They're Mad Because They Think We've Won

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I talked to my boyfriend's family last night on Skype. They're really fantastic and amazing people. We talked about my family and how they will react when I go home to see them in January. I told them I wasn't sure how my family would react, but I definitely wanted to avoid having another Sit-Down-Dragged-Out fight where my family forces me to explain myself. I feel like the situation is clear: I left Utah to live with my boyfriend and guess what? I'm not coming back.

My boyfriend's Dad asked how I was going to deal with my Mom. I haven't talked to her in eight months. Despite emailing my family through the family email, asking my dad every time he calls how she is, offering to help her with any projects since she's stresses out because of church {surprise}, letting her know when I'll be Skyping the family so she could be around and emailing her directly, she just ignores me. The one time she was around when I Skyped my Dad for his birthday, she refused to talk directly to me and addressed all questions to my dad to ask me.

"Why is she still mad?" his Dad asked.

"She's a very stubborn woman."

"I think she's mad because she feels like she lost. And we won. Well, not "won." But, you like us and you're not like them anymore. They've "lost." And she doesn't like that."

So here I am. In the "Lost" category.

Boyfriend and I tried explaining that while things might get better, every failure, every struggle, everything that ever goes wrong is going to be because we aren't Mormon. His mom thought that was ridiculous. How could anyone think that?

That's just the way it is.

No matter how much I win in life...

To them

I'm always lost.

- Emily

I really thought they might kidnap me

As I sit writing this, I have “run away” from my TBM family. After much thought ( a year!!), my boyfriend and I decided to move in together. I let my family know I was leaving.

All. Hell. Broke. Out.

My dad said he hadn’t felt this bad since his brother killed himself.

My mom said I didn’t give a rat’s ass about my family.

My sister said she wants nothing to do with me and pushed me into a marble countertop. This is the same sister who I slapped across the face for calling me a...skank I think it was, over my pin sized earring in the top of my ear.

I tried to talk to my parents about moving. After hiding out at my brother’s house, I decided to come home. Or I guess, what was once my home. My family continued to ask what the church had done that was so bad. What had The Church ever done to me?

Oh, let’s see….lied to me for 22 years?

Of course The Church didn’t lie. They didn’t lie because it’s true.

My dad (predictably) said: You have lost your conscious. You have lost your conscious and your morals. I can just tell by looking at you that you have lost ALL FEELING.

Hey dad? I haven’t been a virgin in YEARS. Way longer than I ever stopped going to church.

You might say, Emily! That’s WHY YOU STOPPED BEING MORMON!?

nope.

The Church rules are arbitrary. They mean nothing. Obeying or disobeying them has absolutely no basis. It’s like saying a United States citizen should go to a Canadian jail for not following the laws of Canada...while living in the United States. I don’t know. Maybe that is a bad example because the laws of Canada aren’t built on complete lies. But, I digress.

I’m tearing my family apart.

I made my gramma cry.

She compared me to my aunt who lives in a trailer park and never went to college. Not that I dislike those living in trailers. Rock on. There was an awesome trailer park where I went to college. Overlooked the ocean. Doesn’t sound half bad to me. At least my aunt GTFO of UT.

I tried to talk to my family. I told them I still wanted to talk to them. Visit them.

Well, I guess I can’t have my cake and eat it to.

I can’t do what they disagree with and expect them to support me.

And by support I mean talk to me. Ever.

I gathered together the money I owed my parents for the car I apparently no longer own, though my name is on the title. My parents put me on the title (they bought it), but apparently only those that are responsible (like my 16 year old self) can have a car.

I paid them for the phone my sister dunked in water and through across room when she read private messages to my boyfriend about how The Church is a cult.

My boyfriend told me not to worry because they are brainwashed.

Ah. Well. They didn’t take to kindly to that.

My mom yelled at me, “I hope you have a nice life.”

I was all I could do to keep from saying, “I hope I do too!!!!”

Both my parents screamed at me as I gathered my things.

I packed them (my things! Not my parents) into the car.

And I left.

If they weren’t so ridiculous, I might feel a little bad right now.

I’m sure it will come….- Emily

V is for...

Veritas: Truth

Truth Number One: My family asked me to house sit.
Truth Number Two: I rarely drink.
Truth Number Three: I'm a very small woman, not a full grown man.

Naturally, last night resulted in a lesson. Here is what I learned:

1. DO NOT go to the grocery store looking for booze just to prove to yourself that you can not, in fact, buy anything stronger than a beer in Utah grocery stores.
2. DO go to the State Liquor Store and giggle to yourself when you realize they actually are putting your white wine into a brown paper bag.
3. DO remember to buy a corkscrew. Save yourself another trip to the grocery store. Come on now, you really thought you would find one because "there are a lot of gadgets in those kitchen drawers."
4. DO NOT feel bad because the 17 year old ringing up your corkscrew looks at your like A corkscrew? Really? but at the same time won't make eye contact.
5. DO put on some classy music and make yourself some pasta.
6. DO NOT pour yourself another glass because, "What am I going to do with the rest of it?"
7. DO NOT pour yourself another glass because, "No, really. What am I going to do with the rest of it?"
8. DO try to eat that entire loaf of garlic bread. It's a great idea.
9. DO remember to turn off the stove. Also, clean up by covering the pot of noodles with saran wrap and put in the fridge. The entire pot. Yeah, that's right. You're smart!
10. DO NOT wake up totally miserable, feeling like you're going to die and Google: How to Get Rid of a Hangover.
11. DO drink a lot of water. Why weren't you doing this the night before? Oh, that's right. You were too busy drinking alcohol, dancing around your kitchen and laughing to yourself.
12. DO NOT put on sunglasses while driving to work thinking, "This must be what it feels like to be a Kardashian!" Are you STILL drunk?! (Answer: NO. I wouldn't drive if I was.)
13. DO NOT console yourself by deciding At Least Now I Can Blog About It.


In case you're wondering, the best cure for a hangover is to never drink. Thanks a lot about.com. You're a prude and nobody laughs at your jokes at dinner parties.

Also, there basically was no "rest of it."




- Emily

I have a dilemma

I know this doesn't start with a V. I interrupt my riff on the alphabet because:

1. I can't think of something that starts with V at the moment
2. I have a dilemma

I'm going to move in with my boyfriend. He lives in another country. Passport is in hand, birth cert obtained, new friends lined up, all manner of medications purchased.....

How do I tell my family? I live at home currently and I'm so grateful my parents allowed me to live with them. But, now it's time to move on. Grow up. Make my own way.

This isn't a fly-by-night discussion. I've been talking with my boyfriend about moving in together for a year and a half, but dealing with finding out the truth about TSCC and a subsequent eight month bout with depression last year AND telling my family where I stand with The Church, it just wasn't in the cards. I just wasn't able to deal with it. 

Nowadays, I'm healthy. I'm happy. I've worked out a job I can do online while out of the country. I'm stronger. I'm ready.

I just don't know how to break this news.


-Emily

T is for...

Touchy Subjects

 Yesterday, I had a tiny hole stabbed in my body.

After much deliberation and research, I went to a piercing parlor, picked out a little gem and waited while several others also had tiny holes stabbed in their body. The girl next to me had a tiny fleck of silver above her lip, the girl across from me had a tiny nose ring. The man doing my piercing had a whole row of rings up and down his ear.

The actual piercing took about five minutes and didn't hurt at all. The first time I went to get anything pierced, I was eight. I sat on a tiny bench at the mall while the gun was prepared. Only, I missed the memo about the part involving a gun. I screamed. Covered my ears. Ran o-u-t. Nothing like that was getting close to my ears. I told this all to my piercer. He looked at me like I was a nut case. This time, he used a needle and I slowly breathed while he stabbed me and put the earring in.

I came home and waited for my very Mormon family to notice. Nobody said a thing. I went out to dinner with my parents and we had a great time talking together about work, school and words. No big deal.

This morning, my youngest sister asked, "What is that?" gesturing towards me.

"Did you get a piercing?"

"Yes, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice." I shrugged.

My mom piped up, "I noticed." I shrugged.

My middle sister shrieked, "What is that. Oh my gosh you look like a freaking skank. Mom, make her take that out. What is wrong with you Emily?"

My mom shrugged. "I think she's old enough to do whatever she wants. Do you really think if I tell her to take it out she will? No. Calm down."

My middle sister went crazy. She screamed at my mom that she was a horrible mother, that she was letting me ruin my life.

"You know she's doing what's wronnnng! You're not saying anything, which means you approve!!!!!" she wailed.

I was angry, but dealing with her insults, until she screamed:

"Emily's just being brain washed. She doesn't even have a brain to think for herself. She doesn't know what she's doing. She can't even think. She has no life. She is just too lazy to do the right thing. She is lazy and acting trashy. You {mom} need to tell her what to do. She's a slut, she needs to pull her head out of her butt. You're the worst mother in the entire world."


I got up.

I slapped her across the face.

"You don't know the first thing about my life or what I'm going through. Don't you even pretend like you do. Mind. your. own. damn. business. Don't talk to me like that."

Of course, she slapped me right back. Screamed even louder. And continued to scream.

The piercing she is so upset that her 22 year old sister got? Look at the picture at the top?

Can't see it?

Oh, that's because my hair is covering it. What does it look like? Where could it be?

O is for...

Open:

image source

One closely related word, xenophobia. 

Fear of strangers.  Fear of outsiders.  Fear of difference.  The opposite of open. 

I grew up in The Bubble.  Suburban life.  Three siblings.  Mom.  Dad.  3.8 GPA.  28 ACT.  

I dated a non-Mormon at 16 after my Mormon boyfriend broke up with me over MSN.  I cried a few tears and asked the dark-haired, brown-eyed Persian boy (exotic for Utah!) I liked since sixth grade to the Christmas Dance.  He said yes and came with me and all of my friends.  My friends had been championing us to date since we were 12.  I was pretty excited.  

The two of us were awkward, as all 16 year old are.  We spent many hours "hanging out" at the local grocery store with out two groups of friends.  These two groups mostly glared at each other.  "Seriously, why are we heeeeeeeere?"  my friends whined the way only 16 year old females can.  Why did I always have to date the boys with weird friends?  Apparently our couple-dom was cute only in theory.  

My friends weren't the only ones a little chagrined at the developing relationship.  I snuggled up to my brown-eyed boy one winter evening to discuss The S-E-X.

E is for...

Eight

 Image Source

Eight is a special age for young Mormons.   It is the age when you're baptized.  It's that age you are finally accountable for all your sins.  It's important to note that before one is eight, you don't really sin.  You transgress.  Once you turn eight, you have reached The Age of Understanding.  You are able to choose the Right from wrong.  

It is also the age when you get to join Activities Days (if you're a girl) and puffy paint t-shirts and learn how to do laundry while the boys learn to shoot bow and arrows in Scouts. 

I would like to think my fully mature, eight-year-old self wanted to learn to shoot a bow and arrow, but I probably would have just used it as an excuse to wear moccasins and play Pocahontas.