I SENT THE LETTER.
Yeah. That letter.
This morning.
It's toned down quite a bit from my original letter, but I think it works rather nicely.
Member Records Division, LDS Church
50 E North Temple Room 1372
SLC, UT 84150-5310
Cc: President of [My] Stake.
Bishop of What-Would-Be-Our-Ward
This letter is to inform you of our resignation from the church. We expect our names to be permanently and completely removed from the membership rolls of the church. Full names and birthdates are supplied below. The names and records of our children are also to be removed. They are: [kid #1] (her birthdate), [kid #2] (birthdate), and [kid #3] (birthdate). Our current address is [redacted].
We have considered this for a significant amount of time, resulting in disbelief in even basic tenets of the church. Recent events concerning Prop 8 and the words of certain senior leaders have compelled us to resign formally. We will not condone these actions, preaching, and behaviors by virtue of our membership and thus refuse official association with the church.
We understand you consider this a serious action and what you believe the consequences of resignation are. We are aware that the Church Handbook of Instructions says our resignation "cancels the effects of baptism and confirmation, withdraws the priesthood held by a male member and revokes temple blessings." We also understand that re-admittance is possible “by baptism only after a thorough interview."
We expect our resignations to be processed immediately, without any “waiting periods” and in full confidentiality and respect. After today the only contact we want from the church is a single letter of confirmation of our resignations, records and name removal. If a reason must be documented, “doctrinal issues” would be accurate.
Please also note that our bishop and stake president have been notified likewise.
Sincerely,
[Husband]
[Birthdate]
Me
[Birthdate]
Showing posts with label resigning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label resigning. Show all posts
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
It begins?
So I don't know the timeline as my landline answering machine fucks up the dates and whatnot, but.
Okay.
While I studied in my room yesterday, our RS president stopped by, wanting to meet me. DILF told her "It's probably best if you don't come back."
I was both disappointed and glad I was away when she came by.
Then, just now, my son noticed that we had some messages on our answering machine. He keeps a sharp eye for this. He presses the button, and I immediately hear the word "Sister" and a familiar last name. I listen. This woman wants to "become acquainted with me" and gives me her phone number.
I figure she called before she came over? Who knows.
The next message is from her as well. "Don't mean to bother you again," she says, and then repeats the same shit she said on the last message.
My oldest is about to turn 8. We've already received the letter about it, and now this stuff. I understand from the message that "Sister" So-and-So is new to this calling, so she may just be super-zealous about bringing inactives back, but I wonder if it has anything to do with my kid not being baptised unless someone does something.
I just hated it. "Become acquainted with you." Uhm. I don't do assigned friends, but thanks.
I still can't get used to being on this side of the fence.
It is weird, the reactions you have to these things. I kind of want her to call again. I'd like to tell her that I'm sure she's super nice, but there's nothing nothing nothing she can say or do to bring me back. I'd love to tell her I'm resigning soon. I'd love to tell her I've already resigned, because I worry that telling her I haven't yet will give her some kind of hope and we'll receive EVEN MORE attention--but if that happens, we'll just send in the letters. I'm not okay with this. I'm just not.
God it's weird the way these stupid things affect you.
Okay.
While I studied in my room yesterday, our RS president stopped by, wanting to meet me. DILF told her "It's probably best if you don't come back."
I was both disappointed and glad I was away when she came by.
Then, just now, my son noticed that we had some messages on our answering machine. He keeps a sharp eye for this. He presses the button, and I immediately hear the word "Sister" and a familiar last name. I listen. This woman wants to "become acquainted with me" and gives me her phone number.
I figure she called before she came over? Who knows.
The next message is from her as well. "Don't mean to bother you again," she says, and then repeats the same shit she said on the last message.
My oldest is about to turn 8. We've already received the letter about it, and now this stuff. I understand from the message that "Sister" So-and-So is new to this calling, so she may just be super-zealous about bringing inactives back, but I wonder if it has anything to do with my kid not being baptised unless someone does something.
I just hated it. "Become acquainted with you." Uhm. I don't do assigned friends, but thanks.
I still can't get used to being on this side of the fence.
It is weird, the reactions you have to these things. I kind of want her to call again. I'd like to tell her that I'm sure she's super nice, but there's nothing nothing nothing she can say or do to bring me back. I'd love to tell her I'm resigning soon. I'd love to tell her I've already resigned, because I worry that telling her I haven't yet will give her some kind of hope and we'll receive EVEN MORE attention--but if that happens, we'll just send in the letters. I'm not okay with this. I'm just not.
God it's weird the way these stupid things affect you.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Resignation Letter #1
I wanted to be way more snarky, but whatever. I don't imagine the final product will differ much from this one. I took the suggested template off exmormon.org and messed with it a bit, taking passive sentences and making them a bit more...assertive. It feels better. I didn't really dig the "we're no longer subject to yr shit" line they suggested because, well, do I really need to say that? Some people would say yes. Apparently as recently as 2004 someone was called to a Court after resigning. I'd be all "whatever."
Anyhow, I am thinking a "later, bitches!" would be a better sign off than "sincerely." Really, I think I need a better way to end this than "sincerely." Suggestions? Eric wouldn't be comfortable with "bitches." He's pretty sure his old cub scout leader will process this eventually. But maybe that just means I need to write my own goddamn letter.
(Side note: It is 3:15 am. My daughter had a bad dream, so I'm awake now, thinking about how I'm about to make this public, like it's some kind of contract with you, even though I know you of all people get this. Am I effectively divorcing my family?! Do I really want to do this?! Ugh! The church, it sucks.)
8:30am: Pretty much over that. Pretty much. We'll see.
Member Records Division, LDS Church
50 E North Temple Rm 1372
SLC UT 84150-5310
This letter is to inform you of our resignation from the church. We expect our names to be permanently and completely removed from the membership rolls of the church. The names and records of our children are also to be removed. They are: Abbie, Jason, and Joseph. [full names and birth dates redacted for blog]
We have considered this for a significant amount of time due to doctrinal issues, but the recent events concerning Prop 8 and the words of certain senior leaders have compelled us to resign formally. We will not condone these actions and behaviors by virtue of our membership and thus refuse official association with the church.
We understand you consider this “serious” and what you believe the “consequences” of resignation are. We take this seriously as well and quite frankly believe the cost is worth the benefit.
We are aware that the CHI says our resignation "cancels the effects of baptism and confirmation, withdraws the priesthood held by a male member and revokes temple blessings." We also understand that readmittance is possible “by baptism only after a thorough interview." These are not concerns of ours, though, so have at.
We expect our resignations to be processed immediately, without any “waiting periods.” Postponing this process by any attempts to dissuade us will not be met with any measure of patience. Our decision has been made. We expect this matter to be handled promptly, with respect and with full confidentiality.
After today the only contact we want from the church is a single letter of confirmation of our resignations, records and name removal. If a reason must be documented, “doctrinal issues” would be accurate.
Sincerely,
Us.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Waving the White Flag
Gawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwd.
Have you read, heard or seen some of the responses to the editing fiasco? I'd list some but then I'd have to kill myself.
I'm done! People, there is no hope. In this sense I do think I need to leave the fucking church alone. I can talk about, work through, cry and scream about my experiences, but this bitching activism thing about their doctrine and policies and ignorant beliefs is like bashing my head against a brick wall. I can only lose so much blood.
I realize that wavering members might see this blog and that leaving is a difficult thing but ultimately a very good thing, but it's like a reverse version of Russian roulette. Most of the time I'm just hurting myself. Once in a while someone will stop by and be all "hmmm, she might have something" but is it worth it? I'm not sure, and I'm leaning toward "NO." Unless a person comes to me, I'm done. I at least need a break.
I started this blog to just talk about religion. Y'all, I had severed all ties with the church for months except for the ones I couldn't escape: family, a few friends. Every time the Ensign showed up at our house, BAM! into the trash. It still does, but y'know. Example. I didn't look up this shit. I left the NOM board alone. It was wonderful.
But like I mentioned, you just can't escape this completely. You can't. And I go through cycles, sometimes severe, of obsession. I began not too long ago to obsess over religion and god and what I believed and didn't believe. I wanted a bit of support. I needed it. People told me I needed to blog again, and I figured the church would only be a part of it. It would have to be. Aside from being born Christian (which is huge), the church is the single biggest influence in my life. My membership spanned what I consider to be my most formative years. I can't ignore it completely, and I knew I wouldn't be able to.
That said, I was under the naive and hopeful assumption when I began this blog that the church had to at least give it a fucking break for a little while, but jesus. They can't. Always something.
And their sheep just follow. I don't even know why they have eyes.
Mmph. I mean that and I don't. I visited with my MIL last night and I don't think I have to say it again but I will: I love my MIL. She's a sweet woman who has been nothing but the same to us since we (er, the kids) told her we don't go to church anymore. And it made me think of all the shit I've been saying, the posts on facebook where she is a friend, the thoughts, whatever.
I don't want to shove this shit in her face. Not without her asking about it. She's happy, she's a good woman, she's not hurting anyone. She's even really kind to her out nephew. She's a good, good woman. We disagree on many things, but she's always been really good to me. And it's good to love others despite fundamental differences, because we are more than just our sexuality. We are more than just our beliefs. Though those two things make up a huge part of who we are, nobody is two-dimensional. We are complex, wonderful beings and we need diversity in this world if we are to really survive and be happy.
My ex-roomie has been nothing but good to me. MLDSFDTS.
I can't figure out how I can rail against the church and not against them. It's not possible. They take it so personally. And why not? We all know how it gets into your blood.
Railing against the church for us is like an exorcism. We take it personally, and why the hell not? We have every reason to. But sometimes, I just really wish I could quietly go. My anger more than anything makes me feel the church still has power over me.
It all makes me think back to when I was first disaffected. You know, very very angry and very loud. The regrets afterward. Nobody responds well to childish ranting. I need to respect their decisions and their views if I want them to respect mine. Shoving it in their faces doesn't do jack shit because, in the end, they will believe despite until something hits them just right. Just like Prop 8 did for me. Polygamy.
In short, I need to STFU. I will speak up when necessary, but it needn't take up the majority of what I do say. If I want them to see me as more than just an ex-member, if I want them to see my happiness, then I need to curtail the bitching which doesn't do much good anyway. I will stand up, but I also need to know when to back down. If I want respect then I need to give it. I remember what it's like to be a TBM just like I remember what it's like to have your first real doubts.
I get my recent anger, you know. Events like Packer's talk and Prop 8 was what really gave me the green light to consider leaving. It was offensive. I didn't appreciate what my experience taught me about the church: that they think I'm stupid, blind, and willing to ask "how high?" when they demand that I jump. I've never been that kind of girl--except as a member. And the more my political views changed over the last five years, the more I realized the grey in the black and white, the more these doctrines snapped me out of it. That really was the beginning of the end, polygamy. Thinking I should have another child when I knew I shouldn't, couldn't. Being told how to vote. The hatred toward people who don't hurt others any more than anyone else. So when I see these issues arise again, it triggers and I get obsessively angry all over again. And I kind of hate myself for remaining. I can't condone this shit, even passively.
Which is why I drafted my first resignation letter last night. I'll get into that in another post probably.
But once you've been gone for a while you begin to romanticize it. You want to be kind and not like the devilish "antis" you were warned about and vilified for so long. You want to be that good example, to prove to other members that see? i may be an apostate but i'm still a good person who doesn't obsess and bitch and turn into a monster. And, in that vein, because we're good people, before we know it we're only thinking of the good things about the church. For me, it's (some of) the hymns, the smell of the church building, the traditions. I miss seeing my husband dressed up. I miss seeing my boys dressed up. I enjoyed teaching the women in Relief Society for the two times I could handle it before I had to cry uncle--not because I hated teaching (I loved it) but because I didn't believe in it.
Yet if I were to attend a church, the LDS church would be the only one I would feel at home in despite everything. I liked the quiet. I liked the lack of crazy shouts of "hallelujah!" and the lack of fear that someone would break into tongues. It's a more inclusive doctrine. It wasn't weird to me--with the exception of F&T Sunday, but that was more entertainment than anything else. So you begin to forget about the hurtful things, the things that made you miserable. You want to forgive and forget. So we need the reminders occasionally that it wasn't all that great. Ask Kiley. Sometimes we need an Elder Packer to remind us why we left.
It's not a bad thing to remember the good. Because they are, in large part, good people. We didn't join to be assholes. We joined because we wanted to be better. We stayed because we wanted to be good. We left because we wanted to better our lives, to be truer to what we know now is reality. To grow and enjoy life. We got out of the fucking cave and omg, it's pretty awesome. We want to spread that gospel. But we need to give remaining members the benefit, to allow them their own time to get to whatever conclusion they will get to. We may be sad for them because we feel they are missing out on so much, but in the end it is their decision. If it makes them happier and they're kind to others, then we need to leave them alone and not waste our breath fighting with people who have dug their feet in, who only want to be right. And we can understand that. At least I can.
I'll talk with MLDSFDTS if she wants to, I'll just be myself and deal with his family thinking I'm super weird instead of just a little, but I need to GET OVER IT. Life is too short for this.
Besides, MIL aside, there's no arguing with super TBM members. There's just not. Not that I've really tried, but listening to their reactions was enough. I get so angry as to lose all rationality. I just want to scream, and that does nothing for the cause.
I'm done. White flag. Surrender. All that. There's no point. I know there's a point with people who are wavering, but goddammit, that's not my place. Not to the extent I've taken it. I'm yelling at people in vain and at the expense of others who don't deserve to hear it all the fucking time. What good is it doing?
I'm tired of being so angry...again. I always end up hating myself in the end. I'd like to enjoy myself. Laugh a little. Move forward instead of going back. This isn't that. There's a whole world out there, and all I can do is be spiteful. This isn't getting my power back. This is giving it back to the people who I allowed to take it away in the first place. They don't deserve it.
I recognize, however, that it might take me a little bit to fully get over this. I'd be dishonest if I told you and myself that I won't ever bitch like this again. I will. It's part of the process. But for now, I want so much to be done. Also, I'm dealing with a bit of depression this last month or so (I'm bipolar. There. I said it.) and it makes it difficult to make firm decisions. To not obsess and feel attacked. To not feel so goddamn insecure and defensive. Anger is easier and more cathartic than being depressed and feeling like nobody likes me, guess I'll go eat worms. Being angry makes me feel in control, powerful. But I'm not.
Have you read, heard or seen some of the responses to the editing fiasco? I'd list some but then I'd have to kill myself.
I'm done! People, there is no hope. In this sense I do think I need to leave the fucking church alone. I can talk about, work through, cry and scream about my experiences, but this bitching activism thing about their doctrine and policies and ignorant beliefs is like bashing my head against a brick wall. I can only lose so much blood.
I realize that wavering members might see this blog and that leaving is a difficult thing but ultimately a very good thing, but it's like a reverse version of Russian roulette. Most of the time I'm just hurting myself. Once in a while someone will stop by and be all "hmmm, she might have something" but is it worth it? I'm not sure, and I'm leaning toward "NO." Unless a person comes to me, I'm done. I at least need a break.
I started this blog to just talk about religion. Y'all, I had severed all ties with the church for months except for the ones I couldn't escape: family, a few friends. Every time the Ensign showed up at our house, BAM! into the trash. It still does, but y'know. Example. I didn't look up this shit. I left the NOM board alone. It was wonderful.
But like I mentioned, you just can't escape this completely. You can't. And I go through cycles, sometimes severe, of obsession. I began not too long ago to obsess over religion and god and what I believed and didn't believe. I wanted a bit of support. I needed it. People told me I needed to blog again, and I figured the church would only be a part of it. It would have to be. Aside from being born Christian (which is huge), the church is the single biggest influence in my life. My membership spanned what I consider to be my most formative years. I can't ignore it completely, and I knew I wouldn't be able to.
That said, I was under the naive and hopeful assumption when I began this blog that the church had to at least give it a fucking break for a little while, but jesus. They can't. Always something.
And their sheep just follow. I don't even know why they have eyes.
Mmph. I mean that and I don't. I visited with my MIL last night and I don't think I have to say it again but I will: I love my MIL. She's a sweet woman who has been nothing but the same to us since we (er, the kids) told her we don't go to church anymore. And it made me think of all the shit I've been saying, the posts on facebook where she is a friend, the thoughts, whatever.
I don't want to shove this shit in her face. Not without her asking about it. She's happy, she's a good woman, she's not hurting anyone. She's even really kind to her out nephew. She's a good, good woman. We disagree on many things, but she's always been really good to me. And it's good to love others despite fundamental differences, because we are more than just our sexuality. We are more than just our beliefs. Though those two things make up a huge part of who we are, nobody is two-dimensional. We are complex, wonderful beings and we need diversity in this world if we are to really survive and be happy.
My ex-roomie has been nothing but good to me. MLDSFDTS.
I can't figure out how I can rail against the church and not against them. It's not possible. They take it so personally. And why not? We all know how it gets into your blood.
Railing against the church for us is like an exorcism. We take it personally, and why the hell not? We have every reason to. But sometimes, I just really wish I could quietly go. My anger more than anything makes me feel the church still has power over me.
It all makes me think back to when I was first disaffected. You know, very very angry and very loud. The regrets afterward. Nobody responds well to childish ranting. I need to respect their decisions and their views if I want them to respect mine. Shoving it in their faces doesn't do jack shit because, in the end, they will believe despite until something hits them just right. Just like Prop 8 did for me. Polygamy.
In short, I need to STFU. I will speak up when necessary, but it needn't take up the majority of what I do say. If I want them to see me as more than just an ex-member, if I want them to see my happiness, then I need to curtail the bitching which doesn't do much good anyway. I will stand up, but I also need to know when to back down. If I want respect then I need to give it. I remember what it's like to be a TBM just like I remember what it's like to have your first real doubts.
I get my recent anger, you know. Events like Packer's talk and Prop 8 was what really gave me the green light to consider leaving. It was offensive. I didn't appreciate what my experience taught me about the church: that they think I'm stupid, blind, and willing to ask "how high?" when they demand that I jump. I've never been that kind of girl--except as a member. And the more my political views changed over the last five years, the more I realized the grey in the black and white, the more these doctrines snapped me out of it. That really was the beginning of the end, polygamy. Thinking I should have another child when I knew I shouldn't, couldn't. Being told how to vote. The hatred toward people who don't hurt others any more than anyone else. So when I see these issues arise again, it triggers and I get obsessively angry all over again. And I kind of hate myself for remaining. I can't condone this shit, even passively.
Which is why I drafted my first resignation letter last night. I'll get into that in another post probably.
But once you've been gone for a while you begin to romanticize it. You want to be kind and not like the devilish "antis" you were warned about and vilified for so long. You want to be that good example, to prove to other members that see? i may be an apostate but i'm still a good person who doesn't obsess and bitch and turn into a monster. And, in that vein, because we're good people, before we know it we're only thinking of the good things about the church. For me, it's (some of) the hymns, the smell of the church building, the traditions. I miss seeing my husband dressed up. I miss seeing my boys dressed up. I enjoyed teaching the women in Relief Society for the two times I could handle it before I had to cry uncle--not because I hated teaching (I loved it) but because I didn't believe in it.
Yet if I were to attend a church, the LDS church would be the only one I would feel at home in despite everything. I liked the quiet. I liked the lack of crazy shouts of "hallelujah!" and the lack of fear that someone would break into tongues. It's a more inclusive doctrine. It wasn't weird to me--with the exception of F&T Sunday, but that was more entertainment than anything else. So you begin to forget about the hurtful things, the things that made you miserable. You want to forgive and forget. So we need the reminders occasionally that it wasn't all that great. Ask Kiley. Sometimes we need an Elder Packer to remind us why we left.
It's not a bad thing to remember the good. Because they are, in large part, good people. We didn't join to be assholes. We joined because we wanted to be better. We stayed because we wanted to be good. We left because we wanted to better our lives, to be truer to what we know now is reality. To grow and enjoy life. We got out of the fucking cave and omg, it's pretty awesome. We want to spread that gospel. But we need to give remaining members the benefit, to allow them their own time to get to whatever conclusion they will get to. We may be sad for them because we feel they are missing out on so much, but in the end it is their decision. If it makes them happier and they're kind to others, then we need to leave them alone and not waste our breath fighting with people who have dug their feet in, who only want to be right. And we can understand that. At least I can.
I'll talk with MLDSFDTS if she wants to, I'll just be myself and deal with his family thinking I'm super weird instead of just a little, but I need to GET OVER IT. Life is too short for this.
Besides, MIL aside, there's no arguing with super TBM members. There's just not. Not that I've really tried, but listening to their reactions was enough. I get so angry as to lose all rationality. I just want to scream, and that does nothing for the cause.
I'm done. White flag. Surrender. All that. There's no point. I know there's a point with people who are wavering, but goddammit, that's not my place. Not to the extent I've taken it. I'm yelling at people in vain and at the expense of others who don't deserve to hear it all the fucking time. What good is it doing?
I'm tired of being so angry...again. I always end up hating myself in the end. I'd like to enjoy myself. Laugh a little. Move forward instead of going back. This isn't that. There's a whole world out there, and all I can do is be spiteful. This isn't getting my power back. This is giving it back to the people who I allowed to take it away in the first place. They don't deserve it.
I recognize, however, that it might take me a little bit to fully get over this. I'd be dishonest if I told you and myself that I won't ever bitch like this again. I will. It's part of the process. But for now, I want so much to be done. Also, I'm dealing with a bit of depression this last month or so (I'm bipolar. There. I said it.) and it makes it difficult to make firm decisions. To not obsess and feel attacked. To not feel so goddamn insecure and defensive. Anger is easier and more cathartic than being depressed and feeling like nobody likes me, guess I'll go eat worms. Being angry makes me feel in control, powerful. But I'm not.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thoughts on the Edits to Packer's Talk
I don't know if any of y'all want to know my perspective on the latest drama with the church changing some pretty key statements Packer said during Conference.
I'm just tired and overwhelmed and disappointed with some of the more faithful's responses to what he said. Now they've changed important aspects of his talk, the most significant I believe is the change regarding the Proclamation on the Family from being "revelation" to "a guide."
That's huge. Proclamations have never been regarded as mere "guides."
Not to mention the one line that took MLDSFDTS aback: "Why would Heavenly Father do that to his children?"
All gone. Like he never even said it.
All in all, this is lame. Some say it's correlation doing it's job and yay for clarifying what Packer obviously meant, but it feels like a cover up. The church isn't good at that, but they will try because their members won't look this shit up. Not supposed to. Also, their faithful members are awesome at rationalizing and can't fathom this man being wrong. Because he's got an in with god, or whatever. The most frightening part is that he's the next in line to be THE prophet. I still remember when I first began investigating, taking part in an online forum where someone believed Packer would follow Hinckley and shuddered in fear. Couldn't figure out why, I mean, if god calls him god calls him. Inspiration.
Yawn.
Here's a link to Mormons For Marriage where you can see all of the changes. Personally, I'm not surprised.
I will just sigh for now and move on.
If I had more time, I'd be working on my resignation letter. I wouldn't send it yet, which is starting to bother me. I want Eric to be ready, but I don't want to push him. He's not ready to tell his family about this very big step and doesn't want them to find out another way, like when they're looking at their family records or whatever. I get his hesitation, but goddammit, I'm having a really hard time staying while the leaders perform all this hurtful mindfuckery. The faithful say we're going through a time of separating the wheat from the chaff. That used to bother me. It still does a little bit, but I have to recognize that it's all a farce and they can thus go fuck themselves. I'll be a chaff if it means I don't have to associate and be associated with the wheat.
So I want to at least write the letter, but...well, I guess my reasons for procrastination are lame. I have enough time to blog but not enough to re-research out the proper way to resign without issue. I want to put my own spin on the letter, not quite like Kristen did but similar. It might be really cathartic to tell the church to fuck off, even if its only to the dude that processes the letter. Besides, he's a grown up.
You can probably expect a draft letter or two from me soon, once I get the time to get my bearings.
I hope my friend notices those changes. She could really use that tithing money. But you know, everyone can. There's really no sense in funding church buildings and temples with members' hard earned and much needed cash when the church can afford to spend billions (that's right, with a b) on malls of all things.
I'm just tired and overwhelmed and disappointed with some of the more faithful's responses to what he said. Now they've changed important aspects of his talk, the most significant I believe is the change regarding the Proclamation on the Family from being "revelation" to "a guide."
That's huge. Proclamations have never been regarded as mere "guides."
Not to mention the one line that took MLDSFDTS aback: "Why would Heavenly Father do that to his children?"
All gone. Like he never even said it.
All in all, this is lame. Some say it's correlation doing it's job and yay for clarifying what Packer obviously meant, but it feels like a cover up. The church isn't good at that, but they will try because their members won't look this shit up. Not supposed to. Also, their faithful members are awesome at rationalizing and can't fathom this man being wrong. Because he's got an in with god, or whatever. The most frightening part is that he's the next in line to be THE prophet. I still remember when I first began investigating, taking part in an online forum where someone believed Packer would follow Hinckley and shuddered in fear. Couldn't figure out why, I mean, if god calls him god calls him. Inspiration.
Yawn.
Here's a link to Mormons For Marriage where you can see all of the changes. Personally, I'm not surprised.
I will just sigh for now and move on.
If I had more time, I'd be working on my resignation letter. I wouldn't send it yet, which is starting to bother me. I want Eric to be ready, but I don't want to push him. He's not ready to tell his family about this very big step and doesn't want them to find out another way, like when they're looking at their family records or whatever. I get his hesitation, but goddammit, I'm having a really hard time staying while the leaders perform all this hurtful mindfuckery. The faithful say we're going through a time of separating the wheat from the chaff. That used to bother me. It still does a little bit, but I have to recognize that it's all a farce and they can thus go fuck themselves. I'll be a chaff if it means I don't have to associate and be associated with the wheat.
So I want to at least write the letter, but...well, I guess my reasons for procrastination are lame. I have enough time to blog but not enough to re-research out the proper way to resign without issue. I want to put my own spin on the letter, not quite like Kristen did but similar. It might be really cathartic to tell the church to fuck off, even if its only to the dude that processes the letter. Besides, he's a grown up.
You can probably expect a draft letter or two from me soon, once I get the time to get my bearings.
I hope my friend notices those changes. She could really use that tithing money. But you know, everyone can. There's really no sense in funding church buildings and temples with members' hard earned and much needed cash when the church can afford to spend billions (that's right, with a b) on malls of all things.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
To be a bitch, or not to be a bitch.
Part of me wants to apologize for my last post (since recanted). Then there's another part of me who's all "whatever." Guess I know which side won.
I mean, I do do that. Often. But it doesn't mean I think all Mormons are Morons.
Not all of them.
To be fair, I think a lot of people are morons. Just some more than others. Especially a group of people who yap about humility and then get all up in my grille all "i'm so sad for you," "i can't talk to you anymore," "you should be in church" "oh i just got called to be super-duper-relief-society-president, but i don't know how! i mean, i'm so humble!" "non-members are good people, but they could be better with teh gospel!"
yapyapyap
But what bothers me is that if a few of my "IRL" friends read that last post, they'd be hurt. It was funny but it was seemingly pointed and kind of anti. I guess. I don't want to hurt them, but dammit.
Dammit.
I'm going through a bit of a cycle at the moment. I'd explain but I'm not all that sure I'm comfortable doing that yet. Suffice it to say my emotions aren't where I'd like them to be. For the past two months I've been this fairly happy, take-over-the-world person and now I'm feeling overwhelmed, behind--depressed. For nothing. Well, there are reasons, but still. Not very good ones. Maybe it'll go away after this weekend. Doubt it, but maybe. I've got an arsenal I'm working on to make it go away.
This week kind of sucks. Just too much shit.
Maybe that tells you all you need to know. But it's worse than that. I just don't want to get all attention-whorish on you. Besides, I might talk about it later. I do feel it has something (not everything) to do with my loyalty during my time in the clink.
See? There I go again. Kinda like how much I laughed the first time I heard someone refer to the "crutch." I keep wanting to do that. Not because I think the church is a crutch (well...) but because it was funny. But I don't want to chase people away (hi, annalee). I don't know why that is. I mean, fuck. I warned you people in the beginning. I honest-to-god didn't care in the beginning. And now I do.
I guess I still wonder if my ex-roomie reads this. She has the proper paper-trail, but I don't know if she'd even give my last blog a look after a year of inactivity, yanno? So I don't know. She stuck with me through all of that, I suppose she still would. I'm just a bit more brazen here. A bit. Not as much as I want to be. And though I know now she knows, we barely talk about it. She respects me, and I shut up around her. Except for the time I--gasp--wore shorts above the knee (i know!) and a tank in her presence. Like, it showed my shoulders. And her husband was around.
The jokes, they make themselves. But they're kind of bitchy, especially considering how awesome she has been. So I need to be a nice girl. But I'm fucking tired of always being on my guard to be the nice girl. May as well stick that stick up my ass for reals.
Eric thought I should go totally anonymous on my new blog. I wanted to and I didn't want to. First, I didn't want to go through the bullshit that I would've had to go through just to create a new profile. I have one on wordpress and here and it's just annoying to fix.
Secondly, trust me, there's a lot I would say if I were faceless, just for cathartic's sake (?), but I don't like talking shit about the church and about religion anonymously. I'm not afraid of the church, just the people I love deciding I'm no longer a "good influence" for whatever reason.
Lookit the power the church still has over me. It has the power to take away the few friends I have left.
So in a protest I poke fun. And then, sometimes (rarely) I feel bad about it. Even though I started this thing all "y'all, you're gonna be offended if you're a member."
I worry too goddamn much.
Whatever.
I mean, I do do that. Often. But it doesn't mean I think all Mormons are Morons.
Not all of them.
To be fair, I think a lot of people are morons. Just some more than others. Especially a group of people who yap about humility and then get all up in my grille all "i'm so sad for you," "i can't talk to you anymore," "you should be in church" "oh i just got called to be super-duper-relief-society-president, but i don't know how! i mean, i'm so humble!" "non-members are good people, but they could be better with teh gospel!"
yapyapyap
But what bothers me is that if a few of my "IRL" friends read that last post, they'd be hurt. It was funny but it was seemingly pointed and kind of anti. I guess. I don't want to hurt them, but dammit.
Dammit.
I'm going through a bit of a cycle at the moment. I'd explain but I'm not all that sure I'm comfortable doing that yet. Suffice it to say my emotions aren't where I'd like them to be. For the past two months I've been this fairly happy, take-over-the-world person and now I'm feeling overwhelmed, behind--depressed. For nothing. Well, there are reasons, but still. Not very good ones. Maybe it'll go away after this weekend. Doubt it, but maybe. I've got an arsenal I'm working on to make it go away.
This week kind of sucks. Just too much shit.
Maybe that tells you all you need to know. But it's worse than that. I just don't want to get all attention-whorish on you. Besides, I might talk about it later. I do feel it has something (not everything) to do with my loyalty during my time in the clink.
See? There I go again. Kinda like how much I laughed the first time I heard someone refer to the "crutch." I keep wanting to do that. Not because I think the church is a crutch (well...) but because it was funny. But I don't want to chase people away (hi, annalee). I don't know why that is. I mean, fuck. I warned you people in the beginning. I honest-to-god didn't care in the beginning. And now I do.
I guess I still wonder if my ex-roomie reads this. She has the proper paper-trail, but I don't know if she'd even give my last blog a look after a year of inactivity, yanno? So I don't know. She stuck with me through all of that, I suppose she still would. I'm just a bit more brazen here. A bit. Not as much as I want to be. And though I know now she knows, we barely talk about it. She respects me, and I shut up around her. Except for the time I--gasp--wore shorts above the knee (i know!) and a tank in her presence. Like, it showed my shoulders. And her husband was around.
The jokes, they make themselves. But they're kind of bitchy, especially considering how awesome she has been. So I need to be a nice girl. But I'm fucking tired of always being on my guard to be the nice girl. May as well stick that stick up my ass for reals.
Eric thought I should go totally anonymous on my new blog. I wanted to and I didn't want to. First, I didn't want to go through the bullshit that I would've had to go through just to create a new profile. I have one on wordpress and here and it's just annoying to fix.
Secondly, trust me, there's a lot I would say if I were faceless, just for cathartic's sake (?), but I don't like talking shit about the church and about religion anonymously. I'm not afraid of the church, just the people I love deciding I'm no longer a "good influence" for whatever reason.
Lookit the power the church still has over me. It has the power to take away the few friends I have left.
So in a protest I poke fun. And then, sometimes (rarely) I feel bad about it. Even though I started this thing all "y'all, you're gonna be offended if you're a member."
I worry too goddamn much.
Whatever.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Looking Back: Religious Progression
It's weird reading my old posts. I was so afraid to say or admit to certain things, afraid to offend people I didn't even know. I conceded often--which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but...I dunno.
I sometimes feel as if there's not a hell of a lot more for me to say, like I've already said it all, just cleaner and more PC. To continue or repeat those rants would be a bit of a snore. Staged and scripted. I've felt a bit dry lately. I don't like to write unless I'm driven to write.
Anyway, it's interesting to see how some of my readers changed throughout the course of that blog. A few people left when they felt I crossed the line (how dare i criticize a leader!), but for the most part people kept with me, and I appreciated that.
But I have at least one (non-member) friend who felt I was far too conciliatory, and I think I always knew she was right. Let's face it, though: I was saying a lot of really controversial crap, at least to the TBM and even wavering-TBM crowd. To myself. It scared me a lot to say some of the things I said and it took me a while to stand up firmly to it, even if for only a few points. Two people I know from my own stake visited the blog. One girl kept with me for a while and we eventually had to part ways on facebook, and the other came only once to say "c'mon, we're not all that bad are we?"
Members take this shit so personally.
I even found out later that my dad was worrying about me. My dad! Mr. "Well-where-are-the-golden-plates-now, hmmm?"
I mean, shit, you can't please anybody. Hard as you might try, it's not gonna happen.
It's just interesting to see the progression and it makes me wonder where I'll end up. I look for quotes sometimes for this blog and find the sentiment that agnostics are pansies who can't make up their minds because they're scared. Fence-sitters. That's kind of where I was eighteen months ago, a fence-sitting-mormon girl. Hated it.
I hate that some may regard me as sitting on the fence of belief. But that's my problem. After all, I did take the leap and record my religious beliefs on facebook as "agnostic" and haven't looked back. But I had to be ready first, just like when Eric was later ready to list himself as "atheist."
Eric and I had a talk the other day and concluded that we're really just a hop, skip, and jump away from being on the same page. I consider myself agnostic because, like I've already mentioned, I don't think we know anything so to say we do seems a bit presumptuous to me. However, I'm leaning more on the atheist side. I'll be okay in the end either way, I figure. There's still the question of the ultimate point of creation, whether it be of a creator or a bunch of atoms bursting (and where did those come from?)--and that keeps me agnostic, too. Eric's college courses led him to believe there just isn't enough evidence to worry about it.
It is a fact that the more we learn from science the less religion needs to answer for the unknown, this even though some adopt a cafeteria-style approach to scientific theory and fact because the Bible says the Earth is only 6,000 years old!
I'm not quite ready to proclaim a confident disbelief or if I'm even sure I feel that way. But I wish I was. Then again, is it so bad to be a bit more open to things? I think it depends on where I am honestly: open or scared. Letting go of god and all that comes with him is frightening, and I've a lot of respect for people who've been able to do that.
I'm not even sure anymore if I have a hope in god. The more I consider the idea of returning to the Earth at death, the less I find I need him. The more I realize people are good without god, the less I find I need him. The more I find that life goes on just like it always has, the less I find I need god.
If I have a hope it is in that everything will work out. That I'll learn to trust myself and that that will be enough. Faith in oneself is just as hard, if not harder, as faith in a benevolent supreme being.
But it frustrates the fuck out of me to find myself praying to whatever when I'm scared. In there, I suppose, is a hope. But it seems like an awful selfish one when there are people in the world who suffer exponentially worse than me. That doesn't mean I don't matter, but I'm aware that I'm much more fortunate than many others. That said, I don't find myself thanking "god" for my so-called blessings. I find I can be thankful just for the sake of being thankful. It feels more honest.
I allow sentiments that suggest I'm a wuss to get under my skin far too much. I just spent two to five years afraid to leave a church I obviously didn't agree with because I didn't want to hear about it. Because I'd been told what would happen if I did. I wrote my last blog with the initial intention to prove a member could be liberal and a faithful mormon, but it was intellectually dishonest. I wasn't all that faithful. I ended up exposing myself as the rule and not the exception. I wanted to be strong, and while some of my posts--especially toward the end--suggested some strength, I was still very much afraid. Only time can heal that, I've found.
Right now I'm ready to resign, but I won't until my husband is ready, too. After all, it's his family, his community (he grew up here), and 30 years to my 10. I can wait.
So I'm a waverer. It's part of a process. At least now I'm not afraid to admit I drink coffee and have the occasional beer or cocktail or say the leaders and even the scriptures are assholes and full of crap.
And I can't help but wonder if leaving the LDS church is a bit of an inevitable gateway to atheism (or if that's a bad thing). I know it doesn't have to be, but it feels that way. I can't see the way to reach any other conclusion, especially as one who has been to many other (christian) churches before.
My above-mentioned non-member friend had her own struggle with Christianity and came out on the believer's end, and that intrigues me. I guess I just always felt I'd come out on this end because even there, at my other blog, when I'd go on about Christ I wasn't speaking of myself so much but to those who were reading so they'd listen to me a bit more. I don't take issue with Christ so much, anyway. I like much of what he's purported to have said and done. My biggest issue was the church's self-serving narcissistic bullshit with the occasional Jesus Christ punctuation.
Besides, it's a debate strategy. It's also, to me, a matter of respect of other people's beliefs.
But it bothers me that I'm generally the one to respect and feel others don't feel the need to respect me because I'm the apostate. Eric says it's that way because we're the ones who have changed the rules. I don't know. So I'm afraid to "blaspheme" sometimes. To offend. I don't know if anybody I know has found this blog or not (my ex-roomie is rather sneaky), and so I still hold back a little. Is this a matter of respect or just fear--and where's the line? Example: I don't care who knows my sekrit temple name, but I know it'd be crossing the line for the few friends I've left.
Topic for another post.
And I don't know. One of my personal mottos is to "never say never." So who knows. I may find myself an unorthodox believer someday. I don't want to ever consider myself a zealous one again, shiver. I just never want it to be out of fear. I never want to be put in a box in any sort of shackles because I don't feel I can handle this life on my own, with those I love around me. Shouldn't that be enough?
Life is too short for that.
I'm happy with where I am--to an extent. I still feel in a bit of a purgatory spiritually, like I have to pick a side. Perhaps that is my inner people-pleaser more than it is anything else. I still haven't found my peace. My husband has. Other people have. I'm still looking and waiting for my own.
I guess in some ways I'm still The Liberal Mormon That Could.
I sometimes feel as if there's not a hell of a lot more for me to say, like I've already said it all, just cleaner and more PC. To continue or repeat those rants would be a bit of a snore. Staged and scripted. I've felt a bit dry lately. I don't like to write unless I'm driven to write.
Anyway, it's interesting to see how some of my readers changed throughout the course of that blog. A few people left when they felt I crossed the line (how dare i criticize a leader!), but for the most part people kept with me, and I appreciated that.
But I have at least one (non-member) friend who felt I was far too conciliatory, and I think I always knew she was right. Let's face it, though: I was saying a lot of really controversial crap, at least to the TBM and even wavering-TBM crowd. To myself. It scared me a lot to say some of the things I said and it took me a while to stand up firmly to it, even if for only a few points. Two people I know from my own stake visited the blog. One girl kept with me for a while and we eventually had to part ways on facebook, and the other came only once to say "c'mon, we're not all that bad are we?"
Members take this shit so personally.
I even found out later that my dad was worrying about me. My dad! Mr. "Well-where-are-the-golden-plates-now, hmmm?"
I mean, shit, you can't please anybody. Hard as you might try, it's not gonna happen.
It's just interesting to see the progression and it makes me wonder where I'll end up. I look for quotes sometimes for this blog and find the sentiment that agnostics are pansies who can't make up their minds because they're scared. Fence-sitters. That's kind of where I was eighteen months ago, a fence-sitting-mormon girl. Hated it.
I hate that some may regard me as sitting on the fence of belief. But that's my problem. After all, I did take the leap and record my religious beliefs on facebook as "agnostic" and haven't looked back. But I had to be ready first, just like when Eric was later ready to list himself as "atheist."
Eric and I had a talk the other day and concluded that we're really just a hop, skip, and jump away from being on the same page. I consider myself agnostic because, like I've already mentioned, I don't think we know anything so to say we do seems a bit presumptuous to me. However, I'm leaning more on the atheist side. I'll be okay in the end either way, I figure. There's still the question of the ultimate point of creation, whether it be of a creator or a bunch of atoms bursting (and where did those come from?)--and that keeps me agnostic, too. Eric's college courses led him to believe there just isn't enough evidence to worry about it.
It is a fact that the more we learn from science the less religion needs to answer for the unknown, this even though some adopt a cafeteria-style approach to scientific theory and fact because the Bible says the Earth is only 6,000 years old!
I'm not quite ready to proclaim a confident disbelief or if I'm even sure I feel that way. But I wish I was. Then again, is it so bad to be a bit more open to things? I think it depends on where I am honestly: open or scared. Letting go of god and all that comes with him is frightening, and I've a lot of respect for people who've been able to do that.
I'm not even sure anymore if I have a hope in god. The more I consider the idea of returning to the Earth at death, the less I find I need him. The more I realize people are good without god, the less I find I need him. The more I find that life goes on just like it always has, the less I find I need god.
If I have a hope it is in that everything will work out. That I'll learn to trust myself and that that will be enough. Faith in oneself is just as hard, if not harder, as faith in a benevolent supreme being.
But it frustrates the fuck out of me to find myself praying to whatever when I'm scared. In there, I suppose, is a hope. But it seems like an awful selfish one when there are people in the world who suffer exponentially worse than me. That doesn't mean I don't matter, but I'm aware that I'm much more fortunate than many others. That said, I don't find myself thanking "god" for my so-called blessings. I find I can be thankful just for the sake of being thankful. It feels more honest.
I allow sentiments that suggest I'm a wuss to get under my skin far too much. I just spent two to five years afraid to leave a church I obviously didn't agree with because I didn't want to hear about it. Because I'd been told what would happen if I did. I wrote my last blog with the initial intention to prove a member could be liberal and a faithful mormon, but it was intellectually dishonest. I wasn't all that faithful. I ended up exposing myself as the rule and not the exception. I wanted to be strong, and while some of my posts--especially toward the end--suggested some strength, I was still very much afraid. Only time can heal that, I've found.
Right now I'm ready to resign, but I won't until my husband is ready, too. After all, it's his family, his community (he grew up here), and 30 years to my 10. I can wait.
So I'm a waverer. It's part of a process. At least now I'm not afraid to admit I drink coffee and have the occasional beer or cocktail or say the leaders and even the scriptures are assholes and full of crap.
And I can't help but wonder if leaving the LDS church is a bit of an inevitable gateway to atheism (or if that's a bad thing). I know it doesn't have to be, but it feels that way. I can't see the way to reach any other conclusion, especially as one who has been to many other (christian) churches before.
My above-mentioned non-member friend had her own struggle with Christianity and came out on the believer's end, and that intrigues me. I guess I just always felt I'd come out on this end because even there, at my other blog, when I'd go on about Christ I wasn't speaking of myself so much but to those who were reading so they'd listen to me a bit more. I don't take issue with Christ so much, anyway. I like much of what he's purported to have said and done. My biggest issue was the church's self-serving narcissistic bullshit with the occasional Jesus Christ punctuation.
Besides, it's a debate strategy. It's also, to me, a matter of respect of other people's beliefs.
But it bothers me that I'm generally the one to respect and feel others don't feel the need to respect me because I'm the apostate. Eric says it's that way because we're the ones who have changed the rules. I don't know. So I'm afraid to "blaspheme" sometimes. To offend. I don't know if anybody I know has found this blog or not (my ex-roomie is rather sneaky), and so I still hold back a little. Is this a matter of respect or just fear--and where's the line? Example: I don't care who knows my sekrit temple name, but I know it'd be crossing the line for the few friends I've left.
Topic for another post.
And I don't know. One of my personal mottos is to "never say never." So who knows. I may find myself an unorthodox believer someday. I don't want to ever consider myself a zealous one again, shiver. I just never want it to be out of fear. I never want to be put in a box in any sort of shackles because I don't feel I can handle this life on my own, with those I love around me. Shouldn't that be enough?
Life is too short for that.
I'm happy with where I am--to an extent. I still feel in a bit of a purgatory spiritually, like I have to pick a side. Perhaps that is my inner people-pleaser more than it is anything else. I still haven't found my peace. My husband has. Other people have. I'm still looking and waiting for my own.
I guess in some ways I'm still The Liberal Mormon That Could.
Friday, August 27, 2010
What I Believe
A commenter suggested a few posts ago that my hesitance to send in my resignation letter might have something to do with a (however minute) belief in the supposed truth of the church.
It might have--okay, it did--at first. But that hesitance to stop going to church was born out of fear that it might be true. And I've never believed in doing things out of fear--dates way back to when I attended my dad's assembly of god church. They loved striking fear into you. It was a good motivator. The end, they say, justified the means. So I stopped going.
Part of what drew me to the LDS church was the lack of fear-inducement. At least I didn't see any then, and I still believe it's not nearly as bad as I've seen or experienced.
I have said a few times why I hesitate, but I'll say it again: I don't like letting go of comfortable, familiar things. I don't like disappointing people who I love and who have been nothing but good to me. This is not the same demand for independence as what joining was. If anything, I have been resistant for this level of independence. If I leave the church, I'll lose its best people. So far so good, but I have lost one that matters. And that in the beginning of my disaffection.
I set a standard for myself in my first year of membership. I was a "golden convert." My patriarchal blessing said my family would chill out and, I thought, maybe join. It said I would bring many people into the church. I had told my best friend and my roomie that I never saw myself leaving. I was committed. I belonged. People thought I was a member before I joined. I would trust in god. He knew better. I believed that much.
But ultimately I joined the church because i "knew" it was true. I had read the Book of Mormon before joining. I had prayed. I had even been to the temple, gone to church, etc. I had a friend who met with me at a pizza joint semi-regularly to talk with me about the gospel (he was a recent RM in my English 1A class and /swoon! i had a crush--but i was determined to not join because of him. and i'm proud to say i didn't)
It's hard to just decide one day that it's all bunk after hearing time and time again that it's not and even preaching that certain things are not of or are against god. Knee-length skirts/shorts. Coffee. Caffeine (Eric and I switched positions on this a few times). Tea. Keeping the Sabbath "holy."
I was a pain in the ass for my family on many of these points. I freely admit that. After all, I was right, even if it seemed wrong or weird or nonsensical. God's ways are mysterious.
See, I had decided the summer before I met Squeaky that I needed to find a church and also began reading the Bible again--from the beginning. I would read certain passages and think "Gah, that's just wrong..."
and then,
"But if it's what God says, then who am I to argue?"
It was a measure of my maturity, I thought. I was 18.
So that gives you an idea of my mental mindset. If it's right, it's right and who the hell am I to question? I know nothing!
Throw in Squeaky and you have some serious evidence that I should consider this church. So I did.
Once I had my experiences and various so-called confirmations of the LDS church, I allowed everything else to fall into place. I didn't get the coffee/tea thing, but whatever, I thought. Doesn't matter. And besides, Joe Smith was right about tobacco before they knew it was bad (right?), so maybe there is something about coffee and tea that science doesn't yet realize is really really bad for you.
That deep-seated belief--the fact--that we don't know everything today is the main reason I consider myself agnostic.
The more I realized I knew nothing the more I realized we know nothing. I learned that those in positions of "divinely appointed authority" were just as messed up in their thinking as anyone. Anyone under direct guidance of a good, loving, fair god would never condone slavery (Brigham Young), would never say such awful things about the African-American race, suggest the Native Americans needed to be white, say gay people needed to marry straight or have electroshock therapy and later soften it to "just be celibate."
A loving god would demand equality of his people and never stray from that, no matter what society at large thought at the time.
A benevolent god period would never change his mind to suit the whims of his people if the following is to be believed (and it is, I hear it so often in the LDS church at least): "Same yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever" right?
I don't just see this thread in the LDS church. I see it in all Christian churches.
I still pray sometimes when I'm especially scared. I don't know who I'm praying to, but I do. I do it out of hope that there is someone there watching out for me. I am thankful when bad things don't happen to me or my own. It feels incredibly selfish ("thanks for saving my kid instead of those other kids"), but I do pray.
It might be waning, but I have a hope in a god. I have a hope in the afterlife and in seeing my family. If there is a god, I have a hope he/she/it will know my heart and judge me based on that. I do not believe that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Whatever hell is.
If there is a god and he/she/it is willing to toss me aside because I'm not good enough, I don't want shit to do with god anyway. Nobody needs to be told they're not good enough, especially when they spend their lives doing nothing but trying to be good.
That said, if there is nothing but this, I am even more thankful for what I do have. I realize I have to embrace it now because one day I won't have it. They won't have me. If there's nothing after this life, it won't matter anyway. I'll be gone. Eventually my husband and kids will be gone. Such is the way of things.
(I don't know how to tell my kids this, though. I don't want them to be scared.)
I think of it like this: I don't remember jack from before I was born. I figure death will be the same kind of nothingness.
Yet sometimes I can't help but feel eternal. I don't know if it's because I just am or because I've been taught all my life that I am.
I don't believe. I don't have a "sure knowledge." We can't know everything. I'm not entirely convinced we can know anything. My agnosticism may turn into atheism. It may remain. I may become a theist or whatever. I don't know.
But anyway, if I have any hope or faith--if that hope or faith isn't in god--it's in that everything will work out.
This lack of belief gives me motivation to make the most of this life. To chase my dreams. To be more. To love my family more. To make a legacy. To have faith in myself. Things I never felt motivated to do or be as a believer. I was told time and again that god loved me, but it didn't really feel like it. I was put in a box. And as a parent (remember, we're told God is our Father and loves us as one), I've no plans to micromanage my kids or to place conditions on my love for them. No plans to ever let them think they're unworthy of me. That's not love. That's tyranny.
This life is a gift. It doesn't matter from what or whom, it just is.
I'll let the rest figure itself out.
It might have--okay, it did--at first. But that hesitance to stop going to church was born out of fear that it might be true. And I've never believed in doing things out of fear--dates way back to when I attended my dad's assembly of god church. They loved striking fear into you. It was a good motivator. The end, they say, justified the means. So I stopped going.
Part of what drew me to the LDS church was the lack of fear-inducement. At least I didn't see any then, and I still believe it's not nearly as bad as I've seen or experienced.
I have said a few times why I hesitate, but I'll say it again: I don't like letting go of comfortable, familiar things. I don't like disappointing people who I love and who have been nothing but good to me. This is not the same demand for independence as what joining was. If anything, I have been resistant for this level of independence. If I leave the church, I'll lose its best people. So far so good, but I have lost one that matters. And that in the beginning of my disaffection.
I set a standard for myself in my first year of membership. I was a "golden convert." My patriarchal blessing said my family would chill out and, I thought, maybe join. It said I would bring many people into the church. I had told my best friend and my roomie that I never saw myself leaving. I was committed. I belonged. People thought I was a member before I joined. I would trust in god. He knew better. I believed that much.
But ultimately I joined the church because i "knew" it was true. I had read the Book of Mormon before joining. I had prayed. I had even been to the temple, gone to church, etc. I had a friend who met with me at a pizza joint semi-regularly to talk with me about the gospel (he was a recent RM in my English 1A class and /swoon! i had a crush--but i was determined to not join because of him. and i'm proud to say i didn't)
It's hard to just decide one day that it's all bunk after hearing time and time again that it's not and even preaching that certain things are not of or are against god. Knee-length skirts/shorts. Coffee. Caffeine (Eric and I switched positions on this a few times). Tea. Keeping the Sabbath "holy."
I was a pain in the ass for my family on many of these points. I freely admit that. After all, I was right, even if it seemed wrong or weird or nonsensical. God's ways are mysterious.
See, I had decided the summer before I met Squeaky that I needed to find a church and also began reading the Bible again--from the beginning. I would read certain passages and think "Gah, that's just wrong..."
and then,
"But if it's what God says, then who am I to argue?"
It was a measure of my maturity, I thought. I was 18.
So that gives you an idea of my mental mindset. If it's right, it's right and who the hell am I to question? I know nothing!
Throw in Squeaky and you have some serious evidence that I should consider this church. So I did.
Once I had my experiences and various so-called confirmations of the LDS church, I allowed everything else to fall into place. I didn't get the coffee/tea thing, but whatever, I thought. Doesn't matter. And besides, Joe Smith was right about tobacco before they knew it was bad (right?), so maybe there is something about coffee and tea that science doesn't yet realize is really really bad for you.
That deep-seated belief--the fact--that we don't know everything today is the main reason I consider myself agnostic.
The more I realized I knew nothing the more I realized we know nothing. I learned that those in positions of "divinely appointed authority" were just as messed up in their thinking as anyone. Anyone under direct guidance of a good, loving, fair god would never condone slavery (Brigham Young), would never say such awful things about the African-American race, suggest the Native Americans needed to be white, say gay people needed to marry straight or have electroshock therapy and later soften it to "just be celibate."
A loving god would demand equality of his people and never stray from that, no matter what society at large thought at the time.
A benevolent god period would never change his mind to suit the whims of his people if the following is to be believed (and it is, I hear it so often in the LDS church at least): "Same yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever" right?
I don't just see this thread in the LDS church. I see it in all Christian churches.
I still pray sometimes when I'm especially scared. I don't know who I'm praying to, but I do. I do it out of hope that there is someone there watching out for me. I am thankful when bad things don't happen to me or my own. It feels incredibly selfish ("thanks for saving my kid instead of those other kids"), but I do pray.
It might be waning, but I have a hope in a god. I have a hope in the afterlife and in seeing my family. If there is a god, I have a hope he/she/it will know my heart and judge me based on that. I do not believe that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Whatever hell is.
If there is a god and he/she/it is willing to toss me aside because I'm not good enough, I don't want shit to do with god anyway. Nobody needs to be told they're not good enough, especially when they spend their lives doing nothing but trying to be good.
That said, if there is nothing but this, I am even more thankful for what I do have. I realize I have to embrace it now because one day I won't have it. They won't have me. If there's nothing after this life, it won't matter anyway. I'll be gone. Eventually my husband and kids will be gone. Such is the way of things.
(I don't know how to tell my kids this, though. I don't want them to be scared.)
I think of it like this: I don't remember jack from before I was born. I figure death will be the same kind of nothingness.
Yet sometimes I can't help but feel eternal. I don't know if it's because I just am or because I've been taught all my life that I am.
I don't believe. I don't have a "sure knowledge." We can't know everything. I'm not entirely convinced we can know anything. My agnosticism may turn into atheism. It may remain. I may become a theist or whatever. I don't know.
But anyway, if I have any hope or faith--if that hope or faith isn't in god--it's in that everything will work out.
This lack of belief gives me motivation to make the most of this life. To chase my dreams. To be more. To love my family more. To make a legacy. To have faith in myself. Things I never felt motivated to do or be as a believer. I was told time and again that god loved me, but it didn't really feel like it. I was put in a box. And as a parent (remember, we're told God is our Father and loves us as one), I've no plans to micromanage my kids or to place conditions on my love for them. No plans to ever let them think they're unworthy of me. That's not love. That's tyranny.
This life is a gift. It doesn't matter from what or whom, it just is.
I'll let the rest figure itself out.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Letter Pros and Cons
So I haven't made it any secret that writing the letter of resignation is a def possibility in my future. It wasn't until I was able to say that publicly that I seriously considered it, and it wasn't until the Church's official response to Judge Walker's ruling on Prop 8 that I decided it was probably getting to be time.
For me, it's a matter of disingenuousness.
That's not a word, but work with me here, people.
Though we began some serious questioning even back in 2005, I think (right after April conference, if you'd believe it), we didn't get active about it until three years later. In 2005, however, I went to renew my temple recommend. It was always such a pain in the ass thing to do as it was with our schedules, but with the nagging questions and impressions it made it that much harder to do. But we did. It was the last time we would.
I have always had this thing of being honest to a fault, so when my bishop asked me the questions I was pretty honest. I dunno about 100% intellectually honest, but I did my best.
...until we hit the "Do you believe/know/whatever that Joseph Smith blah blah blah?"
I told him I wasn't sure about that anymore. He told me I should watch more BYU-TV and gave me my recommend. I didn't bother telling the stake president about my issues after that. Whatever, yeah?
Besides, I was pretty pissed for being dismissed like that. I was in tears because I was so scared the church wasn't true and I get this. BYU-TV, are you fucking serious?
The temple became interesting after that.
Anyway, fast forward to 2008ish and we're in a new ward. It's after Prop 8. I had my last blog up. I wasn't looking to leave but I could see it coming. My bishop knew nothing of this--or maybe he did. Not sure now. The timing is all blurry. This may or may not have been after I had my pointless "Tell me please why I should vote yes" talk with my bish. That was a fun talk. Srsly. Also good PR for me. I could tell people I not only prayed about it but I cleared it with my bishop.
Which is stupid.
But I did. I wanted him to give me one good reason to vote, and he didn't. I walked out more sure than ever to vote no.
I have to give the guy credit, though. He didn't say I was apostate for voting no when teh prophet said otherwise.
But I digress. Either before or after that, I was called to be a 5th Sunday Relief Society teacher. Or 4th. Whichever one has me teaching from General Conference talks. Doesn't matter, I had to teach.
I love teaching. I always have whenever I've been given the opportunity to. I'm not always good about it, but when I relax I like to think I've a talent. So I accepted the calling even while knowing I may not be able to stand behind the things I'd have to teach--I mean, if I had to teach something akin to "Mother's Who Know," I'd bust a vein. And I'm only slightly exaggerating.
If only I knew of the blogosphere back when that hack of a talk happened, I would've been better off. Felt very alone in my hatred for that talk.
Right. Tangent.
So my first talk comes and I do my best to make it (a) something I could swallow, (b) not cliche and (c) something edible for the women while also being a bit, if only a drop, fringe.
I succeeded.
The second talk came and I really, really struggled. I don't remember which talk it was based off of, but it had something to do with activity or sustaining or something stupid like that. I did my thing and it wasn't as good as my first lesson.
I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like my skin was crawling. I called my bishop and asked to be released. Of course he wanted to know why, and with my "honest to a fault" crap, I told him. I outed myself. He wanted to visit with me, but the appointment was made unknowingly on Back to School night and--sorry, bish, my kid comes first.
We never rescheduled. He never said a word to me. The Relief Society President came to me on two Sundays wanting to help me. It didn't seem to me that she knew I was looking to become inactive because she said something about knowing my life was too crazy for this shizz, so she offered to have me be on the less demanding (?) enrichment committee.
I gave it thought over the hour of RS but only because I didn't want to disappoint this woman (I hate disappointing anybody), but in the end I knew I couldn't do it. Not with a clear conscience. Besides, I didn't want to be in church anymore. I knew the anchor of a calling would only drag me further to the bottom. Besides, church bugged the fuck out of me. So I told her no. And it was weird, mostly for her. The look on her face--No?
It's foreign, I know. Maybe I should've tried speaking louder, slower, or in sign language. Though I think I did shake my head as well.
We moved soon thereafter, and that's when we decided we were done. It took us a few weeks to decide finally that we wouldn't even go once (because then you REALLY attract attention), but we did decide.
So now we're looking at the resignation letter, and I'm met with the same feelings. I can't help but feel that, if we stay, we are expressing passive support of the church and its doings. We are counted among the membership even though we don't go and don't believe. We retain the title for whatever intents and purposes, LDS/Mormon. We also, however, get the benefits whatever they may be. If any. We never liked using them anyways.
Just as I didn't feel right teaching lessons to these women I couldn't stand behind (even though I thought I could help them think about things differently), I don't feel right staying in a church I cannot stand by.
So I spoke with Eric last night about it, and he brought up an interesting point. There have been benefits of our lazy membership within the church. It's called getting a job.
The community here is saturated with LDS people. They're literally everywhere. And Eric is sure a few someones gave him a good reference. The parents of LDS kids want their kids in his classes--and they're good kids.
Like it or not, people do associate positive things with members of the church. And here, the idea that the church was so involved in supporting Prop 8 wasn't an issue. Everyone else here supported Prop 8, too.
So he's worried about what may happen once we officially remove our records from the active church files (they never really destroy yr records). And it's a real concern. While he's one of the only teachers at his school with a single subject credential in math, he isn't tenured yet. Next year. And that may not even matter. Every year the budget is cut so that they have to lay off a ton of teachers. We got the initial pink slip this past year before he was "rehired"
And we figure he gave two years of his life to this church plus I-don't-want-to-know how much money and time, so what the hell.
But I don't know. As his initial worry about his family and friends' reactions went away, I think this one will too. Maybe after he's tenured. But then I have to wonder about myself when I'm ready to get a job.
It's incredibly selfish, I'll give you that, but it's practical. I guess. I'm just not so sure we should give that much weight to this theory that being and growing up LDS helped him get the awesome teaching job.
What say you?
For me, it's a matter of disingenuousness.
That's not a word, but work with me here, people.
Though we began some serious questioning even back in 2005, I think (right after April conference, if you'd believe it), we didn't get active about it until three years later. In 2005, however, I went to renew my temple recommend. It was always such a pain in the ass thing to do as it was with our schedules, but with the nagging questions and impressions it made it that much harder to do. But we did. It was the last time we would.
I have always had this thing of being honest to a fault, so when my bishop asked me the questions I was pretty honest. I dunno about 100% intellectually honest, but I did my best.
...until we hit the "Do you believe/know/whatever that Joseph Smith blah blah blah?"
I told him I wasn't sure about that anymore. He told me I should watch more BYU-TV and gave me my recommend. I didn't bother telling the stake president about my issues after that. Whatever, yeah?
Besides, I was pretty pissed for being dismissed like that. I was in tears because I was so scared the church wasn't true and I get this. BYU-TV, are you fucking serious?
The temple became interesting after that.
Anyway, fast forward to 2008ish and we're in a new ward. It's after Prop 8. I had my last blog up. I wasn't looking to leave but I could see it coming. My bishop knew nothing of this--or maybe he did. Not sure now. The timing is all blurry. This may or may not have been after I had my pointless "Tell me please why I should vote yes" talk with my bish. That was a fun talk. Srsly. Also good PR for me. I could tell people I not only prayed about it but I cleared it with my bishop.
Which is stupid.
But I did. I wanted him to give me one good reason to vote, and he didn't. I walked out more sure than ever to vote no.
I have to give the guy credit, though. He didn't say I was apostate for voting no when teh prophet said otherwise.
But I digress. Either before or after that, I was called to be a 5th Sunday Relief Society teacher. Or 4th. Whichever one has me teaching from General Conference talks. Doesn't matter, I had to teach.
I love teaching. I always have whenever I've been given the opportunity to. I'm not always good about it, but when I relax I like to think I've a talent. So I accepted the calling even while knowing I may not be able to stand behind the things I'd have to teach--I mean, if I had to teach something akin to "Mother's Who Know," I'd bust a vein. And I'm only slightly exaggerating.
If only I knew of the blogosphere back when that hack of a talk happened, I would've been better off. Felt very alone in my hatred for that talk.
Right. Tangent.
So my first talk comes and I do my best to make it (a) something I could swallow, (b) not cliche and (c) something edible for the women while also being a bit, if only a drop, fringe.
I succeeded.
The second talk came and I really, really struggled. I don't remember which talk it was based off of, but it had something to do with activity or sustaining or something stupid like that. I did my thing and it wasn't as good as my first lesson.
I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like my skin was crawling. I called my bishop and asked to be released. Of course he wanted to know why, and with my "honest to a fault" crap, I told him. I outed myself. He wanted to visit with me, but the appointment was made unknowingly on Back to School night and--sorry, bish, my kid comes first.
We never rescheduled. He never said a word to me. The Relief Society President came to me on two Sundays wanting to help me. It didn't seem to me that she knew I was looking to become inactive because she said something about knowing my life was too crazy for this shizz, so she offered to have me be on the less demanding (?) enrichment committee.
I gave it thought over the hour of RS but only because I didn't want to disappoint this woman (I hate disappointing anybody), but in the end I knew I couldn't do it. Not with a clear conscience. Besides, I didn't want to be in church anymore. I knew the anchor of a calling would only drag me further to the bottom. Besides, church bugged the fuck out of me. So I told her no. And it was weird, mostly for her. The look on her face--No?
It's foreign, I know. Maybe I should've tried speaking louder, slower, or in sign language. Though I think I did shake my head as well.
We moved soon thereafter, and that's when we decided we were done. It took us a few weeks to decide finally that we wouldn't even go once (because then you REALLY attract attention), but we did decide.
So now we're looking at the resignation letter, and I'm met with the same feelings. I can't help but feel that, if we stay, we are expressing passive support of the church and its doings. We are counted among the membership even though we don't go and don't believe. We retain the title for whatever intents and purposes, LDS/Mormon. We also, however, get the benefits whatever they may be. If any. We never liked using them anyways.
Just as I didn't feel right teaching lessons to these women I couldn't stand behind (even though I thought I could help them think about things differently), I don't feel right staying in a church I cannot stand by.
So I spoke with Eric last night about it, and he brought up an interesting point. There have been benefits of our lazy membership within the church. It's called getting a job.
The community here is saturated with LDS people. They're literally everywhere. And Eric is sure a few someones gave him a good reference. The parents of LDS kids want their kids in his classes--and they're good kids.
Like it or not, people do associate positive things with members of the church. And here, the idea that the church was so involved in supporting Prop 8 wasn't an issue. Everyone else here supported Prop 8, too.
So he's worried about what may happen once we officially remove our records from the active church files (they never really destroy yr records). And it's a real concern. While he's one of the only teachers at his school with a single subject credential in math, he isn't tenured yet. Next year. And that may not even matter. Every year the budget is cut so that they have to lay off a ton of teachers. We got the initial pink slip this past year before he was "rehired"
And we figure he gave two years of his life to this church plus I-don't-want-to-know how much money and time, so what the hell.
But I don't know. As his initial worry about his family and friends' reactions went away, I think this one will too. Maybe after he's tenured. But then I have to wonder about myself when I'm ready to get a job.
It's incredibly selfish, I'll give you that, but it's practical. I guess. I'm just not so sure we should give that much weight to this theory that being and growing up LDS helped him get the awesome teaching job.
What say you?
Friday, August 20, 2010
It's not personal, it's business
Something I'm learning:
I don't have a grudge or a hatred or severe disappointment (etc) toward individual members of the church, per se. I get where they're coming from and understand that they are a product of--for lack of a better word, and i know it's a sticky one--brainwashing. They've been told all their lives or, in the convert's case, many years what is what to the point they cannot see anything else. The church could come out right now and declare something obviously immoral or obviously ridiculous and they will still have members who will bow their heads and say yes.
For me, it was being told the answer to my prayer wasn't as good as the answer the prophet got. WTF?
I know what these people have been told. I know people love to be right (i do). I know people like to feel like martyrs for a righteous cause. They like to feel better than others. To judge and criticise. Religion feeds and caters to all of this, no matter what Jesus or whomever else may teach.
Of course not every follower of any religion is this way, but I'm not loathe to submit that the majority are.
And yes, I've had some serious problems with self-righteous and self-effacing members who get up on their highest horse to tell me that I'm wrong and in how many ways. Their favorite saying seems to be that "you can tell me the sky is green all you want, but it doesn't change that it's blue"
(which is a ridiculous saying)
Or they like to tell me that I'm going to hell, breaking certain covenants (or all of them), going against teh prophet of god, ignoring what i deep down know to be true, etc. etc. etc.
Whatever.
So while I've had issue with certain members and will probably continue to have issue with certain members (can't avoid this and let's face it, though their judgments may bother me less now it can still be fucking annoying), my biggest beef is with the church that pulls these good people's strings. The church that puts words in these people's mouths. The church that lies and manipulates and ignores fact in order to press its own agenda, justifying the means to the end.
And it's made me think a lot. My last blog became a means for me to find my courage to unofficially leave the church. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I did find that courage. I think I started this blog to work to and find the courage to resign because it just seems stupid and disingenuous to remain an official member of a church I cannot stand.
And it hurts for me to say I can't stand it. It was there for me when I did need something like it the most. I do think--though I hate to say it--that I did need to join. But I don't think I ever believed in the purported literal history of the Book of Mormon. I might've thought it was a divinely inspired book, but hardly history. The church catered to some very important needs for the first four years (and that might be generous), but beyond that it broke me down.
Yet in leaving I'm finding a confidence I haven't had, I think, ever. So maybe it's good that way.
But it's not about the individual people. I may feel sorry for them much like they may feel sorry for me, but it's not my place to really say so. They think I'm unhappy just like I think they may not be as happy as they're told they are. But I'm not above thinking some of them are truly happier in the church.
I just can't stand by much longer and be a part of this. I don't know what it'll mean for this blog once I resign, but I'll discuss those thoughts later.
It's all very complicated, my feelings toward the members--but they're humans, too, with needs and whatnot. The church is, for some, all they know. For others it was a saving grace (like for me). For others, they can't fathom anything else.
The church does that. It has progressed and evolved in such a way as to guarantee its growth. They convince the people they speak for God and are thus always right. They tell them if they don't listen, certain things will happen. They say "nonono, we don't pull our members' strings. but we do expect loyalty." They then ensure they are their members' world so leaving is the most frightening prospect of all. So they stay and pay and obey.
And let's not forget their studious PR department that tells them and the rest of the world that they're not really robots.
It makes perfect business sense, and as I was once a girl who bought it all I can't blame current members for believing. I can be annoyed to all hell, but it's probably a projection of my own embarrassment of ever being that way.
I don't have a grudge or a hatred or severe disappointment (etc) toward individual members of the church, per se. I get where they're coming from and understand that they are a product of--for lack of a better word, and i know it's a sticky one--brainwashing. They've been told all their lives or, in the convert's case, many years what is what to the point they cannot see anything else. The church could come out right now and declare something obviously immoral or obviously ridiculous and they will still have members who will bow their heads and say yes.
For me, it was being told the answer to my prayer wasn't as good as the answer the prophet got. WTF?
I know what these people have been told. I know people love to be right (i do). I know people like to feel like martyrs for a righteous cause. They like to feel better than others. To judge and criticise. Religion feeds and caters to all of this, no matter what Jesus or whomever else may teach.
Of course not every follower of any religion is this way, but I'm not loathe to submit that the majority are.
And yes, I've had some serious problems with self-righteous and self-effacing members who get up on their highest horse to tell me that I'm wrong and in how many ways. Their favorite saying seems to be that "you can tell me the sky is green all you want, but it doesn't change that it's blue"
(which is a ridiculous saying)
Or they like to tell me that I'm going to hell, breaking certain covenants (or all of them), going against teh prophet of god, ignoring what i deep down know to be true, etc. etc. etc.
Whatever.
So while I've had issue with certain members and will probably continue to have issue with certain members (can't avoid this and let's face it, though their judgments may bother me less now it can still be fucking annoying), my biggest beef is with the church that pulls these good people's strings. The church that puts words in these people's mouths. The church that lies and manipulates and ignores fact in order to press its own agenda, justifying the means to the end.
And it's made me think a lot. My last blog became a means for me to find my courage to unofficially leave the church. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I did find that courage. I think I started this blog to work to and find the courage to resign because it just seems stupid and disingenuous to remain an official member of a church I cannot stand.
And it hurts for me to say I can't stand it. It was there for me when I did need something like it the most. I do think--though I hate to say it--that I did need to join. But I don't think I ever believed in the purported literal history of the Book of Mormon. I might've thought it was a divinely inspired book, but hardly history. The church catered to some very important needs for the first four years (and that might be generous), but beyond that it broke me down.
Yet in leaving I'm finding a confidence I haven't had, I think, ever. So maybe it's good that way.
But it's not about the individual people. I may feel sorry for them much like they may feel sorry for me, but it's not my place to really say so. They think I'm unhappy just like I think they may not be as happy as they're told they are. But I'm not above thinking some of them are truly happier in the church.
I just can't stand by much longer and be a part of this. I don't know what it'll mean for this blog once I resign, but I'll discuss those thoughts later.
It's all very complicated, my feelings toward the members--but they're humans, too, with needs and whatnot. The church is, for some, all they know. For others it was a saving grace (like for me). For others, they can't fathom anything else.
The church does that. It has progressed and evolved in such a way as to guarantee its growth. They convince the people they speak for God and are thus always right. They tell them if they don't listen, certain things will happen. They say "nonono, we don't pull our members' strings. but we do expect loyalty." They then ensure they are their members' world so leaving is the most frightening prospect of all. So they stay and pay and obey.
And let's not forget their studious PR department that tells them and the rest of the world that they're not really robots.
It makes perfect business sense, and as I was once a girl who bought it all I can't blame current members for believing. I can be annoyed to all hell, but it's probably a projection of my own embarrassment of ever being that way.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Home Teachers
So my LDS friend down the street just told me that her husband is now one of our home teachers.
This LDS friend is a good friend of mine. Got a bit of a sailor's mouth herself and is really very understanding and accepting of my family's inactivity. Even gave me a hug and told me she had seen how hard leaving could be since her uncle had been through the process.
So it's not a big deal at all that her husband is our home teacher. But he didn't want to approach us himself b/c he didn't want to make us uncomfortable, so he asked his wife to talk with me.
It's weird what my initial reaction was. It isn't exactly like I hadn't thought of this before--but it mostly regarded my visiting teachers. This is a little different. This is a friend of ours.
...and his 23 year old RM newly married super-TBM companion.
Sigh.
So she asked if we were okay with having them stop by. "They don't have to talk church," she said, "But it's totally no pressure if you don't want them to come."
I told her we didn't want to talk church. Especially with a zealous young RM newly wed in the home. I'd be too tempted to mess with his head.
On the one hand, I figure we're still members on record. On the one hand I empathize that they have a duty to accomplish.
But I also know that I have zero duty to accept them into my home. Who the fuck is going to put us under any obligation to receive our home teachers? And if they did, I'd send in my resignation letter right that minute.
And I also know that nobody is going to rebuke them if they aren't received into our home. As long as they try, right?
I told my friend it'd be totes cool if she accompanied her husband and they just came over for a visit. But, of course, this isn't kosher for home teachers.
I haven't spoken with Eric about this yet, but I already know what he'll say (maybe not, he just said "I don't care") And I'm not really sure what made me hesitate at ALL about this. Maybe because it was my good friend's husband who we get along with rather well, a guy who respects our position on the church to whatever end they're aware of.
Still, I don't want them to come by. Not under that guise.
She also said "you know if you need anything you can call us anyway." Which is true, but it made me wonder about what would happen if we were no longer official members. I'm 99.9999% sure my friend is above shunning us if that's what we did, but isn't the social support structure a large comfort in the church?
I would never use the church like that--I had a hard enough time using them while we were active, even when our daughter was in the NICU and underwent surgery--but it's nice to know they're there.
It's lame, I know, and I'm quickly getting over it, but those were my thoughts.
On the other hand, regarding my visiting teachers, I would have to tell them "no" as well. I honestly cannot remember one visiting teacher I was excited to invite into my house. They'd let their three or four very young kids run rampant and screw up my house. The topic would also always be about or related to motherhood. Or the kicker: one put me under severe mental torture by reviewing the god-awful "Mother's Who Know" bullshit. I thought I was the only girl in the world who couldn't STAND that talk when it came out. I endured a lot with family members fawning over that thing, biting my tongue until it nearly came off.
I think--I know--that any thought of actually letting them come is one of pity. Because I should. Because I don't want to offend them. They're just doing what they're supposed to do. They're good people, why the hell not.
And I think being honest with myself, knowing that I really don't want them here as our home teachers despite one being a friend, says something about where I'm going and where I am now. I'm learning I don't need them anymore, not like that. Especially when I think about the priesthood authority being part of it, that they're supposed to get to know us and take care of us and let the bishop know anything he "ought" to know. It's crap.
But I find it strangely comforting, even knowing the church really is like a too-involved parent--but I'm almost 30 fucking years old, you know? Time to grow up.
It's getting close to the time to cut the cord.
This LDS friend is a good friend of mine. Got a bit of a sailor's mouth herself and is really very understanding and accepting of my family's inactivity. Even gave me a hug and told me she had seen how hard leaving could be since her uncle had been through the process.
So it's not a big deal at all that her husband is our home teacher. But he didn't want to approach us himself b/c he didn't want to make us uncomfortable, so he asked his wife to talk with me.
It's weird what my initial reaction was. It isn't exactly like I hadn't thought of this before--but it mostly regarded my visiting teachers. This is a little different. This is a friend of ours.
...and his 23 year old RM newly married super-TBM companion.
Sigh.
So she asked if we were okay with having them stop by. "They don't have to talk church," she said, "But it's totally no pressure if you don't want them to come."
I told her we didn't want to talk church. Especially with a zealous young RM newly wed in the home. I'd be too tempted to mess with his head.
On the one hand, I figure we're still members on record. On the one hand I empathize that they have a duty to accomplish.
But I also know that I have zero duty to accept them into my home. Who the fuck is going to put us under any obligation to receive our home teachers? And if they did, I'd send in my resignation letter right that minute.
And I also know that nobody is going to rebuke them if they aren't received into our home. As long as they try, right?
I told my friend it'd be totes cool if she accompanied her husband and they just came over for a visit. But, of course, this isn't kosher for home teachers.
I haven't spoken with Eric about this yet, but I already know what he'll say (maybe not, he just said "I don't care") And I'm not really sure what made me hesitate at ALL about this. Maybe because it was my good friend's husband who we get along with rather well, a guy who respects our position on the church to whatever end they're aware of.
Still, I don't want them to come by. Not under that guise.
She also said "you know if you need anything you can call us anyway." Which is true, but it made me wonder about what would happen if we were no longer official members. I'm 99.9999% sure my friend is above shunning us if that's what we did, but isn't the social support structure a large comfort in the church?
I would never use the church like that--I had a hard enough time using them while we were active, even when our daughter was in the NICU and underwent surgery--but it's nice to know they're there.
It's lame, I know, and I'm quickly getting over it, but those were my thoughts.
On the other hand, regarding my visiting teachers, I would have to tell them "no" as well. I honestly cannot remember one visiting teacher I was excited to invite into my house. They'd let their three or four very young kids run rampant and screw up my house. The topic would also always be about or related to motherhood. Or the kicker: one put me under severe mental torture by reviewing the god-awful "Mother's Who Know" bullshit. I thought I was the only girl in the world who couldn't STAND that talk when it came out. I endured a lot with family members fawning over that thing, biting my tongue until it nearly came off.
I think--I know--that any thought of actually letting them come is one of pity. Because I should. Because I don't want to offend them. They're just doing what they're supposed to do. They're good people, why the hell not.
And I think being honest with myself, knowing that I really don't want them here as our home teachers despite one being a friend, says something about where I'm going and where I am now. I'm learning I don't need them anymore, not like that. Especially when I think about the priesthood authority being part of it, that they're supposed to get to know us and take care of us and let the bishop know anything he "ought" to know. It's crap.
But I find it strangely comforting, even knowing the church really is like a too-involved parent--but I'm almost 30 fucking years old, you know? Time to grow up.
It's getting close to the time to cut the cord.
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