it transferred to a USB drive because it is no longer available online. Watching it gives me chills. I do not even recognize myself. It helped me understand where much of my Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) stems from. Over the years, I have suffered from severe nightmares, anxiety, and a deep fear of authority figures.

I have had to work incredibly hard on myself—on my values, my self-worth, and learning to accept what happened to me. I have made peace with the past and use it to help shape my future. I am no longer an addict. I have spent years working in mental health services, supporting people in crisis management. Helping others gives me the strength to keep moving forward, true to myself instead of living to please others.

There is no denying that I missed out on the life I could have had with my parents. They still choose their faith over having a relationship with me and my children. That is extremely sad. But I have forgiven them. My heart stays true. I know now that the people they once were—the people I loved—are long gone. And I am finally free to live my own life.