Jehovah’s Witnesses promised me they could offer the best life ever.
A life where every question had an answer. Every pain had a purpose. Every flaw had a fix.
They told me that if I stayed faithful, followed the rules, suppressed my doubts, and endured the shame, I’d be rewarded with paradise, with peace, with love.
And I believed them. Because I was already carrying the weight of not being enough. I thought obedience could earn me love. That being good could make me worthy. I wasn’t born into the religion, but I was born into the conditions that made it feel like salvation.
What they offered felt familiar: conditional love dressed as truth.
A place to belong… as long as I didn’t become too much.
So I tried. I gave them my voice, my body, my mind, and the years I’ll never get back. I submitted. I silenced myself. I followed the rules.
And still, it was never enough.
This book is not just about leaving Jehovah’s Witnesses.
It’s about untangling the lie that love must be earned.
It’s about the painful, beautiful, messy process of learning how to belong to myself.
They promised me the best life ever.
But what I found was something they couldn’t offer.
I found the best life after.
