Feminism and Atheism

I reconnected with an old friend of mine almost three years ago, and one of our first conversations brought up the concept of feminism.

"I have a hard time describing myself as a feminist," I said.

"But you sound like one. You believe like one." (paraphrase)

And I knew that, but it still bothered me to give myself that label. Not because I'm against labels (in fact I'm all for them, in a personal sense), but because I'm uncomfortable with the many negative connotations. It's one of those ideographs, words that make people stop thinking. That's not what I want.

Now I feel I'm unworthy of the label. I'm not activist enough. I'm not passionate enough. I'm not aware enough of misogyny in my life--aside from the church. I imagine that the more I involve myself in the outside world the more I'll feel it. However, I'm not expert enough to argue the cause very well.

But it's progressing. At the beginning of the semester, a class of mine was discussing Kate Chopin's short story, "The Story of an Hour." Because we had earlier discussed how the personal beliefs of the author can sometimes play a part in her work, I decided I'd bring up my observation that Chopin seemed feminist. My professor dismissed me.

"No. I've read excerpts where she professed a love for her husband. She doesn't hate men."

I picked up my jaw, but I said nothing.

I hated that I said nothing, but I said nothing.

And that is one reason I don't like to consider myself feminist. I'm hesitant to be "that girl." I am thinking about that, though--is it worse to remain quiet, or worse to chance annoying people enough that they'll completely avoid you and dismiss everything you say? I know one doesn't have to be a jerk to spark discussion of controversial topics. In fact, I've learned that changing minds is best done when you're assertive and confident--not aggressive and an asshat. But it's also a matter of venue.



Then there's the atheism.

I lean more this way, and I have for a while. I even changed my "religious views" on facebook to atheism for a little bit, but that was uncomfortable too. But "agnostic" didn't fit the bill either. It's set to "none" at the moment, but only because I don't fucking know.

And I would like to know. There's a peace and a power for me in being able to put a name to the feeling. I can't say I don't believe in god for some reason, and yet the logic of a god (specifically the christian god) doesn't pass the test for me. I'm not theist. I'm more atheist, but I can't say it out loud. I don't know why. Atheism doesn't mean I don't think there's a chance. I also know there are things we cannot explain, but there were things people couldn't explain years ago that science has now explained. Yet that doesn't mean science will ever explain everything. Is everything explainable?

So I don't know. I suppose "atheist" is the best classification. It's just very loaded, very negative. And that's a real problem--people should be able to be atheist without chasing others away in horror, just like Christians should be able to be Christians without other people shying away in horror.

For the record, I'm just as annoyed by militant athiests as I am militant christians.


These are strong terms, feminism and atheism. They mean different things to different people, and I tend to think I need to be all the way in, embrace it, before I call myself either one. As it is I run in with people who  think "feminist" equals "man hater" and atheism means "godless fucking asshole christian hater who arrogantly decides she knows everything." It just wears me out.

Because that's not what it means, but no matter how many times you calmly correct false perceptions, many people will never hear it. They don't want to. It makes things far too complicated. And even when I'm up for a debate, I'm not always prepared enough. I don't like debating unless I'm confident I'll win.

I wonder if a relabeling would be smart or even necessary--or if its just another way to dismiss important issues.

Testimony of a Transgendered Child

I'm not all that familiar with transgendered or transsexual people, but it's showing up more and more in the blogs I follow. I saw this video a week or so ago, and it's pretty amazing. The more you learn about the differences between sex and gender, the more you realize this shit is for real. Not that it's our place to decide who a person should be anyway. Thought I'd share:

"My child is gender variant (Transgender) which means that during fetal development there was insufficient testosterone which resulted in the lack of male gender identity markers in the BSTC section of the pituitary gland in her brain. The result is a child who is born a natal male with a female gender identity. Gender exists between the ears, not between the legs." (jabberjawz223, aka super mama. emphasis added)

Step One

(thank you, Kiley <3)

For some reason I feel the need to tell everyone since I kind of already stated that this was something I planned to do.

I'm staying away from the church and religion for my rhetoric project.

Well, I'm trying like hell to.

I know, I know. How easy would it be? I had already begun to compile articles and talks and everything. But--at the moment--I'm tired. I overheard a conversation today involving a girl who dropped her sorority. Her friends asked for a little dirt. I heard everything she said through the lens (wha?) of the Church. That's how it always is. It's always the church. The church the church the church.

And why not? That's how I've seen and heard everything for the last eleven years. It's habit.

I can't even do freewrites in class without wanting to immediately jump into something church related if only because it's too easy. I have kinda-inadvertently begun to establish myself as the ex-mormon. I see myself in particular contrast to the Catholic girl I share three classes with. She's perfectly nice, but we are opposites both politically and religiously, and so there's this barrier that shouldn't be there. A barrier I put there--it doesn't matter if she has, too, because I have. It isn't right. People are more than that.

I need to establish other facets of my personality. I have other facets...yeah?

Beats me.

I don't want to allow the church to continue to distract me to the point where I've nothing else to talk about. Not that I'm imposing a complete moratorium. It comes up because it has to. I find or see or hear something funny or maddening or ironic or moronic, I'll talk about it. It's a huge part of who I was and why I am where I am today.

But there has got to be more to life than the fucking church.

Can I please please please begin to move on?

"Sacredness" of marriage

I know an LDS guy who is pushing 30 and is yet unmarried, a guy who recently brought a girl home for Christmas. Everyone wants this kid to marry the girl. As such, the two of them have been through a hazing. Initiation and all.

And you know, it's fun when someone you love is in a serious relationship. It's exciting.

That said, I have my thoughts about this particular guy, but I realize I could be wrong. Still. A single LDS man who hasn't (as far as I'm aware) gone on many dates and is pushing thirty...well. Flags raise.

Is that wrong? I've other hints I won't divulge here. Nothing huge, but hints.

Not that I'd care--but his family and friends and community sure as hell would.

So his family discussed his situation the other day. One declared he simply needs to "man up" and just ask the girl to marry him already. Everyone agreed. After all, he and his girlfriend are acting engaged. And they are. I guess. I suppose this is reason enough to put the ring on her finger already?

Who knows.

His father said his son has doubts, a lot of doubts. The kid knows what he needs to do, his dad said, but he's scared. It must be due to lovin' the single life, to freedom, to doing whatever he wants. Maybe it is. But maybe it's not quite that simple. After all, it's not as if he's out partying every night. He travels. He does charity work in South America. He's getting his master's degree. He works for the church. He has friends. You know?

But, his sister chimed, he loves children, and if he wants children he'd better do it now. After all, she has four children and she's only few months younger than he is. He'd better get to if he wants even one kid. If he waits too much longer, parenting will simply exhaust him. If he waits too much longer, kids will be out of the picture.

And forget children, they said. What of the marriage? All these people waiting to get married. Don't they know? The older you get the more set in your ways you become and therefore the less willing you are to compromise. "Man up" said that that's why you marry young, while you're still used to sharing with your brothers and sisters.

It's dangerous to wait until you know who you are before you marry someone because then you're an old dog who can't learn new tricks. In this situation, they reasoned, divorce is far more likely.

Nevermind that he wants to get married. Just maybe not to this girl. Maybe.

I bit my tongue throughout the conversation. So much was wrong.

If marriage is so sacred perhaps he ought to be completely certain he's ready for it. Maybe he ought to marry this girl because he wants to marry this girl. Maybe he ought to marry her because he loves her and wants to make a lifelong commitment--not simply to satisfy cultural, religious, and familial expectations.

After all, there will be kids to consider. The life of a girl he cares about. His own happiness.

His family has his best interests at heart. They want him to marry, to have children, to be happy. They think he's happy with her, that they're better when they're together. I have a feeling, though, that this girl could be any girl and his family would be foaming at the mouth for him to marry her.

Their rationale just sounded so selfish to me. The whole thing was striking given the sanctity of marriage schpeal I've heard so often over the last few years.

Some girl, any girl, JUST MARRY A GIRL.

You know?

I'm not about to say this family is completely wrong. They know him better than I do, but I have a different lens with which to view him. A lens not skewed by the church.

It just bothered me. So much for sanctity. After all, he's running outta time. For god's sake, soon enough he'll be part of the "Single Adult" group--*shiver*

Isn't that reason enough?

Thoughts?

Mormon Housewife Blogs

Why I can't stop reading Mormon housewife blogs--Salon.com

I ran into this article today and at first glance I was willing to be happy about non-mormons finding something good in these blogs--why the hell not, right? let's see the good in all things, or at least most. It's something I've thought a lot about lately, and perhaps I'll post more on later.

But then I started thinking about it more: this is just more fodder for the LDS PR department, more reason for many LDS girls and women to feel less-than. I remember trying to reach this ideal, to be these girls. I was not able to. I am not that girl. It doesn't mean I hate life (indeed i did in the church many times when i failed) or marriage, or that I don't see the good in small things, but not reaching the ideal espoused by so many--including general leaders--only sends one message "you are not good enough."

Yay for The Simple Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Now, if this is who these girls are, I don't want to take that away from them. In many ways I wish I could be more like them, but that isn't the lesson I should absorb. I should be learning to embrace who I am.

Unfortunately, this is not what is or has been taught. Not in my experience. In my experience, the church and even much of our conservative society do not teach this. They teach perfection without acknowledging the tragedies that come in seeking it. Apparently the cost is worth the benefit.

So we allow others to tell us this is what is normal and that normal = happy. And we're enamored with normal because we don't feel normal. Anything to feel normal. Anything to feel not alone. And we sacrifice far too many people in the process. Many people have analyzed our fascination with the 50s and its nuclear family, and it's all worth reading. I won't go on about it, but we can and should be happy now. It's not about aprons and cupcakes and themed birthday parties and high-end jobs and perfect hairstyles and brand name clothes. I can understand the appeal in that, but that isn't what happiness is. Depending on the package, it's just more propaganda.

Again, if this is who these girls are, more power to them. If my son is what you might call a stereotypical boy, I will not take that away from him. If my daughter wants to wear frilly dresses and play with barbies, etc--awesome. As long as they don't criticise others or make them feel less if others are not who they are.

And that's why I can't stand these sorts of articles, even though I do believe in seeing the good in all, why I believe in seeing the good in that which we often demonize. BUT this isn't about the individual bloggers anymore but the faith they connect themselves to. In the church there is no individual. There is no separation, and non- or never-members can't understand this. When you speak of a person and connect them to the church in a positive light, the church will use it. There is no more individual after that. Just a puppet.

I have a really hard time welcoming anything that brings that.

And so this is no longer about charming, traditional, happy mommy bloggers. It's the Mormon we see, the Mormon we focus on, and the Mormon we are fed. And anyone who is not feels they are not, and because of this they will never really be happy either. Not as long as they buy into it. Me included.

Christmas

You know, I get that the snarky and funny and general pain-in-the-ass posts brings all the boys to the yard but the last few days I'm not feeling it so much.

Except for my Joe Smith birthday picture. That was pretty funny. At least to me.

Spent the day at the in-laws and have done a bit of thinking. I do this every now and again, get all introspective and that shizz--start to feel bad for including their comments and whatnot in my posts. My comments are not meant to be personal--again, dislike the church, love the people. Most of them, at least. They are people. It's what the church does to the people.

That said--and this is a big but--I love watching Eric and his siblings interact. They are, no joke, the best people I know. His youngest brother gave up his bed for me five Christmases ago when I was in active labor with Joseph. That was not an easy time for any of us. His sister (and the youngest brother) babysat the two other monkeys while I dealt with being in labor without my asking.

His younger sister used to be my best friend ever. And while she's changed considerably and while she was totally against "Christmas Vacation" tonight and does all that stuff, I love her. I used to say I missed her terribly, but I think I'm a few steps into acceptance. She used to be the girl who made me want so much to find a way to be a part of the church, but I'm no longer trying. It's funny how there's one person for each little step for me: one friend who makes me want to fit into the LDS creed, and then there's another who makes me want to try to fit into Christianity--even if just a little. Another post I'll hopefully remember later.

Anyway, five of Eric's six siblings were there today and they are all fun to watch. My brother and I are not close, and I'll freely admit I'm jealous I didn't and don't have the family Eric has. If that's what being LDS meant--having an amazing family--I'd totally rethink this. But I'm being idealistic, even there. Still, they are so neat to be around. I am the weirdo in their midst, but I'm hardly ignored--they try, dog bless them. There's a hope in being around them that my family will be even a little like them. I don't want my family to be like the one I grew up with. This fear, the one that leaving meant we were doomed to be like mine, was a big one that kept me from accepting my disillusionment.

But you know, my dad called me today. He's done that quite a bit lately (quite a bit being more than once), and today was special because he called me just to see how things were going. My dad doesn't do that.

And even though it would've been fine because we were at MILs house and they're all active members, church talk was minimal. Like ridiculously minimal. One mention of Christ's birth during the blessing of the fud and a gift of "The Princess Bride" that brought the comment "Every Mormon family has this movie!"

Which, you know, they do. And if they don't the individual people can quote the entire thing for you. Maybe that was another sign I'd never make it: "The Princess Bride" has played for me about five times and I've only stayed awake for it once. Not because I found it boring--not at all--I was just always sleepy when it played. Bad timing. Indeed.

And now it's eleven o'clock. The kids went to bed about twenty minutes ago, having been up since about 5am. I expect to sleep in in the morning, and now we've a big family get-together for all the late december/early january birthdays in the family (so many that i was afraid to announce joseph's due date), planned before the sibs go back home.

Like I said, I don't feel like I belong so much (especially anymore), but I like being around them all the same.

I could've done a LOT worse. I truly struck gold.

Teaching gender tolerance

The other day I had a talk with my daughter, who is seven. She goes through regular periods where she wants a sister so bad and tells me that we need to have a girl so she'll have someone to play barbies with. Usually when this happens, I tell her offhandedly that we're not having more kids and then I give her cousin a call (who also is without sisters) and arrange for her to come over because her best friend is more tomboy than a barbie girl--and she's a member. I don't give a shit that she's a member, but I'm beginning to suspect that perhaps her mother might. I dunno.

Anyway, this last time we had a talk. I sat her down and told her, again, that Mommy and Daddy could have fifty more kids and they could all turn out to be boys. "We just can't control it," I explained.

"Why not?"

Oh god. The timing was all wrong. While I have no problem (theoretically) having "the talk" with my daughter, her timing, whenever we get close like this, is always bad.

I mumbled something about mommies and daddies, not really sure if this was really the time. I'm waiting for the "where do babies come from" line, but maybe that's not how it always goes.

Eventually I went another route. "Sweetheart, if we had a girl it wouldn't likely be what you think it'd be like. Little sisters are extremely annoying. She'd be all up in your stuff. Wearing or eating your makeup. Messing with your toys. She'd be up all night as a baby. In time she'd want to hang out with you and your friends, and you won't want her anywhere near you. Eight years is a big difference. It won't pay off for another twenty years at least.

"Not only that," I added, "but she could end up just like I was and hate barbies."

"You hated barbies?"

"Yeah. It doesn't mean that barbies are bad, I just didn't like dolls. I wanted to play in the mud with the boys. So what if she ended up like me? You still wouldn't have anyone to play barbies with. We can't keep having kids until you get the sister you want. It might not ever happen."

She began to get the point. Still, I didn't like barbies? Wha?

I explained to her again that it didn't mean barbies were bad or good, it's a personality thing. I explained to her that some boys like dolls and barbies. That I know of one personally. She didn't quite know what to think of that, but I insisted on it. "It's not a boy thing or a girl thing, just a people thing. And it's okay."

Then I told her that, especially at her age, it's best to not count on a sister as something to solve her problems but to lean on her cousin or friends. This might prove difficult later (and has proven weird already) with regard to her cousin, being taught already about taking care of babies and cooking and church and specifically "pink" girl things like that, but y'know, whatever. For now, maybe for a while longer. Maybe forever. We'll have to see.

She got it. She's not happy about it, but she got it. And I understand her issues--I had a stepsister I hated (and despise still), another stepsister six years older than me who scared the shit out of me, and now a half-sis who I'm riding a thin line with. I always wanted someone I could talk with. I still do. I've my brother, but he lives 9 hours away now and we just were never close. I wish that wasn't the case, but it is. And that was my other point. Just because you're siblings doesn't mean jack shit.

It's just not all cut and dry.

Now I worry about my boys. The older one tends to hold rather black and white views on gender stereotypes. It might be due in part to us. I've noticed a few things here and there that we've only helped encourage, but it's his personality too. He's very much a boy (if you will). My heart sank a little when he said not to long ago "A boy marrying a boy?!" with a bit of shock and derision. The situation didn't merit a quick response and I just didn't know what to do. I didn't see it coming. I don't know where he's getting this crap from--my SILs house is very much gender-centric, but they don't spend a ton of time there. Maybe it's the social crap he hears on TV. Maybe it's the other boys at school--we're beginning to notice that he wants to play with the "cool" boys, and it scares me a little.


That said, if he's a "boy" like this, I shouldn't want to change him. If he likes stereotypical boy things, then that's fine. I need to remember that--it's part of who he is. I just don't want him to judge others for not being like him or feel the need to seem more "boyish" to fit the fucking mold and fit in. That won't happen in my house, not as much as we can help it.

But don't get me wrong, he is one of the most thoughtful and helpful and amazing kids I've ever been blessed to know. He'll help without being asked. He loves so much and gives the best hugs. He's a cuddler, and so smart. Unbelievably forgiving--to a fault, I worry, but forgiving. He responds best when you have a calm talk with him (most kids probably do, however). He understands. Huge heart. I have a lot to learn from him. As a kid who seems to have a lot of respect from his peers, I do think there's immense potential with him to be an influence. I want him, all of them really, to stand up for others when they're bullied. He's a big kid for his age, a good looking kid. A great kid. He could be an amazing force for good.

Then there's my youngest. He, like Jason, is incredibly social but much softer. I worry about him getting teased for being a little less than the stereotypical boy. He likes to play rough and all that crap, but he's a little less militant about it, if you will. He's in preschool right now, though, and gets along with EVERYONE. He won't let a kid come into the playground to begin school without saying hi. The other parents notice. He's just incredibly friendly. Got a bit of a temper, but so friendly. Just by personality alone, he too could be a force for good.

I worry about Abbie because, while she's such a great kid herself, she's a lot like me. I'm trying to figure out how to help her get past her confidence issues. She, too, could be a great force for good.

So I try to recognize "teaching moments" when it comes to these things, but I don't get to with Jason so much. Abbie and I have talks, and she knows. Joseph, I think, knows--but he's only four. Really, they're all young yet. I really don't care who they are, just as long as they're accepting of others and give out the respect they are deserving of themselves. I will admit, though, that I'm still learning. I come from a long history of this crap, and you know I like it when my man does his manly stuff and I like it when my boy holds a door open for us. I love being taken care of. I love girly things (i just don't have time, access, or knowledge to find the right ones) and all of that. So I struggle to not only realize that I need to learn how to do things, but to ensure my daughter learns it too. That she'll mow the lawn on occasion and my boys will mop the floor and clean the bathroom. She'll know how to change the oil in her car (something I've yet to learn) and they'll vacuum the house.

Deprogramming takes a while, especially when this shit is everywhere. Still, it was good for me to remember that I hardly fit the stereotype as a kid. As I grew older and especially in the church, I began to embrace more my feminine side--and I like it and want to learn more--but still. The church talks about self-reliance but does everything it can to prevent it in its women, if not by not teaching them basic things then by telling them their place is in the home, barefoot and pregnant.

This gender shit pisses me off more and more, like the other day when I went to find a microscope for my daughter. "Science" was listed under the "boys" section. I wanted to scream.

I realize I've some physical hurdles. I'm short and not as strong as Eric, for example. I don't expect to be able to do it all, but basic stuff I should be able to do. The problem is that during my stint in the church I never tried as hard. I did the whole "oh i can't do it" damsel in distress crap. I'm beginning to remember now that I'm stronger than I look, and I'm getting that competitive side of me back. It surprises Eric because he's not used to me having that confidence. He won't ask for my help, or think we need a third person, but I'm insistent now. I'm not a waif.

We all need to ask for help sometimes. Men can't do everything, either. We do complement each other, but it's not just a vagina vs. penis thing. It's personality. The longer Eric and I are out of the church the more we're seeing in each other a different personality emerge. It can be scary, but I think in the end we'll be stronger for it. He saw peeks of my real personality in the beginning anyway. I saw a little of his, but he's largely the same person. Just atheist.

I just want my kids to be strong. And I worry. I don't want to tell my boys to hold back on expressing less-than-masculine qualities just because some asshole might take them to task for it--but it's tempting. While it happens to girls, too, let's face it: it's rougher on the boys as it's more acceptable for a girl to be boyish. So I haven't figured out how I'll deal with that. I think, perhaps, confidence is the answer. But when you're a person still trying to build confidence in yourself, it's hard to know how to instill it in others.

But I'm trying. We'll get there.

Cookies and Dinners

I've always felt like I was a square peg forcing itself into a round hole. But to be fair, I've felt this way both in and out of the church. Very much so within, though. And since this blog deals mostly with religion:

The other day, Kiley over at We Were Going to Be Queens sought for some help regarding how to comfort suffering friends from a distance since she no longer found "I'm praying for you" to be neither honest nor sufficient.

Totally get it. Been on my mind as well.

One of my suggestions? Give her a gift certificate for a restaurant so they don't have to worry about dinner one night.

Kiley was really gracious, noting that she felt it was a good idea but also reminded me how Mormony this sounded. Dinners solve everything! So I laughed with both embarrassment and frustration that this had stayed with me--also that I still feel it's a good idea when necessary. It is nice to not have to worry about that when times are tough.

But gawwwwwwwwwd.

And you know, they are nice. I guess. I always hated bringing them because what if the receiver doesn't like what I make? And I always hated receiving them because what if I hate it? I'm a terrible actress and hardly a gracious one, wearing damn near everything on my sleeve. And let's not forget the annoyances of getting your tupperware back or returning them. So I never asked and never received unless I had just given birth and they were just given.

That was kind of our mode d'emploi with anything regarding our "need" for service. We felt we needed to balance out the people who took full advantage--you know "Hi, I know it's 8 a.m. on a Saturday and it's the only day of the week you have to get yr shit done around the house and the only time your family will see you but we are moving today and need some help could you help?"

And then, then! to discover that the moving family hadn't even bothered to fucking pack.

No, we could handle our own. We had family. We were able.

Dinners and everything just seemed like so much work. That said, we had more than one recipe added to our list after a few dinners were brought over. Sweet and sour chicken is among my favorites. The others are unavailable to us now that Eric has accepted his lactose intolerance, but still. And offering dinners yet remains a go to fantasy idea when I don't know what else to do because anything more personal is just too scary.


Then there are the cookies.

Cookies are the ever universal ice-breaker and offering of friendship. I did this, you did this, we all did this. If you can't get your foot in the door without cookies, you sure as hell should be able to with them. And they're also the great intercessory offering when you don't really want to interact with the person. Just drop 'em off at the door when you know they're not home or pretend you have to split for whatever reason.

I don't like giving gifts when the other person is there to receive. Maybe it is because I am so insecure or so ungraceful myself when I receive--I don't know how to read reactions, especially within the church where cookies are just the norm and fake smiles and thank-yous run rampant. When I give things, I generally do so rather genuinely and if the other person is there, I often allow my insecurity to find signs of annoyance or ungratefulness in the recipient even if such signs weren't there.

"Thank you so much!" could easily, by virtue of tone alone, be interpreted as "Oh...a fruitcake. How, uhm, nice. I'll put it with the others."

Also, the more ornate the packaging the better. A paper plate wrapped in plastic wrap is acceptable in a moment of desperation, but colorful cellophane is better. Tupperware is good, but a pretty basket with a card is better.

After I had Joseph, I had decided to learn to bake because it was the one thing I liked to do that other women in the church liked to do. And I knew I could be good at it. I was. I am.

Bake cookies.

But it's not as if many people in my ward knew about it--family did. Eric's co-workers certainly did, but ward members? Naw. I've never been all that proactive about these things. I made a batch for a missionary dinner, some for a really cool family who actually befriended us, but it didn't work for me, not in the way I'd hoped. I was putting a little part of me out there and got nothing in return. And I think that was the problem: I gave in the hopes of receiving--and isn't that the idea of cookies in the church?

Years before I did make snickerdoodles for my non-member neighbors who, i'll have you know, did not also receive some lame pamphlet or video or card or any bullshit like that. Not my style. Because nothing says "Hi I'm a nice person let's be friendly neighbors" than "Have some conditional friendship cookies because i'm a mormon and therefore nice YOU SHOULD BE MORMON (would you like to meet with the mishies?)"

Anyway. I baked cookies.

And I still want to give them out, but the desire is going away. Mostly because I'm lazy and a horrific procrastinator--but also because it and the dinner thing makes me feel all too Mormon. Because I feel desperate when I do. Like me please please! See? I'm just like you, I make cookies! And also because I hate cellophane (it's pretty and crinkly but terrible for the environment) and the feeling that I'm just not creative or feminine enough to make a proper plating of holiday cookies--how will my presentation be judged? I'm still learning the balance between the redneck simplicity of my youth with the self-aggrandizing basket of "goodies" for whoever, and how either makes me feel as a person.

I agree with Kiley in that these aren't necessarily bad things--cookies and dinner--but motherfuck. They make me feel dirty.

Why I Bitch About the Church

I wonder sometimes why I am so compelled to talk about the church and religion, especially as a convert. It's an important question to ask yourself. We all have our reasons. I have more than just the one I'm going to discuss today.

Growing up, I took a lot of accelerated English courses--you know, the dreaded critical thinking stuff I love that one of my Molly friends totally acknowledged she wanted nothing to do with because see what happens?!

I read books like Fahrenheit 451. I read Anne Frank's diary. Animal Farm. Brave New World.

I also, while it didn't seem like it at the time, paid attention in my history classes. Enough, at least, to know a sufficient number of facts regarding things like WWII, the basics of the founding of our country.

I knew enough about censorship and the suppression of ideas (y'all have an idea about how I feel about Banned Books Week), but I didn't make the connection for some reason. I gave up that very fundamental part of me when I joined.

I graduated high school, understanding how important it is to have free speech. How important it is to know at least the very basics of our history. I don't know enough, but I had the idea.

And then I joined the LDS church?!

This is why I talk about it. I talk about it because what the fuck was I thinking?

Why did I allow myself to get involved in a church that suppresses freedom of...well, everything? A church that basically teaches "slavery is freedom"?

Hi, 1984.

I know that's a bit of an exaggeration, but when you consider that they determine what kind of underwear you should wear, even down to how you should wear your fucking bra, it's not much of an exaggeration. I would mention earrings again, but--well, I guess I just did.

And while I might have joined with some knowledge of the church, I still did go into it somewhat ignorant. I did study, but I didn't listen to "the other side" much, mostly because the super anti-brochures and books and movies were ridiculous and rational people tend to not listen to extremists. Which is what they are. I don't care for people who yell.

Also, I was trying to be mature about this. If this is god's church, then y'know, I should suck it up. Do what needs to be done.

You have to understand, also, that soon after I began investigating the church I gave up on my writing, my reading, and even went as far as to burn everything I'd ever written. Things I'd kill for today. My diaries, my poetry, my stories. Gone. Poof. Because they weren't worthy. Because I didn't want to be like Lot's wife and look back. Because I was better and needed a clean slate.

I mean, FUCK. I gave up on my dreams, people. Because they weren't worthy enough. And now I question if I can get them back. How far down have I dug and can I get out? Should I get out? I have kids and a family now--is it selfish of me to do what I need to do to go back to school? People, it's not like Eric will be home full time while I do this. I know it isn't that easy--he killed himself for us, but I feel so overwhelmed. And there are just some things I'll never get back.

In the end, the fact is that I didn't know enough about the church. I wasn't happy. I didn't fit in. I had met a girl I absolutely loved, and while I didn't join because of her, she made me feel awesome. I had spent the last two years estranged from my best friend and now I had a new one. She would've been my friend even if I hadn't joined. I knew that. But still. I'd been thinking about ending my four-year church sabbatical for a few months anyway. And the people I met following her were just as welcoming and fun. And the doctrine they give investigators is pretty awesome. Like skim milk.

I thought "I don't know everything, maybe I should trust in a god who does." I still remember giving the OT another go and thinking "the fuck? oh well. who am I to question god?"

I know.

I've always thought I didn't know everything. It's just a matter of where or in whom I'm willing to put my faith in.

I thought everything was possible. I mean, hell, if Moses talked to a burning bush as I grew up learning and just kinda "knew" to be truth, who was I to say that Joseph Smith didn't speak to God?

I'd always had my little doubts, but they weren't enough. Not until I really acknowledged the sickness that was the church and polygamy. That was the first slam.

But Prop 8 was the knockout punch. EXACTLY because of what I had been taught and felt deeper in my soul than I had ever believed that Joseph Smith was True. I was being silenced. I was being told how to vote. I was being intimidated. People weren't looking me in the eyes anymore. I was unworthy. My testimony wasn't good enough anymore.

Follow the Prophet, follow the prophet, he knows the way!

People told me that the Prophet wasn't infallible, duh--but jeebus. When he speaks, the fucking debate is over. I didn't need a leader's quote to know that--which quite a few exist. I'd been in the church long enough to learn and know that the prophet speaks for God, so we should consider his words when spoken officially as God's words. Hell, it's in scripture.

What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.

- D&C 1:38

But I was beginning to believe God was off his rocker. I was beginning to realize that Hinckley and Monson had no fucking clue what God wanted, let along Brigham Young. Joseph Smith. You can't be a person and a prophet. You just can't. It doesn't make sense. I know what the Bible says, but good hell.

Also, I believed in freedom more than that. I couldn't believe that if I spoke out against the church directly, I could be kicked out. People said "well, it's like a club. You play by its rules or get out."

But this club claimed the power to kick me out of heaven and to keep me from my family eternally. It took a long time for me to get over that, especially because in large part I like what this club teaches about heaven. It's far more inclusive than, say, my father's church.

So I talk about it. I need to talk. It's how I process. I need to go over and try to understand what it was that made me fall in line on so, so, so many different things. Things I normally wouldn't have thought of doing. Fortunately it didn't hurt anyone else (though I wonder sometimes about my kids--I wouldn't give any of them back for ANYTHING, but I do think I had one too many. Another post for another day, if I'm feeling brave), but it was enough to make me think about how easily I can be manipulated, even though I've always prided myself on having a bit of street smarts. Ha.

And that's really the scary part, and it's not without reason to think that the same thing could happen again on either a smaller or larger scale. For anyone.

Breaking the rules, breaking the rules

I have so many ideas for blog posts. I think of writing them down but I don't and end up forgetting. Then something else grabs my attention elsewhere and inspires me.

Politeness.

It's a bit hard on this side of the fence. Eric says it's because we're the ones who broke the rules.

After reading this blog post, I think that's kinda the case with anyone who feels the need to be polite.

Who broke the rules?

I broke the rules when I joined the church, especially coming from a WASPy family. My mom and stepdad, the parents I lived with most, never went to church. They tried the First Baptist church, but eventually my mom decided it wasn't for her and the pastor suggested my stepdad follow suit. He later told me he regretted following that advice. At least once after we stopped going there we tried another church, just once or twice, but that was it.

Didn't mean my mama wasn't vehemently against the LDS church. She didn't know much about it, but she grew up in an Assembly of God church and still believed in God and knew, just knew, the LDS church was a horrible place. Sex on the temple altar. You know. Chickens and multiple wives. Godmakers kinda stuff.

I'm loathe to call it "horrible" for some reason, but you know. Depends on the day and the moment. Not like it was all bad. Or is. Like I've said before: generally like/love the people, hate the institution and what it does to those good people.

But either way, mama hated it. My dad and stepmom hated it just as much, but their hatred was a quiet hatred. I was going to hell.

And it wasn't that big of a deal for me. Yes I was breaking the rulez but goddammit, it was about time I did. I figured I still believed in Christ, so what the crap is their problem?

This time it's a little different. I'm grown up. I have kids. I love the family who I'm "spiritually" breaking away from--like, I admire them. I wanted to be like them for a long, long time. I want my kids to be like them (aside from the LDS thing).

I mean, I like these people. I don't want to lose anyone (else). One of them, Eric's sister, used to be my best friend. I want her back, but I don't know if that's possible to the extent I both want and need anymore.

Also, this break is more extreme. When I became LDS I still believed in Christ, even though others said it wasn't the same one. This time I'm saying I don't know God exists and I just don't think about Christ enough to bother with him. That's a biting quite a bit off. That's not being saved.

I still don't get why someone saying "I don't believe in God" even if it is conditioned with a "necessarily" is so scary to people. I mean, there are times when I'm going through a more theist moment while discussing religion with a very atheist Eric and I get really scared.

I don't get it. It's stupid, really, but it's real.

But anyway.

So I get pissed off a lot when I have friends on facebook or in person go all Mormon or zealous Christian on me and post/say crap that just rubs me the wrong way. It's not that they say the stuff that makes me mad, it's the fact that I don't feel I have a place to express my views that are so contrary to theirs.

It's political, too. I have liberal friends on facebook, but they don't live here. Everyone who lives here is conservative and even tea baggerish. They say stuff like "The white male is the most discriminated person in the country right now." (hi, i was chomping my lip off to stay quiet and nice. sooo not the time to be profane and generally out of control like i am when caught off guard like that. what the fuck? for REALS)

Or when they post shit about that stupid doctor's stupid note to the White House about the patient with the gold tooth and nice cell phone with a (gasp!) RINGTONE who was on Medicare, I want to fucking SCREAM.

Much as I wanted to write my own little note or reply or something, I couldn't. At least not right away, because they would be hurt that I would dare challenge their views. I need to give it some time, I feel. I don't want to hurt them.

stupidstupid. I can't help but feel that is stupidstupid.

Because I need to be the nice girl. Always the nice girl.

I'm no longer Christian or conservative.

I broke the rules.

I have to sit back and listen to people say things and I have to smile and nod and allow them their opinion while my opinion has to remain tucked safely in the back of my mouth because god forbid I say anything that doesn't comply with their views. Stuff like "maybe the doctor saved the guy's life and not the priesthood blessing. Let's give a little credit, shall we?"

(Besides, I'm not against believing that a god could inspire the doctor and blahblahblah. Not yet. Still haven't given up completely. Most days. Still rationalizing.)

Or even "hey, have you considered this possibility--maybe the cell phone was a gift, and for god's sake, ringtones cost, like, three bucks a year. Maybe the guy was recently laid off. Maybe he deserves something nice because he works two jobs at minimum wage to support his family because he wasn't given the opportunities you were given. Maybe he just deserves health care despite his fucking gold tooth."

I need to be an example, even though the very idea makes me shiver inside. I need to prove to them that one can be virtually godless and liberal and still have a conscience. I don't want to feel that way, but I do.

I want to keep them in my life. I want their approval.

And I broke the rules.

Besides, can you imagine the conversation that would follow "hey let's give a bit of credit to the doc"? I already know how it would go, and I just don't have the energy for it, y'all. Pointless.

So I censor myself even though I've never much been a fan of it. You know. At all. Makes me feel slimy.

But y'know, friends before idealisms. Especially around here.

I wish I knew where I fit in that equation (me before friends and friends before idealisms?) and that I could find the courage to express it. It's just that I'm alone enough and don't need to isolate myself further. I'd like to think I don't need anyone, but I do. We all do.

Project Party?

Okay. So.

My oldest, my daughter, picked out a best friend on, like, the second day of school last year. We found out shortly thereafter that this little friend was--yes--Mormon.

Sigh.

And so it would follow that this little girl's family is in the stake. My husband knows her daddy. Went to school with him. We'd both heard of her mom.

So sometime after learning this, I went over to her house to meet her mom and let the girls play. Her mom is an exceptionally nice lady--quintessential Molly Mormon super-mom, but exceptionally nice. I think she was the first person I told "hey I'm not going to church," and she basically said "oh."

But.

She throws these parties. And by parties I mean karaoke, live music, tons of food, hot tub, etc. etc. etc. No kids allowed.

It's a sober adult party. Which is fine, but still--the hot tub thing kills me.

She's invited us to at least two of these parties so far--we couldn't make it to the last one .

But what I cannot figure out is her motives--and I know that sounds really paranoid, but I hear all these stories, you know? From other people? For the most part we've been left alone around here, which is both relieving and conducive to some paranoia. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I can't figure it out. I don't know what her other callings have been, but she's now the second counselor in the RS (she wrote this big note on facebook about it and--well, I'll spare you. you probably know what it said anyways) and she knows we're inactive.

Anyway, what I'm trying to figure out is this: are we invited because our daughters are friends, because we kinda-sorta know each other, or because we are inactive and need to be fellowshipped?

A combination?

I honestly don't know if I want to go either way. Social obligation says "yes, go." I've no reason to say no unless this is an activation effort and we can't find babysitters. But there'll be SO MANY PEOPLE THERE THAT DRIVE ME NUTS. People that do not put me in the have-fun-be-social mood unless it just comes, which it does sometimes. It's not a question of alcohol. I don't need alcohol to have a good time. It's just...these aren't my people. One who is attending is my son's teacher, a woman I've decided I don't like after dealing with her. Nice lady, I guess, and we suspect she may be a member but...well. I had to talk with her about my kid getting hit by another kid in her class (at lunch) yesterday and she was all over the place, calling her friends who were outside the class while I was talking and being all "yeah [the other kid] has ADHD, you know..."

anyway.

Then again, my kid's first grade teacher from last year is invited too. And I'm pretty sure she's not Mormon. Can't say for sure, but she doesn't register on my Mor-dar.

haha, Mor-dar. Mordor.

So she's prob inviting non-member friends as well. Which means this isn't necessarily a project thing where my husband and I are concerned. After all, she's an incredibly social girl. Like ridiculously. Part of me wants to be like her in that respect, but I'm learning that's just not my gig.

So what do y'all think?

Reflections

This blog is too "bleh." It needs a few somethings. But alas, I am currently quite lazy. Except for last night. There was probably something really lame I needed to do or ignore, so I messed around with looking up some headers and playing with my rather outdated Paint Shop Pro to see what I could do.

It's nothing to laud, I can assure you that.

So.

Lately I've been going through a bunch of emotions. We visited my MIL last night because, hi, last-minute, we had back to school night for my preschooler. Which is weird, because it's state preschool, but whatever. Seemed the biggest thing was to tell us to GTFU of the staff parking lot.

Anyway, MIL. Have I mentioned that I pretty much scored in the in-law department? I know I bitch on here about Mormon culture, but it didn't necessarily come from them (I knew them before I knew my husband). While I love my FIL, he's having a bit of a hard time with our inactivity and lets us know about every time we visit. MIL, however, hasn't flinched. Like, at all. I'm not itching to bring up the subject, but seriously: nothing has changed. She finally noticed my piercing yesterday and was like "oh! i hadn't seen that before. did it hurt?"

She, like my SIL/ex-bestie, was really nice about it but hardly "oooh that's SO COOL." It's okay with me. I'll take it. Better than the alternative. I'd be fine if they just ignored it completely.

Anyway, she doesn't testify to us. There's sufficient church-speak to be sure, but she isn't preaching like Eric's father tends to (once he actually told us "you should be in church."). And when I'm in her house and it's just us and she's talking about her new seminary teacher calling, it's fine. I have no problem with it.

I get a little irritated, just a smidge, when SIL talks about her callings and church but mostly because she just doesn't seem happy. All that obligation bullshit, and she's just trying so hard. And I want to shake her out of it. Sometimes it seems like she's talking to herself rather than to me, you know?

I say that not knowing her nearly as well as I used to, but knowing her as long as I have that's my observation. Eric shares it.

Anyway, after events like that I find I'm tired of talking church. Churchchurchchurch. It's the #1 reason I quit my last blog. It didn't deserve my energy nor did I care to give into its attention-whorisms.

But as many of you know, the Church has a tendency to find you. So I'm back. And it's not just church, it's religion. It's Christianity. It's the fact that my father--as great of a man that he is, and even a bit liberal I might add--is incredibly into his holy-roller church and semi-routinely sends me anti-Muslim emails under the guise of comedy. I'm about ready to send him an email to ask him to quit the shit. I'll accept his religious propaganda, but not the anti-Muslim ones. It's not right, and to be quite honest I'm surprised he can't see that. Based on our last conversation, he should know it's wrong. It's the Christian in him that gets in the way.

I mean, WTF?

And I wish I could talk about other subjects, but I find I largely can't. The truth is I don't have many interests. I have things I'm interested in being interested in, but that's where it ends. I have been online since I was fourteen. I love to write. I want to love to read--and I do--but I'm not like many of my friends. I go through phases. I read three books in one month this past summer, which may not seem like a lot to some (and may seem like too many to others), but for a mama of three with issues, it was a feat. The series was amazing, too, so I must give it credit there.

But still, I can't even bring myself to read Mockingjay. Mockingjay! I mean, what the hell is wrong with me?

I tried starting a YA/reading/writing blog, but as soon as church crept up on me again, I was re-lit and couldn't focus on the YA thing anymore. It surprised me to hear Eric applauding my return to the religious stuff. I write a post on the other blog periodically, but my heart just isn't into it. I've been writing stories and poetry since I was six, but I've been in such an epic RUT lately I've just given up.

I've been a SAHM for eight years. For the first, ooooh, five or six years I gave up on every other interest. Because that's what righteous women do. Interests can be bad. Devilish influences. Unless church approved, of course. And I'm extremely anti-social, though I want to not be. Just a little.

I am still interested in genealogy. Just not enough to do it. Mostly because I don't want my information hacked and my family members baptised in the church. Mostly on principle. Keep yr paws off my great-great-grandfather. Let the man rest.

So my heart is here, blogging. Where it's easy. But also because I did need some comfort, and where I was seeking it came up rather empty sometimes. Really, only post/ex-mormons can understand this stuff. And really, many times the experience of disaffection and leaving has to be fairly recent. If it's been 15 years since you left and you were a teen when you left, it's not as big of a deal now, you know?

I wish this wasn't a big deal. But it is. Then again, a lot of things are a big deal for me. At first, at least.

Though I do go through periods at which I cringe at taking on any "-Mormon" title. It's a little hard for me to even classify myself as Mormon-anything sometimes. I just don't want to tell people. It automatically makes for a(n) awkward moment(s). But at the same time, with the right community, it's an instant bond. Which is why I may attend a post-mormon gathering in San Francisco next month. It'd be a good chance to meet some people and get the hell out of dodge. It's only a matter of finances at this point.

I try to ignore the Mormon thing--the title, the church itself--but it comes back. Dunno why. Probably because it's my family and they lurve to talk about it. Like, constantly. Probably because the majority of my friends on facebook are LDS or Christian. Prop-fucking-8. Because it took up such a large chunk of my life--at least now it equals up to a 1/3 of my life. And religion/believing in god takes up 100% of my life. Either is a lot. Then, maybe it's also because we have so many fracking churches here, and not a one is at all progressive. If I had to guess, I'd say the United Methodists were the most. Y'know, with their women preachers and all.

Even then, though, I just don't want to talk about Jeeeezus and definitely not about how much I suck and how fucking awesome god is. Or to have to see the look on people's faces when I confess I don't believe in god, necessarily. Here it's acceptable to be inactive Christian waaaay before it's acceptable to be atheist--but I'm under the impression that that's pretty much the case in most places.

I need an outlet, damn it.

It's an uncontrollable need to talk about it. But when there's nobody to talk to, what do you do?

You blog and hope to the flying spaghetti monster people connect and want to talk back.

So thank you, those of you who comment. Really.

Now that that is out of my system.

A bit of a ramble today, if you will.

So I've been feeling like an ass lately. Been reading these really great posts from other bloggers. One in particular--don't remember who it was--mentioned how dumb it was for Mormons to not give their girls a middle name because it would later become their maiden name when they got married.

It's a tradition in my husband's family, so we just did the same for our daughter. I regret this now. Not because it's stupid so much, but because I never got to name any of my kids after my great-grandma. She's still around at 95, but she's slowing down. A lot. And I lovelovelove her name.

I haven't spoken with Eric about wanting to officially make that my daughter's middle name, but I'm certain he won't care. I just don't know how to go about it. I'm sure we could go to the county and find out, but I haven't a lot of time these days.

Besides, it's weird trying to explain to Abbie why she doesn't have a middle name yet. She doesn't really get it. And the obvious question now is "what if she doesn't get married?" You know?

Why do we expect people to get married? I suppose because many people do, but still. It's imposing upon her an expectation, and I don't want to "expect" my daughter to get married.

Besides being stupid in and of itself, there are more important things to expect, to teach her. Like being her own person. Staying true to herself. Think critically. Be the best she can possibly be. To be happy and strong, confident.

You know?

I cringe reading other posts that criticize these nuances of Mormon culture--in part because I think it's harmful if not abusive in some cases, but because I did that too. And I didn't even know it. I wasn't BIC, but ask anyone and they'd tell you (because they told me) that I sure as hell acted like it. When I joined, I embraced it all. Whatever doubts I had I dismissed as unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I often wondered, in the beginning, where the church had been all my life.

However, I am proud to say I never, ever, ever wanted to go to BYU. My best friend suggested we go to UVSC for a while, live in her grandparents' basement, and a part of me wanted to but I'm a wuss about moving more than an hour away and I don't know how serious she was about it either.

So many forks in the road in my life I wonder about. What if I would've sucked it up and gone to Texas to attend University with my best online friend back in the day. What if I would've gone to UVSC.

I want to think "What if I went to UC Santa Cruz like I wanted to throughout high school" but joining the church before I even could crushed all those dreams and the ones that came after. The English thing got set aside. Next I remember telling my institute director that I really felt that I should be a paralegal, and the look on his face told me quite clearly it was not acceptable. So I settled for the community college's glorified secretary program--I was very good at it, but it didn't make me happy. It just seemed more appropriate.

That said, I can't blame it all on the church. I think. I don't like anything hard or scary, so the excuses were welcome. Joining the church was neither hard nor scary. It was my way of finally rebelling against my family--sad, right?

I just wish I would've been more independently-minded. Something about the church took that all away from me.

There are a lot of things about the church I am grateful for. A few close friends, my new family, my kids. A home for a few years. But there are a lot more things that piss me off. Eric's the same way. And we both realize that had we gone a separate way out of high school (he regrets his mission), we probably would have never met--and I cannot begin to tell you the chemistry we had, the connection. But still, we wonder. And we're a little angry about it.

And I'm a little angry at myself for wanting so much to fit in, to embrace all the little traditions. I wanted so much to have a real, traditional LDS family. (Eric never did, btw)

At least I never learned to sew so I could make my own clothes. At least I finally--after a few years--realized the last thing I wanted to do was scrapbook. At least I finally realized saying "no" was okay. At least I finally came to terms with the fact that I could not physically or mentally handle the big family I wanted so much in the beginning. It's bad enough I have three. Maybe I'll tell that story later. It's a scary story to tell because, you know, I do love my youngest.

Anyway, I never felt right in Relief Society. I'm just not a girly-girl. I don't like doing "homemaking" things. Besides, everyone my age had callings elsewhere.

My friends and I called it "Menopause Society."

And at least I realized right away that, while largely no problem with the actual endowment ceremony, the initiatories CREEPED ME OUT and there was no fucking way I was going to wear my bra over my garment top. It was too, too weird.

And I know there's no use crying over spilt milk, but it still stings. In a lot of ways I wish I could've been slightly more rebellious and less Molly, but that's out of my system now. More and more I feel I'm getting my power back, and it feels good.

Still, I continue to learn that some of the things I did and said weren't just isolated, "me" incidents, but very much Mormon. And it's weird. And it does make me angry.

Belonging

I swear this constant posting thing won't last forever. Especially this weekend, probably. It's my birthday (hellooo 29) and my dad will have the kids and I'll be out with my husband doing stuff.

Including quite possibly getting something pierced.

No, not that. Geez.

Here're the options:

1) I have, since I was about 16, wanted to get my eyebrow pierced. Of course being a member of the church, I would never dare defile my body in such a way, but as an apostate I am free--nay, obligated--to do so. It won't last but a few years as I don't imagine schools smile down on teachers with eyebrow piercings, but I want--need?--to get this out of my system.

However, Eric isn't so hep on the idea.

Eric likes option #2:

2) The nose stud. Not a ring, a stud. I love studs--but I love them so much more on darker skinned women. I, on the other hand, am quite certainly a white girl. I have either won or tied on every single contest i've had with other white girls. Sunglasses req'd white.

So I dunno. And I'm unsure if I have the nose for it. But Eric is allll for it. Even thinks I may get away with it once I am ready to look for a job. Just not something I've ever really considered for more than a few seconds.

The problem with both options:

Family. His family, to be more specific. They're pretty to the letter about things. To the spirit too, but to the letter as well. And I love them. I struck gold when I got my in-laws, and I worry as it is being the kind of person that I am that they're a bit iffy about me anyways. I don't question that they love me, but we are absolutely a different sort of folk in a lot of ways. Example: They're non-confrontational. I like a good debate. I'm a bit irreverent (always have been, even in my Molly days), they're...not. At least not in the same way.

I dunno, people. I'm pushing it with my shorts, y'know? Last night we were discussing how BYU fashion standards have tightened since MIL's day and she mentioned that it just looks better anyway to wear longer shorts. I don't think she meant to direct this at me, but man.

So I worry the nose or eyebrow will scream at them and they'll think less of me.

Should I care? Maybe not. But I do. I shouldn't.

That said, I've wanted to do this for nearly fifteen years. I've regretted most of this time not doing it. I don't want to continue regretting something just because somebody might not approve. Screw that.

That said, the wuss in me prefers #3:

3) Multiple ear piercings, including the upper ear that I hear hurts like a motherfucker to pierce. But I've given birth to three kids. I'm not afraid of pain.

Con: it would be the coward's way out, the compromise. Even though the church frowns on multiple earrings, it's just the ear. Also I'd likely regret spending the money on something I'm only slightly interested in doing. We're not exactly rolling in it. It would be cool, but not so genuine.

Eric doesn't want me to do #3. Eric wants me to be bad.

It's kind of sexy, really.

So what was I talking about again?

Belonging. Right.

So here's the thing. I don't belong. I didn't belong as a kid outside the church. I just didn't. I did, however, belong as a YSA--but I wasn't YSA for long. I joined the church at 18 and married my RM husband at 20 because that's what good Mormons do (yanno, because premarital sex is a sin next to murder--god i wish we would've just did it already). Enter kids--onetwothree. Just like that. My oldest was 2 1/2 when I had my youngest. I was pregnant within a few weeks of our marriage. Wasn't even 21. My friends were doing the same, but they were pretty much doing what was expected of a good Mormon wife. I did my best, but I grew up on Roseanne, you know? Sewing and mending and cleaning (well, i like a clean house) and all that Donna Reed/June Cleaver bullshit wasn't my bag.

Despite how much I wanted to, I just didn't belong. Trying quite literally gave me migraines. I'm almost positive it encouraged the onset of my bipolar (it does run in the family, but still)

And besides, not belonging in the church is a symptom that something is wrong with you. The leaders hand out the maps in all their talks and firesides, you just gotta follow. If you can't, well, you're not faithful enough. Or trying hard enough. Praying enough. Something.

Am I wrong?

Then there's the anxiety. I worry myself to death about things. Did then, do now. Also bipolar. That makes life and relationships tons of fun, too.

It's a bit isolating.

I'm fighting to find people outside the church who I can connect with. So far I've met a few good women but they're wary of me. A lot of women everywhere are wary of me for some reason.

Maybe it's because I'm trying too fucking hard to belong.

I know, in my head at least, that the best and most respected people are the most honest and true-to-self people. People who do what they want because it's what they really want despite what others say or think. People who don't do or say things just because it might appeal to someone else. I love people like that.

I have to give myself some credit though. I am going back to school before my kids are grown with the intention to actually use my degree and work full-time (commence vigorous disapproving finger shaking...now). One class next semester, full time after that (if the California budget will allow me to even get in). And socially, I have some hope of meeting new people at school, but I suspect most of them will be 18-25 years old and single. And it does pose a problem. A few.

Believe it or not I am trying to be concise here and stick to one topic. The piercing--I don't belong in the church. I don't yet belong anywhere outside the church. I may as well just get something pierced like I've wanted to for years and have a smidge of respect for myself. I can then welcome in the people who don't even notice. I would especially welcome those who like me because of it, because it is an expression of who I am, what I feel like inside. Have always felt like.

Maybe I can make my own place and welcome those who want to come in.