Sometimes the most powerful response to systematic abuse is to study the very mechanisms that enabled it.
When someone reaches out to share their story with me, I can usually sense the weight they carry before I even begin reading. But this particular account arrived with something I don’t often encounter: the measured precision of someone who has not only survived their trauma, but dissected it with scientific rigor. Someone who transformed their pain into a doctoral-level understanding of exactly how cults destroy lives—and more importantly, how survivors can reclaim them.
This person didn’t just escape the Jehovah’s Witness organization. They studied it. Testified against it before the Australian Royal Commission. Earned degrees in psychology and counseling. Researched the very coercive control tactics that were used against them. They turned their lived experience into a roadmap for understanding high-control groups, becoming both survivor and scholar in service of others still trapped in similar nightmares.
Their story spans decades: from a sick, anxious child trying desperately to be righteous enough to deserve love, to a confident researcher who can name every manipulation tactic the Governing Body employs. It’s a journey from silence to voice, from victim to advocate, from broken faith to hard-won wisdom.
This is their story, shared with permission and told with the honor it deserves.
The Weight of Righteousness
In 2012, when then-Prime Minister Julia Gillard announced the establishment of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, this person was living what appeared to be the model Jehovah’s Witness life. Married with two teenage daughters. Helping run a family plumbing business. Maintaining the exhausting schedule that every devoted Witness knows by heart: daily Bible study, three meetings per week, constant preaching about God’s Kingdom and the approaching Armageddon.
But beneath this veneer of spiritual prosperity, their body was telling a different story:
“I was dealing with anxiety, depression and bouts of panic attacks, alongside regular throat/chest infections.”
They consulted doctors for the physical symptoms and psychiatrists for the mental illness, but still believed the Watchtower’s promise that true healing came from Jehovah through prayer, Bible study, and approaching the Elders for guidance. When the Elders inevitably prescribed more prayer, more meetings, more service (essentially telling them to “throw myself on Jehovah”), it only added to their stress and deepened their sense of unworthiness.
What they didn’t understand then was that their body was carrying the weight of childhood trauma they had spent decades trying to forget. The announcement of the Royal Commission would change everything, triggering PTSD and unleashing a flood of intrusive memories and nightmares about an Elder from their childhood in Narrogin, Western Australia.
Memories of what had been done to them. And memories of how the organization had silenced them when they finally found the courage to speak.
The Art of Grooming
The abuse began when they were around twelve years old, introduced to an Elder’s family through his daughter at a Jehovah’s Witness gathering. What seemed like innocent friendship was actually the beginning of a carefully orchestrated grooming process that would span years.
“She seemed to want to be friends with me and I think our mothers arranged for us to stay at each other’s house. The first time I stayed at their house I was very surprised that everyone (including the parents) kissed each other on the lips when they said goodnight or goodbye, and they included me as though I was part of the family.”
Even as a child, they sensed something was wrong with this forced intimacy. But they also craved the feeling of belonging it offered, exactly the vulnerability the family was designed to exploit.
“Although it felt weird, I also liked the feeling of belonging. I look back now and realise that it is a form of grooming.”
The Governing Body’s publications actively encouraged these tactics: love-bombing, peer recruitment, using social events to build rapport, and specifically targeting the vulnerable. This wasn’t accidental; it was systematic preparation for abuse.
The grooming escalated through seemingly caring concern. When they developed a rash during one visit, the daughter insisted her mother examine it, then claimed they needed the Elder father to look because “he had done first aid.” Despite their protests and obvious discomfort, they were forced to lift their shirt for his inspection.
“I very forcefully said no, I didn’t want him to look at me, I was very embarrassed and afraid of him. She told me to put my underpants and singlet on and brought him into the bathroom. She told me to pull up my singlet, so he could look at my tummy.”
This violation was framed as medical necessity, concern for the unborn baby the mother was carrying. But looking back with adult understanding, they recognize it as boundary testing: seeing how much they could be pressured into compliance, how their “no” could be overridden by authority figures.
The fact that nobody thought to call their parents for permission reveals how completely children’s autonomy is erased within the organization. Children were trained to be obedient to Elders without question, their own instincts and boundaries systematically dismantled.
The Isolation Machine
Over the years, this child truly became part of the Elder’s family, but in the most devastating way possible. They grew distant from their own family, especially their non-Witness father, exactly as the organization intended.
“It breaks my heart to think how much time together my family and I lost because of this.”
When they tried to spend more Sundays with their beloved father—upset about an incident where the Elder put his tongue in their mouth during a “goodnight kiss”—the pressure from the Elder’s family and the manufactured fear of death at Armageddon was too strong to resist. They returned to the meetings.
This is how cults operate: they create artificial families that replace natural bonds, then use fear to maintain control. The threat of global destruction and promises of exclusive salvation kept this child trapped in an abusive situation, choosing spiritual “safety” over their own physical and emotional wellbeing.
The private meetings with the Elder became routine:
“Many times my friend told me her dad wanted to talk to me about things I had done wrong, and he always had the meeting with me without a chaperone. Never once did I consider whether I should have a chaperone or even if my parents had given their permission for these private meetings because I believed that I had to do as he said.”
They had been so thoroughly groomed to accept his authority that questioning his access to them never occurred. The cult norm of isolation from family and surveillance by peers created an environment where charismatic leaders could exploit their power with impunity.
The Escalation of Terror
What began as inappropriate touching escalated systematically over the years:
“The Elder kept up the tongue kissing and the abuse escalated over the years, including secretly watching me while I was in the shower, belting me, stalking me until I was about 19 when he digitally/orally raped me which scared me so much that I finally got enough courage to leave.”
The progression from grooming to violent sexual assault followed a predictable pattern, each violation testing and expanding the boundaries of what this child would endure. The organization that claimed to protect them had instead delivered them into the hands of a predator who used his religious authority as cover for increasingly serious crimes.
When they finally escaped at nineteen, they told no one for five years. The reasons for their silence reveal the sophisticated web of control the organization had woven around them:
“I really thought that no one would believe me over an Elder, and I believed that I would also get into trouble because of how he spoke about it being ‘our little secret’ and that he would have to tell the other Elder and my parents, and I was ashamed and afraid.”
The Elder had used classic abuser tactics: religious language to justify abuse, guilt trips, induced shame, and threats of exposure. The organization’s us-versus-them mentality and induced phobias about “worldly” authorities meant they felt they had nowhere safe to turn.
Even when they eventually told their fiancé something that made him question the situation, they quickly deflected and changed the subject. Part of them must have known that if their future husband learned the truth while the Elder was still alive, there might be violent consequences. Their silence protected not just themselves, but potentially others from the ripple effects of their trauma.
When Truth Becomes Persecution
When the truth finally came out years later, the organization’s response was predictably devastating. Instead of supporting a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, they allowed them to face their abuser and be intimidated in their own home:
“The way the Elder and the Circuit Overseer dealt with the issue was probably the best way they knew how, but to allow me to face my abuser and let him intimidate and interrogate me in my own home, when I had no critical thinking ability or understanding of legal information, or even an educated female support person to assist me, it was never going to end well for me.”
Think about this scene: a young adult survivor, with no understanding of abuse dynamics or legal rights, forced to confront their childhood rapist while being questioned by religious authorities more concerned with protecting the organization than supporting the victim. No advocate. No protection. No recognition that this “investigation” was itself a form of continued abuse.
The final insult came when they were asked not to tell anyone else “out of respect for the family”—the same family that had facilitated their abuse for years. This wasn’t about respect; it was about control. About ensuring their silence so the organization could maintain its facade of righteousness.
“These are tactics from the GB of controlling leadership, loss of personal autonomy, secrecy and deception, emotional and psychological manipulation.”
The trauma of being disbelieved and silenced by the very people who claimed to represent God’s justice took a devastating toll. They gradually became sicker and more anxious until they had a psychotic break at thirty-five, losing fifteen kilograms in two weeks because anxiety made eating impossible.
The Beginning of Real Healing
Crisis finally forced them to seek help from “worldly” professionals—the very people the organization had taught them to distrust. Initially, paranoia and fear made these conversations difficult:
“This was very difficult at first because of paranoia and lack of trust that these people were somehow going to persecute us if I revealed too much information.”
The organization’s doctrine of “Theocratic Warfare”—the belief that it was acceptable to withhold or distort truth to protect the organization—had trained them to view mental health professionals as potential enemies rather than helpers.
But slowly, they discovered something revolutionary: these professionals were actually open-minded, non-judgmental, and genuinely wanted to help. For someone who had been systematically failed by every authority figure in their religious life, this genuine care was transformative.
By 2013, they were studying counseling themselves, hoping to help their family and eventually others who had survived similar trauma. Education became their path to understanding what had been done to them, and more importantly, how to heal from it.
The Call to Justice
When Prime Minister Gillard announced the Royal Commission in 2013, they were studying a Watchtower book about Jehovah’s attributes of love, power, wisdom, and justice. The timing felt like divine intervention:
“We were up to the part of justice, and I started to ask myself, ‘hang on, if Jehovah is a god of justice, where is my justice?’”
For the first time, they began to question whether seeking earthly justice for childhood sexual abuse might actually align with God’s will rather than oppose it. This realization marked a crucial turning point: the beginning of their journey from passive victim to active advocate.
“I clearly remember seeing Julia Gillard on TV announcing the Royal Commission and I started thinking that maybe this is my chance for justice, so I started praying to Jehovah, asking if it was the right thing to do.”
Afraid to ask anyone in the congregation for guidance (knowing they would be discouraged from pursuing justice), they turned to prayer and scripture study. To their surprise, many passages actually supported the idea that God could work through earthly authorities to accomplish His purposes.
The organization’s response to their decision revealed everything about their true priorities:
“I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I applied and got accepted to the Royal Commission and gave my testimony in 2015.”
While they received amazing support from the Royal Commission’s counselors and lawyers, their religious community largely abandoned them. Friends told them they could no longer associate with them. Others ignored them or offered only grudging acknowledgment.
“The GB’s direction of so-called unconditional love was conditional after all, a tactic of emotional/spiritual control.”
Finding Truth in the Rubble
Testifying before the Royal Commission in 2015 was terrifying but transformative:
“Although I was nervous, I felt supported by Justice McClellan, Angus Stewart (Counsel Assisting) and all the lawyers and counsellors. Overall, feeling heard and being believed was the beginning of healing for me.”
For someone who had been silenced, disbelieved, and blamed for their own abuse, this validation was profound. But it came at the cost of everything they had been taught to value: community, family relationships, spiritual belonging.
“My whole family struggled for a while, our whole social and belief system had been turned on its head and we were all a bit lost, but at least we had each other.”
The aftermath was disorienting and painful. When your entire worldview crumbles, when everyone you trusted proves untrustworthy, when the foundation of your reality shifts, rebuilding requires extraordinary courage and patience.
They found support in unexpected places: ex-JW activists on YouTube who questioned each belief with alternative perspectives, Facebook support groups where they could share their experience and help others, fellow activists around the world who understood their journey.
“A couple of things that really helped me to make sense of the world was the ex-JW activists online with their Youtube chats that questioned each belief with alternative ideas and showing different ways of understanding scripture.”
But the psychological damage was extensive:
“This is because of the GB’s tactic of distrust of others and isolation causing cognitive dissonance, identity confusion, phobias, guilt and shame, difficulty reintegrating into society, low self-esteem and mental health challenges.”
Turning Pain into Purpose
Recognizing that change would only come through more ex-Witnesses speaking out, they found new purpose in education. At an age when many people are settling into established careers, they enrolled at Edith Cowan University to study Psychology.
The irony was profound: as a young person, they had been discouraged by the Elder who abused them from pursuing higher education, especially philosophical or scientific studies. The Watchtower publications warned against such pursuits, encouraging young people to focus on “serving Jehovah full-time” instead.
“When I was in school my Dad wanted me to go to university, but I was discouraged by the Elder who abused me and reminded that the Watchtower publications warned young ones not to pursue further education.”
Their abuser had stolen not just their innocence and safety, but their educational opportunities. Now, decades later, they were finally claiming the academic future he had tried to deny them.
There’s something profoundly rebellious about a cult survivor pursuing the very education their organization forbade. For someone who had spent decades being told what to think, what to believe, how to live every moment of their life, walking onto a university campus and engaging with critical thinking, scientific method, and philosophical inquiry feels like the ultimate act of reclaiming agency. After years of having their life controlled by others, choosing to learn, to question, to analyze becomes a declaration of independence. Each class attended, each paper written, each degree earned represents not just academic achievement, but a deliberate rejection of the intellectual prison that once contained them. When your abuser specifically told you not to pursue education, earning that education becomes both healing and revenge.
University opened their eyes to the psychological mechanisms behind their experience:
“While I was at uni I learned about the psychological effects of coercive control, the social influence of obedience, compliance and conformity, and many other determinants of behaviour relating to my experience in this high control religion.”
They completed research on “how do people realise they are in a high control religion or cult and what measures do they need to take in order to leave”—turning their personal trauma into academic inquiry that could help others understand and escape similar situations.
Their educational achievements are staggering for someone who was discouraged from learning: Diploma of Counselling, Bachelor of Psychology, Art Therapy Practical Certificate, and enrollment in Graduate Diploma Psychology Advanced coursework.
“I now have a Diploma of Counselling, Bachelor of Psychology and Art Therapy Prac. Certificate.”
The Researcher’s Perspective
What makes their story particularly powerful is how they’ve learned to analyze their own experience through multiple lenses—personal, psychological, sociological, and legal. They can identify specific cult tactics with clinical precision:
Information Control: “We were constantly told not to look up any information about Jehovah’s Witnesses unless it was through their own website jw.org.”
Exploitation: The organization discouraged saving for retirement, saying members shouldn’t build up “treasures on earth, but rather treasure in heaven.”
Thought Reform: Constant pressure to attend meetings, preach more, and “throw yourself on Jehovah” when experiencing problems.
Isolation: Systematic destruction of family relationships with non-believers.
Fear-Based Control: Threats of death at Armageddon for non-compliance.
Authority-Based Abuse: Training children to be unquestioningly obedient to Elders.
This academic understanding doesn’t erase their trauma, but it provides a framework for healing and helping others. They can see patterns, predict behaviors, and offer evidence-based interventions rather than just sharing personal anecdotes.
Their research proposal for evaluating congregation safety could revolutionize how authorities monitor high-control groups:
“I feel this type of research may be helpful in setting up an evaluation of each of the congregations of Jehovah’s Witnesses (or other cults) to check up and ensure that the members are safe.”
The Ongoing Mission
Today, they continue their research and advocacy work, understanding that their contribution to protecting others gives meaning to their own suffering:
“I submitted my story to the Victorian Parliamentary Inquiry into Cults and Other Fringe Groups, and I hope it will help towards research as many ex-JW’s are really suffering with PTSD, guilt, shame, difficulty integrating, financial distress, identity confusion, low self-esteem, anxiety and depression.”
Their transformation from silenced victim to empowered advocate represents one of the most profound healing journeys I’ve encountered. They didn’t just survive their abuse; they studied it, testified about it, researched it, and now work to prevent it.
“Many more are leaving the church because of the easy access to information on the internet, even though we were constantly told not to look up any information about Jehovah’s Witnesses unless it was through their own website jw.org.”
The internet has become the great equalizer, allowing survivors to find each other, share resources, and access information the organization can no longer control. People like this survivor are at the forefront of that movement, using their education and expertise to create pathways to freedom for others.
“We need to help them get out, survive and thrive.”
To the survivor whose story this is: Your journey from terrorized child to educated advocate represents the most powerful form of resistance possible—you have transformed your pain into wisdom that will protect countless others.
When that Elder told you not to pursue higher education, he was trying to keep you intellectually defenseless against the very system that was destroying you. Your degrees in psychology and counseling aren’t just academic achievements; they’re acts of defiance against everyone who tried to keep you small, silent, and scared.
Your testimony before the Royal Commission took extraordinary courage. To face down not just your individual abuser, but the entire system that enabled him (knowing it would cost you your community, your family relationships, your entire social world), that’s the kind of bravery that changes history.
Your research gives academic weight to experiences that have been dismissed as mere “disgruntlement” or “apostasy.” You’ve taken the gaslighting, the manipulation, the systematic destruction of critical thinking, and exposed it all under the harsh light of psychological science. No one can dismiss your findings as mere opinion; you have the credentials and research to back up every observation.
Most importantly, your commitment to helping others “get out, survive and thrive” ensures that your suffering will have meaning beyond your own healing. Every person who finds freedom through your research, every policy that changes because of your testimony, every survivor who feels less alone because of your advocacy, they all represent victories over the system that tried to destroy you.
You deserved protection as a child. You deserved justice when you finally spoke. You deserved support from your community when you testified. You didn’t receive any of those things from the people who should have provided them, but you created them for yourself and now offer them to others.
Your father wanted you to go to university because he knew you were intelligent. He was right. But even he couldn’t have imagined you would use that intelligence to become an expert in the very forces that had harmed you, or that your education would become a lifeline for others drowning in similar circumstances.
Thank you for trusting me with your story. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for refusing to let your silence protect the system that hurt you. Thank you for turning your trauma into triumph, your pain into purpose, your survival into service.
You are living proof that healing is possible, that education is liberation, and that survivors can become their own—and others’—salvation.
To everyone reading this who recognizes themselves in this story: You are not alone in the particular hell of childhood sexual abuse within religious communities. You are not alone in the devastating realization that the people who claimed to represent God’s love were more interested in protecting their institution than protecting you.
This survivor’s journey shows that healing is possible, but it’s not simple or quick. It requires support, education, professional help, and often a complete reconstruction of your understanding of the world. But it is possible.
If you’re still trapped in a high-control group, know that information is your enemy’s greatest fear. They try to control what you read, what you research, what questions you ask, because they know that knowledge destroys their power over you. The internet has made their information control impossible—use that advantage.
If you’re a recent escapee struggling with identity confusion, social isolation, and the grief of losing everything you thought you knew, these are normal responses to an abnormal situation. Professional help, support groups, and connecting with other survivors can provide the scaffolding you need to rebuild.
If you’re a long-term survivor still carrying the psychological scars of religious trauma, consider following this survivor’s example by turning your pain into purpose. Whether through formal education, advocacy work, support groups, or simply sharing your story, your experience has value in protecting others from similar harm.
Most importantly, know that what happened to you was wrong, regardless of what anyone in your former community might have told you. You didn’t deserve abuse. You didn’t cause it. You weren’t responsible for stopping it. And you have every right to seek justice, healing, and a life free from fear.
This survivor’s transformation from silenced child to empowered advocate proves that our stories have power—power to heal ourselves, to protect others, and to force institutions to confront the harm they’ve caused and hidden.
Your voice matters. Your truth matters. Your healing matters. And your freedom, when you’re ready to claim it, is worth everything you’ll have to sacrifice to achieve it.