One Man's Conversation with his Son (and my thoughts on it)

There's a blog post going around that makes me cringe... Not gonna post a link to it, because it is just like so many other "modesty" posts, and it makes me cranky. Girls, cover up so my "men of integrity" don't think nasty things about you. If you want to my friends with my sons, you'll dress just the way I think you should.

And while I will get as cranky as anyone at Cosmopolitan magazines that promote that women are nothing but sex objects, I feel cranky when you tell a woman that she should cover up (because basically, she is nothing but a sex object.)

I am going to share a link to another blogpost.
Seeing a Woman: A Conversation Between a Father and a Son

There's so much of this I love, but I'm going to focus on the last two paragraphs first. They brought me to tears. I am so used to hearing that I am nothing but a body to be ogled or to be hidden... That to love myself means to hide myself, and that it is my responsibility to control men's thoughts (and in turn, their actions.), it felt refreshing.

I read it a few days ago, and have gone back several times to reread it... because I need the reminder.

I am struggling with a feeling that I am worth less than a man, because I am a woman. I read Dance of the Dissident Daughter, and identified with the feeling... but I wasn't quite ready to face how much I hate my femaleness.

I came out as asexual, because that was better than being a woman. (Fuck. Don't you dare use this to hurt any other asexual person. THIS IS MY STORY, but it does not lessen the reality of some people's asexuality. It also doesn't change the way I felt then. I had to accept that I was different, and that label made the most sense at the time. It doesn't quite fit today, but I'm not sure what label fits now... anyway... not the point of this blog, but I had to write it down.)

I am not a "normal" girl, but such a thing doesn't really even exist. All of the rules and guidelines about how a woman is supposed to be, supposed to dress, supposed to think, act, and live... are just nonsense.

Back to Seeing a Woman: A Conversation Between a Father and a Son

This is the paragraph that meant so much to me:

"I’m not telling you to not look at women. Just the opposite. I’m telling you to see women. Really see them. Not just with your eyes, but with your heart. Don’t look to see something that tickles your senses, but see a human being.

My hope is that changing how you see women will change how you are around them.  Don’t just be around women.  Be with women.
Because in the end, they want to be with you.  Without fear of being judged, or shamed, or condemned, or objectified, or being treated as other.  And that’s not just what women want.  That’s what people want.
- See more at: http://natepyle.com/seeing-a-woman/#sthash.5eTwSUAv.dpuf

My hope is that changing how you see women will change how you are around them.  Don’t just be around women.  Be with women.
Because in the end, they want to be with you.  Without fear of being judged, or shamed, or condemned, or objectified, or being treated as other.  And that’s not just what women want.  That’s what people want.
- See more at: http://natepyle.com/seeing-a-woman/#sthash.5eTwSUAv.dpuf

My hope is that changing how you see women will change how you are around them.  Don’t just be around women.  Be with women.

Because in the end, they want to be with you.  Without fear of being judged, or shamed, or condemned, or objectified, or being treated as other.  And that’s not just what women want.  That’s what people want."

My fight is the belief that I deserve this, "they want to be with you.  Without fear of being judged, or shamed, or condemned, or objectified, or being treated as other," and that I deserve that EVEN THOUGH I am a woman. Something deep down says that isn't so... I am less than. I am an object. I something to be used and abused. And with all of the work I have done, I am still fighting that belief. And it's hard.


And one more time, Seeing a Woman: A Conversation Between a Father and a Son

There is so much truth in this statement.

"Humans objectify the things they love in effort to control them. If you truly love a person, do not reduce them to an object. The moment you objectify another human – woman or man, you give up your humanity."

I feel confused. (Everyone says send it, but what if I don't want to?)

The letter... people telling me to send it... The following will be mostly a stream of consciousness, so please don't expect it to make too much sense. Also, it may be triggering, because I'm angry and sad and talk about rape and abuse... and well... there's the warning.

I don't want to send the letter. I have lots of reasons, but I'll start with the reasons why I want to send it.

It would make other people proud of me.
Others would think I was strong, "over it", good, "recovered", and any number of labels that equal, "Other people will love me."
I feel like it is my responsibility to save the future Mrs. Curtis, or at least do everything I can.
Other people tell me it would be helpful to me, and if other people say it, than I have to do it, no matter what I think would be helpful to me.

Noticing any trends?
There's nothing on that list that is for me.

I'm all for doing things that are helpful for others, but I think in this instance it is better to think about me. I think. (And super loud in my head, I just hear, "Stupid, selfish, bitch," and it isn't in MY voice that I hear it. It's his. How horribly messed up is THAT?)

The reasons I don't want to send the letter.
I don't want anyone to tell me that I'm crazy or stupid or it doesn't matter. I'm not sure I could handle getting that feedback from the Catholic church or from Larry.
Closely related, I'm not sure I could handle getting nothing back from them.

Those fears seem like a good reason to send it. Show myself that I can handle getting whatever feedback (or lack of it) that comes back. Who knows how I will handle it until I try?

More reasons I don't want to send it, and these go deeper.
I don't want to hear anything from that man. I don't want to hear an apology. I don't want to hear that he has changed. I don't want to hear that he has worked hard and overcome it. I don't want to hear that he is sorry. I don't want to hear it, and I don't care how much he has changed or what he has done since then. I don't care who he is now - I'm too angry at the man he was to listen to ANYTHING that comes out of his face.

(This seems odd to me, especially considering that I have never felt this emotion towards him. Four years ago, I was upset with BJ and Bishop C for feeling anger towards Larry. I preached forgiveness and love and not having any ill wishes towards him. Bishop C was moved to tears by how "good" I was. BJ was moved to tears of frustration, because he didn't think it was an appropriate reaction to the way I had been treated. I am such a different person now. I like this new person. Anyway.)

I don't feel the need to offer him redemption. I don't feel the need to offer him a chance to apologize or show me that he's changed. I don't feel the need to do anything with him.

I would love it if he had to face consequences of his actions... but no matter what I say, that won't change that HE will never have to deal with PTSD, or the pain, or the confusion or the shit. Nothing will take away all that I have had to go through to just survive, and then to try to find a life worth living... And that makes me angry. Jealous. ANGRY. Nothing that he could possibly have to go through would compare with what I have had to deal with because of his actions.

There was nothing against the law about what he did when he did it. (There was no such thing as marital rape at the time. A lack of a law doesn't change how it felt, it only changes the consequences for him if I could somehow prove it, which I can't, and I don't want to.)


The leaders of the LDS church saw nothing wrong with his behavior... BJ was the first to care... and he didn't believe the doctrine of the church... do I think the Catholic church will care? No. Why should they? Most religious leaders believe in the Biblical definition of marriage: Women are property, and they have responsibilities. They may not condone raping your wife, but most won't condemn it either. Hell if I am going to put my voice out there to be thrown away AGAIN.


NO! I get to choose who I share with, and it isn't religious authorities, and it isn't Larry.

(Interesting. I'm still feeling pretty hurt and angry at the church. For the things leaders said, for the things said in the temple that could be used to justify his behavior, and for the continued ideals preached about "traditional marriage".  I feel pretty helpless and powerless when it comes to them.)

I still feel like future Mrs. Curtis deserves to know something... but then I think about how I would have responded if the first Mrs. Curtis (the one before me) had sent a letter like this one. He had painted her as crazy and messed up and lucky that he got away. I would have ignored the letter and it would have pushed me EVEN MORE to take care of him, to love him the way no one ever had. I hope that the new lady is not as messed up in her thinking as I was, but...

The only reason that I would send it, is for her. Even if she still married him, maybe if he treated her poorly in the future, she would know it wasn't just her. Maybe she could skip the blaming herself part and go straight to the, "he's a jerk," part. I don't know.

I still welcome feedback. I'm still trying to figure out what to do - not for everyone else, but for my own healing and progression. Still a lot of questions, and a lot of pain.

The letter I will never send, except that I might,

So.... I got a letter in the mail. From the Catholic Church. It seems that Larry (ex-husband) wants to get remarried, and the Catholic church wants me to answer a few questions. I'm not sure if my answers (or lack of answers) affect his ability to get married again or not. I don't want to respond. I don't want to help him. I feel angry. WHY would I want to do anything to help that man hurt another wife? Why would I want to help him do ANYTHING?
The best way I know how to deal with shit is to write... so I wrote a letter... it was going to be just for me, but now that it's done, I think I'd like to share it with you. BJ suggested actually sending the damn thing. I don't know. I'll just start with posting it here...



To whom it may concern,

I was married to Laurence Curtis for two years. We were both members of the LDS church when we met. We met in November and were married the following June. I was nineteen when we met, and twenty when we married. There were signs that I shouldn't have married him, but I didn't pay much attention.

For example, once I fell asleep while watching a movie with my roommates, and he unzipped my pants and groped me. But I dismissed it... like it was somehow normal for a man to grope a sleeping woman, just as long as he put a blanket over her so her roommates couldn't see what he was doing.

Sexual sin is next to murder according the LDS teachings... except that sexual sin is pretty common place, so when Larry promised to abstain from all sexual activity until marriage (which was only six weeks away), they gave the okay. He mostly kept his promise, but that lead to AWFUL behavior in the marriage. In his mind, he had abstained for six weeks, and marriage gave him the right to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

I'll just start with the wedding night.
I was exhausted. He refused to let me bring my bags in. Since we were married, I was supposed to just get naked and climb in bed with him. I didn't do what he asked, but that didn't matter. He removed my clothes for me. (I didn't fight him, but I asked him not to.) He forced himself in me. I cried. It HURT. He responded by saying, "Shut up. I'll be done in a second."


I went to the bathroom and cried. He yelled at me. He told me I was being selfish and stupid. I was HIS wife now, and I had responsibilities. I came out. I apologized, because I thought he was right. I had no right to say no, I had no right to decide what I wanted to happen, or what I didn't want. I was nothing but his property. He accepted my apology and then did the same thing again. I cried. I told him it hurt. He responded by saying, "It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd just relax."
 
There was often blood after "sex" with him. He said it was normal. He was WRONG, but I didn't know. He'd been married before. He'd had sex with other women, so I thought he knew better than I did.

Over time, my body adapted to having quick, forced, "sex". I got instantly wet if he touched me. A hug usually meant that "sex" was coming, and I was lucky that my body reacted the way it did. It saved me a lot of physical pain. He hated that. He said it was disgusting when a woman got turned on. He preferred her to be dry. He told me I was disgusting. I believed him. There was something disgusting about me and my body, and I couldn't control it. He'd insist I shower, and then come back to bed, and then we'd have "sex". I did it. I thought what he did was normal. I thought I was disgusting.

If I cried, he'd put a pillow over my face.

If I talked or made any noise, he'd tell me to shut up and put a pillow over my face.

If I moved, he'd yell at me for ruining HIS experience.

If I said no, he'd ignore it.

If I fought him, he was bigger and stronger and it just made him get more violent. I couldn't stop him, and it made things worse for me.

If I got away, and locked myself in the bathroom, he'd wait until I came out... then masturbate and squirt at me. He blamed me for forcing him to do that. I believed him when he told me it was my fault. I believed him when he told me I was hurting him by trying to stop him from having "sex" with me.

If I threatened to leave, he'd threaten my family, especially my sister. She was twelve, and he called her crude names. I felt afraid of what he might do to her.

The last time I ever tried to fight him, he yelled at me for "making him do that". We both knew that he had just raped me. It was the only time that it looked like rape... like the kind they show in movies... like the kind that rarely happens, but when it does there is no doubt in anyone's mind. I apologized. I felt like a good wife would never fight. A good wife would not object. It was somehow MY fault that he had done that. It is completely true that if I had just laid there, and held my legs out of his way, he wouldn't have had to pry them apart. If I had done what he wanted, he never would have been violent.

I stood there, half-naked, and apologized to him for making him rape me. I still feel anger at myself for apologizing to him. I should have kicked him in the balls and told him to get the fuck out... and never come back... but I didn't. Instead, I tried harder to be what he said a wife was supposed to be.

From then on, I laid on my back and held my legs out of his way until he was finished.

He'd have "sex" with me in my sleep. I didn't mind that as much. At least I could be unconscious for some of it. (I didn't understand that if I wasn't awake to consent, that was rape, even if I was married to him.)

I once talked to him about the way he treated me. He told me that I was lucky he was so good to me. No one would be as kind and considerate as he was. EVERY man would act like him or maybe even worse. (I'm not sure what "worse" looked like in his head... but I know now, most men do not say or do the things that he did.)

When we got married, I was underweight. I had struggled with an eating disorder and had only been in recovery for a short time. I gained about fifteen pounds while we were married. He told me I was fat and unattractive. When I got busy and forgot to eat, he'd tell me how great I looked. When he informed me that he was having sex with other women, and I handled it by not eating for three days, he congratulated me. I knew enough about eating disorders and my body to know that what he was saying was FUCKED UP, but I didn't know how to get out of the marriage by then. I dismissed his comments as ignorant, but I don't think he was ignorant. He knew that starving could kill... but with his words, he showed he preferred a thin wife to an alive wife.

When we went to the bishop (because Larry said he was cheating... and we wanted help to save our marriage), the bishop only confirmed the bullshit that Larry had been saying. It was my responsibility to keep my husband happy. I worked two jobs, because Larry didn't work. The bishop told me that no matter what I did outside of the home, my only REAL responsibility was to keep my husband happy. Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.

I tried harder to be who he needed me to be, but felt like I was dying.
I became suicidal. I envisioned driving over the edge of the cliff every day on my way to school. Every day I would tell myself, "not today, but if you still feel this way tomorrow, then you can." The next day I would repeat the same thing. I feel lucky to have lived through that time.

He went to Texas for a job interview. Something in me changed while he was gone. I was done trying to save a marriage that was hell. He didn't work. We didn't get along. He hated church. I hated the way he treated me. I didn't want him to come back. I told him I wanted a divorce. He told me I was screwed up, and I would regret that decision. He told me that I wasn't capable of making a good decision, because I didn't have "the spirit" with me.

Eventually he agreed with me. Divorce was the best option for both of us. We said good-bye. We divorced. We didn't talk again. When I got married again, I needed a letter from him to cancel our LDS sealing. He sent the letter willingly, and the sealing was cancelled. I was relieved that I would never have to write a letter for him... The sealing was cancelled, which meant if he wanted to get remarried, he could just go for it. No one would ask me about my experience of being married to him.

And now he wants to get married in the Catholic church, which means that I was asked to give my opinions. I didn't know what to say, but I feel like I couldn't say nothing. I gave you a few examples of things that happened while I was married to him, but even those barely touch on the horror that was my life with him, and the horror that I have gone through since then.

I have spent hundreds of hours in therapy, which cost tens of thousands of dollars. I've spent months without sleep. Years of feeling hopeless and suicidal. Years of feeling afraid that all men would treat me like him. Years of feeling like I didn't deserve any better than the rapist that he was. Years of hiding and pretending, because I didn't know how to talk about what he did. Years of believing that a wife is nothing but a plaything to her husband. Years of believing that I was worthless, damaged, crazy, disgusting, and all of the other words he used to manipulate and control me. Years of nightmares where I can feel him ripping me apart. Years of physically hurting, because of the damage he did when he forced his dick inside me. Years of confusion. Years of questioning. Buckets of tears. Seizures. Night terrors. Nightmares. The list goes on.

I am still dealing with the effects of PTSD... Post Traumatic Stress from the trauma of being raped by a man that was supposed to love and care for me. Post Traumatic Stress from the trauma of being used and abused. Post Traumatic Stress from all of the shit that man said and did...

And now, he's about to get married again. I don't know if he has changed or not. I don't know if he still believes that women are disgusting if they get turned on. I don't know if he still prefers to force himself on women than to have sex with them. I don't know if he still gets violent. I don't know if he still thinks that raping a woman IS sex with a woman. I don't know if he still blames women for his thoughts and actions. I don't know if he still believes it is a woman's job to lay there and hold her fucking legs out of his way while he goes at it. I don't know if he still believes that it is wife's job to "keep him happy", while completely ignoring that his wife is actually a person too. I don't know if he still uses and abuses others. I don't know if he still encourages women to starve themselves, so they will be attractive to him. I don't know anything about who he is today, but I figured since you sent me the letter... reminded me of those experiences... I would tell you about just a few of the things I experienced while being married to him. 


Sincerely,
Jen


(P.S. I could really REALLY use comments on this one. I feel vulnerable and icky, and any words you could share, would be nice.)

Love, the church PR dept (an angry rant on the church's 'gays and mormons' website)

I feel angry and sad and ANGRY. (You have been warned. I'm pissed.)

The church recently released a new website... A few of the straight Mormons I know are super excited about it. "SEE. Look. We are nice and loving. SEE!!!"

Many of the gay Mormons are not so excited. (At best, this as seen as a baby step. The hope is that MAYBE there will be less gay teens on the streets.)

This is what I see this page as:

An abusive man. He beats his wife. He degrades her. He makes her life a living hell. She stays because she knows nothing else. He beats her because that's what husbands do.

There are rumors that he is a wife-beater. He doesn't want to be known as that. He KNOWS he is a good, kind, wonderful man. People just need to understand him better.

So he puts out a website... all about how wrong it is to beat your wife. He talks about loving her and accepting her, but he makes sure to point out the sin of divorce.

The website is simple. It says, "don't beat your wife, but wives, stay with your husbands no matter how much he hurts you."

ALL of the wife-beaters LOVE the article. It's beautiful. Warm. Fuzzy. And makes them feel secure in their current relationships.
Many people look at the surface of it and say, "Well. It's an improvement. Baby steps. At least he's making some effort to change."
But the woman, the one who has been beat by that man over and over and over, she feels even more hurt, betrayed and disgusted.

She knows he hasn't changed. She knows he still beats his wife. She wishes he would just own that. If he would at least have the decency to be honest about who he really is, then she could get help. Now, when she tries to talk about the bruises and the pain, people point to his website and say, "No. He doesn't beat you. Look. It's right here - he talks about the evils of beating your wife. How can you say he beats you?"

A few months ago, I was asked to sign a petition asking the church to apologize for the things general authorities have said about black people. I refused. Not because I don't want to see the church apologize, but because I don't believe that people should grovel for an apology from them. If the church CARED about the people they have hurt, and they WANTED to make a change, I'm pretty sure they could figure out how to apologize and just do it.

If enough people signed a petition, and pushed them to apologize. (By making it more of a public relations nightmare by NOT apologizing.) They would apologize. But I don't want THAT. That kind of apology would be just as real as the abuser's apology. No REAL remorse... just a fear of the consequences.

The leaders of the church have to know that people have been hurt by racist statements made in the past. (And continued racist doctrine.) At this point, it isn't hurting THEM enough to give a damn.

Gay relations are different. They created a nightmare for themselves with Prop 8. The whole country is shifting, and the leaders of the church know it. If the internet had been around in the 1970's, I'm pretty sure there would have been a similar webpage. (Here's someone's idea of what it would have looked like.)

This website is a nice mask, but they are not changing their abusive ways one fucking bit. And I know, they have God on their side, which makes it okay to be ignorant... But if you're going to be ignorant, at least own it... but instead...

Dear Gay People,
We now are willing to say you were born that way, even though we have said something different many times for many years. (We weren't WRONG, we just can't have all the answers.)
We're also aware that marrying someone of the opposite sex is a bad idea. We won't push you to do that anymore.
So, now we just want you to live alone the rest of your life. Never hold hands. Never have a close intimate relationship with anyone. No sex. No family. Nothing. EVER.

Good news though, in the next life you can be happy. But don't kill yourself... That's not the answer... Just live for the next fifty years feeling lonely, isolated, and sad. We'll call you a hero if you do that.We admire the strength you have to keep on living when living is hell.

You're amazing.

And parents, don't shun or disown your children just because they are gay... but acting on their gayness is a sin, therefore you can't REALLY accept your gay child. You shouldn't love them as they are, you should try to change them into something that they're not... Because God's love is conditional like that. Oh. And Family. Family really is the purpose of life. (But only if your family looks like OURS does. Everything else is an abomination.)

We love you so much, can't you just feel it? (It probably means there's something wrong with you if this doesn't feel like love to you. You should probably do something to get over that.)

With love,
The church PR department (because we all know the General Authorities are going to keep saying the same old shit they have always said. And their shit will contradict our shit. Good luck trying to figure that shit out.)

Now that I'm done writing...
I understand I could probably effect more change and understanding if I said this differently... But I'm angry and I'm tired. I'm tired of talking softly, so that abusive assholes will listen. The truth is the abusive assholes WON'T listen. If I talk softly, they ignore it. And if I yell and scream and swear, they say, "You're too angry," and they dismiss me. So, right now, this isn't about them. It's just about me writing MY thoughts. (And letting you read them if you feel like it.)

Maybe I am being selfish with my angry rant. At this moment, it is more important to me to express my anger and my frustration than to help others. But I also want to help others... So, here is a list of posts from Clive Durham . He says what needs to be said without the sarcasm or the fuck word. (And if you didn't make it this far.... That's okay, I'll put this list in a new post too.)

I love gay people,...but...
I love and accept you, but…I don’t accept your homosexual lifestyle
I love you and accept you, but…you have to acknowledge that you’re broken and as a result, live your life the way I feel is best.
I love you and accept you, but…stay away from my children.
I love you and accept you, but…you must live your life alone, without love, companionship and intimacy.

Book of Mormon Musical: Hasa Diga

Remember how I said I didn't feel like writing any more about Book of Mormon Musical. That was then... Today, I feel like it.

A warning: I'm about to write about a song that WILL offend.  I like this song, but I don't think you will. It's blasphemous, offensive, profane, vulgar, and the list goes on. Don't listen to it, and if you decide to listen to it, don't get mad at me, because I warned you. (There are phrases and a word that even I won't use... and fuck is one of my very favorite words. I feel guilty even writing what the song title means, so in the words of Elder Price, "They are saying F--- You to Heavenly Father.")


First, since I just told you all not to listen to it, here is what the song is about:
The people have a lot of bad things in their life. They then list the struggles in their life: No food. People dying in the street. Female circumcision. AIDS. Warlords. etc. Really awful and horrific things that most people could never imagine...REAL shit.

Then they turn to the missionaries and ask them to list off the bad things in their life:
Crowded plane. Late bus. Lost luggage.

Eventually the missionaries figure out what the people are saying (F you to Heavenly Father). Elder Price tells them they shouldn't be saying that.

The reply is, "If you don't like what we say, try living here a couple days."


I really like that line, because that is how I have felt before.
I'm not saying you have to listen to me and you definitely don't have to agree with me... but don't you dare tell me how I am supposed to get through hell while you're sitting on your nice, fluffy, heavenly clouds.



There's also something about making fun of something that has had so much power over me, that reduces it's power. If I can laugh at it, it doesn't hurt or control me nearly as much...

I can always tell when BJ has had a bad day, because this is the song blasting through out the house. He plays it once or twice... and then he seems more relaxed... So... because I feel like shit this morning, I decided to try it.

(Have I told you all how crazy General Conference weekend makes me. It makes me NUTS. I feel guilty and angry and twisted in knots... I want to scream and cry and throw things...)

It works. Relieves some of the tension. Gives me a place to put all of the anger I feel. Makes me laugh. Which reminds me of a story...

A few years ago, I was in a rough place. Flashbacks, seizures, and trying to make sense of a world that didn't make sense at all. One day, I was curled up in a ball on the floor, in too much pain to even cry, and I was apologizing for being such a pain (or something)... BJ held me and just said, "Stop apologizing... You haven' done ANYTHING to apologize for... and especially... with all the fucking shit you have been through..."

Back then, I didn't use the fuck word. I thought it was bad! BAD! BAD! But something clicked in my brain, and I interrupted him, "It's not 'fucking shit'. Let's be accurate, it's actually 'shitty fucking'."

I thought it was really funny. But more than funny, it was honest. I owned what happened to me. And I used words that were off limits, but said what I needed to say... and I laughed, which released some of the tension in my body And it really did make it "all seem better".

Some anger and pain is too intense to feel, and it's too intense to distract from, and there just aren't "nice" words that can accomplish what a well placed FUCKword can. I don't advocate using profanity all the time, but I do believe there are times and there are places where it is entirely appropriate.

Like in this song. It was very healing for me. It shocked me enough to let me laugh at the anger and the pain... I don't know if that's what the writers had in mind, but that is what it did for me.


(Warning repeat: I do NOT recommend this song to anyone else. It is blasphemous and offensive and uses language that might make your ears bleed. I'm just telling you that I loved it, but I don't think anyone else will.)

Since I'm writing about it, I might as well tell you about seeing it live. I enjoyed it. It wasn't helpful - it wasn't harmful. It was just fun for me.

The reprise, however, was a different story. The reprise wasn't on the CD, so I'd never heard it. The full song is shocking and exaggerated. The reprise was less shocking, and instead of exaggerating emotions, it captured exactly how I have felt... The  betrayal, the loneliness, the heartache, the dashed hopes and the pain of "now what?" all were captured in that thirty second song... And I couldn't laugh at the emotions I felt.

“I was such a fool to have followed this advice…
There is no trip to Paradise…
How could I let my hopes get so high…
Hasa Diga Eebowai…
HASA DIGA EEBOWAI!
You gave me a dream… but it was all a lie…
I think you like to see me cry…
Hasa diga…”

I sobbed. It wasn't like "tears running down my face, but I still look pretty" No. Ugly tears. Snot. Holding it in so no one else could hear, but it felt like my throat was being ripped out... I wasn't expecting that. AT ALL. I enjoyed talking to the other audience members around me before the show and during intermission... but after the show, I just wanted to get out of there. I sat in the van and cried. Once I finished crying, I felt better... And I'm back to loving the show.



Before I left the church, I went through a lot of intense emotions and a lot of confusion.
I felt betrayed; lied to; ANGRY at how hard I tried to believe and how hard I tried to make myself fit; angry that I had been taught if I didn't get the "right" answers to prayers, it is because there is something wrong with ME; angry at all of the teachings that really fucked me up; angry at all of the time I spent feeling anxious and depressed because I believed; angry at the false hopes (if I just did what I was supposed to do, I would be happy.); lonely - I was afraid I was going to love everyone I loved; FEAR and GUILT for not doing what everyone thought I should; afraid of what would happen to me; and on and on and on.

Since leaving, I have had to completely reconstruct my own stories and beliefs. That isn't easy to do, and it gets even more difficult two weekends a year. I can't get away from it... I guess I CAN. I have. I ran away and went camping every conference weekend for two years. I avoided my family and refused to talk to them. I didn't get on Facebook, or read any blogs... I thought I was doing better. I thought it wouldn't affect me anymore. Apparently, I was wrong...

The "R word" (rape) and stupid things people say

Warning: This post will probably be triggering. I haven't written it yet, but I am about to talk about rape, and I'm angry. I don't plan on censoring myself, so please take care of yourself. Only read this if you are in a good place, and stop (and seek help) if anything I say triggers you.


Rape. It's an incredibly ugly word. It's not a word I like to use. I struggle to use it to describe my own experiences, but I've found that I'm not alone. Many people who have been raped (legal definition of the word) try to use other words to describe their experiences. It has been so hard to allow myself to use that word to describe what happened to me.

Recently, in an effort to convince me to not go to a wedding (that the bride and groom invited me to), I was told that (this person) seeing me would be like me seeing one of the men that raped me. (She blames me for her divorce.) I was confused.

I spend time with my uncles. I would never dream of asking them to not go to an event just because their presence makes me uncomfortable. I have anxiety seeing them... and I have choices about what I do. I can choose not to go to functions where I know they will be. I can choose not to talk to them if I do go. I can choose to be friendly if I feel like it. Whatever I decide to do, I can only choose for me. It has never crossed my mind to ask them to stay home.

My confusion... I know I still have a desire to protect abusers... AND, I want to be healthy. What does that even look like? Is she more "normal"? I don't want to be like she is. Like I said. Confused.

I shared my confusion with BJ... as we talked, and he pointed out what a ridiculous and stupid and completely inaccurate comparison the two things are...  My confusion went away, and I got angry.

On most days, I understand that pain is pain... It doesn't matter if someone else's pain is worse than your own, when it hurts, it hurts. On this day, realizing how irrational that comparison is, made my head spin. How DARE she compare anything she has gone through to being raped?!?! (Even IF her accusations were accurate, and I was to blame for her divorce, there's just no comparison. In one analogy, an adult man decided to end his marriage. He left. He has a right to do that. Rape is a violent, violating, horrible thing done TO someone who cannot defend themselves.) She has no fucking clue what she is talking about.

"That's like scraping your knee, and thinking you must understand what it feels like to break every bone in your body." ~BJ

I don't like using the word "rape". I feel like I have no right to that word, but damn it if I am okay with those who have no clue what they are talking about, never experienced anything close to it, and ESPECIALLY trying to use that word to control and manipulate others... No patience, no tolerance, for that kind of bullshit.


That stupid comparison just reminded me of all the stupid people out there. 
They THINK they know what they are talking about, but they have no clue.

Todd Akin is currently being blasted for his stupid statement about "legitimate rape". It was a really stupid thing to say. My hope is that he was just incredibly ignorant.

"First of all, from what I understand from doctors [pregnancy from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

What does that mean when a woman DOES get pregnant from rape? It's not legitimate?? Who the hell is he to decide what is legitimate and what is not? To take something so traumatizing, invalidating, and awful already... there are no words to describe how much harm that man could do with just a few stupid words.

Last year, there was a bill proposed that used the phrase "forcible rape". Do they not understand what RAPE is??

Up until 1993, there was no such thing as marital rape. The traditional definition of rape was, 'sexual intercourse with a female not his wife without her consent'. Basically, a woman had no right to say no to sex with her husband... And he could take it by any force necessary. The law was changed, but not without a fight. People fought over whether a woman had a right to say no to sex with her husband... and that was only twenty years ago.

Did they think about what they were fighting for? Did they care that they were fighting for the rights of a man to rape his wife? Did they think about how it would effect women?

When I started talking about what Larry did, sometimes, I even got brave and used "the R word". Do you know what SEVERAL people said to me?

"How could it be rape? You were married." 

(And I wonder why I have a hard time using that word...)
Sometimes, I'd try to explain how he did it whether I cooperated or not. It WAS a lot easier if I could just force myself to lay there and take it... but sometimes, everything in me fought against it. I'd try to explain the pain, the violence, and some understood... A few never did. They held to the belief that a man could never rape his wife... After all, a woman is given to a man. She is nothing but his property.


Today, some states still have exemptions for married men. For example, in some states a man cannot be prosecuted for forcing sex on his wife if she is impaired and cannot consent. In other words, if she is asleep, and therefore cannot consent, he can force himself on her without fear of the law. Utah law states that if a person can't consent, then it is rape, with no exception for husbands. 

There are so many other instances of politicians saying things that are just WRONG. Joking about rape. Trying to minimize and sometimes defend it. Protecting everyone but the victims of rape. I don't feel like going into any more of it now... just know there are a whole lot of really stupid people out there.

As a teenager, I read the book Miracle of Forgiveness. I was full of guilt. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to feel good in my life. I believed my unhappiness was because of sin. (I heard it over and over and over in church.) I wanted to repent, so I could be happy... So I read the book.
There are a few passages in the book that STILL make me want to hurl.

"Your virtue is worth more than your life. Please, young folk, preserve your virtue even if you lose your lives.”

-    The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 63

“Also far-reaching is the effect of loss of chastity. Once given or taken or stolen it can never be regained. Even in a forced contact such as rape or incest, the injured one is greatly outraged. If she has not cooperated and contributed to the foul deed, she is of course in a more favorable position. There is no condemnation when there is no voluntary participation. It is better to die in defending one’s virtue than to live having lost it without a struggle.”

-   The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 196

Up until two years ago, I believed my family would prefer I was dead than to know the truth of what happened to me. I believed the fact that I was alive was proof that I was bad...

"It was better that I had died defending my virtue than to live having lost it without a struggle."

I could not tell anyone the truth. I was barely alive already, and I knew I couldn't handle it if they agreed with me, and said, "We wish you would have died."

I found a great therapist. I found BJ. I found many great people and resources that helped me to change the way I think. I learned the truth. (It was NOT my fault. It is much better to cooperate and LIVE than to die. And so on.) I talked to people that understood... I tried to shut out the people who were clueless.


Now what I want to know is, where are all the people who KNOW?
Why aren't there more talks in church about the effects of abuse? Why aren't there more talks about how it isn't the victim's fault AT ALL? Why hasn't the church apologized for publishing such AWFUL things? Why are they still handing out that awful book?

1 in 4 women nationally, 1 in 3 women in Utah. 1 in 6 men nationally, 1 in 5 men in Utah will experience sexual assault in their lifetimes. That means that 33% of the women in any ward in Utah will have been raped or assaulted. With statistics that high, isn't it about time to start talking about it, and I don't mean the people that have no clue... I mean the people that KNOW.

Why are the ignorant people talking about rape? What makes them even THINK they have a right to make a law that effects victims of rape? They don't. Every single one of them needs to stop it. NOW. I don't care that they think they are protecting life... until the conversation is more open and honest and they have a clue about what they're talking about. Shut up. And do some listening. Get educated. Do NOT talk about rape unless you know what you are talking about.

I'll finish with this:

A friend posted this on Facebook. THIS is how rape should be talked about. THIS is what happens when a woman is raped. (And I know it's not just women who are raped.) This is what happens when a PERSON is raped. It's time people understand what really happens and how truly awful, traumatic, life altering, and sometimes life ENDING it is.

An anniversary that should never and will never be celebrated

Thirteen years ago, I married a man...Looking back now, I can say it was a dumb idea. If I had been older, wiser, more educated, more sure of myself, more aware of what a healthy relationship looked like, or any number of things, I wouldn't have made the same decision.

This week has been hard, probably because it's the anniversary of that marriage. I wish I could just forget it, but someone says the date, June 24, and I feel thrown back, panicked, and sick. I feel a sense of doom, like what happened thirteen years ago is about to happen again. I'm afraid I'll have to go through that hell all over again., which makes things that aren't normally triggering VERY triggering.


The symphony orchestra I am in is playing Sibelius's Finlandia, also known as the hymn "Be Still My Soul". Hearing the melody played out, I had a whole bunch of memories invade my head.

While I was married to him, I believed any anger or negative feelings towards him were MY problem. Those feelings were something I needed to change and fix, so I prayed and prayed and prayed.  I never worded it this way, but what I was really saying in my prayers was, "Please, help me to take his shit. Help me not to care if he rapes me, or ridicules me, or keeps me away from my family. Please make me a good wife who doesn't care about myself. Help me want to take care of him. Make me love him. Help me stop wanting anything. Make my anger go away. Change me into someone who can just take this." Along with prayers, I sang hymns like "Be Still My Soul" in the hopes that it would change my feelings into something more acceptable.

I thought if I was a "good wife", and loved him enough, that would be enough to make our relationship good.
I'd tell him I love him several times a day. I'd look for his good qualities, and write him love notes listing those qualities. He didn't work, so I'd work two jobs. He'd tell me he didn't like me spending time with my family, so I wouldn't. I thought if I just did what he wanted, even if he didn't stop hurting me, at least I was being a "good wife" and a "good person".

All of my prayers, the hymn singing, the efforts to serve and love him helped... sort of... they helped me adapt. They helped me to stay in that horrible situation. I started to think it was good. I started to think that the way he treated me was the way all husbands treat their wives. I started to believe I deserved what he did to me. I stopped feeling angry, and I learned to just take it. There were big parts of me that died in order to spare that relationship. There are things I really should have said to him, but I didn't know I could. Thirteen years later, I think I'll say them here now.

No!!!!!!!

You are an asshole.

I'm leaving you. I know we've only been married for about five hours, but that was long enough. I'm taking the car. Find your own way home - wherever that is - but it won't be with me.

I didn't "make you do that to me". You did that. You used physical force and violence to get sex. That's called rape. It's not my fault you raped me. That's 100% on you. I'm not sorry for fighting you. I'm not sorry at all. I just wish I would have kicked harder.

Touch me again, and I'll call the police.

I work, you sit on your ass. That makes it MY money. Stop spending MY money on stupid shit.

I don't care if you don't want me spending time with my family, fuck you!

Using scriptures or church quotes to justify your abusive behavior is just fucked up.

Leave me alone.

If I'm fat, then WHAT THE HELL do you think you are??

When you say, "No one else could ever love you," you're wrong. I won't let you manipulate or control me with those lies.

Go fuck yourself.

To anyone out there who is still in abusive relationships: Walk away. Just walk away. Life is so much better without the fear and anxiety that comes with trying to keep an abuser happy.

I don't know where he is now, and I don't really care. It took me a LONG time to find my anger again. It has taken me a very long time to shake the beliefs that I formed by taking his abuse for so long.

I feel very VERY grateful that I got out of that relationship. I feel SO lucky! I stayed there for two years, and I still don't know where the courage to get away from him came from. Somehow, even though I thought I loved him and I never thought of the way he treated me as abusive (even thought it most definitely was), I got out.


I feel very grateful for the things I've learned, and now I know how to love and protect myself. I feel very happy for the relationships I can have now. And once that song was over, and I started playing the theme song from Raiders of the Lost Ark, I felt happy that I was at rehearsal; surrounded by people who love and appreciate music enough to give up their Saturday mornings just to play.

I'm also grateful that although this week has been hard - it's nothing like it used to be. I went through all of these emotions and memories in a matter of a few minutes. (It took WAY longer to write about it than it did to go through it.) This is what healing is like. It takes a lot more to trigger the old pain, and the pain is a lot shorter and far less intense.

Another angry post.

I'm not exactly sure what triggered it... Probably a combination of all of these things:

BJ getting a text from his ex yesterday afternoon that really upset him, and that really upset me. And then he asked, "Why is it that you can feel anger at the way she treats me, but I have never once heard you express anger at Larry?" and I started thinking about it.

Reading SilverRain's blog about healing from Domestic Violence, and feeling both hopeful and sad.

Maybe my own posts from earlier today: Letting it go or Rapists. Or... that facebook just decided to suggest my ex-sister-in-law as a possible friend. Apparently she just friended one of my friends from high school. I have not seen Larry since he went to Texas for a job interview. (While he was there, I told him I wanted a divorce.) Paul (old therapist) once suggested I should look him up. Confront him, but I had no way of contacting him, and no desire to do so. But now I can see pics of him with his current girl... I wonder if he treats her better...

Catching just a few minutes of the movie Uncle Buck. A fifteen year old girl is with her boyfriend. He wants sex. She tells him no, and asks him to stop. He tells her to "just relax. It's okay." which are the very words I heard ALL the time back then... Uncle Buck throws the kid in the trunk of the car, and lets the girl stand over him with an electric drill. She doesn't do anything to him, but the kid knows she COULD, and he apologizes... Not a very real apology, the kind that says, "I'm scared shitless and I'll say anything to get you not to do what I think you're about to do."

Watching Stargate... a scientist has been torturing a girl to get her to tell him what he wants to know. He justifies it. He has no remorse. The agent questioning him says he just wants to beat the shit out of him.

I'm sobbing. SOME PEOPLE NEED THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF THEM.
I'm scared out of my mind. I've never thought that before. I don't want him to hurt, but dammit... I do. He raped me. He took advantage of the fact that I had no boundaries and no ability to tell him no, and he HURT me. And he blamed me for the pain he caused. And then he could just go on with his life... He didn't have to deal with the pain of flashbacks or nightmares... He didn't have to deal with the questions. He didn't have to give up everything in order to heal his life... The only thing he lost was ME, but he got to keep the rest of his life. How is that even fair? And I just want to beat the shit out of him. Or throw him in a trunk, tie him up and stand over him in just such a way that he KNOWS what it feels like to be completely powerless in his own skin.

Ah. Damn. I'm angry. REALLY angry. I hate that.
Only... crying and SAYING I'm angry... I don't feel so angry anymore.

I used to be so afraid of feeling anger. Or feeling violent. But it wasn't so bad... In fact, although those few moments of sobbing was intense, it all moved through me pretty quickly.

Interesting...
Oh, and by the way, today has been exhausting!

Do you know who think all men are rapists? Rapists do.

(Warning: If you couldn't already tell by the title, this post could be very triggering. I'm not censoring it. Stop reading now if you think you can't handle it. And if you think you can, but it triggers you, get help?? Talk to a therapist. Call a friend. Leave a comment here. Just take care of you. Thanks!)



A few days ago, a friend of mine posted this. Very well said.
It also got me thinking.
Especially after looking at all the pictures of myself as a nineteen year old...

I was married to a man who honestly believed he was kind and loving and good to me. He completely believed it when he told me, "No man will treat you as good as I treat you." and, "No one will be able to love you like I love you." and even, "No one will be as kind to you with sex as I am. You sure are lucky you have me and not someone else."

These things from the man that was violent during "sex" on day one. I spent my wedding night sobbing in the bathroom while he ranted and raved about how stupid and selfish I was:

"A man NEEDED sex, and I was his WIFE."

And when I came back to bed, because I didn't have anywhere else to go, he did it again.
These things from the man that also buried my face with a pillow during "sex". These things from a man who told me it was my fault he had to get violent, if I would just give him what he wanted, he wouldn't have to take it. These things from a man who threatened my (then twelve year old) sister because I was crying. These things from a man that also made disparaging remarks about my body. My body was fat, unattractive, vile, and disgusting to him. He was embarrassed for me to be seen in public in a bathing suit. (Might I add, I have never EVER been fat. I've struggled to keep my weight up, not the other way around.) He'd say these things before, during, and after forcing himself on and in me. These things from a man that if I didn't just lay there and let him do what he wanted, he became violent: He got sex when he wanted it and never even ASKED what I wanted, or if I wanted. Not once were my desires, wants, or preferences EVER taken into account. It was always about him. I was nothing abut a possession to gratify him... And he thought I was lucky to have someone as kind as him.

Abusers are known for saying things like what Larry said to me. I used to think they said those things as a means to control... but after reading this blog post and observing other abusers... They don't say those things to control - they honestly believe they are normal. They fully and completely believe that anyone in their situation would do what they are doing. They really do believe they are kind and wonderful and their spouse is lucky to have them. Unfortunately, I believed Larry, so when he said those things he DID control me. I believed I would never find anyone better, so I never left, and I kept right on letting him rape me. Every night. Sometimes more than once a night. For two years.

A quote from "To all those men" 

"A lot of people accuse feminists of thinking that all men are rapists. That’s not true. But do you know who think all men are rapists?

Rapists do. 

They really do. In psychological study, the profiling, the studies, it comes out again and again. Virtually all rapists genuinely believe that all men rape."

Rapists believe that all men rape. Only, they don't even think about it that much. They don't see what they are doing is rape. It is the same with all forms of abuse. Abusers believe that anyone in their situation would do what they are doing. They really, truly, honestly think that everyone else thinks and acts the way they do. Some just hide it better. They think hitting their spouse is completely justified. They believe hateful speech is okay, because (fill in the blank here. Some way to blame the other person. Or to justify what they do.) Some even believe they are being helpful.

Prairienymph wrote a blogpost a while ago:  Rapists are not Monsters. Believing that only monsters are rapists, or that you can tell who is a rapist because they are "bad people" just isn't true. I married one. I know. I loved him. He treated most people with kindness; he was incredibly charismatic; everyone else loved him too.

I have long wondered why it couldn’t be like in the movies: Bad guys are ALL bad, and good guys are ALL good. The world would be far less confusing, but it isn't that way.  By trying to classify abusers as "bad" and victims as "good", everyone gets hurt. I knew Larry was not a bad guy, so obviously, he wasn't abusing me. (WRONG!) I knew I wasn't good or perfect, so obviously, I had no room to complain. (WRONG AGAIN!)

There's a lot of emotion inside me as I write this, and I wish I was calmer so I could say it better...
Very few people set out to completely destroy the people they love, AND sometimes, in their fear, jealousy, ignorance, self-righteousness, self-centeredness, or whatever else is going on inside their heads, they still do. And most, keep right on thinking they are "normal", which means they keep on doing and saying things that really hurt the people they "love".


To most people who would rape another person, talking about it will do NO good. They believe everyone is like them, so even if you speak out against rape and abuse, they won't believe you. Deep down they know what you are REALLY thinking, REALLY feeling... and that is one of the things that make rape possible. They convince themselves that they know what the woman really wants, really needs, so even if she is crying and screaming and trying to get away, they won't even notice. They will just keep right on going, and never even see that there is a person in front of them in a lot of pain.

Larry thought he was doing me a favor. Larry thought all men would treat me like he did or worse. Larry thought I would be miserable without him. He was wrong. OH SO VERY WRONG. I am so grateful for that. SO SO SO grateful. I'm so glad that I found the courage to get out (still don't know how I was able to do that), and discover that he didn't know what he thought he knew.

The title used to be, "A question to all the bloggers out there". It should be something else now, but I don't know what...

This is a public blog. Anyone can read it. It's not anonymous, but it's not really connected to me either. Only the people who know it's here can find it.

It's a public blog, and yet I'm feeling invaded. How is that even possible? And more importantly, how do I deal with it?
Do I make the blog private so that I can still write and process the things I need to process?
Do I try to just ignore the problem?

"What's 'the problem'?" you ask. BJ's ex reads my blog. And then she sends texts and emails. In one to BJ, she pretended that the spirit had guided her... I love being The Spirit. She doesn't like what I wrote about fast offerings. She doesn't like what I've written about the church. She doesn't like that sometimes in some things, BJ and I think alike. She doesn't like what I've written about her, and wants him to get me to change what I write.

Ignoring her isn't really working. I go to write and just feel blank. Or I want to write down really angry rants about the church, or members of the church who use the church to manipulate other people, or people that say they love someone and treat them like shit, or people that abuse or control their spouses... (Kind of a, "You didn't like that? THAT was nothing. What do you think of THIS?")

I don't want this blog to be a THAT either... which also brings me to a place I came to a few months ago. What DO I want this blog to be?

This blog has been the place where I write about what I'm going through. My thoughts and feelings in the moment. Some of the anger has gone away almost as soon as I have written about it. The fear leaves as quickly as I can express that I feel fear.

So, I'll express my anger and my fear: I feel afraid of what she will say or do to BJ as a result of me speaking my mind. I'm afraid of the stories she tells her kids that affect him. I understand needing to speak her own truth - she doesn't like me. I don't really expect her to. I really don't need her to. I just don't like the way it feels watching her say hurtful things. He doesn't need me to protect him. He's perfectly capable of standing up for himself, choosing who and what he wants in his life. I just hate watching him NEED to stand up for himself against some really fucked up and abusive shit. I just wish it didn't exist. And there is still some belief that I can control other people by NOT speaking my mind. Somehow, if I can make myself stop existing - she'll be nice.

That's rather irrational. I've never been able to stop abusers from abusing. I've only been able to get myself away from it, or step in front of it to prevent someone else from getting abused. Oh. In an effort to try to protect him, and her, and the kids from having to face what IS, I've been willing to take the blame... I didn't see how it was hurting me. The truth is: My existence never made her say the things she said. She was saying hurtful things long before I was around. My existence never made her think the way she thinks. He tried to explain to her for many MANY years, and finally gave up. He started planning years ago for divorce as soon as the kids were grown and out of the house. The plan for divorce gave him the strength to stay as long as he did. My existence didn't make BJ leave, or move far away... My existence didn't make him feel so lonely that he was out looking for a friend. Someone who was willing to just listen and know HIM. My existence HAS helped him find a friend. 

Some people are really grateful I exist. Some people are really grateful for the support I have been to BJ. Some people would like me to fall of the face of the earth. Some people hate me for being a support to BJ. (Word: If you actually cared about HIM, wouldn't you be grateful that he found a friend and that he found someone who could listen to and support him, even if that wasn't YOU? If you loved him, wouldn't you want him to be happy, which would mean getting out of situations that harmed him? And when I say harmed him - I say that because HE says that. If you loved someone, wouldn't you listen to them and believe them when they tell you what they feel? What they want? If someone told me something was harming them, I'd listen... I would say, "I'm sorry I've hurt you. I don't want to do that, and I understand if talking to me isn't good for you. If anything changes let me know, but until then, I'll leave you alone.")

Like usual, this isn't the direction I was planning on going... It was supposed to be a question, but I seemed to answer the questions I didn't even know I had.

This is my blog. My thoughts. My feelings. My stories. If you don't like them, I don't understand why you're reading them. (Maybe I do understand. I compare it to a person with an eating disorder reading fashion magazines. Or me reading conference talks. I know they're going to upset me, but for a while I insisted on doing it. I'd go crazy. And everyone asked me "WHY THE HELL do you keep doing that to yourself?" I had no answer, except that I just had to. Maybe it's like that.) Sometimes I'll write about anger. Sometimes I'll write about my past. Sometimes I'll write about my present. Sometimes I'll write about how other people's stories are affecting my stories. Sometimes I'll write that I'm happy. Sometimes I'll write about fishing and horses and mountains. Sometimes I'll write about how I'm continuing to learn and grow and change. Sometimes I'll write about what I want to write about.

I'm just me. Deal with it.

Abuser's Remorse

I went to see the movie Water for Elephants last night. It would be a very appropriate thing to ask, "Jen why on earth would YOU see that movie?"

I hate movies with sex, violence, or any  kind of abuse. This movie had all of it, and I knew in advance that the movie was all about abuse. I just felt like I HAD to see it, so I did.

I'm probably about to spoil the whole movie, so if you don't want to know what happens, stop reading here.

Malena was a lost child. She met August, he took her in, taught her how to be a circus star, and married her. All throughout the movie, she talks about how there is nothing else for her. Her whole world is the circus and August, but he is violent, mean, and nasty to her, the workers at the circus, and the animals.

There were two scenes that were meaningful (for lack of a better word).
The first was at the end. In a fit of rage, August was strangling his wife. I've been through that. I remember the look in his eyes while he was pulling my scarf tighter and tighter around my neck. I also remember the look in his eyes when he seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. It was hard to watch, because it brought it all back.

The other was after August beat the elephant nearly to death. The circus vet, Jacob, goes to August's tent. August is visibly upset. Near tears. When Jacob walked in, he seemed remorseful and apologetic, but as I listened closer, there was no remorse.

"She'll never forgive me for this. If she leaves, I'll lose my star attraction. I'll lose everything! Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her the elephant is okay. Fix this for me."

It wasn't remorse - it was fear. I'm only sorry, because I don't want MY life to change. I'll do anything... but actually stop being a mean, violent, controlling man... I just don't want to have to face the consequences of my actions. I'm so sorry I got caught.

People often talk about the cycle of abuse:

(Abuse - Apology/Honeymoon - Build Up - Abuse)

I remember asking Bishops and therapists when I would know if the apology was "real" vs. just part of the abuse cycle. I also remember when the apology finally felt real. The real apology was not about telling anyone else he was sorry. It wasn't about his fear. It wasn't about how I "made" him do that to me. 

The "real" apology was, "I'm so sorry I've hurt you. I hope for your sake, you can forgive me and move past this, but I don't expect anything from you. I understand that you may never be able to trust me again. I want you to be happy, and if that means we can't be together because of what I've done, so be it. What can I do to help you heal?"

That apology has meant all the difference to me. As I watch others go through very painful separations and divorces, I wonder how I lucked out. He knows I keep this blog. He knows I sometimes talk about him. He knows that many people may hate him for what he did to me, and he's never asked me not to write. I don't know if that is healthy for him or not, but I am very grateful.

I can't know for sure what another person is feeling, or what their motivation is. I CAN know what I feel when they apologize. For years, after an incident, he'd apologize and I'd feel shutdown rather than loved. I felt hurt rather than healed. That was a sign TO ME that something wasn't right. 

Its been a rather intense day for me as I've faced emotions, memories, old beliefs, and current thoughts. 

Now its time for some Pawn Stars and razzleberry pie (with ice cream of course)!

Angry Song

One of my favorite things is playing the piano while others sing. One of my brother, Justin's, favorite things is to sing. I spend many Sundays at my parents' house for dinner, and I usually play the piano while Justin sings.

Here is my angry song.
Justin's voice. The pounding on the piano. The lyrics.
When I'm angry, there is just no better therapy than this.

Lyrics: The Facade from Jekyll and Hyde
There's a face that we wear
In the cold light of day -
It's society's mask,
It's society's way,
And the truth is
That it's all a facade!

There's a face that we hide Till the nighttime appears,
And what's hiding inside, Behind all of our fears,
Is our true self,
Locked inside the facade!

Every day
People, in their own sweet way,
Like to add a coat of paint,
And be what they ain't!

That's how our little - Game is played,
Livin' like a masquerade
Actin' a bizarre charade -
While playing the saint!

But there's one thing I know,
And I know it for sure:
This disease that we've got
Has got no ready cure!
And I'm certain
Life is terribly hard -
When your life's a facade!

Look around you!
I have found You cannot tell, by lookin' at the surface,
What is lurkin' there beneath it!
See that face!
Now, I'm prepared to bet you,
What you see's not what you get -
'Cause man's a master of deceit !

So, what is the sinister secret?
The lie he will tell you is true? -
It's that each man you meet
In the street
Isn't one man but two!

Nearly everyone you see -
Like him an' her, An' you, an' me - Pretends to be
A pillar of society - A model for propriety - Sobriety
An' piety - Who shudders at the thought Of notoriety!

The ladies an' gents 'ere before you -
Which none of 'em ever admits -
May 'ave saintly looks -
But they're sinners an' crooks!

Hypocrites! Hypocrites!

There are preachers who kill!
There are killers who preach!
There are teachers who lie!
There are liars who teach!
Take yer pick, dear -
"Cause it's all a facade!

If we're not one, but two,
Are we evil or good?
Do we walk the fine line -
That we'd cross if we could?
Are we waiting -
To break through the facade?

One or two
Might look kinda well-to-do -
Hah! They're bad as me an' you,
Right down to they're boots!

I'm inclined to think -
Half mankind
Thinks the other half is blind!
Wouldn't be surprise to find -
They're all in cahoots!

At the end of the day,
They don't mean what they say,
They don't say what they mean,
They don't ever come clean -
And the answer -
Is it's all a facade!
Is it's all a facade!
Man is not one, but two,
He is evil and good,
An' he walks the fine line
We'd all cross if we could!

It's a nightmare -
We can never discard -
So we stay on our guard -
Though we love the facade -
What's behind the facade?
Look behind the facade!

Doesn't he have an awesome voice?? I'm such a proud sister.

The Scream

Back when I was inpatient, and I had group therapy a million times a day, we had a group where the therapist decided to practice "scream therapy".

He had each of us find a spot in the room. Then told us to scream our hearts out. I could not do it. Not a peep came out of my lips. I actually covered my ears, closed my eyes, and curled up in a ball. The sound, the emotions, and my own desire to scream was too much for me.

I spent a lot of time in the mountains. I WANTED to scream. I felt like if I could just scream loud enough and long enough, all the pain would get out of me. When I was out with Sunny and BJ, I'd try. I'd yell and swear, but there was something about screaming that was too... primal... for me.

This afternoon, BJ got an email from his son. BJ asked, "If you sister was being beaten by her husband, what would you counsel her to do?" He only read one line to me, and it was too much.

I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
No swear words. No words at all. Just a scream from deep inside.

Don't talk about the abuse. Don't tell anyone that he beats you. Don't share the secrets. Protect him. Protect the marriage.

I BELIEVED this. I BELIEVED that to use my voice to share what happened to me was wrong. I WAS WRONG. My voice is the only thing I can use. My voice is the only power I have to stop abuse. (That and my ability to walk away from the abuse.)

It turns out, I can scream. Really loud and really long.

(And if I were answering the question, What counsel would you give your sister? I'd tell her to get out. Leave. Then sort out the whys and what-fors. Once she is away, THEN decide if the relationship is worth working for. If it has gotten to the point of abuse, there is A LOT that she is going to have to learn and fight through. It won't just go away, and she needs a lot of help and support. That said, each person has their own journey... I would want my sister to know she is loved. No. Matter. What.)

guilt = inward anger = depression. Solution = put the anger where it belongs.

Redefining Rape

For purposes of abortions, the GOP wants to redefine rape. Only those who were forcibly raped (verses date raped, drugged, coerced, etc.) will get money.

In my mind, the definition of rape should be moving to be MORE inclusive, not less. I posted a link to a petition along with this quote on facebook.

"Bruises and broken bones do not define rape - a lack of consent does.I could have fought him harder, and I would be bruised, broken, and possibly dead, but I chose not to. I chose to survive. Don't make me pay more for that choice than I already do."

And now I'm panicking.

What will they think of me? Will people blame me? Will people think I'm lying? Will people think I'm dirty? or that I should have fought him to the death (thank you SWK!) or... how can I even say I was raped? I was married after all... and when I fought him, he really hurt me, but since most of the time I didn't fight... And withholding sex from him isn't right... But the more I learn about healthy sexual relationships - it wasn't sex he ever wanted from me. That would require two equals, and I wasn't an equal. Not ever.

I have never had to go through the pain of stranger rape. But I HAVE known what it was like to have that stolen from me. That I didn't matter as much as his violent urges.

I don't care what the government's definition was or is. It was wrong. I believed I HAD to do what he wanted, but I didn't. And if laws can protect other people from going through the hell, I will fight for those laws!

Let it go

One of the things that people say about anger is to "Let it go."
You have to let the anger go and forgive. Its good advice, but most people don't actually MEAN "let it go". Most people mean, "Repress it, shove it away and don't talk about it."

"Let it go" means I won't be able to control it. "Let it go" means that I let whatever is going to happen, happen. "Let it go" means I stop hanging on to it and actually "let it go".

If I am holding on to a wild tiger. I don't want to let go, because it might hurt me. I'm scared to death. However, once I let it go, it leaves. The tiger doesn't want to hang around - it wants to go home. I could put it in a cage, but then I have to take care that it stays in its cage... If I let it go, I take the chance that it might hurt me...

That's what anger is like. I could put it in a cage, but then I have to work hard to keep it in its cage. It doesn't like its cage. It wants to be free. It doesn't even want to hang around me... So, I let it go.

It lashes out for a moment, until it realizes its free, and it goes away.

So, don't tell me to let it go, unless you actually mean let it go.
And, don't tell me to repress it, because I won't listen anyway...

Would you believe me if I said prayers are answered?

I'm not sure who this person is... The one that I am becoming... But sometimes she SCARES me.

Sunday dinner. I've been going every week since I moved out when I was eighteen. When I got married at nineteen, I brought the hubby along. When I got divorced, I went alone. When I started dating, I brought the boyfriend along until he was the hubby, and then we went together. There are certain things I say, and certain things I don't say. Only this week, I said the things that I don't say.

I'm questioning the church.
I got a text from a "dear friend" saying he was concerned about me, and asked me to please read Alma 30, as he thought there were parallels in my life. Silly me. I read it. And guess what? There were parallels.

It turns out I'm an anti-Christ. I believe more of what Korihor said than what Alma said.
I shared that with my parents.
Then I went on to tell them that I thought President Monson is a very arrogant man.
AND that trying to live this "gospel" is making me miserable.
I have had TWO bishops tell me that going to church isn't good for me. They told me to stop coming. I had a really hard time listening to them. I felt so guilty...
My dad asked if there was anything about meetings that is good.

"No. Well... sometimes I really like pointing out to people that what they are saying is really wrong... but I don't think that counts, does it?"

Who the hell is this person?

At that moment, food was ready, time to eat. Conversation over. There was more I would have liked to say, but I'm also really glad I didn't:
The two bishops that said, "Don't come," were really good for me. I was dying, and they showed they cared more about me than a stupid church. Unfortunately, Campbell got released and this new guy is just like all of the other stupid drones. Quoting shit at me while never listening to a word (or might I add the spirit).

Paul and BJ have both shared the thought that maybe he was called to be bishop FOR me. I was struggling with doing what was best for me (not going), and once he was called, no more struggle. Easy.

I've never felt good reading the scriptures. There are parts and quotes that I really like, but... a testimony that these things really happened and they were really translated... I don't know. Overall, I've never gotten that warm, fuzzy feeling. The only feeling I have felt is a lessening of guilt, because I was actually doing what I was supposed to be doing.

I find peace when I read things about Buddha, and the ideas expressed there seem more true than what I hear at church. I like the way I feel when I read what Thich Nhat Hanh has to say.

As I was leaving, my mom said, "You are a GOOD person. Don't let anyone tell you you aren't."
Should I have shared with her that I don't believe in good and bad? Probably good that I didn't.

I came home a MESS. Oh dear, what have I done? Stressing 'cause I said too much. Stressing 'cause I didn't say enough. Wondering if I said what I was really feeling or was I just being ruled by emotions. (I'm angry... and I know it.) Will they hate me? Will my mom be sad? Will my dad be mad?

Those last three questions, "Will they hate me? Will my mom be sad? Will my dad be mad?"
Seems those three things still RULE my life. With an iron fist.
I'm a five-year-old little girl terrified to tell them what happened, what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, etc. because my mom will be sad and my dad will be mad.

I don't want to live like that anymore.
I don't want them to be mad or sad, but... I won't try to control their emotions anymore.

The back and forth inside my head was maddening. I got the sudden and strange idea to listen to Beethoven's 9th Symphony. The first three movements sounded like chaos to me. I cried, because I felt the music pounding in my crazy head. Then it got to the last movement. "Ode to Joy"

"O friends, no more these sounds! Let us sing more cheerful songs, more full of joy!
Thy magic power re-unites
All that custom has divided,
All men become brothers
Under the sway of thy gentle wings.

Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,
All who can call at least one soul theirs,
Join in our song of praise!"

I think my life is currently in the first movement. Its loud and chaotic and... well... messy sounding.
I look forward to getting the 4th movement. FEELING that joy and that peace...
Being ME, no matter what that looks like.

thinking, praying, pondering, reading, studying, wondering, feeling, hoping, yelling, screaming, crying

I'm spending a lot of time thinking, praying, pondering, reading, studying, wondering, feeling, hoping, yelling, screaming, crying... and well... I'm trying to figure out what to do about the church.

I don't go anymore. Its not good for me. But I still can't get away from it.

I'm angry at the things that have been said to me. I'm angry at the things I was taught. I'm angry that when I try to talk about it, people excuse it... tell me I'm the one that has misinterpreted things, I'm the one that is wrong, only... the thing is, I have seen lots of other people "misinterpret" what has been said come to the same damn conclusions I did. Telling me its my problem (and therefore no one else has to take any responsibility) is not okay with me. I have been taking responsibility for a lot of people's shit for a long time, and I just won't do it anymore... even if the person dishing the shit is "called of God".
Like I said, I'm angry.

There are things about the church that have brought me comfort. I don't want to throw those things away. Some of the talks and quotes from church have been helpful. Some of the quotes and talks from other places have been helpful too, but I don't go around thinking that Wyatt Webb speaks for God. Wyatt Webb speaks for Wyatt Webb, and he says some things that ring true for me. I believe in truth. I don't care where it comes from.

I believe in God and miracles. I have seen amazing things happen in my life that I can't explain. I have had strength given to me that was not my own. I feel a connection to the world around me and to some people that I can only describe as a spiritual connection. I have felt guided in ways that again, I just can't explain.

I can see the value in many teachings of the church. Word of Wisdom. Makes sense... especially since I have so many addictions already... But then, my addictions aren't covered in the Word of Wisdom... Fasting is supposed to be a really good thing for the spirit... When they talk about addictions in the church, it usually triggers the hell out of me. They talk about having self-control and not giving in to wants and desires. My addictions have always been about self-denial. Drugs didn't phase me... starving myself was much better.

I don't believe that the church authorities are speaking for God, because then I would be angry at God, and I don't wanna be. I don't believe in a God that says trials are for my own damn good and I should be grateful for them. I don't believe in a God that insists that I take abuse, because that is what Christ did. I don't believe in a God that sits in judgment of me (or anyone else).

I still have a lot of questions, but I no longer believe that I will find answers only if I am obedient to self-serving shitheads.

I'll be true to myself, and that is when I will find answers.

So, what am I trying to say here?
I'm finding what works for me.
I'm taking the things that I like, and leaving the rest behind.
No one is going to like everything that I choose... And I don't want them to.
Choose what works for you. And go with it.

All I can do is be honest with what I think, what I feel, who I am in THIS moment.

Sink or Swim, I'm jumping in.

I'm not quite sure how to describe what is happening... My life... is being guided by a perfect hand... I can't see it. It doesn't seem to fit what I always thought was "right" but... it is.

Two years ago, I told Paul I wasn't "strong enough to do this on my own". I didn't know what I meant. I knew Dann and I needed to separate so I could find me again. I knew our relationship was toxic to both of us. I thought I was talking about how I wasn't strong enough to leave him, because the eating disorder would take over. It might have... but that is not what I meant.

I wasn't strong enough to stand up for what I felt was right. I wasn't strong enough to feel the anger that I needed to feel. I wasn't strong enough to force myself to separate. I wasn't strong enough to lay down any sort of boundaries. I wasn't strong enough to see what work needed to be done. I wasn't strong enough to tell Dann what was hurting me. I wasn't strong enough to see how much the crap from my past was effecting me.

I couldn't make good choices, because I didn't allow myself a choice. There were so many "have-to's". So, I went inpatient.

I was so blessed to have the protection of CFC to get me going. Then I had the protection of BJ to continue healing. Then I had the apartment and Bishop Campbell.

And finally, two years later, I have done enough work to get to the starting place...

Marty told BJ that the process of healing is the same process whether you choose to stay together or divorce. That makes so much sense. But I couldn't even begin this process until I found me... I'm closer than I have ever been.

I told Dann that I wanted to hang out today, but I wanted to be home before 8:00... I felt like I needed to limit the time I spent with him. That time was a bit arbitrary, but I picked it because it felt good enough.

Dann asked if that was flexible.

I felt violated. I felt so guilty for even proposing the boundary. I felt like he didn't listen to me. I felt... CRAZY! I understand that my reaction was a little overdone and dramatic. I am so not used to standing up for what I want. Even expressing it. That I honestly feel like I have done something horrible... His questions made it feel even worse, because I wasn't sure if I was being unreasonable with my request. I found myself thinking I should make it up to him for even THINKING about wanting to go home before he wanted me to...

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought...

And, yet... I can do this. I wasn't strong enough two years ago. I am strong enough now.

I don't want to hear the "crazy voice" come from me ever again. (The one where I start saying things like, "If I am just nice enough." "Its ok. He didn't mean to hurt me." "I'll be stronger, and I'll learn how to just take it.")

I will do what it takes to change me.

Finally

Abuse.
I didn't know how damaging it was until I listened to BJ talk. I heard the insanity in his voice, his words, but the part that was most horrifying: I heard it in his heart and soul.

It felt like I had been slapped in the face.
I was looking in a mirror. I didn't like what I saw. Not at all. I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be the person that takes it, and thinks its my fault. I don't want to be the person that thinks she can fix it if she is just nice enough, understanding enough, kind enough, strong enough, good enough...

The anger I felt for Ginger? I think finally I am seeing how a healthy person would feel towards abuse. For the first time EVER I have no attachment to the abuser. I felt pure anger. Its not that I wanted to hurt her. Or break things. Or anything violent. I just wanted the abuse to stop.

For the first time EVER, I didn't think about how she felt, or tried to understand why she was hurting him, or... I just felt angry.

With my dad, I could see WHY. I knew it wasn't right, but I couldn't see any other option. He was supposed to teach Jeff. He was supposed to show him the right way. And if Jeff refused to listen... what else could he do?

With Jeff, my dad was mean. It made sense he would be mean to Zack, or my mom, or even me sometimes. It wasn't his fault. I didn't like it. I HATED it, but what else could he do?

With Johnny, with Larry, with Dann, with Amy, with Katie, with people at school, with Brother Sackett, with my family, with the boys at the group home, all of them... what else could they do?

I don't know. I don't know what they could have done.
And it doesn't even matter.

Today, I am angry.
Not at me. For the first time in forever, not at me.

Finally. Not at me.