"What is THIS?"

The other week, my husband threw his temple clothes on our bedroom floor so he could use the bag for something better.

It takes him a while for some of this stuff. Then again, I think I still have mine. Not because I'm attached, but it's like a bad souvenir. I don't know how to explain it.

ANYWAY, my daughter comes out of the room a few days later with the apron wrapped around her waist. She's staring at the thing like it's completely foreign.

"What is this?!" she asks.


I died laughing. I don't remember what I told her. We try to be respectful but not entirely--don't need her thinking badly of her family, but you know. It is weird. I think most members would admit that if they felt no one else would hear them.


Story 2.

The other day a woman joined an ex-mormon facebook group* who had a last name I'm SO FAMILIAR with. It's Squeaky's last name. Remembering stories about how all people with this last name are related, I told her "you are legion in my town." Turns out, her husband is Squeaky's husband's cousin. I even knew her husband--kinda--had heard of him.

They LEFT THE CHURCH four weeks ago. Like, right away--no process, just "omg, we're outta here." Tossed the garments. Told most everyone. Her in-laws wrote them a letter, calling them to repentance for the sin they obviously committed. She's already lost friends.

I never would've guessed this guy would leave the church, just by virtue of his name and family--they're ridiculous in the church, but then again so many of them are leaving right now. Of course, this particular couple lives in Oklahoma now and not California--so that sucks--but still, it was validating.

It was validating. I don't know how to explain that. It's not that I questioned myself, but it's nice to have someone a little closer to home who's going through the same thing.

Something seriously offended her. I know that's a bad word to use, but she discovered something bad enough to shake her from her TBM-ness. And not only her family, but two or three other families in her WARD. All at once, they've left.

NOT ONLY THAT, but a temple president from their stake had left a few years before. A temple-fucking-president. He prefers to remain low-profile, but apparently he ran into some serious incongruities and wrote a few letters to the First Presidency. They initially went ignored, but the squeaky wheel gets the grease. A Seventy finally wrote a letter back, basically telling him to forget about the truths he discovered.

A. temple. president. I respect his wishes to remain under the radar, but could you imagine if he went public? It would be amazing. Some discussion is online, but the story in its entirety remains unpublicized.




*this group is secret and won't show up in any searches, and it's a bit of an effort to get in if the admin doesn't already know you--they're very careful about keeping things safe for apostates and free of trolls. if you're interested in joining, lemme know. i'll see what i can do to hook you up.

Compromise

I've mentioned this a few times before (I think) and I believe the sentiments are shared by fellow converts:

Y'all, I feel stupid for even complaining. BIC members had no fucking choice. Me? I was EIGHTEEN.

Yes, I know. Eighteen isn't exactly adult, except perhaps on paper. I could vote, couldn't drink, finally got my sorry ass out of high school, and had zero clue of what to do with myself. I had a great GPA, but not great enough to get into UC Santa Cruz--and it wouldn't take much to talk me out of even that. It just took a pretty girl full of energy who was willing to be my best friend and a group of people who loved me without even getting to know me (all they needed to know was that I was a potential inmate). Whereas once I was a social outcast, surrounded by people who had known me since preschool, I was a new person. They didn't know who I was. It was a relief.

And let's be honest: I needed to get the fuck out of my parents house. I needed to cut the cord, because my mom would never on her own.

So you have a convert who left the church and is now bitching about it. I feel lame for doing it, and like I said I'm not the only one. I know what the world is like without the church whereas BIC members have no clue.

But I've been doing some thinking.

I characterize myself as an ex-Christian girl, but if cornered you'd find out that I'm hard pressed to go very far in denouncing Christ. I may know what the world is like without the LDS church, I can largely break off from the hammering doctrine easily construed as brainwashing, but I can't get away from Christ.

For about a year following my disaffection I would denounce and bitch about the church, feeling rather confident in my feelings--but the second you put me with SIL for more than five seconds (if that), I'd leave with an enormous desire to go back. To figure out a way in. A compromise. In the end I knew I couldn't, but you can believe I tried. I believe I've said it recently, but that part is over now. Mostly because she has changed, and so have I. Because our friendship has fizzled, and I'm done mourning it nearly ten years after it began to crack.

That said, I still have Christ. I have entered into one church since leaving the LDS church that hasn't thrown me into a complete fit of anxiety and panic. I wasn't totally calm by any means, but I didn't freak out. And while that church is nowhere near me now (you wouldn't catch even a UU church within 45 miles of me), sometimes I think "you know, if I were to attend a church that would be the one."

But then it stops, because I don't believe. But I want to. Sometimes I want to so, so bad.

I want to compromise my beliefs sometimes, but I don't even try to. I don't because Eric is atheist through and through now and I don't want to deal with that, even though I know he'd deal with it. I don't because my desires always hit a brick wall when I realize I don't believe. Not really.

Christmas was weird for this. All the children's shows and whatever featuring characters who mentioned Christ and the way I'd react inside, wondering when we're going to have The Talk with the kids. Jason, I know, is interested. My views (my scrooge-ish views) on Santa changed: let 'em believe! then later we can use that as a lesson regarding how everyone can tell you one thing and yet it's still wrong: use yr brain, kids). I couldn't just relax. I'm on constant vigilance, and it hurts. It physically hurts.

I need to come to some sort of peace, but I don't know how. I've rejected Mormonism after some work, now I'm working on my feelings regarding Christianity which entails a lifetime of inherent belief. Even when I took the four year sabbatical from church, I still believed.

It fucks me up with regard to my kids. It just really sucks.

dum dum dum dum dum

HONEST. TO. GOD.

I just read this on a friend's facebook wall and it reminded me of so many other encounters I've had with friends of my own. Names are withheld. I imagine many of you will have your own stories to share and so this will hardly be unfamiliar.

I don't know you. My son-in-laws are wonderful parents and I love them very much! They were not given the blessing of being raised in the church, so they don't have the wonderful plan of salvation in their lives yet (i always loved this little addition of "yet"). Some learned and have accepted it , and some are still learning. I do want a forever family with ALL of my children and grandchildren, This only comes with the gospel, nothing else will get us there. I hope only you and [redacted] all the best. I love her and only want the things she desires the most for her. I am sorry [redacted] you felt I was attacking you, I sincerly [sic] am sorry if you felt this way. I know how hard it is to live in this crazy world and not have doubts. But I know I could not face it with out the joy of the gospel to make it to the end. Enduring to the end is so hard, we all struggle with trials. May you find peace, and I do love you even if you don't believe it. I know [redacted] loves you and she is a wise woman. So looked to the coming season of peace and joy and may God bless you!

It's an art form, I swear.

(H) provided me with much fodder, and until just recently I just had no idea her knee-jerk reactions and passive-aggression was so common in the church (duh, says Eric). She demonstrated as such in many emails, blog comments, and fb wall posts. An example can be found in her response to an early post I wrote back in 2008 on Liberal Mormon that Could entitled "This is what it's about"

So Lisa, I've been thinking of your blog, and a funny thing happened. I was talking to some friends and every single one of them plus some family members have had their signs stolen. Signs that are yes on prop 8. I'm wondering what your take is on these few thoughts and then I have to get my kids into bed. The people who are taking these signs are obviously not in support of prop 8. This is a coordinated effort on some level, all over town signs are being stolen from peoples yards. Here is my question. If people are willing to come onto my property and take something because they feel strongly about it, even though it seems harmless enough what about if prop 8 fails. What if a certain church still refuses to recognize or perform those unions. Do you honestly think that the church or congregation that attends would be left unscathed from grafitti [sic] or I don't know harrassment [sic]? This is only one of the ways this will affect church members and it's not pretty. If they are willing to steal, what else might they be willing to do with "the law on their side?" What is your opinion? I'm really curious! Even though I disagree, I really enjoy reading your thoughts when I can. Maybe you could use your obvious talent for writing in defence [sic] of the church or maybe sharing your testimony, I bet you would make grown men cry by using your talents in such a noble way!! You truly have a gift not just for writing but for organizing your thoughts. Bravo!!! Ohhh... are you going to stake conference? I'll look for you if you are!

Went from some weird, accusatory diversion with absolutely ZERO logic from the original post to a "hey, you are so awesome and so talented--could you maybe use that for the church? See you there!"

Hey, fuck you.

And uhm, how did she do that? Because I'm still kicking myself for placating her in a following post. WTF did I feel I had to prove? She's tricksy, she is. All of them are if you don't realize what's going on.

Later, and I'm not sure when and I don't want to peruse all my old posts for it (there are many) but at some point another girl in my stake popped in out of nowhere and said "Now we're not all that bad, are we?"

I mean, really? REALLY?

The nicety thing is a diversion. Someone calls them on something and suddenly it's "can't we all just get along?"

Then there are the people I'd known for years, people who were my closest friend at one point, people like Squeaky, who cover their ears and say they can't talk to me anymore. I'm not sure which one I prefer the most. I actually have some respect for (H) reading my stuff even after it was clear I wasn't going back. Then again, a few months ago she asked for my blog address she had since lost with an immediate follow up of "but I can't handle it." Kind of like how she defriended me and then later asked, after I informed her she could've just "hid" me (which is what i did to her b/c i did care about keeping up but my blood pressure couldn't handle constant exposure to her ignorant bullshit--she feels the same way about me), "hey i'd like to be fb friends again. could you remind me how to 'hide'?"

Uhm, no.

I haven't responded to her latest email following my son being in her nursery class. She lauded me for having such a great boy and how I "must be doing something right." I want so much to give her the benefit but after all our encounters it just screams bitch. Like she meant "for an apostate." Who knows. I think she's more concerned with me not liking her than anything else, and I'm tired of that game. I've told her a few times we're fine but she keeps it up and by doing so makes things not so fine. Lady, I got other people to baby. I'm not going to bother with a grown woman who insists that everyone on the fucking planet likes her so she can feel good and sew ritechous because everyone, even the sad apostates, like her. Her niceness isn't genuine though I'm sure she thinks it is. But it's not. It's another form of emotional and mental manipulation, and I'm done. I deal with enough of that from my own non-member family, thx, enough to merit therapy.

But I'm sure y'all have similar experiences of super nice "friends" but their words are laced with a tinge of...what is it.

Bitchiness. That's what.

It's a missionary response. See also Eliza Snitch's post, "quaint correspondence." Same shit.

I hate missionary responses. I've heard enough of them. I hated them as an investigator. I hated them as a member, especially when I was asked to perform for an investigator or "inactive" member. Jesus. I'm sure I did it a few times, but for the most part I just wanted to scream.

Back to School

I haven't talked about this much yet, but I imagine I should just get it out of the way. It's likely to make a semi-regular appearance here.

I was accepted to university after much "oooh we dunno, it depends on the budget" crap. I found out about the green light three weeks ago.

Woo!

A bit of history:

I can't say my mom encouraged my brother and I to go to college. It was expected. It was beaten into our heads. We would go because she didn't and look at what happens? Nothing, right.

I didn't think much about where I'd go specifically until prooobably my junior or senior year of high school. I was a good student, I tried, but not to my potential. Also, I was a fairly talented manipulator. A quiet, well-mannered girl wants an extra day or two to turn this in? Okay! I still dunno how I got away with not doing the frog unit in biology and still getting the credits. It wasn't a matter of ethics or anything, I just...I don't know. I didn't want to do it and the teacher was a bit of a dope, so I wiggled my way out of it somehow.

My GPA wasn't bad at all (3.5+) but I had this inflated idea of what it really was in my head what with my English honors and AP courses, my French 3 Honors class, etc. Someone who should've known better actually allowed me to think I had a chance at Salutatorian. I didn't, of course. I didn't give honors or AP classes any thought until my sophomore year English teacher told me I was talented and really smart, worth so much more--and then recommended me for the junior English honors course (which I LOVED). I can't remember anyone ever really telling me those things or thinking those things about me before. I'd always loved English, writing, but never really considered it as something to pursue. Not that I had considered much--except for maybe working for Walt Disney one day drawing for his movies. Hahahaha. Oh, technology. But seriously, I liked to draw as a kid. Pretty good, too.

So I had a bit of a late start as far as giving enough of a shit. I was smart, my family said. Maybe not as smart as my brother, of course, who had completed Algebra I by the eighth grade, but smart. Mostly street smart. Got As, but yanno. Didn't get the computer, didn't know how to work a VCR by age 6, that sort of thing. He was smart, I was a smart-ass.

But I knew college was on the horizon. And I knew I lovedloved Santa Cruz. So I took a tour of UCSC and omg fell in love. It's a beautiful, gorgeous, outstanding campus--some buildings literally bestow upon its students a view of the ocean. Other classes are smack dab in the middle of towering Redwoods. It's an extremely liberal campus as well (i was a bit of a liberal teen) with its own dormitories for GBLTQ students and the like.

I could forgive that its mascot was a fricken banana slug. It had a fantastic English/creative writing program! Oh!

But, you know. It's a University of California. They kinda wanted good grades. Fantastic SAT scores. ACT. Extra-curriculars. You get the idea. I swept all reality aside and grabbed the appropriate papers and brochures and had wet dreams at night over going to this university.

3.5 GPA is good, but I don't remember if it was good enough. Again, I didn't give a shit until it was too late. I didn't know that my efforts weren't enough, and like many teens just wasn't motivated until it was too late.

Then I took the SAT and BOMBED the motherfucker. Seriously. I'm ashamed even now to disclose my score of which I've pretty much erased from memory. I do know I scored above a 1000 but not a hell of a lot higher. It was that bad, y'all. I should pat myself on the back for at least getting my name correct.

I think I did acceptably well on the ACT, but don't ask me what my score was. 24? 26? 27? I dunno. Maybe my memory of "acceptable" is just me comforting myself after an abysmal performance on the SAT.

I still don't understand these scores. I don't believe I'm dumb or that I ever was, so really? REALLY? Why didn't I retake the tests? I DON'T KNOW. I think by the time I got my score I had pretty much decided I wasn't going anywhere but the community college. I wasn't even sure the university I'm attending now would take me with that score. I didn't even bother looking into it. I just gave up.

My only consolation was that I'd attend the CC that my peers wouldn't attend. I wanted nothing to do with them after having grown up with them. Small town + nerdy rep + 12 years = suckfest.

So I signed up at the CC under the guise of "transferring to UCSC in two years." After the initial placement test, I was lauded as totally smart (this is not far away from said pre-columbine "everyone reads!" high school). I qualified for the equivalent of Algebra I and they were seriously impressed. I shrugged. My first semester at college was basically my senior year of high school replayed. I still got a C in science.

Then I met Squeaky, joined the church, couldn't figure out what the fuck I was going to do for school because English was unacceptable and I tired of my parents and their shit with my financial aid and their taxes. Eventually I burnt out and dropped out.

After that, I'd pretty much given up on ever transferring to a university. I dreamed about it, tried taking a few classes, but good moms stay home. I'd wait and maybe go when I was fifty.

So this is pretty awesome, and I am fairly terrified and nervous for a number of reasons. I'm doing my best to push those aside because it's pretty cool when you leave the church and find you can do stuff like this, something really good for me and for my family. That is my hope and my faith, at least.

You'll probably hear a lot about it. I might just schedule a once-a-week thing later. I dunno. My major is English Education. If I don't completely freak out and my emotions don't get the better of me and the planets align as I need them to, I'll be credentialed by 2015. Thirty-four years old. Has its pros, for sure.

But really, I hope to god I can be to some kid what Mrs. Parker was for me. I'll never forget her. She turned "go to college or else" to "you are smart and especially talented here. Go after this. You can and you should."

Can't tell you what that still does for me, nearly 15 years later. Amazing.