A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, women in the mormon church used to go to homemaking meeting. There was a lesson, and a choice of classes they could take, and if they were lucky, there were refreshments. And their husbands babysat the kids (although it's not babysitting if they're your own kids) or the young women babysat the kids, or the older kids babysat the younger kids. Whatever. It was a chance for the women to get out of the damn house and do something, even if it was something inane.
And then the powers that be decided to make a change. After all, homemaking meeting didn't really signify anything important. And they changed it to: home, family, and personal enrichment meeting.
And I sat back and said WTF? Because in my heathen eyes, it seemed like they had it completely reversed. I mean, heave you ever flown on a plane? They tell you that if the oxygen masks drop down, to first secure your own mask, and then help anyone you're with. Because if you pass out from lack of oxygen while you're trying to put the oxygen mask on your seatmate, you'll both be in trouble. But if you get your own mask on, so you're breathing clean fresh air, then you can quickly take care of your seatmate.
But in the mormon church women are not supposed to need or seek out personal time. They're at the disposal of their homes (gotta have a spotlessly clean and organized house--another sign I was never meant to be a mormon mommy), their families (gotta take care of the husband and kids), and then, last of all, themselves. Apparently true self enrichment comes through taking care of everything else.
Sorry peeps. I put on my oxygen mask. I like breathing clean air.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Dreaming
Last night I dreamed that I was a gay man, so deep in the closet that I was only just figuring it out. My brother-in-law found out because of some papers I had in my desk, and he urgently told me to keep it secret, but wanted to be sure that the resources were in "the blue book." (I'm a former CPS caseworker and United Way has a blue book that you can look up resources for your clients. I'm assuming that's where that came from.)
It struck me, upon wakening, what I've thought about before. In a very small way, I'm closeted as a non-believer. I've told some people (my non-member father and stepmother, my exmo sister, my husband (who's very distressed at my lack of faith), some non-member friends. I haven't told my mother, as I don't want to be responsible for her having a heart attack or something. I haven't told my stepfather, not because I care about his opinion, but because I don't want him to make my mother's life even more of a hell than it already is. I haven't told my best TBM friend, although I trust her and I will tell her when the time seems right.
I've seen some videos where Rapunzel, in Tangled, is compared to coming out of the mormon church, where she's one minute gleefully swinging through the air, and the next minute she's berating herself for being an awful daughter. That is a fantastic comparison, as that's frequently how I feel. I need my freedom, and I am claiming my freedom, but I feel like an awful daughter, an awful wife, an awful friend, for leaving TSCC even though I cannot believe it to be true.
And even though I think of myself as a closeted exmo, that doesn't mean that I think it's as difficult a thing as being a closeted homosexual. My dream showed me how much more painful that was, and that was just a dream. I think it's horrible that the mormon church teaches people that there's something wrong if you "have homosexual tendencies" or however they're wording it this week. I believe, with David, that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." If, then, some of us are homosexual, then that's how God made us. And the whole thing about how homosexuals should not act on their sexual feelings because it's a sin to have pre/extramarital sex, then why not let them get married? Doesn't that make more sense than telling them to deny who they are?
Just my two cents' worth.
It struck me, upon wakening, what I've thought about before. In a very small way, I'm closeted as a non-believer. I've told some people (my non-member father and stepmother, my exmo sister, my husband (who's very distressed at my lack of faith), some non-member friends. I haven't told my mother, as I don't want to be responsible for her having a heart attack or something. I haven't told my stepfather, not because I care about his opinion, but because I don't want him to make my mother's life even more of a hell than it already is. I haven't told my best TBM friend, although I trust her and I will tell her when the time seems right.
I've seen some videos where Rapunzel, in Tangled, is compared to coming out of the mormon church, where she's one minute gleefully swinging through the air, and the next minute she's berating herself for being an awful daughter. That is a fantastic comparison, as that's frequently how I feel. I need my freedom, and I am claiming my freedom, but I feel like an awful daughter, an awful wife, an awful friend, for leaving TSCC even though I cannot believe it to be true.
And even though I think of myself as a closeted exmo, that doesn't mean that I think it's as difficult a thing as being a closeted homosexual. My dream showed me how much more painful that was, and that was just a dream. I think it's horrible that the mormon church teaches people that there's something wrong if you "have homosexual tendencies" or however they're wording it this week. I believe, with David, that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." If, then, some of us are homosexual, then that's how God made us. And the whole thing about how homosexuals should not act on their sexual feelings because it's a sin to have pre/extramarital sex, then why not let them get married? Doesn't that make more sense than telling them to deny who they are?
Just my two cents' worth.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Going crazy
Husband decided to come home yesterday without telling me. So here's me, naked (obvs) in the tub, and I hear one of the dogs whimpering, and then the door opens. I'm out of the tub in a flash and running (naked) down the hall only to see my husband who I thought was in another state at least for another week.
I've already been lectured on the wine in the refrigerator and the sleeveless shirts I'm wearing.
He hasn't noticed my extra ear piercings.
I'm really hating this. The irony of him lecturing me on how to be a proper mormon, despite the fact that I've been open and up front about my feelings about TSCC, despite the issues he's had throughout our marriage, it all just rubs me wrong.
Somehow I've got to get through this. He still wants to be committed to our marriage. I just want to be committed. There is no marriage here. There are two decades of loving each other very much while we went our separate ways. I tried so hard for so long, and I'm tired of trying, tired of pretending.
But I also don't want to be a complete bitch and break his heart. He's a good person.
I've already been lectured on the wine in the refrigerator and the sleeveless shirts I'm wearing.
He hasn't noticed my extra ear piercings.
I'm really hating this. The irony of him lecturing me on how to be a proper mormon, despite the fact that I've been open and up front about my feelings about TSCC, despite the issues he's had throughout our marriage, it all just rubs me wrong.
Somehow I've got to get through this. He still wants to be committed to our marriage. I just want to be committed. There is no marriage here. There are two decades of loving each other very much while we went our separate ways. I tried so hard for so long, and I'm tired of trying, tired of pretending.
But I also don't want to be a complete bitch and break his heart. He's a good person.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Questions
I'm just wondering: God spoke to Isaiah. How? Was it through dreams? Through a still small voice? In person? Via telephone?
I'm not being facetious. Okay, maybe the telephone question was a bit much, but seriously--how do did God speak to Isaiah, or Jeremiah, or Samuel?
How do we know it was God doing the speaking?
TBM's believe Joseph Smith's account of the first vision, because God was there, along with Jesus, and spoke to him. Well, in one of the accounts of the first vision, anyway. Obviously if God's right there and talking to you, there can be little doubt.
But I assume that other people, in other religions and faiths, believe that God, or their version of God, spoke/speaks to them. How can they all be right? How can they all be wrong?
Just wondering.
I'm not being facetious. Okay, maybe the telephone question was a bit much, but seriously--how do did God speak to Isaiah, or Jeremiah, or Samuel?
How do we know it was God doing the speaking?
TBM's believe Joseph Smith's account of the first vision, because God was there, along with Jesus, and spoke to him. Well, in one of the accounts of the first vision, anyway. Obviously if God's right there and talking to you, there can be little doubt.
But I assume that other people, in other religions and faiths, believe that God, or their version of God, spoke/speaks to them. How can they all be right? How can they all be wrong?
Just wondering.
Friday, May 6, 2011
My Church History
When I was 12, I think, my mother got a big bonus and promptly went out and bought a piano. Dad picked us kids up from school/daycare, and when I walked in the front door and saw the piano, I dropped my sister, dropped my book bag, started crying and hugged the piano.
Due to financial constraints, I was only able to take piano lessons for about 7 months. Anything I learned after that I taught myself. I played the piano when I was angry, when I was sad, when I was pensive, when I was glad.
Fast forward several years. I got baptized into TSCC when I was 17, actually on my father's birthday, which didn't make him very happy. He was the only holdout in our family, although I delayed it some time past the time when my mother, brother, and sister got baptized. I didn't join because I had a testimony, though. I joined because I wanted it to be true, because I wanted to have a healthy, normal family, and thought that somehow that would make those desires happen.
It didn't.
I didn't attend for a while, and I can't even tell you why I started going. My mother told me to go talk to the bishop and ask for a calling, like working in the church library. I could do that. I was incredibly shy and timid, and a library calling seemed perfect. I didn't know, nor apparently did my mother, that you didn't ask for the calling you wanted. I was called to be the YA rep for our ward. Dude. That was an awful experience. I think my most vivid memory was that of setting up a sock hop, and having 2 people come, one of whom was a friend of mine from high school, and the other was the male YA rep for our ward. I quit going to church after that.
The next time I started going to church, my parents were divorced and my mom had moved herself and my siblings in with her father in a city near the coast of Texas. I tried to make it on my own, and couldn't, so I moved in with them. I got called to teach Relief Society. I could do that. It felt weird, my 19-year-old self teaching grown women, but it was doable.
Then I moved to Austin. I found roommates to live with, and started attending a student ward even though I was an employee of UT, not a student. I went to church all the time, went to all the activities. I think I was a RS teacher, but can't recall for sure. I do remember going to teacher development class, and having a good time in that. And I sang in the choir. And I tried to fit in, with no success.
I remember trying desperately to find a way to pay tithing. I made so little money, and only got paid once a month, and by the end of the month I was so broke I would search the couch cushions for change. But I kept hearing how I was supposed to pay tithing, and how the Lord would open the windows of heaven and shower out blessings upon me, so I swallowed hard and wrote a check for 10% of my gross income. I mean, while the church leaders, at least in public, won't come out and tell you that it's supposed to be 10% of the gross, everyone knows it's 10% of the gross. And the check bounced. Far from being embarrassed when the financial clerk told me about it and handed the check back, I beamed at him. "See? Heavenly Father knows I can't afford to pay tithing!" I still recall the look on his face. I never attempted to pay tithing again while I lived in that ward.
I moved to Utah, because my mother had remarried, and taken my sister to Salt Lake City. My sister was/is my best friend, and being that far away from her was not fun. I found a roommate, and moved in with her. I attended our singles ward a few times, but I was no better at fitting in than I had been anywhere else. The men were assholes, because there were so many more women than men, and they totally had their pick of the gorgeous women. The women were bitches, if they were gorgeous, because they had their pick of the men and knew they'd be getting married and creating more tiny little mormons ere long. And I loathed my roommate, and she loathed me.
I moved out into my own apartment. My sister lived with me for a while. We didn't go to church. Why bother? My sister moved back in with our mother & stepfather, and my brother, who'd been dismissed from the army for bouncing checks all over Germany (no, of course our parents didn't teach us how to manage money), moved in with me for a while. That was a complete disaster, and he soon left.
I moved into a house with the awesomest roommate ever. I adored her, and I didn't go to church because I didn't feel like it. See how bad I was? I did watch general conference on TV at home, and usually video taped it so I could watch different episodes later. Then the awesomest roommate ever decided to go spend a summer in Greece, and as I obviously could not afford to maintain the house by myself, I moved in with a friend and her daughters. That lasted a month or two, and I got my own place again. That lasted another month or two, and I moved in with some girlfriends. Still didn't go to church, even though they did. I remember one night lying in bed trying to sleep, and hearing one roommate, who'd been "heavily petting" with her boyfriend on the couch ask him what blue balls were. And then after he left, she came to our room, got into her gown, knelt by the bed and prayed. See, that didn't make sense to me either. How did that fit in with the law of chastity?
I moved again. And again. This move put me in a house up near the U, where I worked. It was close enough that I could walk, although I usually drove or took the bus. My roommate was non LDS, and we hated each other. Despite our agreement at the beginning of the arrangement, she almost always had her boyfriend there overnight. Her big black lab shat under my piano. He ate a huge chunk out of my sofa. I was going to a student ward again, and trying to fit in, and doing a slightly better job of it, although still not great.
I moved into the basement apartment of the house as soon as the tenants moved out, and found a roommate from the student ward. It worked pretty well, and I was called to be a visiting teaching supervisor, and then visiting teaching coordinator. It was the ward where I met my husband. I paid my tithing for the first time ever, and was able to go to the temple and take out my endowments and wear ugly, ugly underwear. I had a great group of friends, and was probably the happiest I've ever been.
Then my roommate and I moved into a different apartment, and not too far after that I moved into my own apartment again. And then I moved to California for a while. Hated it. I did go to a singles ward there, with my soon-to-be husband, and I was called to play the piano for Relief Society. My husband and I decided to go back to Salt Lake and get married. So we moved in, temporarily, with my sister and her husband, and got married. When we got moved into our own apartment, we were both very active. We were called to be the ward activities directors, and it was an awesome calling. I was also primary pianist.
Then we moved to Texas, and were in a good ward. Again we were the activities committee directors. I was called to play piano for Relief Society. I was called to play piano for Primary. The ward boundaries changed. I was called to play piano for Relief Society. I was called to play piano for Primary. The ward boundaries changed. I briefly got to be in Young Women, which I loved, but was soon released and called to play piano for Relief Society. I got to teach Primary from time to time, but usually if I was attending church, I was playing piano for one group or another.
Now see, I'm an okay, not great, pianist. I'm a kick-ass teacher. So why was I always called to play piano? Was it really because God wanted me to, or was it because I was one of 2 or 3 people in the ward who foolishly admitted they could play? I knew people who actually could play piano, but refused to tell anyone because they'd never get a non-piano related calling again. I judged them. I did, and I'm so sorry, because they were totally right. Once my husband and I settled into the area where we've been living for what, 15 years?, 90% of the callings I had when active were playing piano. I had already decided that, if we ever moved away, I wasn't going to tell anyone I could play. I wanted the opportunity to do something else. And if callings really were inspired of God, well, he knew I could play piano. So if I still got a piano related calling, then I'd say okay. And if I didn't, I'd be thrilled.
Of course, things changed and I'm never going back. And don't misunderstand me. I love playing piano, even if I'm not that great at it. But I felt I was being pigeonholed into this situation, and my other abilities and desires and strengths were being completely ignored.
And I always had a hard time with tithing. I make more now than I ever have, but as I'm trying to figure out budgeting to see how I can make it on my own, should my husband and I go through with this separation/divorce, I'm so glad I don't have to figure out how to do it on 90% of my gross income.
Here again, don't get me wrong. I have charitable causes that I whole-heartedly support. At work, for example, we donate $10 to be able to wear jeans the last two weeks of every month, and that $10 not only goes to an excellent charitable cause, but the company doubles it. (Question: does TSCC double every humanitarian aid donation that comes in on the tithing slips?) I have other charities that I support, charities that show how the money that comes in is being expended, and that I know how much money is going for the charitable works. (Question: why doesn't TSCC have to show their finances? Shouldn't that be a requirement to maintain tax-exempt status? It should be, IMNSHO.)
So this is a long blathering post, full of sound and fury but signifying nothing. Some days are like that. I suppose if I were to sum things up, I'd say that there were some times, few and far between, when I was fully active and felt great about TSCC and myself, and I felt like I was doing a decent job at being a good mormon. But the other times I hated TSCC and I hated myself, and I knew no matter how hard I worked, I was never going to be good enough, so why bother. Those times won out. Now that I've let go of all of that, I feel better about things. I still believe in God and in Jesus Christ, and I still believe in trying to be a good person. I still believe in being my neighbour's keeper, in the sense that I think Christ meant it, and not in the sense that the morg mean it.
So there.
Due to financial constraints, I was only able to take piano lessons for about 7 months. Anything I learned after that I taught myself. I played the piano when I was angry, when I was sad, when I was pensive, when I was glad.
Fast forward several years. I got baptized into TSCC when I was 17, actually on my father's birthday, which didn't make him very happy. He was the only holdout in our family, although I delayed it some time past the time when my mother, brother, and sister got baptized. I didn't join because I had a testimony, though. I joined because I wanted it to be true, because I wanted to have a healthy, normal family, and thought that somehow that would make those desires happen.
It didn't.
I didn't attend for a while, and I can't even tell you why I started going. My mother told me to go talk to the bishop and ask for a calling, like working in the church library. I could do that. I was incredibly shy and timid, and a library calling seemed perfect. I didn't know, nor apparently did my mother, that you didn't ask for the calling you wanted. I was called to be the YA rep for our ward. Dude. That was an awful experience. I think my most vivid memory was that of setting up a sock hop, and having 2 people come, one of whom was a friend of mine from high school, and the other was the male YA rep for our ward. I quit going to church after that.
The next time I started going to church, my parents were divorced and my mom had moved herself and my siblings in with her father in a city near the coast of Texas. I tried to make it on my own, and couldn't, so I moved in with them. I got called to teach Relief Society. I could do that. It felt weird, my 19-year-old self teaching grown women, but it was doable.
Then I moved to Austin. I found roommates to live with, and started attending a student ward even though I was an employee of UT, not a student. I went to church all the time, went to all the activities. I think I was a RS teacher, but can't recall for sure. I do remember going to teacher development class, and having a good time in that. And I sang in the choir. And I tried to fit in, with no success.
I remember trying desperately to find a way to pay tithing. I made so little money, and only got paid once a month, and by the end of the month I was so broke I would search the couch cushions for change. But I kept hearing how I was supposed to pay tithing, and how the Lord would open the windows of heaven and shower out blessings upon me, so I swallowed hard and wrote a check for 10% of my gross income. I mean, while the church leaders, at least in public, won't come out and tell you that it's supposed to be 10% of the gross, everyone knows it's 10% of the gross. And the check bounced. Far from being embarrassed when the financial clerk told me about it and handed the check back, I beamed at him. "See? Heavenly Father knows I can't afford to pay tithing!" I still recall the look on his face. I never attempted to pay tithing again while I lived in that ward.
I moved to Utah, because my mother had remarried, and taken my sister to Salt Lake City. My sister was/is my best friend, and being that far away from her was not fun. I found a roommate, and moved in with her. I attended our singles ward a few times, but I was no better at fitting in than I had been anywhere else. The men were assholes, because there were so many more women than men, and they totally had their pick of the gorgeous women. The women were bitches, if they were gorgeous, because they had their pick of the men and knew they'd be getting married and creating more tiny little mormons ere long. And I loathed my roommate, and she loathed me.
I moved out into my own apartment. My sister lived with me for a while. We didn't go to church. Why bother? My sister moved back in with our mother & stepfather, and my brother, who'd been dismissed from the army for bouncing checks all over Germany (no, of course our parents didn't teach us how to manage money), moved in with me for a while. That was a complete disaster, and he soon left.
I moved into a house with the awesomest roommate ever. I adored her, and I didn't go to church because I didn't feel like it. See how bad I was? I did watch general conference on TV at home, and usually video taped it so I could watch different episodes later. Then the awesomest roommate ever decided to go spend a summer in Greece, and as I obviously could not afford to maintain the house by myself, I moved in with a friend and her daughters. That lasted a month or two, and I got my own place again. That lasted another month or two, and I moved in with some girlfriends. Still didn't go to church, even though they did. I remember one night lying in bed trying to sleep, and hearing one roommate, who'd been "heavily petting" with her boyfriend on the couch ask him what blue balls were. And then after he left, she came to our room, got into her gown, knelt by the bed and prayed. See, that didn't make sense to me either. How did that fit in with the law of chastity?
I moved again. And again. This move put me in a house up near the U, where I worked. It was close enough that I could walk, although I usually drove or took the bus. My roommate was non LDS, and we hated each other. Despite our agreement at the beginning of the arrangement, she almost always had her boyfriend there overnight. Her big black lab shat under my piano. He ate a huge chunk out of my sofa. I was going to a student ward again, and trying to fit in, and doing a slightly better job of it, although still not great.
I moved into the basement apartment of the house as soon as the tenants moved out, and found a roommate from the student ward. It worked pretty well, and I was called to be a visiting teaching supervisor, and then visiting teaching coordinator. It was the ward where I met my husband. I paid my tithing for the first time ever, and was able to go to the temple and take out my endowments and wear ugly, ugly underwear. I had a great group of friends, and was probably the happiest I've ever been.
Then my roommate and I moved into a different apartment, and not too far after that I moved into my own apartment again. And then I moved to California for a while. Hated it. I did go to a singles ward there, with my soon-to-be husband, and I was called to play the piano for Relief Society. My husband and I decided to go back to Salt Lake and get married. So we moved in, temporarily, with my sister and her husband, and got married. When we got moved into our own apartment, we were both very active. We were called to be the ward activities directors, and it was an awesome calling. I was also primary pianist.
Then we moved to Texas, and were in a good ward. Again we were the activities committee directors. I was called to play piano for Relief Society. I was called to play piano for Primary. The ward boundaries changed. I was called to play piano for Relief Society. I was called to play piano for Primary. The ward boundaries changed. I briefly got to be in Young Women, which I loved, but was soon released and called to play piano for Relief Society. I got to teach Primary from time to time, but usually if I was attending church, I was playing piano for one group or another.
Now see, I'm an okay, not great, pianist. I'm a kick-ass teacher. So why was I always called to play piano? Was it really because God wanted me to, or was it because I was one of 2 or 3 people in the ward who foolishly admitted they could play? I knew people who actually could play piano, but refused to tell anyone because they'd never get a non-piano related calling again. I judged them. I did, and I'm so sorry, because they were totally right. Once my husband and I settled into the area where we've been living for what, 15 years?, 90% of the callings I had when active were playing piano. I had already decided that, if we ever moved away, I wasn't going to tell anyone I could play. I wanted the opportunity to do something else. And if callings really were inspired of God, well, he knew I could play piano. So if I still got a piano related calling, then I'd say okay. And if I didn't, I'd be thrilled.
Of course, things changed and I'm never going back. And don't misunderstand me. I love playing piano, even if I'm not that great at it. But I felt I was being pigeonholed into this situation, and my other abilities and desires and strengths were being completely ignored.
And I always had a hard time with tithing. I make more now than I ever have, but as I'm trying to figure out budgeting to see how I can make it on my own, should my husband and I go through with this separation/divorce, I'm so glad I don't have to figure out how to do it on 90% of my gross income.
Here again, don't get me wrong. I have charitable causes that I whole-heartedly support. At work, for example, we donate $10 to be able to wear jeans the last two weeks of every month, and that $10 not only goes to an excellent charitable cause, but the company doubles it. (Question: does TSCC double every humanitarian aid donation that comes in on the tithing slips?) I have other charities that I support, charities that show how the money that comes in is being expended, and that I know how much money is going for the charitable works. (Question: why doesn't TSCC have to show their finances? Shouldn't that be a requirement to maintain tax-exempt status? It should be, IMNSHO.)
So this is a long blathering post, full of sound and fury but signifying nothing. Some days are like that. I suppose if I were to sum things up, I'd say that there were some times, few and far between, when I was fully active and felt great about TSCC and myself, and I felt like I was doing a decent job at being a good mormon. But the other times I hated TSCC and I hated myself, and I knew no matter how hard I worked, I was never going to be good enough, so why bother. Those times won out. Now that I've let go of all of that, I feel better about things. I still believe in God and in Jesus Christ, and I still believe in trying to be a good person. I still believe in being my neighbour's keeper, in the sense that I think Christ meant it, and not in the sense that the morg mean it.
So there.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Loving Our Neighbours
I used to think my visiting teacher loved me. I may have mentioned this here before, but it's still bugging me, hence this post.
She's been my visiting teacher for years. She used to come to my house 3-4 times a year. The other months she would send me a photocopy of the current visiting teaching message with various phrases/passages highlighted or underlined, a very brief note about how much she loved and missed me, and closed with an invitation to call if I needed anything.
Even before I quit the church, I'd gotten to where I wouldn't even open her missives anymore. I just tossed them, unopened, into the recycle bin.
So most recently, about the same time this all started happening for me, I got an email from my other visiting teaching companion wanting to know if they could come at a certain date/time. I responded with a no, saying that was a bad day for me, and wondering if they could come the next week. She thanked me for responding, and said that she'd get back in touch with me.
That led me to believe I might be expecting a phone call or another e-mail proposing a new date and time. But what I got was that same old envelope. "Open it," my husband urged. "She's a good woman. She loves you." So I reluctantly opened it, only to find the same-old, same-old.
Now there have been various times within the past several years when I would try to get my act together, start going to church, etc. I tried telling myself that it didn't matter what people thought of me there, and I should just go (despite my wondering why I should go somewhere that I was unwanted). I remember once asking my visiting teacher if we could meet a couple of times a month to have a little prayer group. I obviously couldn't go to the temple at that point, but I wanted a little one-on-one companionship. She didn't hesitate to tell me no, it couldn't possibly fit in her schedule. I felt a little hurt, but tried to ignore my hurt feelings. I did wonder why she couldn't fit in half an hour twice a month (she's single with few obligations), but after all, I knew she loved me--she told me so every time we talked and she wrote it on every photocopied visiting teaching message.
It was the same thing on the rare occasions that I went to church. Some people's faces would light up when they saw me, and they'd rush over to shake my hand and tell me how happy they were to see me, and I felt warm and loved. But this niggling little voice inside said that if they were so happy to see me, and had missed me so much, why had none of them ever called, or written, or done anything outside the strictures of the church (home and visiting teaching). And I'd tell that niggling little voice that they were probably very busy with their own lives, just as I was busy with my own.
We haven't had home teachers in a very long time. The penultimate home teacher was the one who adopted my youngest sister's son and didn't think it appropriate to tell us, despite the fact that initially we were planning to adopt the baby and had told him so. Very, very unpleasant experience. Our last home teacher only came over once in a while, very reluctantly, and despite his asking how he could help us, he always had a reason as to why he couldn't help on the rare occasions when we needed help and asked for it.
The home teaching and visiting teaching programs seem like they would be a good way to keep in touch with all of the members of the ward, and provide help when it was needed. It created a form of artificial friendship. My visiting teacher loved me when it fit into her schedule, but she never strayed from the requirements of the program, and she didn't love me when I asked for help, even though she told me in each letter or visit to call if I needed anything. Our home teacher(s) loved us when they were doing their home teacherly duty, coming to the house, giving us a brief message, but they didn't love us when we asked for help even though they told us to ask.
I'd rather have friends who just love me, friends whom I just love, not because someone is telling me to, not because of some artificial quota, not for any reason than because I love them. And I've been very richly blessed with true friends. The fact that few of them are mormon hasn't escaped me. I'm worried, also, about the ones who are mormon. Can I tell them what I'm thinking and feeling, and will they love and accept me anyway? I pray so. I'm still afraid to say anything on facebook about my true feelings, lest I suddenly find myself unfriended by everyone. I'm afraid to blog about this except behind a pseudonym, at least for now.
I used to have mormon friends, back in the day when I sublimated my entire personality to become the perfect Molly Mormon. I look at photos of myself from that era, and they just make me gag. Longish permed hair, denim dresses with lace trim, white socks with lace trim worn with keds. I think of how I decorated my home back then, and that also makes me gag. Cutesy crafty crap everywhere.
After my IVF failed, I went through a huge funk. I searched everywhere in the writings of the church leaders seeking for hope, and found none. I did find an online support group who got me through some of the darkest days I've ever lived through. And then I changed my name (long story). And I got rid of every bit of artsy-crafty-crappy decor item in my home. And I changed how I dressed. And I started being true to myself. And every Mormon friend I thought I had in my ward and stake, save two, dropped me cold turkey. I wasn't fitting into the mold anymore. Did it make them uncomfortable? Or were we just distanced by the fact that I had no children, and wasn't going to have children?
Of the two friends who didn't drop me, one of them is dead. She and her family had moved to a different state, and we hadn't been in touch in quite some time, but somehow I always knew that the next time we saw each other it would be like no time had passed at all. The other friend who didn't drop me is truly one of my dearest friends aside from my sister. I'm nervous to tell her what's going on with me, but I know that she will love me and accept me anyway, because she loves the core of me, the thing that makes me me and not someone else. In short, she practices true charity.
I contacted my bishop and requested that I be placed on a no contact list. If any more letters arrive from my loving visiting teacher (and she is a good person, and I mean her no disrespect. I just contend that she doesn't really love me.), they will be placed, unopened, into the recycle bin. If any home teachers show up at the house (which is unlikely but possible, since my husband did not request no contact), I will either politely leave the room or politely leave the house. If the missionaries show up while they're tracting, I'll give them something to drink and let them cool off, and then politely send them on their way.
My life is too short to worry about artificial friends, and it's too rich with the joy from true friendship to give any more time or thought to those artificial friends. To my true friends, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You make my life a joyous thing, even when times are the darkest. I love you, and I'm here for you if you need me. And I mean that.
She's been my visiting teacher for years. She used to come to my house 3-4 times a year. The other months she would send me a photocopy of the current visiting teaching message with various phrases/passages highlighted or underlined, a very brief note about how much she loved and missed me, and closed with an invitation to call if I needed anything.
Even before I quit the church, I'd gotten to where I wouldn't even open her missives anymore. I just tossed them, unopened, into the recycle bin.
So most recently, about the same time this all started happening for me, I got an email from my other visiting teaching companion wanting to know if they could come at a certain date/time. I responded with a no, saying that was a bad day for me, and wondering if they could come the next week. She thanked me for responding, and said that she'd get back in touch with me.
That led me to believe I might be expecting a phone call or another e-mail proposing a new date and time. But what I got was that same old envelope. "Open it," my husband urged. "She's a good woman. She loves you." So I reluctantly opened it, only to find the same-old, same-old.
Now there have been various times within the past several years when I would try to get my act together, start going to church, etc. I tried telling myself that it didn't matter what people thought of me there, and I should just go (despite my wondering why I should go somewhere that I was unwanted). I remember once asking my visiting teacher if we could meet a couple of times a month to have a little prayer group. I obviously couldn't go to the temple at that point, but I wanted a little one-on-one companionship. She didn't hesitate to tell me no, it couldn't possibly fit in her schedule. I felt a little hurt, but tried to ignore my hurt feelings. I did wonder why she couldn't fit in half an hour twice a month (she's single with few obligations), but after all, I knew she loved me--she told me so every time we talked and she wrote it on every photocopied visiting teaching message.
It was the same thing on the rare occasions that I went to church. Some people's faces would light up when they saw me, and they'd rush over to shake my hand and tell me how happy they were to see me, and I felt warm and loved. But this niggling little voice inside said that if they were so happy to see me, and had missed me so much, why had none of them ever called, or written, or done anything outside the strictures of the church (home and visiting teaching). And I'd tell that niggling little voice that they were probably very busy with their own lives, just as I was busy with my own.
We haven't had home teachers in a very long time. The penultimate home teacher was the one who adopted my youngest sister's son and didn't think it appropriate to tell us, despite the fact that initially we were planning to adopt the baby and had told him so. Very, very unpleasant experience. Our last home teacher only came over once in a while, very reluctantly, and despite his asking how he could help us, he always had a reason as to why he couldn't help on the rare occasions when we needed help and asked for it.
The home teaching and visiting teaching programs seem like they would be a good way to keep in touch with all of the members of the ward, and provide help when it was needed. It created a form of artificial friendship. My visiting teacher loved me when it fit into her schedule, but she never strayed from the requirements of the program, and she didn't love me when I asked for help, even though she told me in each letter or visit to call if I needed anything. Our home teacher(s) loved us when they were doing their home teacherly duty, coming to the house, giving us a brief message, but they didn't love us when we asked for help even though they told us to ask.
I'd rather have friends who just love me, friends whom I just love, not because someone is telling me to, not because of some artificial quota, not for any reason than because I love them. And I've been very richly blessed with true friends. The fact that few of them are mormon hasn't escaped me. I'm worried, also, about the ones who are mormon. Can I tell them what I'm thinking and feeling, and will they love and accept me anyway? I pray so. I'm still afraid to say anything on facebook about my true feelings, lest I suddenly find myself unfriended by everyone. I'm afraid to blog about this except behind a pseudonym, at least for now.
I used to have mormon friends, back in the day when I sublimated my entire personality to become the perfect Molly Mormon. I look at photos of myself from that era, and they just make me gag. Longish permed hair, denim dresses with lace trim, white socks with lace trim worn with keds. I think of how I decorated my home back then, and that also makes me gag. Cutesy crafty crap everywhere.
After my IVF failed, I went through a huge funk. I searched everywhere in the writings of the church leaders seeking for hope, and found none. I did find an online support group who got me through some of the darkest days I've ever lived through. And then I changed my name (long story). And I got rid of every bit of artsy-crafty-crappy decor item in my home. And I changed how I dressed. And I started being true to myself. And every Mormon friend I thought I had in my ward and stake, save two, dropped me cold turkey. I wasn't fitting into the mold anymore. Did it make them uncomfortable? Or were we just distanced by the fact that I had no children, and wasn't going to have children?
Of the two friends who didn't drop me, one of them is dead. She and her family had moved to a different state, and we hadn't been in touch in quite some time, but somehow I always knew that the next time we saw each other it would be like no time had passed at all. The other friend who didn't drop me is truly one of my dearest friends aside from my sister. I'm nervous to tell her what's going on with me, but I know that she will love me and accept me anyway, because she loves the core of me, the thing that makes me me and not someone else. In short, she practices true charity.
I contacted my bishop and requested that I be placed on a no contact list. If any more letters arrive from my loving visiting teacher (and she is a good person, and I mean her no disrespect. I just contend that she doesn't really love me.), they will be placed, unopened, into the recycle bin. If any home teachers show up at the house (which is unlikely but possible, since my husband did not request no contact), I will either politely leave the room or politely leave the house. If the missionaries show up while they're tracting, I'll give them something to drink and let them cool off, and then politely send them on their way.
My life is too short to worry about artificial friends, and it's too rich with the joy from true friendship to give any more time or thought to those artificial friends. To my true friends, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You make my life a joyous thing, even when times are the darkest. I love you, and I'm here for you if you need me. And I mean that.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Pain
You know, it's not exactly easy to let go of everything. There's pain involved, like right now I have an infection in one of my new piercings. I'm carefully treating it, hoping it will clear up, but there's this little part of me that says it's infected because I'm only supposed to have one piercing per ear.
Of course, if that were the case, the other ear would be infected as well, and it's not. I just think God has a lot more to occupy him than how many holes I have in my ear lobes.
I've always loved Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Henry B. Eyring, Gordon B. Hinckley, Jeffrey R. Holland. And now I think of them and I think of all the lies and deceptions. Lying for the Lord apparently doesn't affect your personal worthiness for temple recommends.
And I also think of the dishonesty and abuse of priesthood power I experienced in Salt Lake City. One company I worked for attracted the interest of the SEC, and the president ended up in prison. But he worked at the temple every week. So something was wrong there. I've heard the urban legends--a temple officiator stopped a session to say that a couple of people in that session were not worthy to be there, and invited them to leave. No one moved, so he said again that they had to leave, or he would call out their names and what their sins were (presumably adultery). And then two people stood up and left the room, and the session continued. I was guillible. I believed that. So how is it that no one ever noticed that my former boss, a veil worker, was cheating people out of their hard-earned money, breaking laws all over the place, and was quite obviously not an honest person?
I also remember trying to find a job in Salt Lake City after getting married. I actually had one man tell me, upon discovering that I was a newlywed, that he wouldn't hire me because I would get pregnant and quit my job. I should have called the ACLU and hauled his ass off to court, but I meekly took it, because I knew he was right. I would quit my job immediately upon getting pregnant. The only problem there, of course, was that I was infertile.
So the fact that the church leaders that I so respected are liars, sexual predators, greedy people shouldn't be such a shock. I saw it every day. I just chose to believe that the church was still true.
I can't choose that anymore. I see nothing that shows me it's true. All I see are the lies.
Please note that I'm in no way accusing all church members of being dishonest. I believe that the majority of Mormons are good, honest, diligent people who genuinely believe they're serving God. But I don't see how the main leadership, those who despite the church's stated policy of unpaid clergy, who are actually paid for their services cannot know what is going on underneath the surface. Do you remember those horrible toe fungus commercials, where an innocuous looking toenail was pulled back to reveal all kinds of horrible and disgusting pus and fungus thriving underneath it? Yeah. That's what I'm talking about.
Of course, if that were the case, the other ear would be infected as well, and it's not. I just think God has a lot more to occupy him than how many holes I have in my ear lobes.
I've always loved Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Henry B. Eyring, Gordon B. Hinckley, Jeffrey R. Holland. And now I think of them and I think of all the lies and deceptions. Lying for the Lord apparently doesn't affect your personal worthiness for temple recommends.
And I also think of the dishonesty and abuse of priesthood power I experienced in Salt Lake City. One company I worked for attracted the interest of the SEC, and the president ended up in prison. But he worked at the temple every week. So something was wrong there. I've heard the urban legends--a temple officiator stopped a session to say that a couple of people in that session were not worthy to be there, and invited them to leave. No one moved, so he said again that they had to leave, or he would call out their names and what their sins were (presumably adultery). And then two people stood up and left the room, and the session continued. I was guillible. I believed that. So how is it that no one ever noticed that my former boss, a veil worker, was cheating people out of their hard-earned money, breaking laws all over the place, and was quite obviously not an honest person?
I also remember trying to find a job in Salt Lake City after getting married. I actually had one man tell me, upon discovering that I was a newlywed, that he wouldn't hire me because I would get pregnant and quit my job. I should have called the ACLU and hauled his ass off to court, but I meekly took it, because I knew he was right. I would quit my job immediately upon getting pregnant. The only problem there, of course, was that I was infertile.
So the fact that the church leaders that I so respected are liars, sexual predators, greedy people shouldn't be such a shock. I saw it every day. I just chose to believe that the church was still true.
I can't choose that anymore. I see nothing that shows me it's true. All I see are the lies.
Please note that I'm in no way accusing all church members of being dishonest. I believe that the majority of Mormons are good, honest, diligent people who genuinely believe they're serving God. But I don't see how the main leadership, those who despite the church's stated policy of unpaid clergy, who are actually paid for their services cannot know what is going on underneath the surface. Do you remember those horrible toe fungus commercials, where an innocuous looking toenail was pulled back to reveal all kinds of horrible and disgusting pus and fungus thriving underneath it? Yeah. That's what I'm talking about.
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