A few months ago, my parents locked me in the car and drove around until I told them why I would not agree to hold a Primary calling. (For the record, I live with my parents, though I have a degree and am saving up to move out.)
My dad, who at the time was the Ward Clerk, called me at work and asked if I would consider a Primary calling. I said, "No, thanks." Next thing I know, my mom calls me up demanding to know why I refused a calling. I tell her I don't want to talk about, please don't call me at work and hassle me. The answer is no. Thanks for thinking of me, but no. No. No.
She continues to force the issue. I keep saying nonono. I don't want to talk about it. Please don't call me up at work. Please just drop it. She calls me selfish. Calls me rude. Eventually hangs up with the request we go to dinner later.
Now I know I'm in for it. I panic. But, like a fugitive running from the law, I'm also a little relieved. I could finally express myself. My thoughts. I'd been depressed, almost suicidal for ninth months. I was slowly climbing out of the deep, dark chasm. The grand cave of depression and despair, hatred guilt and grief dripping from the ceiling, running in rivulets down the walls, carving deep scars. I saw the tiny pin-pricks of light one afternoon and crawled towards them. I didn't need this. shit. pulling me back in. I was ready.
We went to dinner, acted like nothing was wrong. Like we all didn't know the dynamite that was about to explode. My mom brought it up of course. The quick questions darting out of her mouth like black, winged bats. Tiny darts of accusation. What's the matter with you?
I kept repeating, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it.
I got up and walked out.
We drove around my neighborhood. Their questions came at me like I knew they would. You're lying. You're faking. You've been listening to other people. You've been reading anti-Mormon books. You think you can just be a good person!? What do you know? You're 22. You haven't really thought about anything, you just don't want to do the hard thing. This is just so easy for you to turn your back on. You're selfish. You're unapproachable. The whole family thinks they can't even interact with you.
What part of this is supposed to be EASY!!??? I screamed at them. I was almost suicidal FOR NINE MONTHS. I asked you to go to a doctor over and over again and you wouldn't take me. You know what you did? You offered to give me a blessing! I didn't need that. I needed HELP. You. didn't. help.
I think that's what hurt the most. Two of my relatives suffer(ed) from depression. My dad's brother shot himself in the head. My cousin tried to hang himself.
But I, I tried to take the easy way out.
My mother accused me of lying. If my father wouldn't take me to a doctor, why didn't I ask her?
Why would I mom?
So you could accuse me of lying again?
Poor Mormons. Their families are forever so they can deal with bullshit for eternity.
And I'm the dishonest one who can't think for herself.