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.

Just Thinkin' Again

Okay. I don't have children, not through lack of trying, but just imagine for a moment that I do.  I love my children. They're the most precious things in my life. So why would I bring them into this world and tell them that unless I have another child who is able to be perfect here on earth, and who willingly sacrifices himself for them, I will never see them again after they die?

I do have a dog, and have had several dogs, so no need to pretend there. I love them. They are precious to me. I cherish every moment I've spent with them, well, except for the whole cleaning up the puke on my lace and beaded comforter, and cleaning up more poop than seems possible for one small dog. I've lost 3 of those dogs--one to a car, one to a heart attack, and the most recent to chronic kidney failure. I look forward to seeing them again, playing with them again, whenever or however or if there is something beyond this life.

And that's just me.

So why would loving heavenly parents create children only to say, "well, if you don't do everything I say, and if your brother doesn't willingly sacrifice himself for you, and if you don't abide by all the commandments, we're not going to be seeing each other anymore?"

That's what haunted me my entire time as a member of the church. I didn't understand it, and I knew there was no way I could ever abide by every commandment. There were so many things that didn't make sense to me. I support gay marriage, which set me apart from my "friends"--I use the word advisedly, because most of them weren't really my friends.

I remember once going to the bishop with some troubles, and telling him about finding myself in hot water, and his thoughts immediately jumped into interesting territory, as he asked if I had had any homosexual activity with them. WTF? Do these men not understand that your sexual orientation just is? I don't believe homosexuals can be turned straight, nor do I believe that heterosexuals can be turned gay. Don't get me wrong--I think women are beautiful. Much more attractive than most men. But that doesn't mean I want to have sex with them.

So if there is a God, then I would hope that he is far greater, far kinder, far more merciful and compassionate, than the best I can possibly be. And when it comes to people I love, I can be pretty kind, merciful, and compassionate. I can even be decent to people I don't particularly like. That's just part of what being alive is. You love people. You help them out if and when you can. If you can't, you recognize that you would if you could, and you keep going. If people treat you like shit, recognize that they don't get it, and move on.

Sorry this is rambly. My thoughts have been extremely rambly of late, and I can't seem to turn them off. I'm obsessively reading and researching, and everything I learn goes into my brain and I turn on the puree button, and it whizzes around and around. And I have weird dreams, and very interesting conversations with the people I trust, and I journal my experiences and hope that someday I'll have more answers than I do today. But at least I'm asking questions.

I mean, if you're told that "when the prophet speaks, the debate is over," and you actually believe that, then you're never going to explore what's going on. I believe in the scientific method. I believe in asking the question and looking for the answer. If you're not allowed to research and study things out, how are you going to know that the answers you've been given and have parroted are the right answers? If you start with what you believe to be the answer, and ask questions that make the answer fit, you're really going about things bass-ackwards.

And now I shall bear my testimony: I do not believe the mormon church is the one true church. I don't believe there is one true church.  I do not believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I do not believe that the book of mormon is scripture. I believe that it was cobbled together from various sources with some imagination and a knowledge of the scriptures to sound scriptural. I do not believe that women are second-best, that blacks are second-best, that native Americans or other people of colour will become white and delightsome, because I believe they are delightsome just as they are. I do not believe that Brigham Young was a prophet. I do not believe that Adam is our god and the only god with which we have anything to do. I do not believe the moon is populated by Quakers. I do not believe that if I don't give ten percent of everything I earn I will be burned.

What do I believe? I believe that there are a lot of people on this earth, and we all need each other. We need to love each other. We need to be genuine and sincere. I believe in trying to make the world a little bit better for my having been here. I believe that if there's a god, he's better than the best we can imagine. I believe that if there's a god, he loves us, and he's merciful, and he cares about us. I believe that my nephew who died last year isn't serving a mission on the other side of the veil--I believe that he's playing with his brother and cousins who also died far too soon, and I believe that he's having a blast. And I can't wait to see him again and shoot the bull with him. I believe that there is purpose to life. I believe that if we ask the right questions, and genuinely seek for the answers to those questions, that we'll get a lot more out of life.

Nameofcheeseandriceamen.