Sweet, Sweet Sin

I stopped at Sprouts on the way home from work. I didn't realise that they had lower prices on some of my staples, including Amy's frozen burritos. And the Uncle Sam's cereal was a dollar less than what I paid the night before at my regular grocery store.

And in the freezer section I came across a brand of sugar-free ice cream recommended in a book I'm reading. So I bought a pint of coffee ice cream.

I have spent my evening making my sister's birthday gift and getting exasperated because I didn't get strong enough adhesive. I think I'm going to have to get a hot glue gun.

Being exasperated and very sleepy, after I finished packing away the mess, I decided it was time for ice cream. And seeing as how there was no chocolate in the ice cream, I decided some chocolate topping was called for. Alas! There was no chocolate ice cream topping in the kitchen. Then I remembered the Nutella in my pantry.  Let me tell you--coffee ice cream topped with Nutella? Ambrosia. No question about it. 

Things I Used to Believe

• The power of the priesthood. When I was getting ready to start a new semester at university, I'd ask my husband for a blessing. When I was getting ready to have surgery, I would get a priesthood blessing. When my life was in chaos, I'd ask for a priesthood blessing. Funny (true) story: We had a border collie, Molly, who died this past April. Whenever we would have family prayer, she would come and sit quietly with us, and after the amens were done, she'd go back to whatever she was doing. And one night I woke up from a ghastly nightmare (I think it was sleep paralysis with its accompanying sensations of deep, dark evil), and my husband gave me a blessing. Just as he started, Molly barrelled into the room, jumped up on the bed, plopped down in my lap, and waited for the blessing to be over. We treasured that trait in her. Now I believe that any alleged priesthood power is more about believing the blessing so you make it happen. I used to believe that if a blessing did not come to pass the way that I thought it would, it meant I was not worthy. Speaking of which....
• The reason I couldn't have children, whether through giving birth or through adopting, was because of worthiness. One bishop even told my husband flat out that we didn't have children because of his problems. If I'd known that at the time, I'd have gone in and ripped that bishop a new one. If children are given as rewards for virtue, and withheld as punishment, there would be no such thing as crack babies, babies born or adopted into abusive families, etc.
• Fake it 'til you make it. I practiced this with all my heart. Isn't that what they taught us, after all? If you don't have a testimony, act like you do, and then you will. WTF? My sister told me once that a bishop had said that to her after she confessed that she didn't have a testimony of Joseph Smith as a prophet. Fake it 'til you make it. Plant that seed! Water it! Because if you plant it and water it, unless you planted it in stony ground, it will grow. And if it didn't grow, it's because you weren't really taking care of it enough. See how it always comes back to you as a failure?
• Testimonies. I used to have a testimony. I did. Now I think I just had heartburn. Okay, exaggerating a bit. But my best friend CC asked me, during one conversation, about that. She knew I had a testimony. She'd heard me share it multiple times. And now I don't have one anymore. What's that all about? Well, I think I bought into the circular logic, for one thing. And for another thing, I wanted a group to belong to. My family was, well, a mess, to put it very mildly and incredibly politely. The church gave me "friends" and responsibilities. I loved the kids I taught, on the rare occasions I actually got a teaching calling. I loved playing piano. But then I found out the hard way that except for a very few notable exceptions, my assigned friends weren't my real friends, and some people I thought were my real friends really weren't. I do have a testimony of friendship, but it has nothing to do with the church. It has to everything to do with the love and cameraderie between us. My friends are my soul sisters, my heart's treasures, and I love them with all my heart. And my love for them hasn't changed because I left the church. It will never change. I will always love them.
• Joseph Smith was a prophet. Wow. I remember talking to my uncle LG once, when I was 20 or so. He's not a mormon, and never will be. And he asked me, rather incredulously, if I really believed that story about Joseph Smith and the golden plates. And I did, and told him so very seriously. Now I'd like to go back to him and say, "You know what, Uncle LG? You asked me this once, and that was my answer. But I want you to know that now I know I was wrong." Only I can't, because I'm not ready to come out to my TBM mother who's in less than stellar health.
• The book of mormon is the word of God. I can't tell you how many times I've read it, and how many passages I have, without really trying, committed to memory. And I get a little frustrated when I'm having a conversation and I hear a bom quotation coming out of my mouth. [keanue reeves]It's like, whoa![/keanu reeves] How's this little gem from the book of ether (so appropriately named): wherefore dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith. Nice, eh? I think it kind of goes back to the whole fake it 'til you make it thing.
• If I believed something contrary to the teachings of the prophets and apostles, I was the one in error.  I cannot tell you how hard I tried to agree with the whole prop 8 crap despite the fact that I knew the church was wrong.  Come back to circular logic: The church is true; those old white men are prophets, seers, and revelators, and they say this, and since the church is true, they are correct.
• Being homosexual was wrong. I knew it wasn't a choice. I know too many people who are homosexual. But why should that even matter?  If I'm going to say something idiotic, like I have x number of friends, and they're gay, doesn't that mean I should say something else idiotic, like I have x number of friends, and they're straight? Anyway, I'm glad to be rid of that cog dis. You are what you are. I am what I am. And that's the way that it's supposed to be! (whoops--another primary song earworm--I've had them for two weeks and am going up the damned wall!)

There are plenty of things I used to believe, with every fibre of my being.  I'm glad to say that now I have a whole lot more questions than answers, and I'm so willing to let things unfold and see what happens. I'm not feeling second or third-rate because I'm in a tough marriage and don't have any children. Even through the difficulties I'm experiencing, and there are plenty, I'm much happier now. It comes back to integrity. I believe what I say what I do. I didn't have a whole lot of integrity as a TBM because there was too much cog dis. And integrity is everything, in my book.

Start Where You Are

I ran across an interesting item at Half Price Books. It's called The Compassion Box, and it has a deck of cards with Buddhist slogans on one side and commentary by a Buddhist nun on the other side. It also has guided instructions on how to use the cards as part of a practice, a card stand, a paperback edition of Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living, and a CD with instruction on tonglen meditation.  I have it at work, so I haven't read the book or listened to the CD.  But I do try to remember to select a new card every day, and have it propped up on my desk so that it catches my eye whenever I look in that direction.

Today's reminder says, "Whichever of the two occurs, be patient."

It has definitely given me a lot of food for thought. I'm working through decisions that must be made, and things I want to create and manifest, and things I want to change.  And I tend to be a rather impatient person. So the reminder to be patient, no matter what happens, is timely.

Joy

When I was out with my sister on Friday, we stopped in at Enchanted Forest, a small metaphysical shop in Fort Worth.  I found a small statuette of the laughing Buddha, and couldn't resist it.



In the book of mormon, it states that "Adam fell that men might be, and men are that they might have joy." But how much joy did I ever really experience?



Aren't members counseled to avoid loud laughter and light-mindedness?



I tend to have a very loud laugh. When something strikes me as funny (and I have a quirky sense of humour), I can't help but laugh.



And what's wrong with laughing? Have you ever laughed so much your sides ached and you couldn't breathe? I have. Have you ever laughed so hard that you involuntarily snorted, at which you laughed even more?



Have you ever heard the lamest knock-knock joke ever from a kid who's just barely discovered knock-knock jokes, and when the kid gets to the punchline, s/he laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world? I have. When one of my nephews was at that age, the word "cha-cha" was the punchline to every joke. And I always knew what was coming ("because he was a cha-cha!), and watching him laugh filled me with joy, and I laughed right along with him.



Have you ever laughed at a funeral? I have. And yeah, it's a little embarrassing, but at the same time, the person I was mourning laughed a lot, and I felt that my laughter wasn't really inappropriate after all.



No, I'm not Buddhist. I'm not an -ist or an -ite of any kind. But I bought that little laughing Buddha statue, and he sits on my night stand to remind me that it's okay to laugh.

Wondering about Christianity

You know, when I very first realised that the One True Church isn't, my first reaction was to turn to Christianity. But which denomination? I couldn't be Catholic, no matter how much my husband's sisters want me to be. Too much messed up history. My dad and stepmother would love if I converted to Presbyterian, but somehow that didn't feel right for me. And I contacted a small nondenominational Christian church near my home to inquire about the pastor's theology, but he brushed me off because he was too busy planning Easter service. And then never called back again, which kind of soured me on feeling like I might want to visit them.

And then the other questions started coming up. Is Christ what I have always believed, our saviour and redeemer? Or simply a good man and a great teacher, as a lot of people believe? (I've looked into UU, but right now I don't feel the need to align myself anywhere. I have my sister, and another 4 incredibly close friends to whom I can confide anything, and they support me spiritually in a way that I rarely--if ever--found at church. I consider myself a spiritual person even if I'm not religous.)

But coming back to my questions about Christianity. I can't help but see how being mormon for 30 years affected me. I read those signs of the true church, and how this group of people got together and wrote them up, and lo, the only church that met their requirements were the mormons. (I keep automatically capitalising the word mormon, and then deliberately going back and uncapitalising it.) But the mormon church is not the One True Church. I don't believe there is one. What drew me, initially, to the church was the depictions of happy families in a family home evening manual my mother had at home after she got baptised, and forced my younger brother and sister to get baptised. I wanted a happy family, and if that was the way to get it, then that's what I was going to do.

Only it didn't give me a happy family. We were still as effed up as we ever were. ("You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down....Same as it ever was, same as it ever was!") My dad was hurt that we were suddenly all mormons and he was not. I wonder if that was the final straw for him, the last blow to their already shaky unhappy marriage. Because for a long time it was me and him against the rest of the family. They'd go off to church, and he'd take me to the grocery store and we'd play Pac-Man. ("Did you know that the original name for Pac-Man was Puck-Man? You'd think it was because he looks like a hockey puck but it actually comes from the Japanese phrase 'Paku-Paku,' which means to flap one's mouth open and closed. They changed it because they thought Puck-Man would be too easy to vandalize, you know, like people could just scratch off the P and turn it into an F or whatever.")  And then I finally gave in and started actually attending church, and that was that.

So when I left, what was I looking for in a Christian church? I think I was looking for a church where people really loved each other. A church where they had Wednesday night prayer meeting or something. A church where they taught the gospel of Christ, not all the singsongy droning talks you hear at a typical LDS sacrament meeting. I drive past several superchurches on my weekday commute, and they're these huge, huge edifices where I don't know, maybe thousands of people meet together at one time, and it freaks me out. I feel like I'd be a lost little fish there, and can't do it.

And then I continued asking questions, not just about the mormon church, but about everything, and it's all in upheaval, and I'm learning things about myself and my beliefs continue to go further and further from Christianity. Do I believe in Jesus Christ? Yes, in a sense, and I'm not sure in another sense. Do I believe in God? I like to believe there is a God. I hope there's some sort of benign divinity looking over us all, but I don't believe in God the same way I used to believe when I was TBM.  Why would that God answer my prayer for my husband to find his keys, and yet let my best friend's son die? Didn't make any sense, and it still doesn't.

I don't think there's a point to any of this. I just have lots and lots of questions, and I think and study all the time, but there are no answers, no solid conclusions. And for now, that's okay. I'm willing to wait it out and see what happens. I try to be a good person. I love people. I work hard. I try to make things better because of my being here. And if that benign divinity is there, I hope s/he understands what's in my heart.

I Need to Win the Lottery

Then I could have a big duplex built, and my husband could live in one side, and I could live in the other side. I could deal with being married if I didn't have to live with him. Know what I mean?

If you have a happy marriage, probably not.

He's a good person. Decent. Kind to others. Brilliant musician. Loves our dog(s). Loves kids. He'd literally give you the shirt off your back if you needed it.

And he drives me up a damn wall. Snarky comments that just piss me off. Lack of understanding about my health & mental health issues. Trying to be my food police under the guise of "helping" me, no matter how many times I've said I'm a grown woman and I don't need his help. Telling me I can do something (e.g. decorate the Christmas tree), and then getting pissy about how I do it.

And I know I'm no saint, trust me. When he pisses me off, I let him know it in no uncertain terms. I have bipolar depression, and more than a touch of OCD, and when he gets in the way of my routine, I can get nasty.

So separate houses. That way we can stay married and see each other when we want to. He can do what he wants in his house, and I can do what I want in mine.

Please, FSM, let me win the lottery!!!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our house did not catch fire (on Pioneer Day) because I lost my testimony and left the church.
Our insurance company isn't dragging their heels because I lost my testimony and left the church.
Two of our dogs didn't die because I lost my testimony and left the church.
The A/C heater in my husband's SUV didn't stop working today because I lost my testimony and left the church.
(Whatever my husband wants to blame on our leaving the church) didn't happen because I lost my testimony and left the church.

Sometimes shit just happens. You deal with it and move on.

Flying Spaghetti Monster

I think tonight I'm going to make spaghetti and meatballs. It may not fly, but it will be deliciously sacriligious.  And I'll serve it with a glass of red wine.

Mmmmm. Sweet, sweet sin.

My Resignation

I haven't heard anything back about my resignation, so I called the membership records office to see if it had been processed.  No, the young man who sounded about 18 said, it is in the process, and usually takes about 30 days. They've got another week or so, and they should have it processed, regardless of the fact that I stated my resignation was effective immediately.

Here's my letter, in case anyone's interested:

My full name is aintnomonomo; my date of birth is [redacted].
I was baptized on 4/3/1981. 

My residence address is [redacted], in the [redacted] ward/stake.

 

I hereby resign my membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, effective immediately, and request you to remove my name permanently from your membership records. I wish no further contact from representatives of your church except to confirm VIA EMAIL ONLY that my name has been removed from your records. I expect to receive that confirmation within a reasonably short time.

 

Please note that I do NOT wish my husband nor anyone else in my family to be contacted about this, whether by phone, mail, or email. Should such contact take place, I will pursue legal action. 

 

I have not come to this decision lightly. I have spent hours and hours intently studying church history, and am absolutely appalled by the things I've learned, specifically including but not limited to,

 

• the practice of polygamy and polyandry in the early church,
• the policy of "lying for the Lord,"
• Brigham Young's Adam-God teachings that were later denied as having been taught,
• the treatment of homosexuals and transgendered persons by the church,
• the fact that women are subjugated to a substandard place, always having to report to a man
• the complete lack of any historical or archaeological evidence for the Book of Mormon
• the many changes that have been made to the Book of Mormon that whitewash previous teachings
• the fact that the temple ceremonies which Joseph Smith professed to have been restored by the Lord have been altered from their original format multiple times and that were taken straight from Masonic ceremonies to begin with
• the fact that DNA evidence has proven that there is no connection between native Americans and Israelites, but that in fact that majority of native Americans share commonalities with Asians rather than Israelites
• the fact that instead of clothing the naked and feeding the hungry, the church is building multi-billion dollar malls and luxury condominiums.
• The fact that the church does not report out its finances to the members who pay their tithes and offerings

 

When I was a practicing member of the church, I always felt like nothing I could ever do would make me be good enough. I was terrified of the thought of dying, because I knew that I would have disappointed Heavenly Father and the Saviour so severely that there would never be any hope for me. I can honestly tell you that the thought of death no longer frightens me. I know that I have a good heart, and I trust that if there is a God, and he is a just God, he will know what is in my heart.

 

There was also an incident that caused my family incredible pain; my nephew was placed for adoption with our home teacher's family, and no one thought it important enough to tell us what was happening when our home teacher knew--because I had told him--that initially my sister was planning on placing the child with us. My anger and sorrow was not over the changed plans, because I felt that my sister needed to place her baby with the best possible family for him, but over the way that we were completely shoved aside and our feelings mattered nothing.

 

I see my stepfather practicing his priesthood in a way that has beaten my mother down to a pathetic shell of her former self, believing--since he and his first wife do not have a temple divorce--that she is his second wife, and of far less importance to him than his first wife. He tells her how to wear her hair, and how to dress, and what to do, and he is horrible to her, but it's all acceptable because he has the priesthood and she does not.

 

In short, there is nothing I can find in this church to make me believe that there is a just God above and a loving Saviour in the person of Jesus Christ.  In the words of Marcus Aurelius, “Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.” 

 

I strive to live a noble life, to serve my companions here on the earth, and make the world a better place.

Funny-ish

Having learned the hard way that drinking massive amounts of coffee on an empty stomach equals really unpleasant bodily functions, I decided I'd be healthy this morning and I got one of those cereal cup thingies when I stopped at 7-11 for my pumpkin spice latte (mmmmmm. sweet, sweet sin.). Because of wanting to be healthy (despite all the sugar in my pumpkin spice latte), I got the Raisin Bran Crunch instead of the frosted flakes or some of the other choices.  And it tastes good, don't get me wrong, but the ingredients label kind of makes me nauseated:

Rice
Sugar
Whole Wheat
Raisins
Oat and Honey Cluster (whole oats, sugar, whole grain wheat, corn syrup, rice cereal [rice, sugar, salt, high fructose corn syrup, malt flavoring, iron, ascorbic acid (vitamin C), niacinamide, pyridoxine, hydrochloride (bitamin B6), riboflavin (vitamin B2), thiamin hydrochloride (vitamin B1), vitamin A palmitate, folic acide, vitamin B12 and Vitamin D1, modified corn starch, molasses, palm oil, high fructose corn syrup, cinnamon, salt, honey, natural and artificial flavo, BHT for freshness), wheat bran, high fructose corn syrup, glycerin, salt, barley malt syrup, niacinamide, reduced iron, zinc oxide, pyridoxiine, hydrochloride (vitamin B6), riboflavin (Vitamin B2), thiamin hydrochloride (Vitamin B1), BHT (preservative), vitamin A palmitate, folic acide, vitamin B12 and Vitamin D.

Wow. Just, wow. Contrast that with the granola I'm going to make for myself this weekend:

Oats
coconut
brown sugar
canola oil
honey
cinnamon
vanilla extract
raisins

Which would you prefer to eat, alongside your tasty morning beverage?  Enquiring minds want to know.

Reclaiming My Power

I'm sure I've written about this before, but it continues to be a vital topic that is always on my mind right now. I'm having to deal with the difficulties in getting our house fixed so we/I/he can move back home. I'm dealing with my marriage issues. I'm worrying about whether-or-how to tell my mother that I've left the church (for the record--I'm not going to say anything any time soon. It would cause her a great deal of grief, and I'm not willing to do that to her until/unless I must). I'm dealing with my husband's sporadic insistence that I must return to church, with him asking me every few days if I've gained weight (no, actually I've kind of plateaued, but I am still down 65 pounds from last December), with him insisting that I must dress the same way my boss dresses (um, she is tall and thin; I am short and still far more rotund than I would like to be), etc. Lots and lots and lots going on.

I keep walking and walking and walking, having faith that some day I'll get to the center of the labyrinth. I think the confusing paths of the labyrinth are all the thoughts that keep swirling around in my head as I try to figure out what to do. Sometimes I turn left when I should turn right, and sometimes I seem to know almost mystically exactly which way to turn. Sometimes I find myself at a dead end and just plop down and cry, but then I get back up and start going again, determined to get to the center.

And sometimes it feels like I'm dancing with the Goblin King who's trying to keep me from finding my center.

And sometimes I forget my lines.

But eventually I remember them.

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City...for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great."

"You have no power over me!"

Christmas

I'm already starting to see some unexpected results from losing my religion.

Christmas cards, for example. I always used to make sure that whatever Christmas cards I purchased had something to do with the nativity--angels, or nativity scene, or the wise men, what have you. So when I was looking at Christmas cards this year, I found it a little difficult to pick some out. I ended up getting cards with a snowman on the front. I still don't really know what I believe, but I believe that snowmen make me happy, so snowman Christmas cards work for me. :)

And angels. I love angels. I'd be delighted to have angels all over my Christmas tree, because they make me happy. And my angels have wings. Huge beautiful feathery wings. Our Christmas tree and decorations got totaled out in the fire. That means I get to get all new, and I'm planning on getting lots of angels.

Then there's the whole temple thing. I don't talk, obviously, to my best friend C's kids about losing my faith. I don't want to be perceived as trying to lead them astray. They're not my kids. I respect their parents with all my heart, and love those kids as if they were my own. C's oldest child is at BYU, and thank heavens she's not dating someone seriously (as far as I know anyway). But I can't help thinking of that (I hope far-off) day when she's going to get married, and I'm not going to be able to be there. It breaks my heart to to think of that.  I mean, obviously at that point I'm going to have to let her know that I no longer believe in the One True Church. She knows me well, and she loves me. She calls me on Mother's Day, because she says I'm her other mother. I don't think she realises just how much that means to me. I know she won't judge me. She's like her beautiful awesome mother that way. And I'll do anything she wants me to for her wedding/reception/etc., but I won't be able to do the one thing that would let me be there for her wedding. It makes me sick, that the church professes to place families above everything else, but sees nothing wrong in encouraging people to get married where their families cannot be with them on one of the most important days of their lives. It's wrong. And that's all I'm saying about that.

I'm going to go back to thinking about beautiful angels again. :) And just maybe after I get off of work this afternoon, I'm going to go buy myself an angel.

Politics

I really dislike talking about politics.  I hate the arguments that seem to inevitably ensue. 

Years and years ago, when my father in law was still alive, we were visiting my husband's parents. My husband, I might add, has very strong opinions about everything and never hesitates to share them.  So he and his mother were talking politics, and the discussion was rather heated. Then my stepfather said, "So, J, what do you think about abortion?" And they were off, my husband and his mother arguing vociferously.

I backed away, and then happened to glance at my father in law. He was sitting back with a broad grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, and I realised he had done it deliberately because he loved watching them arguing.  I miss that man, let me tell you. The last time I saw him before he passed away was when we went up for a vacation, deliberately to see him, of course, but also to meet a friend of mine. When J and I arrived at the nursing home, his mother was anxiously hovering over his father. "Do you know who this is?" she asked loudly. "Do you recognize him?"  Dad F was pretending not to know, and then he said, "I know who you are! You're--you're--Christopher!" (or some other name--the precise one escapes me at the moment.) J's mom began wailing and saying, "No! It's J! Your son!"  But J and I were looking at Dad F, and saw that irrepressible twinkle in his eye and knew he was playing his wife for all he was worth. Sadly, none of the family believed that he was joking, because he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  I'm glad, though, to have gotten to see him in action one last time.

Anyway, sorry about that detour, but let's go back to politics.  I used to be mega conservative. I served on the local Republican committee, and was supposed to go to the convention as a delegate but it was during the IVF time and it didn't work out for me to participate.  I am VERY ashamed to say that at the time I did not support gay marriage.

I've come a long way, though.

So has my stepmother. She used to be oh-so-liberal, and now she's an extremely conservative ditto-head.

A month or so ago, when Perry entered the presidential race, I happened to be over at her house with my sister. When they announced that Perry was now running for president, and he and Romney appeared to be the front-runners, I stupidly said that there was no way on god's green earth that I would vote for either Perry or Romney.

My stepmother stared at me. "You have to."

WTF? "No, I don't have to, and I won't."

"If you don't vote for them, then you're voting for Obama."

"So?"  Nothing against Obama--I think he's a decent guy. Not so great a president, but there's still no way on god's green earth that I will vote for either Perry or Romney.

My sister was giving me the you'd-better-shut-up-because-you-can't-win-this-one face, so I lapsed into silence.

My stepmother said a few more times that it didn't matter if it were Romney or Perry, I had to vote for whomever it was.

And I sat there and stewed.

So I'm a closeted moderate liberal with my Dad's family, and a closeted exmo with my Mom's family, and a closeted spiritually whatever with my husband. 

I'm tired of having to live in a dark dank closet. I want to come out into the sunshine and flourish.

So here:
I am a moderate liberal, and I will vote for whoever I damn well please. And I will tell you here and now it will never be Mitt Romney nor Rick Perry.
I am no longer a Mormon, and I'm very happy about that.  I refuse categorically to even pretend to believe in their doctrine.
I am a spiritual whatever (I don't want a label here. I believe what I believe, and it suits me fine) and if I want to burn incense and candles while I take a relaxing bath, and sip on a glass of wine, I'm damn well going to do it.

And anyone who has a problem with it can suck it!

Child Rape

Whether it gets called bluntly by what it really is--rape--or whether people try to tone it down by calling it child molestation, it's rape. Innocent children who have no recourse get brutally assaulted by selfish pedophiles. They don't tell because they're afraid, because the rapist threatened their families, or because the rapist threatened to kill them. They don't tell because they're afraid no one will believe them. They don't tell because they feel guilty, because they think they did something wrong.

The oh-so-kind-and-compassionate Spencer W. Kimball did, after all, counsel rape victims that they should have allowed themselves to be killed rather than raped. He also told them that they should carefully consider the part they played in the rape. I mean, if someone rapes you, you bear a certain amount of responsibility:

"Even in a forced contact such as rape or incest, the injured one is greatly outraged. If she has not cooperated and contributed to the foul deed, she is of course in a more favorable position. There is no condemnation where there is no voluntary participation. It is better to die in defending one's virtue than to live having lost it without a struggle." Spencer W. Kimball

Does that mean that these children, who didn't struggle and didn't die defending their virtue, are in a less favourable position?  What a rat bastard Kimball was.  But Mormon leaders aren't the only fucktards when it comes to the issue of rape and sexual assault. What about the Catholic church, who covered up who knows how much child rape, simply moving the guilty priests from one place to another?

And then there's the fact that the almighty football gods have declared that college football is more important than those children who were raped by Sandusky, whose crimes were covered up by Paterno and other Penn State officials.  Oh, Paterno should be allowed to coach one last game, because he's this great and wonderful coach. Forget the fact that because of his cover-up of Sandusky's crimes, he bears just as much responsibility as Sandusky does.

There are also a lot of really ignorant people who confuse homosexuality with pedophilia/hebephilia. So when you talk about Sandusky's outrageous crimes against so many children (because if there are 11 known victims, there are almost certainly many more), you'll have these ignoramuses who will pipe in about homosexual boy scout leaders or coaches.

Homosexuality: A homosexual is sexually attracted to members of his/her same sex. Pedophilia: A pedophile is sexually attracted to children. Hebephilia: A hebephile is sexually attracted to young teenagers. Pedophiles and Hebephiles can be homosexual or heterosexual or bisexual. Not every homosexual is a pedophile, any more than every heterosexual is a pedophile. Two vastly different things here, people. Don't show your stupidity by saying they're one and the same.

When my husband had the news on the other night about this, I was getting physically sick. I made him turn it off. I'm glad that Paterno and Spanier have been forced to step down. That should have happened as soon as the story broke. They shouldn't have been forced to take that action, however. They should have voluntarily stepped down. Of course, for that to happen they'd have been forced to admit their guilt and complicity.

In the state of Texas, anyone who has any reason to suspect child abuse/neglect is legally required to make a report. If it can be proven that you knowingly failed to report, you could be held liable. You should be held liable.

If you take it further, that you not only suspect child abuse is taking place, you have solid proof that it is taking place, and you help to cover it up, you are just as foul as the perpetrator.  I believe you should be accounted just as responsible as the perpetrator.

I apologize for this rambly post, but my thoughts are all over the place. My heart goes out to all of the families who have suffered and continue to suffer because of what was done to them by people who pretended to be loving and compassionate and charitable, what was done to them by people who accounted sports programs more important than children's wellbeing.

I know first hand what it feels like to be sexually assaulted, both as a child and as a teenager. I know how it fucks with your mind for a damn long time. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, much less an innocent child.


 

Better Today

Thank you so much for your kindness.

I'm better today--it's funny. I had a fantastic day Sunday, and then I immediately went into a tailspin on Monday.

The fact is that nothing is going to happen about my marriage until we've got the house repaired and inhabitable. Then we can decide what to do. So I'm going to kick back and try to be calm until then. 

I do love my husband. Always have. Always will. I've just got to stand up for myself, which I've been working on doing. If we can find a way to live in harmony, that would be great. If not, we will be going our separate ways eventually.

Twenty Years

Holy shit! We made it to the 20 year mark. Of course, I'm pretty sure he forgot, and I don't care to remind him.

I truly hate feeling this way.  I sat here yesterday thinking, well, if he genuinely wants to work on our marriage, then maybe I should work with him. That's a huge "if," of course.

And then last night he was a complete dickhead. I just questioned whether the bottles of various sauces he brought from our house were safe to consume, after having been in an un-air-conditioned house in record-breaking heat for two months before it started cooling down. He was screaming at me that he didn't want to waste the $5 he paid for each bottle, and I'm staring at him incredulously. Seriously? He puts $5 ahead of his potential safety? He refused to do any checking as to whether it was safe. See, if it were unsafe, the can would explode. He wouldn't eat anything from an exploded (or bulging) can. All the food storage that was in the garage, well obviously he's not going to bring it home. But the "good stuff" that was in the kitchen is fine.

And I threw a cover into the living room so he knew he had to sleep on the couch, and I went to bed and had dreams of being 21 again, and about to marry into a really fundy family (who all hated me), and my former boss who is also a good friend of mine came to my rescue.

And then it was morning, my 20th anniversary, and I got up and drank a cup of coffee, ate a piece of toast, and played solitaire on my computer until it was 5 minutes past time to leave for work. Happy anniversary. NOT!

Hoarding

My husband doesn't like me to watch those shows about hoarding. So I only watch them when he's gone. I like them not because I get a sick sense of self righteousness (like I do if I ever watch Toddlers & Tiaras--man, I wanna slap some of thosemothers), but because I empathise with the people on the show. I always hope they're able to get help, and to get out of the horrible situations they've been trapped in.

I can't help but wonder if my husband ever sees himself in them. He hates throwing things away. Just Saturday morning he told me that he was going to go to the house and get some stuff out and take it to our storage unit. I told him not to do that. I said he should just throw the crap away. Then he said he hates throwing away things that are good, so I said he should take the good things to Goodwill.  I went out yesterday afternoon/evening with my sister and one of our best friends. When I got home last night, I found that he'd left our garage door open and he'd brought some crap from the house and it's now sitting in our garage.

Man, one of the blessings I've been grateful for, from our house fire, was the opportunity to get out from under the piles of crap in our house. It's a small house, and there just wasn't room for everything. But what does he do? Brings it to our even smaller apartment.

He's also started hoarding food again, despite the fact that thousands of dollars worth of food were burned up or contaminated as a result of the fire. But he has already made a couple of trips to Costco, and there are multi-packs sitting on my kitchen counter of refried beans, Ro-Tel tomatoes, and tuna fish. And there's a big bag of rice in our tiny pantry. And again, when I got home last night, there to greet me were 12 or more cans of food that he'd brought from our house and washed off so we could eat.

I have to stop here, and interject the following facts: Our house fire was on July 24th. We had record-breaking heat this summer, and there was no air conditioning in our house after the fire. So all that food just sat there in 100+ degree heat until the heat wave broke and autumn finally arrived.

Am I going to eat any of that food from the house? Hell no!

I'm so frustrated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He gets angry that the apartment's a mess, but all the mess is crap he's brought in and thrown all over the place. And when he's actually in town, he's not going to an office every day like I am, but he still expects me to come home and take care of dinner and wash the dishes and clean up and blah blah blah. When I pointed out Friday night that of all the dirty dishes in the kitchen, exactly 4 items were mine (2 mugs and 2 spoons). He got all huffy, and I went ahead and did them anyway, but I was just steaming. Thank heavens we only have a few items--flatware and dishes for 4--because he would sooner use every dish in the kitchen than stick a load in the dishwasher.

Grrr!  My 20th wedding anniversary is tomorrow and all I want is to not be married anymore.  (Not just for these reasons--trust me, there are plenty more.)  And I know I drive him up the wall as much as he does me, but he keeps saying he wants to hang on and work on our marriage, so I feel guilty when I tell him there's not really any marriage to work on.