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.