So glad I'm not alone.
Then again, had I KNOWN I wasn't alone at the time, I might've gotten the fuck out a lot sooner. Then again, I wouldn't have met Eric.
I swear, it's all sorts of fucked up.
For those who may not know what a patriarchal blessing is, in each stake there is one or two generally old men who are "set apart" to be the Patriarch. One of these old dudes gives what is often referred to as a personal scripture to each worthy member of the church after an interview with their bishop who determines worthiness. I think new members have to wait at least a year. So this "blessing" tells you about who you were in the premortal existence, what lineage you can claim re: the 12 tribes of Israel, warnings to watch out for in the present time and what you can expect in the future. If, say, your blessing promises you a marriage to a worthy woman which results in many children and you--gasp--don't get it (also counts for going on a mission), it is rationalized that you will receive such things in the afterlife.
So lately I'm reading a lot of other people's accounts of how their patriarchal blessings began with a fairly long "interview" where the almighty patriarch (he who is endowed--teehee--with the ability of a psychic to know my past, present AND future) before the actual "blessing"
The entire time I'm speaking with this man I'm thinking "wtf, are you serious? this is very weird." I KNEW I was in effect giving this man the answers before the test. This feeling was verified during the actual blessing as I was told all the same shit I just told this guy. Nothing--nothing--was new to me.
I was so pissed for years after this. Just pissed. I was in tears. I wanted to tell somebody, but that's just not an option. It's supposed to be just for you, nobody else. You can give away a few things here and there in the correct setting, but never ever share the entire thing with anyone other than your parents and/or spouse.
I should post it. I should. Maybe another time. Oh wait, I did!
And I understand that this may be nit-picking and rather punctuation-crazy of me (although I understand I'm not perfect at this either), but I couldn't believe the errors once I received my printed copy. Shouldn't something of this importance be, you know, professionally transcribed?
Every time I read it I wanted to cry. It just made me so angry. Once I married Eric I was happy to show him and confess, finally, that I hated it. I hated it more once I read his. He loved mine, though, and I could never figure out why. I loved his. I don't remember why. It just seemed better in a lot of ways.
I felt robbed. Any asshole can ask a few choice questions and them "predict" shit. Also, when all else fails just say this person is of the tribe of Ephraim and make some shit up when that person's other family member is of the tribe of, say, Benjamin (it's supposed to be a blood thing--if you're Jewish you'll be assigned to the Judah--I think. Correction?)
It's fucking ridiculous.
Now that I've posted it, you can see it at My Patriarchal Blessing