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

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

Q is for...

Quiet: 

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I’m getting frustrated.  

I wonder if anyone else feels this way.  The struggle between wanting to stay true to yourself and staying true to your family.  Do you remain quietly sitting in silence, respecting your family’s wishes, silently drifting like a specter through the hallways of your home?  Do you speak up when your family insists that teachings you find offensive and false and true and right?  Do you question your parent’s teachings to your teenage siblings or do you respect your parent’s wishes and right to teach their children all sorts of....beliefs.  

When my little sister asks me, “Aren’t black people cursed because of Cain? Isn’t that why they have black skin?”  I scoff and mumble something about melanin.  “You know.  It makes you darker.”  

“But, the Bible...I heard...”

“It’s melanin.  When your skin is in the sun, it produces more melanin...so...” I trail off.  Like I’ve mentioned before, science is not my strongest point.  I like it but, damn.  Tenth grade biology was a long time ago.  My teacher kept a dead fetus in a jar.  A floating, shriveled baby.  It scared us all into submission.  No wonder the basics of life science escape me now.  

I wonder:  is it easier to remain wrapped in the snug folds of Mormonism because it doesn’t require much thought?  I mean, relatively speaking.  I will be the first to admit, I didn’t think much.  The world around me?  Who cares? The Book of Mormon?  True?  If you say so.  Granted, I was 15 and what teenager isn’t completely self-absorbed?  

I did the whole EFY thing.  The Girls Camp Testiphony.  Everyone cried at the mere mention of Joseph Smith.  But I...stayed quiet.  Sure, the songs were nice.  Sure, Sarah cried her eyes out because she shared the prophet’s birthday. I stayed quiet.  I liked learning about Jesus.  I could get behind his Love Everyone message.  I read the Bible.  I wept openly when I read in John where Jesus tells his disciples, “You are my friends.” I felt Jesus was my friend...or could have been.  He was all about love.  And I wanted to be loved.  Those words made me feel secure.  Just the idea that someone taught that kind of love rocked my selfish, teenage brain.  Like those Relief Society sisters who set up their tablecloths and flowers proclaiming, “ I know this lesson was for me.”, I felt moved.  Certain that somehow, John had me in mind when inscribing those words.  

A few years later, my mom decided it was time to get my Patriarchal Blessing.  Patriarchal Blessing? Sure.  The day dawned.  I’d lost my recommend.  My parent were fighting with me.  My dad briefly considered canceling the whole thing.  But, we went anyways.  I met with the Patriarch.  A tall, old man with white hair.  We went to his house.  Chatted about...what I don’t recall.  Sat in his living room.  I nervously sat in a chair as he placed his hands on my head...

O is for...

Open:

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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.