When I stopped communicating with my mother a few years ago, I practically went into hiding. When it came to my personal beliefs, I had stopped considering myself a Jehovah's Witness by the latter part of 1996.
In August of that year, I took the last $600 I had in my bank account and purchased a one-way airline ticket from Phoenix, Arizona, to Las Vegas. It was my intention to indulge myself in all of the vices that I was forbidden to do as a Witness in the previous 21 years of my life, and when my money had run out, commit suicide. Within three hours of touching down at the airport, I had smoked, drank, and gambled for the first time in my life. An hour later, I lost my virginity.
Sufficed to say, I didn't commit suicide. The "wicked world" that I had suddenly found myself in wasn't so wicked after all. I encountered one stranger after another that offered their generosity to me. Four months later, I returned to live in my parents' home, but I never stepped foot into a Kingdom Hall again.
For the better part of the next ten years, I did the same thing I had done for the previous ten. I led a double life. Being out of the church gave me the freedom to live the life that I wanted, to some degree. But, in order to keep an ongoing relationship with my immediate family, my personal life was an unspoken agreement of "Don't Ask Don't Tell". I was never disfellowshipped from the congregation, and I did not submit a formal letter of disassociation. I just stopped showing up. As far as my mother's conscience was concerned, as long as she didn't know any details of my personal life, or of any of the "gross sins" I was committing, she wasn't obligated to cut off communication with me.
It's one thing to have to keep your private life a secret from the people that you work with. It's another to have to keep it from the people that are closest to you. What made it exceptionally hard for me was the fact that, for a number of years, my family were my coworkers. I was forced to act like I was still a "good Christian boy" practically 24/7. It finally became too much to handle.
I quit the family business, and speaking to my family, in January of 2006. When that happened, as I said, I pretty much went "off the grid". I changed all of my email addresses. I changed my phone number. I wanted to make sure that if I posted something online, it couldn't be traced back to me if my mom or my brother or sister was snooping around. For those of you that are reading this that are ex-JWs, I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from. Especially if you were raised in the organization, and grew up in the same area for a number of years, it seems like you're constantly looking over your shoulder for the first couple of years that you're out. Many times, you don't even realize that you're doing it. I've been out now for 15 years. I don't even think I would be recognizable to the people I grew up around, and I still catch myself scanning restaurants on the West side of Phoenix when I walk in.
When I had my little girl in 2008, I reached out to my mom. I wanted to give her a chance. We started communicating by email. Then by phone. She even came out to Phoenix to see my daughter when she was around 8 or 9 months old. Then her "conscience" kicked in. Keep in mind, nothing had changed between the time that we had stopped talking in '06 and when she came out in early '09. She started saying that she wasn't sure that she could trust me because of "what I've done". She also started to refer to me as an "apostate". She admitted that she had no knowledge of any derogatory things I was saying of the organization, and I told her that I had not spoken negatively about JWs or their doctrines. She said she believed me, but due to the fact that I was baptized as a Witness, and no longer believed in the church's teachings, that made me an "apostate".
She had a solution to her dilemma. She said that she no longer felt comfortable talking or associating with me, but she wanted to continue communication with my wife and my daughter. In fact, she asked if it was possible for me to send her some pictures of my little girl, she would appreciate it. Um...yeah, no. I tried to explain to her, and to this day she doesn't understand, that when it comes to my family, we don't come "a la carte". You either have to take us all, or you get none of us. You can't pick and choose how you can and can't keep. That's not the way my family works.
So, we stopped talking. I started this blog in September of 2009...anonymously. I didn't reveal any names or locations. I didn't give any specifics about myself or my family. I went into hiding again. This time, I hid behind my moniker. For the next year and a half, I was Twitch. It wasn't my name, it was one of my conditions. My picture across the internet became a stuffed Domo, with all of my daily medications spilled out in front of it. In fact, if you Google my name, you'll find my Domo before you find my actual picture. My mother thought I was an apostate before? Just imagine what she would have thought of The Daily Twitch.
In time, I found my confidence. I found my voice. I found the support of all of you out there on the net. I realize now that I don't have to hide anymore. Odds are, my mom has been reading my blog for months. If not, she knows who I am by now anyway. About six months ago, I sent her an email telling her about my PTSD diagnosis due to the child abuse I received from her and my dad. I also came out as bisexual. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for years. I have no secrets anymore. I have no reason to hide. So here I am.
My name is Adam Hall. I live in Mesa, Arizona, with my wonderful wife, Jessi, and my daughter Lennon. It's nice to finally meet you all. I still plan on writing under the name of Twitch. The name of the blog is The Daily Twitch, after all. I have made the decision, however, to not publish any photos of my daughter. Not only do I want to protect her from my mother and that crazy religion, but I also know how desperate my mother is to see her. I'm not blackmailing her by any means. I just believe that you cannot conveniently select which family members are worthy of your affection. It may be tough for her to swallow, but some lessons in life are.
In August of that year, I took the last $600 I had in my bank account and purchased a one-way airline ticket from Phoenix, Arizona, to Las Vegas. It was my intention to indulge myself in all of the vices that I was forbidden to do as a Witness in the previous 21 years of my life, and when my money had run out, commit suicide. Within three hours of touching down at the airport, I had smoked, drank, and gambled for the first time in my life. An hour later, I lost my virginity.
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| August 24, 1996 Room 1614 of the Las Vegas Hilton - Don't ask me how I remember the date and the room number of the hotel I lost my virginity in. I guess when you're looking forward to an event for so many years, you tend to remember some of the details. |
For the better part of the next ten years, I did the same thing I had done for the previous ten. I led a double life. Being out of the church gave me the freedom to live the life that I wanted, to some degree. But, in order to keep an ongoing relationship with my immediate family, my personal life was an unspoken agreement of "Don't Ask Don't Tell". I was never disfellowshipped from the congregation, and I did not submit a formal letter of disassociation. I just stopped showing up. As far as my mother's conscience was concerned, as long as she didn't know any details of my personal life, or of any of the "gross sins" I was committing, she wasn't obligated to cut off communication with me.
It's one thing to have to keep your private life a secret from the people that you work with. It's another to have to keep it from the people that are closest to you. What made it exceptionally hard for me was the fact that, for a number of years, my family were my coworkers. I was forced to act like I was still a "good Christian boy" practically 24/7. It finally became too much to handle.
I quit the family business, and speaking to my family, in January of 2006. When that happened, as I said, I pretty much went "off the grid". I changed all of my email addresses. I changed my phone number. I wanted to make sure that if I posted something online, it couldn't be traced back to me if my mom or my brother or sister was snooping around. For those of you that are reading this that are ex-JWs, I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from. Especially if you were raised in the organization, and grew up in the same area for a number of years, it seems like you're constantly looking over your shoulder for the first couple of years that you're out. Many times, you don't even realize that you're doing it. I've been out now for 15 years. I don't even think I would be recognizable to the people I grew up around, and I still catch myself scanning restaurants on the West side of Phoenix when I walk in.
When I had my little girl in 2008, I reached out to my mom. I wanted to give her a chance. We started communicating by email. Then by phone. She even came out to Phoenix to see my daughter when she was around 8 or 9 months old. Then her "conscience" kicked in. Keep in mind, nothing had changed between the time that we had stopped talking in '06 and when she came out in early '09. She started saying that she wasn't sure that she could trust me because of "what I've done". She also started to refer to me as an "apostate". She admitted that she had no knowledge of any derogatory things I was saying of the organization, and I told her that I had not spoken negatively about JWs or their doctrines. She said she believed me, but due to the fact that I was baptized as a Witness, and no longer believed in the church's teachings, that made me an "apostate".
She had a solution to her dilemma. She said that she no longer felt comfortable talking or associating with me, but she wanted to continue communication with my wife and my daughter. In fact, she asked if it was possible for me to send her some pictures of my little girl, she would appreciate it. Um...yeah, no. I tried to explain to her, and to this day she doesn't understand, that when it comes to my family, we don't come "a la carte". You either have to take us all, or you get none of us. You can't pick and choose how you can and can't keep. That's not the way my family works.
So, we stopped talking. I started this blog in September of 2009...anonymously. I didn't reveal any names or locations. I didn't give any specifics about myself or my family. I went into hiding again. This time, I hid behind my moniker. For the next year and a half, I was Twitch. It wasn't my name, it was one of my conditions. My picture across the internet became a stuffed Domo, with all of my daily medications spilled out in front of it. In fact, if you Google my name, you'll find my Domo before you find my actual picture. My mother thought I was an apostate before? Just imagine what she would have thought of The Daily Twitch.
In time, I found my confidence. I found my voice. I found the support of all of you out there on the net. I realize now that I don't have to hide anymore. Odds are, my mom has been reading my blog for months. If not, she knows who I am by now anyway. About six months ago, I sent her an email telling her about my PTSD diagnosis due to the child abuse I received from her and my dad. I also came out as bisexual. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for years. I have no secrets anymore. I have no reason to hide. So here I am.
My name is Adam Hall. I live in Mesa, Arizona, with my wonderful wife, Jessi, and my daughter Lennon. It's nice to finally meet you all. I still plan on writing under the name of Twitch. The name of the blog is The Daily Twitch, after all. I have made the decision, however, to not publish any photos of my daughter. Not only do I want to protect her from my mother and that crazy religion, but I also know how desperate my mother is to see her. I'm not blackmailing her by any means. I just believe that you cannot conveniently select which family members are worthy of your affection. It may be tough for her to swallow, but some lessons in life are.
