Happy Jehovah-versary, Apostate.

I'm approaching my one year anniversary of starting this rambling blog.

This past year has brought some wonderful recovery into my life, not the least of which has been a delightful journey into the world of apostasy. That sounds dreadfully worse than it actually is, at least in the eyes/ears of a devout Witness of Jehovah singing praises in the Hall of Kingdoms about millions of people dying at Armageddon, up to and including innocent children whose only crime was being born to a "worldly" person who preferred to go back to his/her DVR marathon of "Dancing With the Stars" rather than listen to the Witness on their doorstep talk about, well, anyway you get the idea. I mean, my to-do list has things like "buy groceries, clean the kitchen, call someone" on it. To hear it from a Witness, an apostate's to-do list goes something like this: "buy heroin, burn down an orphanage, call Satan and wish him a happy birthday while saluting the flag, cursing God and dancing naked on a ouija board."

Of course, any good apostate has to have things to keep him or her entertained and on the road to recovery.

I've started preaching my own good news of the kingdom on places like Yahoo Answers where I share insightful glimpses into the Witness perspective on ever-brightening (changing) lighting and what to buy for that special Witness in your life who shares cubicle space with you at work when the holidays roll around.

I've attended a convention and blogged about it, albeit for a brief amount of time; read books on recovery from cults; corresponded with people who are leading the charge out of the Witness prison; cried, yes cried some, when Raymond Franz passed away earlier this year (honestly, it was like losing a beloved uncle); joined forums; researched the true history of the Jehovah's Witnesses; visited other churches (jury's still out on that...); bought a lot of Smurf stuff at Target-- the list could continue.

But most importantly, I fired Jehovah, the god of wrath who devours blind obedience and fear from his followers the way that fat kid drank out of the river in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

I'd like to think that I sat in a darkened boardroom and brought in a panel of gods. I would sit in a tall, leatherback chair with my fabulous silk tie and tailored suit, gold cufflinks and sexy combover. And while Vishnu, Poseidon, Ganesha, Allah, Buddha and an atheist fought it out, throwing each other under the bus as it were (I hate that saying by the way. I've changed "throwing someone under the bus" into "hitting them in the head with a waffle iron" because it just sounds better. So don't ever say "You threw me under the bus, Sinner." I prefer "You hit me in the head with a waffle iron, Apostate."), I'd put an end to it all, look at Jehovah and say "Ya fi-uhed."

It didn't quite go down like that, though. It was more gradual. That mean old geezer in the sky was replaced by something that to this day I don't understand but that I know is much more than could ever fit in the tiny little box the crazy Witnesses have constructed for it/him/us to live in for eternity.



"You see, you're fine just as you are. It isn't up to us to judge you."



Is God that grandfatherly figure in the sky? A formless blob of love? Universal consciousness? Or simply nothing at all?

I DON'T KNOW. And I'm okay with that today. And I refuse to believe that the Witnesses have figured it all out. If it were that easy to figure out, all meaning would probably disappear from life anyway. Being a mischievous little imp-like thorn in the side of established religion, especially the Jehovah's Witnesses, has given me more meaning and purpose than all the years tallying up the number of hours I knocked on people's doors while a member of the Borg anyway.

Write a book? I probably never will.

Lead a march on the Brooklyn headquarters? No, not likely.

Moderate a forum? Someone has to do it, but that person's not me.

I'm where I wanted to be when this recovery process began: I'm simply okay just being me. The day I open up the front door and there stands a Witness who says, "You're okay just being you" then perhaps I'll reconsider hiring back Jehovah. Because if that ever happens, I'll know his recovery from the Witnesses has finally caught up to mine.