The longer I am out of the LDS church the more I understand why people who leave the church "can't leave it alone" (to quote various general authorities).
It's not because we have this inner turmoil about turning against God and deep inside know that we're wrong but we need to cover it up so we lash out. It's really not like that.
It's because our life now makes sense. Because we can see how harmful the church was and we can see how it is affecting the people we love and we don't want them to have to live with all that pain. Especially not without realizing what is really going on. Because the worst abuse is abuse that you don't recognize and are accepting of.
I haven't ever posted anti-Mormon stuff. So far, I've just talked about my own experience and what I believe and all that. This is still me kind of doing that. But I feel like I needed to clear that up.
Also, the hypocrisy. Some Mormons can't leave the ex-mos alone (enough that this is a point worth mentioning). We get texts and emails and prayers and invitations and 'friendships' and random missionary visits and prodding in the street. Like, I don't know if you know but I am never becoming Mormon again. Ever. I left. Forever. Doing all of the above is not going to change my mind about that. Telling me "Oh, we miss your smile so much! and those primary kids sure do miss your piano playing!" isn't going to bring me back. Nope. Noppity nope nope nope. "But the church really is true, and I know it, and I hope one day you'll be able to stand with me and declare it too, because I love you!" Nope. This is not only unlikely, it is crossing the line of acceptable communication into the realm of rude and impertinent.
Anyway. That was on my mind. Hopefully one day I won't even feel the need to post about my religious experiences.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Running into my old self
I was looking through old email folders two days ago and came across one labeled "Gratitude Journal". It was completely neglected, begun while I was talking to Bishop #2 as a way to combat the pornography. The idea being to fill the hole I created by avoiding porn with All Wholesome Activities, relaying the things I was grateful for being one of them.
It was pretty interesting to read.
September 11th, 2012: "My plea today? Oh, Lord, help me to finish all of my homework before class. The only thing I've completed is anthro. Don't let me forget HAZCOM and don't let me get penalized for that. Please help me to keep on task and to get this dang essay done first thing in the morning. And please help me to have enough money to do laundry. Amen!"
October 27th, 2012: "'grateful for CAden sorry I'm not doingt == tihings the right way" (I'm not sure what happened there....I think I was falling asleep...)
August 22nd, 2012: " I'm grateful that I was able to have pizza, that Siale is brining a shower curtain, and that everything is going to be just fine :)."
July 1st, 2012: "sleep, happinies, peace, unicorns, mah puter"
June 6th, 2012: "I will do yardwork. I promise I will, because I haven't done it at all this week."
June 3rd, 2012: " I'm grateful for the walk with mum, and for making E&R laugh more than I make them cry :)... Grateful for everyone who cares about me so much more than themselves, and I sincerely hope that I can be like them one day."
It is strange to read what I wrote then. So much has happened in the time between.
It was pretty interesting to read.
September 11th, 2012: "My plea today? Oh, Lord, help me to finish all of my homework before class. The only thing I've completed is anthro. Don't let me forget HAZCOM and don't let me get penalized for that. Please help me to keep on task and to get this dang essay done first thing in the morning. And please help me to have enough money to do laundry. Amen!"
October 27th, 2012: "'grateful for CAden sorry I'm not doingt == tihings the right way" (I'm not sure what happened there....I think I was falling asleep...)
August 22nd, 2012: " I'm grateful that I was able to have pizza, that Siale is brining a shower curtain, and that everything is going to be just fine :)."
July 1st, 2012: "sleep, happinies, peace, unicorns, mah puter"
June 6th, 2012: "I will do yardwork. I promise I will, because I haven't done it at all this week."
June 3rd, 2012: " I'm grateful for the walk with mum, and for making E&R laugh more than I make them cry :)... Grateful for everyone who cares about me so much more than themselves, and I sincerely hope that I can be like them one day."
It is strange to read what I wrote then. So much has happened in the time between.
Monday, April 14, 2014
So I cried in the bank.
This is the 69th post on my blog.
Ha.
That's really not a lot seeing as I've had it for, what, two years? Ish?
Ugh. I am so frustrated with my words. I am repeating myself over and over because I can only use these words that I've used millions of times. I put them together the say way, and I have a natural tendency to start sentences in the same way and it seems to rote and planned and frustratingly mediocre.
asd;f sdf.xjxfkj in cmkeiufnc am,wefl izxjc nakejnf idn mw,efl zxdh nfwelifucxh w;ekjf hsd
I wish you could hear the thoughts in my head as they come, and the thoughts that aren't really thoughts they're more like feelings. Because I can't translate feelings.
I'll tell you about the other day. I was in the bank, waiting in line to make a deposit, and at the counter there was a mother with three little children. The little girl was sitting in the pram, and the two boys were playing somewhat unruly on the floor. But instead of getting annoyed with her children, who were obviously keeping her from doing what she needed to do, this woman spoke like an angel. She was so kind and supportive. She used positive language, told them how good they were to be waiting when it was so boring for them. Seeing this display of love after working in a shop where the benefits mothers waddle in and constantly scream, "Don't TOUCH THAT! I told you NO! Get OUT of the shop! NOW!"--I broke down into silent tears. This woman reminded me of my own mother when I was that little person playing on the floor of the bank. Love like this was a real mother's love, the love that I was given. It really got to me. I approached the woman and told her how wonderful she was. I had to choke back sobs. I don't know if I made her uncomfortable. But I wanted her to know that I wished all mothers would love their children like she did.
Anyway. That's my story. In my stupid English that is giving me serious grief. Oh well.
Ha.
That's really not a lot seeing as I've had it for, what, two years? Ish?
Ugh. I am so frustrated with my words. I am repeating myself over and over because I can only use these words that I've used millions of times. I put them together the say way, and I have a natural tendency to start sentences in the same way and it seems to rote and planned and frustratingly mediocre.
asd;f sdf.xjxfkj in cmkeiufnc am,wefl izxjc nakejnf idn mw,efl zxdh nfwelifucxh w;ekjf hsd
I wish you could hear the thoughts in my head as they come, and the thoughts that aren't really thoughts they're more like feelings. Because I can't translate feelings.
I'll tell you about the other day. I was in the bank, waiting in line to make a deposit, and at the counter there was a mother with three little children. The little girl was sitting in the pram, and the two boys were playing somewhat unruly on the floor. But instead of getting annoyed with her children, who were obviously keeping her from doing what she needed to do, this woman spoke like an angel. She was so kind and supportive. She used positive language, told them how good they were to be waiting when it was so boring for them. Seeing this display of love after working in a shop where the benefits mothers waddle in and constantly scream, "Don't TOUCH THAT! I told you NO! Get OUT of the shop! NOW!"--I broke down into silent tears. This woman reminded me of my own mother when I was that little person playing on the floor of the bank. Love like this was a real mother's love, the love that I was given. It really got to me. I approached the woman and told her how wonderful she was. I had to choke back sobs. I don't know if I made her uncomfortable. But I wanted her to know that I wished all mothers would love their children like she did.
Anyway. That's my story. In my stupid English that is giving me serious grief. Oh well.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
I'm a pond. A pond that breaks its promises.
You know how I have that character flaw where I'm never consistent with my word?
TA DAH!
Sorry. No daily blog posts for you. I felt that the pressure of coming up with something to write about would only produce stupid writing that didn't really have a point.
I have a secret. I'm not going to tell you what it is, obviously. Don't ask about it either, because I still won't tell you. It's not about you. Promise.
I don't change. Ever. I don't. I am the same person I was five years ago, ten years ago. I have made more choices since then, true. I've experienced more things. But there is a great difference between growing and changing. My life is a pond, and time is pouring water into it until it's all full up and I'm dead. The shape of the pond is there the entire time, I just have to bide the years as it fills. That's growing. No changing involved, except for how much water's in my pond.
Whelp. That's my philosophical thought for the night. Bedtime now.
TA DAH!
Sorry. No daily blog posts for you. I felt that the pressure of coming up with something to write about would only produce stupid writing that didn't really have a point.
I have a secret. I'm not going to tell you what it is, obviously. Don't ask about it either, because I still won't tell you. It's not about you. Promise.
I don't change. Ever. I don't. I am the same person I was five years ago, ten years ago. I have made more choices since then, true. I've experienced more things. But there is a great difference between growing and changing. My life is a pond, and time is pouring water into it until it's all full up and I'm dead. The shape of the pond is there the entire time, I just have to bide the years as it fills. That's growing. No changing involved, except for how much water's in my pond.
Whelp. That's my philosophical thought for the night. Bedtime now.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Taking A Shower
I currently have brandy, rum, Bailey's, Malibu, and Disaronno running through my veins. Small amounts, to be fair, but enough to have me feeling rather lovely right now.
Tonight was wonderful. I didn't get ID'd. I pretended to bring my roast chicken back to life. Dinner was truly delicious, every part of it. I got to listen to Zach laugh, my favorite laugh. We went for a walk. I wore beautiful heels. We went to the Auction Room where I may soon be starting a bar tending job. I think I made a good impression on the management. I really hope the job happens because I will be needing the dinero. Oh! And I took a shower! Clean Danie!
Might not sound so difficult, but it takes a lot for me to shower. So much effort goes into collecting bathroom stuff, disrobing, getting wet, lathering and scrubbing and repeating. Sometimes the water's freezing. Other times it is so nice I stay in there for 30 minutes, fingers of water trickling in, around, under, over. And then I'm usually late for work with wet hair.
But I managed it today.
Whoop.
Tonight was wonderful. I didn't get ID'd. I pretended to bring my roast chicken back to life. Dinner was truly delicious, every part of it. I got to listen to Zach laugh, my favorite laugh. We went for a walk. I wore beautiful heels. We went to the Auction Room where I may soon be starting a bar tending job. I think I made a good impression on the management. I really hope the job happens because I will be needing the dinero. Oh! And I took a shower! Clean Danie!
Might not sound so difficult, but it takes a lot for me to shower. So much effort goes into collecting bathroom stuff, disrobing, getting wet, lathering and scrubbing and repeating. Sometimes the water's freezing. Other times it is so nice I stay in there for 30 minutes, fingers of water trickling in, around, under, over. And then I'm usually late for work with wet hair.
But I managed it today.
Whoop.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Peggy
So this is a really funny thing I've noticed: when I post links to my blog on facebook, my average readership is around 70 views (not including really popular ones, like the why I'm not Mormon one, which currently has 501 views.....whaaaat?!). When I don't post a link, I get an average of 12 views. I would like to thank the small number of loyal readers I have. I will be faithful to you, and I will not start posting facebook links just to up my numbers. I am a bigger person than that.
Well, I'm trying to be a bigger person than that. So I might share the occasional earth-shattering revelation :)
There are a couple of things about today that struck me.
When I woke up it didn't seem like it was going to be a spectacular morning. But I managed to wash the dishes before work. I didn't get snappy with anyone for two whole hours. After that it kind of went downhill. For a while there, however, I was feeling pretty normal. It was nice.
There is an old woman I have bonded with in the shop. I think her name is Peggy. She is Irish, short, loosing her hair, has dementia, and talks to me about how much she wishes she were dead. After listening to some of her life stories I can understand her attitude. Her dad abused her. She worked in shops full time from the age of 15. She has one daughter who only uses her for her money, and a grandson that does the same. She is in and out of hospitals where the doctors tell her nothing is wrong, though anyone who can hear that hacking cough of hers would know something is up. She didn't get flowers or a card for mother's day. And all she wants is to be out of this country to bide the time until she dies, as she tells me every day.
But that's not all she is. She has a sharp and funny wit. There was a front page news story about some athlete that had come out as gay, and when she'd read it she turned around and said to me, "Why is that on the front page? I'm lesbian, but I don't go around telling everybody!" And the one time she was telling me and my co-worker about shrooms. He said to her that his father's advice was to try everything once but not get addicted, to which she responded she'd already tried everything by now. He insisted that she couldn't have enjoyed all worldly pursuits, to which she replied, "You're right; I haven't tried you yet!"
I. Love. This. Woman. She is so miserable. I don't think anyone has ever told her how much she is worth. She's lonely and old and nearly at the end of her life. But we are friends. She tells me she wants to adopt me, that I can be her granddaughter. And I happily say that I am, because I need to take care of this wonderful lady who is so alone and so much like me. And I know she'll be gone soon. I dread the day when she doesn't come in for her pack of cigarettes, asking three times how much they are as she rummages around the pennies in her purse. She needs a person, and I want to be her person. It's been a while since I've felt the desire to extend kindness towards anyone. Now that I have, I don't want to loose her.
Well, I'm trying to be a bigger person than that. So I might share the occasional earth-shattering revelation :)
There are a couple of things about today that struck me.
When I woke up it didn't seem like it was going to be a spectacular morning. But I managed to wash the dishes before work. I didn't get snappy with anyone for two whole hours. After that it kind of went downhill. For a while there, however, I was feeling pretty normal. It was nice.
There is an old woman I have bonded with in the shop. I think her name is Peggy. She is Irish, short, loosing her hair, has dementia, and talks to me about how much she wishes she were dead. After listening to some of her life stories I can understand her attitude. Her dad abused her. She worked in shops full time from the age of 15. She has one daughter who only uses her for her money, and a grandson that does the same. She is in and out of hospitals where the doctors tell her nothing is wrong, though anyone who can hear that hacking cough of hers would know something is up. She didn't get flowers or a card for mother's day. And all she wants is to be out of this country to bide the time until she dies, as she tells me every day.
But that's not all she is. She has a sharp and funny wit. There was a front page news story about some athlete that had come out as gay, and when she'd read it she turned around and said to me, "Why is that on the front page? I'm lesbian, but I don't go around telling everybody!" And the one time she was telling me and my co-worker about shrooms. He said to her that his father's advice was to try everything once but not get addicted, to which she responded she'd already tried everything by now. He insisted that she couldn't have enjoyed all worldly pursuits, to which she replied, "You're right; I haven't tried you yet!"
I. Love. This. Woman. She is so miserable. I don't think anyone has ever told her how much she is worth. She's lonely and old and nearly at the end of her life. But we are friends. She tells me she wants to adopt me, that I can be her granddaughter. And I happily say that I am, because I need to take care of this wonderful lady who is so alone and so much like me. And I know she'll be gone soon. I dread the day when she doesn't come in for her pack of cigarettes, asking three times how much they are as she rummages around the pennies in her purse. She needs a person, and I want to be her person. It's been a while since I've felt the desire to extend kindness towards anyone. Now that I have, I don't want to loose her.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Good Day
I only feel slightly bad that my post for April 1st is happening on April 2nd, but I have yet to go to bed, so it's still the same day for me. Therefore I can count this towards consistency. Yay for consistency.
I am rather proud of how I managed my day today. I organized, washed, and hung two loads of laundry (currently hanging up on every available space in my room--on the plus side, it smells like freesias in here). I washed the dishes. I went to work. I got to see Zach three times. Needless to say, all three of those times were the highlight of my day. A quick walk into town and back with a doughnut, a short McDonald's munch in the hallway, and cuddles and discussions of mothers. These are my highlights, world, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I wouldn't trade him for anything.
It's been a good day.
I am rather proud of how I managed my day today. I organized, washed, and hung two loads of laundry (currently hanging up on every available space in my room--on the plus side, it smells like freesias in here). I washed the dishes. I went to work. I got to see Zach three times. Needless to say, all three of those times were the highlight of my day. A quick walk into town and back with a doughnut, a short McDonald's munch in the hallway, and cuddles and discussions of mothers. These are my highlights, world, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I wouldn't trade him for anything.
It's been a good day.
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