Disfellowshipped: My Journey Out Of My Childhood Cult

I was raised as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. This is how I left the religion that ruled my life for 19 years.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon as I drove my ’88 Honda Civic toward the Kingdom Hall in North Hollywood, C.A. My radio was uncharacteristically turned off. At a stoplight, I gripped the steering wheel and placed my head on it as I waited for the light to change. I had no idea what to expect.

As I approached the Hall, I decided to park in the back. A different congregation was meeting but sometimes people from my congregation would catch that meeting, and God knows I had no energy to explain why I was there to any brothers or sisters that might know me. Thankfully, I didn’t recognize anyone as I waited outside.

In a few minutes, three elders of my congregation would arrive and guide me to the back room of the Hall. There, they would hear my confession, counsel me and, ultimately, decide whether or not they’d cut me off from the only community I’d ever known.

All I could do for now, though, was wait.

I was born out of wedlock and completely unplanned to a mother with her own demons and a father who already had a family of his own. My father left soon after my birth to…