AN ex-Amish woman ran away from her community using the only method she knew how — by jumping off a rooftop.
Lizzie Ens, a health coach and founder of the clean and non-toxic wellness brand Miss Commando, told The U.S. Sun that she was only 19 when she made plans to leave her Amish community.
At 19 years old, Lizzie found herself standing at the top of her sister’s roof, gathering the courage to jump.
“It wasn’t a one day all of a sudden moment [decision]; I had known since I was a young teenage girl that I didn’t want to stay there for the rest of my life,” she said.
“It was a few years building and leading up to this moment.”
At the time, Lizzie had been staying at her sister’s home in Ohio, where she lived in the “strictest order of the Amish community that you can grow up in.”
Letters she received from her long-distance boyfriend in New York at the time had inspired the leap of faith.
“He ran away from the Amish the day before, and I didn’t know that he was planning on it,” she said.
“He told me that he left, and if I wanted to leave as well, they would come that night to pick me up.”
Later that night, she finished a farewell note to her mom and climbed up the 15-foot roof.
“I sat there for about 30 minutes contemplating how I was going to jump off this roof, and eventually, I took the leap,” she said.
“I knew if I broke a bone, I would be stuck there.
“I would be in the hospital healing from a broken bone, and then the community would say, ‘Well, that’s what you get for running away.'”
Lizzie, who has a twin sister and comes from a family of 18 kids headed by a single mom, felt that even though her family remains in the covenant, she knew the Amish lifestyle was not for her.
She explained that Rumspringa, a rite of passage that typically laxes restrictions for Amish teenagers around 16, did not apply to her.
“The [community] that I grew up in is the strictest community that you can ever grow up in,” she said.
“One misconception is Rumspringa, where teenagers are allowed to go out and explore the world, drive cars, dress in non-Amish clothes, and then decide whether or not they want to leave,” she said.
“Where I’m from, we were not allowed to do that.
“Everything was completely off the table in terms of going out and trying to experience the world.”
Her community’s practices of self-denial meant she lived without indoor plumbing, electricity, running water, and processed food.
“They grow most of their own food and live off the land,” she said.
“They just don’t use any kind of modern technology, period.”
To use the bathroom and take showers, Lizzie and her community ventured to outhouses, often newspaper as toilet paper and heated water in bathtubs.
In the winter, her family relied on wood-burning stoves but weren’t allowed to bundle up to stay warm in the bitter cold.
“Women are only allowed to wear dresses, so when it is really cold and windy, you catch the wind blowing up your dress,” Lizzie said.
“That was one of the worst parts. I had also never worn pants in my entire life; I didn’t even know what it felt like.”
Two weeks after leaving, her mom and twin sister found her and attempted to convince her to return.
“It was difficult because it wasn’t that I didn’t love my mom; it wasn’t that I didn’t love my sisters and siblings,” she said.
“It was just that I knew that’s not where I belonged anymore.”
After nearly two decades since leaving, the now 38-year-old reflected on her adjustment period to the “real world.”
Her highlights include turning on a light switch in a room, experiencing a shower, using a microwave, and learning what a drive-through is, all for the first time at 19.
Currently, Lizzie lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her five-year-old son.
She explained that while the Amish lifestyle was not for her, she imparts Amish tenets of community to her only child.
“I agree with how they teach valuable life lessons to kids. We’re taught to have a strong work ethic, we’re creative, we’re structured and disciplined,” she said.
“That’s a huge part that is missing in the modern world is having structure and discipline — we didn’t have electronics, TV, we [couldn’t] say ‘Hey, I’m just going to Netflix today and not do my job.'”
Lizzie, who calls herself a “visionary,” added that she’s also gained newfound respect for her community and its bonds in the time that’s passed.
“I think a lot of people could learn a lot from them,” she said.
“When my dad unexpectedly passed away when I was 13, the entire community came together.
“They dropped everything that they’re doing to help out the family that just lost a loved one; that’s something they’re very, very good at.
“You can leave something and still respect and honor it. For me, my job is respecting and honoring what it taught me.”
