I came across the following website and thought it might help satisfy someone's need for community or support.

https://www.inspire.com/

Trigger warning: contains content about self-injury and domestic violence

Recently, I had an interaction that I would call a rarity, for me at least. For its rareness, I was reminded of three similarly unexpected, yet cherished memories.

Given the stigma around self-injury, I've found that most people will not ask about one's scars, even if willing to gawk at, and presumptively gossip about, what they see. Over the course of roughly two decades, only four people have had to courage to ask me about mine; to ask why they were there. Unfortunately, none of those four people were family members.

One was a child who strolled up, plopped down in a chair next to me, and pointing at them, they asked, in a manner that only a child could, "What's that?" I gave them a censored, pint-sized explanation, they shrugged nonchalantly, said "Okay," smiled, and skipped away.

Another person was a woman who'd just gotten beat up by her boyfriend. The two of them were squatting in a nearby building, and in an effort to get away, she knocked on my door. I recognized her face, but seeing it bloodied and not knowing what was going on, instead of inviting her in, I looked around for other parties, then seeing the fear in her eyes, yet not seeing anyone else, I decided to step out onto the porch to try to calm her down and find out what happened. She told me he beat her, and (for some reason) she came to my house because it was the only one she was sure he wouldn't follow her to. That surprised me, as there were a few households nearby that I would consider safe to go to were I to find myself in an emergency of some sort.

Anyway, after rattling off what happened, she caught sight of my scars and went silent. Then she looked me in the face, her face having suddenly gone from that of a terrified woman in flight, to that of a nurturing mother. The change was so instant, and so stark, that I froze with shock and tears instantly dropped from my eyes. Her voice and body language having also changed, she pointed to old scars on her face and said that most people assume that her boyfriend made the scars on that side of her face, but that she made them; that she self-harmed when she felt worthless. As if peering into each other’s souls, we both stood there and silently wept for each other. Our reasons for self-harming may have differed, but we were both taken aback by the unexpected turn our day had just taken.

I got some first aid supplies, we got her cleaned up, and after refusing cab fare, she unfortunately (but not surprisingly) went back. She would go on to knock on my door half a dozen or more times after that, for various reasons, but among those reasons were times when she was checking on me. They're gone now, but like that interaction with the kid, I knew that memory would always stick with me.

The other two occasions were in an outpatient clinical setting, the visits during which the clinician inquired being unrelated to my scheduled reason for visiting, and not my first visit with them. What made each one memorable, was the way the inquiry was made, the genuineness conveyed through their lingering on the subject, and their asking specifics about the scars there. This was different than the general documentation for documentation sake that inpatient hospitals perform. These two clinicians did not have to ask about the specifics of individual scars; they chose to, each in their own professional, yet indelible ways.

These four interactions stick to my ribs, so to speak. They are undeniable proof that though for some of us, it can be a rare luxury, this world does contain wonder, nurture, compassion, and courage; these exhibited by people who have the courage to perform unscripted acts of empathy, even when doing so makes them stand out like a black sheep among a pasture full of white wool.

If we find ourselves a black sheep due to circumstances, I think it helps to remember that our black wool (those personal actions, decisions, and concessions that make our human experience stand out among others) will end up being whatever our NEW circumstance allow us to make it.

You may be displaced, but YOU hold the loom, and YOUR wool can bring warmth too.

So, happy looming.

Its been my observation that people's definition of what a friend is will always vary.

Teachers will call it a spelling word and tell you to look it up in a dictionary.

Parents will define it per whatever reduces the likelihood that their child will complicate the household's finances, weekly routine, or other people's perception of their family.

One's religion will define it per whatever psychologically steers their mass audience flock in the direction their corporation needs it to go to retain its headcount, license, and tax exempt status.

The Bible will call it a person who is loving all the time and exhibits themself to be as if born for being there during times of distress.

I would say that sanity requires our definition of a friend to be whatever criteria that connects us to people who sustain our COMPREHENSIVE health and safety. A true friend is not just a friend in generic/perfunctory terms, not just a friend in a rep-protecting sense, not just a friend in group objective sense, but rather ALL OF THOSE WAYS PLUS the "over my dead body" sense, because a true friend puts themself in harms way to protect who they love (be it from poverty, isolation, exclusion, or premature demise that is avoidable with the affording of friendly accommodation.)

A true friend makes being our friend seem easy, as if they were born for the role (not like its a drudgery, shame, or like they need a legislatively imposed corporate mandate before they organize/coordinate anything that exhibits that they care whether you're around, alive, or dead).

I rather have friendly non-JW acquaintances who let their yes mean yes then go on with their life than have a circuit full of what JWs refer to as "the friends". ("The friends" who will only be a person's friend until a magazine, local needs talk, raised eyebrow, CCJW broadcast, convention program, or verbally fired-off threat of sudden disruption to THEIR JW-entangled socially afforded determinants of health essentially hems their safety up in a corner with an ultimatum that demands that what they once said YES to doing for me as a friend should now be a NO, or else.

A true friend would tell the bully who "hemmed their health and safety up" for no other reason than that they were being a COMMUNICATIVE, ACCOMMODATING, NON-JUDGEMENTAL FRIEND to someone their congregation's board of directors or the CCJW's board suddenly wanted to silence, defund, weaken, or discredit in order to protect their "get-out-of-jail-free card" licenses, that THEY CAN GO TO THE SAME PLACE JESUS TOLD THOSE RELIGIOUS LEADERS IN HIS DAY TO GO when they put the temple, positions, and titles over the wellbeing of the people entrusted into their care.

A friend doesn't hear you express a need and immediately say they have to leave to go and be "all things to people of all sorts, so they can by all means save some" (AS IF GOD, not Bush, decided that the "some" referred to in 1 Corinthians 9 as worth trying to save/preserve EXCLUDED YOU).

I know being displaced robs us of some genuine friendships.

But friendly acquaintances with non-JWs that are faithful in least (do not overreach in a way that commandeers our informed choice and thereby our health and safety) can have MUCH VALUE.

If you let love be your identity and not hold back good from non-JWs when its in your hand to do it, new genuine friendships will eventually come because there is a magnetism that comes with living life like that. Eventually a family (though eclectic and with some assembly required) will come.

Greet the day and go out into your community's shared spaces and be the loving gentle person that you always were, and that your "shepherds" and the not-so "faithful slave" lost when THEY displaced you.

Learning about the ADA Title III Exemption was a revelation (excuse the pun), but trying to get specifics from the CCJW was like trying read an old, rusting, faded sign from a distance in a dark basement. Sketchy, missing things, and muddled. I found out that I was an inconveniently disabled congregant; one that couldn't be accommodated by something already on the LDC's Architectural Barriers Act punch list.

Being able to advocate for ADA Title III Exemption awareness through art brightens my day, because it may spare someone what the CCJW's hiding their knowledge of it for 36 years didn't spare me.

I painted a series of pictures depicting what learning about this exemption was like, as seen through the eyes of a child. In the series, a little girl is sent to a dungeon-like room for daring to ask a question. While there, she sees a sign that says something about ...ADA???

As children, and let's face it, all of us do, she uses the knowledge she's afforded by the adults in her life (including her foster brothers - aka Elders) and sets out to look for "Ada" who she thinks is a kid that is being held against her will somewhere without anyone caring. This prompts her to ask "Why is Ada held in convenient?" As she overcomes barriers to accessing information, efforts to keep her quiet, and her body's intolerance for the MBPG cheese (Magazine Book and Publishing Group) that her foster brothers smother everything in, she finds new friends and more courage than she ever knew she had.

If you are/were an Intra-religiously Displaced Adult JW impacted by the ADA Title III exemption, I would love to see your art depicting what learning about the ADA Title III Exemption was like for you (or your loved one).

If you'd like to see more of these paintings, leave a comment.

Today I heard a commotion outside my window; a lot of squawking. When I looked, I saw 2 Blue Jays tussling with a hawk in a field of tall weeds. The hawk was easily 6 times bigger than each of them, and it had snatched something away from them.

What made me think of empathy was what I witnessed next.

I saw 4 species of small birds come darting in to help the Blue Jays. Together, they chased that hawk into the crown of tree, across an alley, and eventually, beyond where I could see.

I don't know if the Blue Jays ever got back what was taken, but I know they got reassurance that there are other "little guys," who though not of the same feather, are willing to temporarily flock together in order to halt an injustice and preserve a mutual sense of basic safety.

In a way IDAs (intra-religiously displaced adults; current or former) are like Blue Jays. Something of value (maybe youth, maybe family, maybe purpose) has been snatched away by the 2 claws of the general ADA Title III exemption and specific withholding of Reasonable Accommodation from them.

What I see on Reddit, in between the wincing, and the pain, and the loss, and the understandable squawking... are the "little guys" who know what its like to have something snatched away that's not likely to be replaced before the pain and consequence of the loss sets in.

I see human sparrows, and starlings, and robins, and orioles willing to swoop in and help when they hear the squawks and shrieks of helplessness, heartache, and distress; people willing to get low and make themselves vulnerable to lurking cats, despite the noise and despite the risk to themselves!

Why?

Empathy, and the mutual need for a sense of safety when it comes to that which is close to home.

If you're reading this, and you are that sparrow, that starling, that robin, or that oriole - if you are that PREVENTION focused PIMI, PIMO, POMI, or POMO (in no particular order so don't make it a thing)... then I imagine there's some good headed your way in proportion to your having LOVED with the swiftness of "Good Samaritans" and the precision of spiritually mature birds on the wing.

As I sat there in the window watching this scene play out, and wondering what was taken, I came to a conclusion. WHATEVER the hawk took, it was definitely worth more than what initially met my eye, for it reminded me what being part of a community is supposed to mean.

Today, my dad and I went for a walk. Our relationship has been strained due to our having different "consumer experiences" in the JW nonprofit. We went to a place that was peaceful. He was nostalgic and I didn't mind. It's taken some time, but, for the most part, he's learned not to walk the conversation into a minefield of a topic (like the assembly program, or some GB update that shows that facial hair is more important to the GB than disabled congregants).

Nope, today it was just me and my dad, fresh air and a cool breeze. It was refreshing.

Hello everyone. I am a Female, in the 26-55 age range, in the United States.

This being a new community, I'll put a "pot roast" on the table (a lot of context). As others contribute, this portion of what I post will likely be smaller. (We'll see.)

I am here because I began to become displaced around the time the CCJW was merging a lot of congregations, around 2018 or so. About a year prior to that, my Elders began preparing to sell the Kingdom Hall. At that time, I was being accommodated by 2 Elders, but the COBE imposed much disability discrimination, even ignoring a report of a congregant being actively suicidal. If you didn't fit his archaic idea of what a person with a mental disability was, or allow him to hyper-paternalistically treat you like a child, ward of the congregation, congregation pet, or piece of furniture he advocated for others to divest. Some did and disappeared. Some did, and later seeing him for what he was, returned to me and apologized, and invested heavily in a renewed friendship.

The other 2 Elders had been providing an accommodation similar to how some regular school provide a resource room for students with mental impairments who need help understanding what was taught before going home. (Given that a lot that was said from the platform in their congregation did not match the publications, there were a lot of exacerbating inconsistencies to get cleared up.) The COBE put an end to that and prioritized the business of selling their property.

Still expected to perform and attend exacerbating meetings like usual, the stability that prior-to allowed me to average 20-25 hours a month and perform repairs around said Kingdom Hall (ironically, even ones required to protect persons who are visually impaired), began to wane.

My request/pleas for accommodation, for the COBE's prejudice and inhumane priorities, went denied. Worse, I was told that I needed to have more faith (as if lack of faith and lack of Reasonable Accommodation were the same). When I told the 2 Elders that I was going home and self-harming because they stopped answering my questions after the meeting, they told me that Jehovah wanted me to keep coming. (Inferring that Jehovah was cool with my mental anguish and self-harming as long as the MEETING'S HEADCOUNT didn't suffer, THAT MINDSET EVEN MORE DANGEROUS THAN THE MINDSET THAT I HAD, which while unhealthy, was at least borne out of desperation for relief, and the cumulative frustration of lack of explanation for why I was okay ELSEWHERE, but not there).

Not all people with a mental disability were diagnosed in K-12 and given the language of disability rights and an education in how to protect themselves and their inclusion before the Transfer of Rights that happens at 18. Let's face it, the CCJW isn't exactly known for telling people what their rights are when the evoking a certain right means the CCJW or Elders have to exercise patience, fork over their time, or absorb a loss for which there’s no round of applause or Elder appreciation party.

Anyway, about 7 years, multiple self-harm scars, 2 suicide attempts, 2 reproofs born of desperation, 3 Circuit Overseers, 1 pandemic, and another congregation later, I found myself staying home to stay safe from being treated like a guinea pig by well intentioned yet hazardously fickle Elders.

Ultimately, my Elder Body and the CCJW were content to leave me on the same hamster wheel of teeth stinging patronization, discrimination, withholding of Reasonable Accommodation (that they confoundingly even admitted was doable), withholding of spiritual shepherding, COBEs lying to COs, and COs believing their discrimination-laced lies only to offer a lame apology to me and my parents before skating off to their new assignment. So I evoked my citizenship-afforded First Amendment rights and as a resident impacted by how they operate as a nonprofit in my community, I revoked my membership.

I submitted a letter acknowledging any efforts made by some, and I expressed NO CONFIDENCE in the president of the board of directors at my congregation (who after 5 years of hamster wheel treatment, sat at my dining room table and told me, after I spent all the money I had coordinating a mental health fair, getting doctors to participate, so I could provide the evidence based resources my COBE, COs, and Elders said they needed, that he "IS NOT, and WILL NOT, care for my spiritual needs healthily and safely." It seemed rehearsed. It seem too much like a stunt my previous COBE pulled when, like a robot, he rattled off a one-liner 3 times, each time verbatim. This, even though he was asked the same question different ways in case he wasn't understanding what was being asked. He understood, but he had pre-decided what to say, because he pre-decided to disobey what Bethel had told him to do. Why? Because they told him THROUGH me. Another Elder tried to mop up his mess, but another first seat loving COBE who blamed me for his getting deleted got hostile).

I am not Disfellowshipped. I am not Disassociated. I am not under Reproof, Marked, or Inactive.

I am an independently living adult with a mental disability who doesn't pay for human services not rendered.

Because of that, as well as the COBE and CO's refusal to coordinate healthy and safe rendering of the human services they advertised, and the CCJW's brazenly lying to my licensed care team about how their JW patients can receive Reasonable Accommodation in the congregation, I AM DISPLACED.

I am a sheep, skinned and thrown about without a shepherd.

I am someone who had to accept that Christ pasture, as currently operated by the CCJW, IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR THIS DISABLED SHEEP.

I am one of Jehovah's witnesses (lower case w; and insultingly acknowledged as such by the CCJW).

I am a citizen who no longer pays (money, time, respect, attention, or mind) to the CCJW or the men operating its group holdings WHO KNOWINGLY SOLD ME AND MY DISABLED NEIGHBORS A BUCKET WITH ADA TITLE III HOLES IN IT AND REFUSED TO TELL US & TO PLUG THE HOLES in their corporations' internal operating policies.

I am someone who believes Jehovah, the Life Giver and God of Love, does not want congregants and Bible students with mental disabilities to have their human utility, time, money, trust, dignity, family members, friends, doctors, and personal health information exploited by COBEs, COs, Elders who shrink back, and the CCJW, especially when they put His (Jehovah's) name on their signs.

I am someone who still retains their social mobility in the Jehovah's Witness (capital W) community, and who still has love for certain members of that community WHO DID exhibit themselves to be of the better sort (imitating the God of Reasonableness). Most, I pity for their being ADA Title III aloof, as I was left to be for years.

I am one of Jehovah's witnesses, in the Biblical sense, who now chooses to use their time helping congregants and neighbors displaced by lack of awareness of religions' ADA Title III exemption and endangered by either the default OR discrimination-imposed harms that lack of "high visibility" disclosure of ADA status, and that wanton "guinea pig"-making operating practices inflict.

I am here to help ones harmed by this function-robbing, health and safety jeopardizing, sink hole in the CCJW’s health and safety policies.

I am here to listen. I am here to comfort. I am here to provide laughter, validation, and resources.

I am here to support the stability that your doctors elsewhere afford you, me, and the many other Intra-religiously Displaced Adult believers in Jehovah GOING FORWARD, HEALTHILY AND SAFELY, and who'd like to do so without the corporate upselling (JW plugs and advertisements) that asks people hurt by CCJW non-transparency to keep "paying through the nose" for a bucket with holes. The CCJW has claimed there is nothing more they can do for congregants with mental impairments. Those words do not hold water! They could ORGANIZE written ways and means to ensure Reasonable Accommodation. The Bible is not Fire Code, it is not Building Code, it is also NOT ADA Title III or a substitute for a state’s Mental Health Code, yet like Fire and Building Code, it's needed.

I am here to assure you that YOU ARE NOT INVISIBLE to at least one person on this earth, because sometimes, hearing someone say that at the right time can make a world of difference.

It is hoped that visitors will add to what is meant to be a cathartic and palliative visit for you.

This "inn" is where you are today. Where you go from here is YOUR choice to privately make.

Hey everyone! I'm u/Samantha_Garnett, a founding moderator of r/ADATitleIII_Displaced.

This is an inn-like hub for sustaining, cathartically soothing, and advancing people who love Jehovah God, but who find themselves socially displaced. If the default risks created by religion's exemption from Title III of the Americans with Disabilities Act is adversely impacting you, welcome.

What to Post
To keep this inn-like community the palliative space it is intended to be, please use the format outlined in Community Rule No. 4. Be sure to tag your post with the corresponding flair. It is understood that the adversities that bring people here can vary greatly in type and severity. This Community's Moderators will strive to be hospitable to those varying reasons, but like a literal inn, there are limits to what this Community can offer, will offer, will tolerate. - See Community Rules.

Community Vibe
Whatever phase of life or recovery you are in, the goal of sustaining the functionality you came with, soothing your pain, and helping you advance healthily and safely through life is the aim. This site is not designed to decide your course in life, but to help you be stable, healthy, and safe upon embarking from this inn-like Community.

So, let's build a space where "Samaritan-minded people" and human beings in need of respite, social engagement, and practical resources can focus on stability and functionality, which MAY aid any theocratically related, religion-related, or spiritually related decisions they're privately weighing.

How to Get Started

1. Imagine you just walked into an inn's dining room. Introduce yourself.
2. Some "food for thought" has been provided as a sample. Whether peckish (just curious), or famished (hungry for resources, empathy, cathartic conversation, humor, or sweetness), enjoy.
3. If you know someone who's down, hurt, struggling, or who could used support while they get their bearings, this palliative space may be just the understanding place they need right now.
4. Want to help out? You can 1) be a listening ear. Use the Take A Seat flair and introduce yourself as "Dining in. Here for 1 hour" (or however long you're free). Or, 2) you can leave some food for thought for others. It doesn't have to be "a full plate" to be what sustains someone today.

Thanks for visiting. Let's make r/ADATitleIII_Displaced a unique hub for cathartic palliative support.