Anonymous Letter: From J

This letter was submitted anonymously on the "Share your story" portal.

For the better part of two years, I have been haunted by the ghosts of the living. These specters of the not-yet-departed brush past every so often, offering words of comfort and exhortations to join them again. I suppose to them, I am the ghost. I am the one who has faded past the periphery and turned my back on life; a husk that has atrophied and hollowed until no traces of the man I once was remain.

Like many here, I was born into this organization. My life goals, my world view, and my social circle were all shaped completely to serve their purposes. Whatever treasonous questions crept into my mind were quickly squashed and swept under the rug, and at the age of 16 I dedicated my life to them. From there I served as a regular pioneer for a number of years, and Ministerial Servant for nearly a decade and a half.

The doubts still existed, of course, although I was encouraged by a conversation with a circuit overseer in which I was told that “Doubt is a natural consequence of faith,” and that said doubts meant I had a thirst for the truth. Bolstered by this idea, I pressed on… but the rug that covered over my thought crimes no longer lay flatly on the floor. Gradually, those doubts built, until one day the rug simply couldn’t cover it all.

In the autumn of 2024, I was assigned my first public talk; dissecting and explaining the complicated mathematics behind the return of Christ in 1914. During my research on the Watchtower Library, I came across an old article that pointed out that historians, theologians, and other scholars all disagree with Jehovah’s Witnesses on the date of the sacking of Jerusalem by the Babylonians. Noticing the obvious discrepancies between fact and organizational “truth,” I vowed to reaffirm my faith. I set out to read the Bible from cover to cover, to set firm in my mind that we really had the Truth. I didn’t make it past Genesis before the rug that had strained to cover up those questions disintegrated. The nature of free will, the Great Flood, the treatment of women and slaves, these all burst out, and no amount of sweeping could gather them back up.

Then came January 23, 2025. I had been wading through the detritus of my former faith for months, alone. My spouse and I were sitting in a gas station parking lot after an uncomfortable visit with their family, and I said the most terrible eight words a Witness could hear: “I don’t know if we have the Truth.” They, of course, were shocked. I’d been an outwardly unquestioning, faithful servant of the congregation for years. To their credit, which I will eternally be grateful for, they simply listened. They listened to me break down and sob as I told them everything.

Three months later. Our relationship at that point had begun to feel strained, an ever widening chasm opening up between us as my spouse struggled to maintain not only their faith but their loyalty to me. They raised questions to the elders, posed as their own. Rather than receive answers, they were given excuses and distractions. Eventually, they likewise reached the conclusion that this was not God’s organization, that these men were stumbling around in the dark for the answers to life just as much as the rest of us.

Things are still uneasy. We live in a home owned by their Witness grandmother, and on occasion old friends will cross paths with us. But we do have hope. We have a plan.

My spouse came out as queer, and eventually we’ll be getting and amicable divorce so they can truly explore themself, once we can afford to do so. They will be able to be who they are for the first time ever, and I could not be prouder of their courage and determination.

Though we may not be fully out of the woods yet, I would like to finish by encouraging anyone reading this who may be scared, any Witnesses brave enough to peruse non-Watchtower approved sources: it gets better. It is a difficult journey, this waking up process, but it is so incredibly worth it. The outside world is not the place that you have been told it is. Yes, there is pain and heartache and loss. But there is also beauty, connection, and meaning. If this is your first step on the road to freedom, welcome. If you’ve been on this path for some time, keep up the fine fight. It will get better, I promise.