To my family: Thank you for making me SO wrong.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of what it must have been like to be my friend a few years ago...
I forced myself to go to church. It made me crazy. I was a mess of anxiety leading up to it, and then a slightly different kind of mess after it. BJ would ask me every single week, "Why do you do this to yourself? You don't have to go. Just stop. It's hurting you, so stop."

My reply was always, "I HAVE to. What will people think of me? It will hurt my family if I don't go. It would be better that I was dead than to not be what they want me to be," and I'd keep on doing what I thought everyone else wanted me to do. He never told me not to. I know it killed him to watch me constantly putting myself in that situation, but he let me find my own way.

In the meantime, I kept finding evidence that I was right: My family would disown me if I didn't do what they wanted. They never came right out and said, "If you are honest about who you are, it will hurt us," but I believed it. I can only imagine how it would have messed me up if they had said it. I couldn't handle the thought of hurting them or making them unhappy, so I'd keep trying to please everyone else, while slowly killing myself. I made myself crazy trying to live the life everyone else wanted me to live.

And then one day, I got it. I made the decision that I was not going to let fear or guilt run my life. People that tried to use fear or guilt to manipulate me were just gone. I didn't talk to them anymore. If a situation felt manipulative, I walked out. I got it.

I stopped going to church. I got honest. I told my family and some friends how I really feel, and who I want to be, and who I am deep down inside. It didn't create the hell I thought it would - in fact exactly the opposite happened.

I found REAL relationships. REAL love. My family is amazing.
I have had some friends call me to repentance and tell me how much I am hurting myself and others by not doing what THEY think I should. Fuck them. I don't need them in my life, because I know what it feels like to have REAL love. (ok. not fuck them. More like... goodbye, I'll miss you. I'm here to be your friend if you ever change.)

I don't know why my family got it. HOW they got it, because I know that many MANY members of the church do NOT get it. They keep right on being manipulative, controlling, emotionally abusive people. They keep right on hurting the ones they "love" in the name of "love". And most of them never see it. They don't even have a clue of the pain they are causing.

I tried to explain this to my parents and sister once. My mom kept telling me that, "I can't imagine saying those kinds of things to someone I love. EVER," She thought she was normal, and the stories of the things people have said (and continue to say) to my friends are odd.


"I'm not that amazing... Most people would have handled things the way I handled things."

No. Mom. They don't.

Here are some of the amazing things my family did that most won't do.

My records are currently in my parents' ward, because they couldn't find me... When the clerk asked my sister why they were there. She told them, honestly, exactly why, "Jen isn't a part of the church, doesn't want to be, and it's just better if her records stay here. She doesn't want them where she is living." I cried when she told me, because that means... She is listening to ME. She doesn't have some preconceived notion of what is best for me, she isn't trying to control me or change me or to get my bishop to get me back to church. She cares about ME enough to hear ME.

I was visiting my parents when their bishopric stopped by.
I was in the kitchen, from the living room my mom shouted, "Oh. HI Bishopric!" It was a message to me, "Jen, the bishopric are here. I know how much these guys could possibly freak you out. Don't know how to handle it other than to just let you know by shouting it out, and emphasizing it awkwardly." I froze in the kitchen, waited a bit, and then I left. As soon as they were gone, my mom called me and we laughed at it all. This doesn't seem like much to my mom, but it is HUGE to anyone that has left the church. Most people don't treat us with that much respect.

(Incidentally, the bishopric were coming because my sister's father-in-law talked to the bishopric to get them to go reactivate his son. My parents are not just awesome when it comes to me... They are also awesome when it comes to their son-in-law. To the bishopric they said, "Actually, this is exactly the problem. His parents can't figure out how to stop being controlling, crazy people, and they keep pulling stunts like this one in order to get him to do what they think he should. If he decides to go back to church, we'll all support him. In the meantime... just let him be.")

My dad and I have had many discussions. We talk openly. He's aware that he can't answer many of my questions, so he doesn't try. We just talk about them... And in the end, he always says, "I love you, and I trust you," and I think he really means it. I FEEL that from him. He has told me he totally supports me not going to church, because he wants me to love ME, and the church just gets in my way. He knows me, and loves me, and it still makes me cry happy tears when I think about it.

My youngest brother posted this on my facebook wall, "So apparently there's a guy that used to work at BYU who is working on a documentary about being gay and Mormon, called "Far Between" It's not out yet, but it seemed like something you'd be interested in." I am aware of the documentary, I even know the man that he is talking about. (I even considered submitting my story of being asexual for it, but I don't think I will.) What amazed me is that he is paying attention to things that interest me. I care deeply about LGBT rights, and he knows it. Again... he may not understand how impressive that is, but I want him to know... That's impressive.

On Thanksgiving, I was nervous about seeing extended family. (As it turns out, I didn't have to be. My dad didn't want me to have to deal with awkward questions... He told my grandparents I've left the church, and told them I was happier. He told them he supported me and my decisions. And he wasn't just saying it, he MEANS it. Do you know how amazing THAT is?) I was trying to get more honest with my extended family, so I talked to my grandma about fishing and riding on Sundays. I talked about my roommate BJ, and she remembered meeting him. He and my grandpa talked about fly-fishing. As I was leaving, my GRANDMA  just said, "You are happy, so you must be doing something right, just keep on being happy."

In the process, before I left, I was not happy. I was miserable. It is hard to face the possibility that I might lose everything if I am true to myself. I questioned whether it was really worth it. If I had known the kind of people that I have surrounding me, I wouldn't have had to question. Unfortunately, in the process of leaving, you don't know the kind of people you have in your life until you've stepped out and been honest, and then they show you. You have to face the fear of losing them before you can make the choice that might make them leave you.

As I've shared my life with my brothers, I've been surprised to hear them say, "I just want you to be happy," and they mean it.

I believed for so long that when people told me they "just wanted me to be happy" what they really meant was, "I want you to be happy as long as you do it my way." There ARE a lot of people like that in this world. The church can create that idea. (There is only ONE TRUE way to happiness, so if you aren't doing what *I* think you should be doing, you're not happy... even if you think you are. I just want you to be happy, so do what I tell you to do, and if that doesn't make you happy, then repent.)

These are just a few examples... I have stories like these happen all the time. It is more than just what they do, it is who they are and how they treat me ALL the time. (Hard to explain, but I'll try.) My parents actually mean what they say. They really do love me and trust me. I know the way my extended family is treating me is directly related to the wonderful way my parents are treating me. Their love and respect is making all of the difference in the world. I couldn't make them do that. I didn't get to choose their reaction, but if I DID get to choose, it would have been exactly like this.



I suppose what I want to say is, "Thank you."
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for not getting caught up in the stories. Thank you for trusting me to live my own life. Thank you for not trying to change me. Thank you for accepting me. Thank you. Sometimes, I'm still afraid of what you'll think of me, and I'm still afraid you won't love me... and yet, you have never left me. Thank you. Thank you for wanting ME in your lives. Thank you for not expecting me to continue to wear the mask or pretend in any way. Thank you for listening when I hurt. Thank you for being there with me through my confusion, and thank you for not thinking you know the way my confusion should be resolved. Because of you, my angry phase was much MUCH shorter than it could have been. I didn't have to get really angry to get out. I could leave (somewhat) quietly. I didn't have to fight against you in order to live my life. I thought I would. I was geared up for a big battle. I was geared up to lose everything. Thank you for making me SO wrong.

I love you. I am so grateful for you.

I love this horse.

I was feeling SO anxious. Nothing was calming me down.

"I think your horse needs you to go out and brush him. Ride him around the pasture bareback for a while."

And within seconds of BJ's suggestion, I had my boots on and was out the door. A few minutes later, he brought me a coat (I was freezing, but hadn't even noticed!)and took my picture.

Aaaaaah. I feel so much better.
Calm.

Alligator Jaws

I woke up this morning feeling, "Less than."

Less than what?
EVERYTHING!

Lunch with Dann, talking about it, he said,

"You feel 'less than' when you are trying to run from or avoid a problem. Its like the alligator jaws."

The what?

"You know, in math, the greater than/less than signs. The alligator jaws. When you face them... you are greater than. When you are trying to run away from them or hide from them, you are less than."

Example:
i < (i'm hiding from the alligator)
i > (i'm facing the alligator, and i'm going to win!)

...He's actually really smart, now, WHAT AM I TRYING TO AVOID? (Just kidding. I know what I'm trying to avoid. You'll all read about it soon enough.)

Just the way you are

This is me being lighthearted. Reminding myself of the beautiful world that I live in. The next post (if I actually finish it) is a heavy one for me. But this one... I love sign language. And I love this song. Enjoy!

No such thing as worthy

A few weeks ago, I was struggling. I talked to my amazing friend, Jen. We went through some visualization, and the picture that kept looming before me was the temple. I was frustrated. I kept trying to figure out why I would feel like I needed that in my life, but I also hate it. I was miserable there. I made life miserable for everyone else whenever I had to go there. (And by "had to" I mean I forced myself to go.)

With her help, I found the word, "worthy". The temples means I am worthy. I am worth it.

When I was 17, and only barely alive, my mom had a dream. She saw me in the temple in a wedding dress, and she knew everything was going to be okay. When I was 19, and getting married in the temple, she reminded me of her dream. She was so happy that I had finally "made it".

Before I got married, I knew that's what people around me felt. I KNEW that if I just made it to the temple, all of their heartache, their money, their time, their prayers would be worth it. *I* would be worth it.

Jen said something perfect: "It sounds to me like all of those old beliefs are DESPERATE for you to let go of them, so why are you still holding on so tightly?"

Well, fuck. I don't know.
Because I wanted to be worth it. I wanted to be loved. Being in a place I love. In the relationships I love. Feeling happy and fulfilled and GOOD, those things just aren't "good enough" if I'm not worthy.

Since that conversation, and even IN that conversation, I let go of that old belief. I am not worthy, because I go to the temple. I am worthy, because I am me. I am not worthy because I am in a marriage, or because my life looks like it "should" to anyone else... I am good. No because needed.

Back in my own truth, in the reality that there is no such thing as "worthy", I find the world to be a beautiful place. I see the perfection that is every friendship I have in my life. I see the perfection that is every situation in my life. I see the joy that is to be found in every second.

I was reminded of what it is like to live in the other world again yesterday.
I was talking to a friend. He REALLY wants to be married. He made the comment, "Why is it so hard? Why can't two people just say, 'I like you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.' I just want to move on with my life."

It sounded so familiar.
But not the way I live my life now.
Trying to find someone to "share the rest of my life with" is HARD. Trying to find a friend to talk to today; Who enjoys spending time together; Who loves me: That's easy. I have a lot of friendships like that. I have a lot of friendships that are absolutely perfect. But I wouldn't have even SEEN these amazing and perfect friendships back when I had only one goal:


If marriage is the only way to "move on with my life", then I can't appreciate the perfection that IS right now. I am feeling grateful for the things I've learned in the past few years. I'm feeling grateful that I no longer feel that pressure.

I feel grateful for all that is today.

Asexual Awareness Week

I'm not tied to the label asexual. However, I am very much tied to the idea that every single one of us has the right to define who we are, who we want to be, how we want each of our relationships to look like. I don't believe I have the right to tell another adult how to live their lives, and I also believe no one else has the right to tell me how to live my life.

I haven't found another label that fits better than asexual as a sexual orientation.
Sexual Orientation isn't about what you do, it's about what you want. Gay men get married to women and have sex, but that doesn't change their orientation... ummm... unless it does... unless they start WANTING to have sex with women. I don't know if that ever happens. It probably does... to some... whatever.

Last week was Asexual Awareness Week. I didn't know. If I had, I would have written about it last week. I just read this blog post today, and it made me cry. It felt so validating. I felt understood. Not alone.

Asexual does NOT equal broken. It doesn't mean I'm disordered, crazy, or that I need to "fix" anything about myself. It means I don't want to have sex. And the only reason me not wanting to have sex is a problem is if someone else wants me to have sex with them... and if someone else wants me to have sex EVEN WHEN I DON'T, that's a problem. (ok... they can want it all day long... it's when they expect me to do something about their wanting it that would be a problem.)

I really appreciated this quote:

“It’s long past time to redefine intimacy,” Brooks argues. “The word ‘intimacy’ conjures up a candle-lit room and a steamy sex scene, but I believe this definition limits greatly our intimate capacity as humans. In fact, I reject entirely the idea that intimacy should be synonymous with sex. Intimacy is tied to a much deeper set of emotions that guide every part of our lives. Intimacy feeds our humanity by connecting us with the people around us. It is the foundation for empathy, compassion, and love. Sex is one way of expressing intimacy — but intimacy should not be summed up as sex and sexual acts.”

Anyway, just check it out?? You might learn something you never knew you wanted to know.

Cowboy Church

I've spent the last few days at the Cowboy Poetry Gathering. This is my third year going... The first year, I spent just a few minutes. I went to the Mustang Makeover Competition, and then wandered over to the end of the gathering... I didn't see much, but I was intrigued.

Last year, I went and spent a little more time. I talked to the fiddler from Prickly Pair, and he encouraged me to never put the violin in the case. "If you just leave it out, you'll pay a ton more." I followed that advice, and he's right. I pick it up when I have just a few minutes and I play around. When it's in the case, I don't take the time to get it out...
(This is Prickly Pair playing my favorite song. I LOVE the fiddle part, and the words are awesome too.)



Over the past year, I found myself looking forward to November... Just because of this event. (Generally speaking, I HATE November. I don't know why, but if I ever fall apart, it has been in November. And then it has taken me six months to put myself back together. To find myself looking forward to November felt very strange.)

It's hard to describe how much I enjoy the gathering. Listening to the poems, stories and music, I feel like... I feel... the way other people describe how they feel going to church. Uplifted. Happy. Like I belong. A part of something. Touched. Loved. Inspired.

It was amazing to me how people could tell stories of losing loved ones, and bring tears to my eyes, and the next story is titled, "I don't look good in a speedo anymore." and I was rolling on the floor laughing.

I love watching fiddles. I play the violin, and have for many years, but my passion, my DREAM is to play the fiddle. After watching all of the amazing musicians this weekend, I have been inspired. I pulled out my book of "How to learn to play double stops" again, and I WILL learn. (Double stops is when you play two notes at the same time on the violin. Pretty important in fiddling.) I don't know what it is about the violin and fiddling... I have been in love with the violin since I was only three. (I don't remember it, but my mom has told me stories of going to hear a violinist, and then begging her for a violin until I was eight. I played in my first orchestra when I was in second grade.)

I love the lyrics to the songs, and the subject of the stories. People talk of their love for horses, land, and nature. They speak of God in terms of the beauty around them. They understand what it's like to love a horse and to have been saved by a horse. I don't have to try to describe how I feel watching Sunny just walk around the pasture, because they already know.

Everyone just seems comfortable as themselves. Some people get all decked out in their shiny boots and beaver hats. I go in my riding boots. The ones that are dirty and scuffed and well-used. Everyone just wears what they want to wear, and it feels good to be around that. I like being around people who are comfortable with themselves.

I enjoyed the "Impact of the Horse" competition. Trainers working with their horses, then showing off the relationship they have. I have worked with Sunny - we're a great partnership out on the trail, but seeing what people and their horses can do together amazes me. Every year, I have left the competition wanting to learn how to work with a Mustang, because I SO want to do that someday.

I loved watching BJ talk with the harmonica player, Gary, and getting personal instruction. Here's Gary playing. He's just awesome to watch. (This song doesn't show off his harmonica much, but I do love the words...)



At the end of the show Saturday night, I loved that the crowd was smaller... I was sitting close to the stage, and Nancy (of Katy Creek) said something to me from stage during the sound checks. After they were done performing, she came to find me.

"You have a twinkle in your eye. Like you know more than the rest of us.... You're just a bit ahead. Like you know the punchline before I tell the joke, or the end to every story. There's just something amazing about you - I hope I get to see you more soon."

I cried. Happy tears. I would have loved to talk more, but she was rushing off to her next show. She gave me her email address, and said to keep in touch. I wonder what HER story is. How amazing she is that she took the time to find me and tell me what she saw.

(Here's Kate Creek. It's old. They have a fiddler playing with them now, but it's the best video I could find.)



There were also a ton of awesome vendors. My favorites were the artists. Paintings, drawings, sculptures, wood carvings... I found myself wanting to be a millionaire. I would fill my world with all of those beautiful pieces.

hey you.

I did it!

There has only been one assignment from therapy that I didn't do. I tried. I went to the massage therapy school on more than one occasion... But I never could go through with it. (I couldn't even go to the place with the CHAIR massagers because it freaked me out so much way back then.)

I did it today. I got a massage.
I went to a professional place - not the school, because I wanted someone who had been doing it for a while who wouldn't freak out if I did. That cost me more money, but I decided it was worth it for a good therapy session.

Trent was awesome. A DUDE. A GUY gave me a massage.
I wore a tanktop and shorts, because that's what *I* was comfortable with.
He asked what I wanted, and at first I was going to say, "Deep tissue". I stopped myself, and instead said, "I have PTSD from sexual trauma." (Deep tissue would have been easier for me to handle - the more painful the better... But it wouldn't have brought the same healing as what happened next.)

He nodded and said, "I know exactly what to do."
He made sure I knew to let him know if at any moment I was overwhelmed, and we'd stop immediately.
He put his hands on my back. I started to cry and shake. He just kept his hands in the same spot until my physical reaction passed. No more shaking or crying. Then he moved to the next spot and we started all over.

There were a few spots that brought very specific memories/thoughts.
One, "Why can't he just love me?" and then after a few seconds, "He does." (don't ask me who he is, I don't know.)
Another, "Please don't hurt me." and then, "I won't." (again I don't know who I is, but I don't need to know.)
There were specific memories that seemed to pass through me in the same easeful way.
I also had the thought at one point, "I can't wait to tell Paul (my old therapist)! He'll be so excited." 

It surprised me that my most strong reactions came when he touched my feet. Feet? Why? I don't know. But he did the same thing there as everywhere else.


He ended by massaging my head and neck a bit.
It was not a pleasurable experience, and at the same time... It was perfect. Exactly what I needed.
I'm glad I didn't push myself to go earlier, because by letting myself be ready, it went so much better. If I had forced myself, or white knuckled through it, it just couldn't have been this awesome.

My mom and I

This morning, talking to my parents, I got the question, "How do people even find your blog? I've tried searching, and I can't find you."

I explained I have made it so you can't find the blog by searching for me, but if you search abuse, or church, or the name of it you can find it... and then paused, "Wait, you've searched for my blog? Why?"

My mom wanted to read it. All of this time, I thought she'd never asked to read it because she didn't want to. I talk about it to her, to my dad, and we've had several discussions about it... But she's never asked for the link, or if she could read it, or why I haven't sent it to her.

When I first started this blog, I wanted it to be public but anonymous. I don't really feel that need anymore. I do understand that I am talking about very sensitive and intense subjects. I'm telling my stories, and I don't want to subject anyone to my stories that doesn't WANT them. I admit, I used to feel sad that my mom didn't want to know my stories...I got over it. I hadn't even thought about it for a long time.

Which is what makes this so ironic... She was feeling sad that I "didn't want her to read it", and I was feeling sad that she "didn't want to read it." Heh. Sometimes my mom and I are so much alike it's silly.


So, now... everyone welcome mis padres... my parents now read this here blog. Which is awesome.

The poker game

A good friend of mine wrote this blog post, and I think she hit it spot on.

I especially love her analogy of the poker game.
"I would compare it to a round of poker.  “Genetics deals the cards, environment determines the number/skill of your opponents, and you play the hand.”

I also love this:
"In other words, don’t obsess about your body in front of children. Don’t encourage them to try fad diets.  And, of course, eat cake at their birthday parties.  Your children will thank you."

Only, I doubt your children will thank you, because they won't know any other reality. They will just know what it was like to have parents that eat birthday cake. They won't know that some people don't get to enjoy such wonderful things.

Love your body.
You're beautiful!

I'm listening.

I got a note from a friend asking how I was doing today. As I was replying back, I started writing about the animals that surround me. I wrote the phrase, "They are my spirit guides. They can't explain what I need to do - they just show me."

The past few days, my cat has been extra "needy". If I sit anywhere, she immediately jumps in my lap, starts purring, and goes to sleep. I feel bad waking her up, so I stay sitting. I slow down to pet her, and I am calm.

My horse has stayed right up next to the fence. When I go out to the pasture, he stays right next to me. I feel like he's watching over me. Yesterday, while I was petting him, he laid down and stretched out in the sun. I laid down next to him and put my head on his neck. I don't know how long we laid there, but it was long enough.




I feel... calm.
And I feel amazed.

Happy flashbacks with just one breath.

Putting up some fencing this morning. Ran out of materials. Here in town, there is a little tiny hardware store that is jam packed full of everything you could ever possibly think about wanting. It's kind of awesome.

During the summer, they keep the front door propped open, and today was the first day I've ever been there with the door closed. A very strong aroma hit me as I walked through the door.

I breathed in deeply. It smells like...

Saturday morning trips to the hardware store with my dad. He'd buy me little gifts. Candy bars. Key chains. Notebooks. Pens.


I didn't care much about the gifts. I just wanted to be near him. People would say we had the same smile. I'd talk his ears off. He'd explain to me how he was going to fix whatever it was he was fixing. I'd listen intently, even if I didn't really understand.


I'm used to smells and sights and experiences triggering flashbacks.
I'm not used to those flashbacks being so simple and happy.

It's still not what I want to say, but it's getting closer

I started to write this on September 11, 2011. Ten years after the world trade towers fell.

I was in college, sitting in my American Sign Language class. In that class, there was no speaking allowed, and even if it WAS allowed, my teacher was deaf and did not speak.

A student came in late to class and stopped the class to share the story. The first plane had just hit. I watched him say what happened, and I was sure I misunderstood him. The teacher repeated it back, again in sign language, and although I understood him, it just wouldn't connect in my brain.

As a class, we all left and found a TV in the hallway and watched the news in silence.
Even with the words in English, and the pictures in front of me, I still could barely believe what I was watching. As the day progressed, and we learned it was an act of terrorism, my heart broke. How could anyone devalue life so much as to kill so many innocent people? How could the terrorists possibly believe they were following God?

Fast forward eight years (to two years ago).
I was reading a book on government that quoted Ezra Taft Benson.

"Most of the major ills of the world have been caused by well-meaning people who ignored the principle of individual freedom, except as applied to themselves, and were obsessed with fanatical zeal to improve the lot of man kind-in-the-mass through some pet formula of their own… The harm done by ordinary criminals, murderers, gangsters, and thieves is negligible in comparison with the agony inflicted upon human beings by the professional ‘do-gooder,’ who attempt to set themselves up as gods on earth and who would ruthlessly force their views on all others—with the abiding assurance that the end justifies the means.”
(The Proper Role of Government, Ezra T. Benson)

I am not sure the context that ETB meant this quote in... Here's what I saw:
The person that THINKS he is a God, or believes he speaks for God, will do far more damage than anyone else on the planet. Think of all the wars fought over who's God is the right God. Think of the crusades. Think of Hitler. Think of bin Ladin. Then think about the abuses that are closer to home. Think of the men who treat their wives and children as possessions. Think of the wives who are constantly criticizing and controlling their husbands. Think of the way the GLBT community is being treated today, or the way black people have been (and still are) treated. Think of the roles of women. Think of the roles of men. Think of the bishops, stake presidents, or even general authorities who believe they speak for God and give HORRIBLE advice.

When I read that quote, I was pretty much out of the church. I was out of EVERY church. (It appears, I suddenly became a Deist. I believe in God, but not in religion.)
I don't believe God is a controlling God - all of the commandments and rules and laws that people believe came from God came from another man. A man who wanted to control other people. (I do believe that some of the commandments are good suggestions, but not even the truest of believers believe that any of the commandments apply all of the time.)

What better way to control people than to make them believe you speak for God and can offer them salvation above what any other man can offer them? What would YOU be willing to do for salvation? If you just believed it was real, would you steal? Lie? Stay in a relationship that was abusive? Suicide? Make slurs against others because they don't live the way you think they should? Make laws that don't allow others the same rights you enjoy? Marry another man's wife? Murder? Mass murder?

A few months ago, I started reading from Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. Did you know he was a Christian? Did you know he believed he was doing not only God's will, but Christ's as well? I was always taught he was on a quest for power, but that is not what HE believed. He thought he was doing God's work by killing so many. And the Allied leaders believed they were doing the work of God by taking Hitler and Nazi-Germany down. Who was right?

I understand some will not see how the dots are connected. They will say:
"But our church is different. We have God on our side. Hitler just THOUGHT he had God on his side. We really do."
or maybe, "But our church doesn't hurt people. We teach good things."

The church might teach some things that are good, but they also teach things that are very VERY harmful. To couple false teachings with the words, "God said" only leads to suffering. A lot of suffering. How can you argue with someone who says, "God said"? And especially if you believe the church is what it claims to be, and it gives the authority to speak for God to mere men...

What makes this difficult is that I believe in God. I believe in following the divine within. I believe that each of us has to find our own path, and the only way to do that is to search and walk and do what feels right.

So how is it that I hate what "God's followers" do and I still want to be one?

...

I'm having a hard time writing what I want to say, because I'm trying so hard not to offend. I'm trying so hard to say it in a way that will be understood. I guess I'll just leave at this for now, and maybe I'll try again later... In the meantime, what are your thoughts?

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.

Bring back the anonymous douche!

This blog makes me happy.
She doesn't write in it anymore, which is very unfortunate, because I have now read the entire thing.

And laughed. A lot.
Enjoy!

Dancing, Crying, and The Doll revisited

I'm feeling a little bit stuck. I have about ten entries started and saved in Drafts. None of them feel complete enough to post yet.

So, I'll just write about music.
This morning my friend, Kate was listening to James Blunt. I clicked on the song. Suddenly I was crying. Big cries.
Then I switched and was listening to Coldplay. I felt like dancing.

Music has such an incredible power. Both of those feelings (emotions?) were there in me. Right now - without the music I feel like crying and dancing. Crying for the past I left behind. Crying because it didn't go quite the way I planned. Dancing because it is much better than I ever planned. Dancing because I'm alive, and I CAN! Crying because I'm afraid. Afraid of the unknown. There is a lot that I don't know that I used to think I knew. Dancing because there is SO MUCH I don't know. The world offers so many amazing things to question, explore and learn about.

I feel like I'm on the precipice. It's both scary and amazing.
The music doesn't create what I feel - it just resonates with what is there and helps me release it.

(I'm also remembering a post I wrote a while ago. I dance now. All by myself. Usually in the kitchen, but sometimes while I'm working. I don't belong to anyone, and no one else chooses when I dance, or laugh, or live. I'M ALIVE!)

The GC

I'm feeling sad and lonely this morning.
My family is getting together for breakfast right now. It's a tradition they've had my whole life.
My dad makes a big breakfast. Everyone comes over, eats, and then watches conference together.
They are all there, and I am not.

I told them I wasn't coming because it was too far to drive. That's not really why.
Conference makes me crazy. It always has, but I don't sit quietly when I disagree anymore.
I'm invited to be there, but I'm pretty sure they don't actually want ME there.
At this point just the sound of the old men's voices make me want to scream, and I disagree with so much of what they say.
(Some is good. Some is helpful. I'd rather find the good and the helpful without all of the other stuff too.)
I have friends who are all watching conference and discussing it, but even if my family WANTED to discuss it, I'm not there yet.
I would either explode and say exactly what I'm thinking. Or I'd sit there and shake because I'm trying to hold it all in.

I feel lonely because there was a point in my life where I had this in common with them, and two weekends a year it is made VERY apparent to me that I don't anymore.
I feel very lucky. I know that my family is far more understanding and compassionate and accepting towards me than most members of the church are to their family who leaves.

Yesterday, I was going to drop by to visit my mom after my rehearsal until I realized it was conference.
I called her and told her I was planning to come to visit, but I was also trying to avoid conference since it makes me crazy.
She chuckled and said, "Come on over. It's safe. We won't watch it while you're here."

I know a lot of people that tell their "apostate" family and friends to "make sure (you) watch conference", and others that manipulate them to try to get them to watch or listen (but heaven forbid tell them what you actually think about what was said at conference. They can tell YOU that you have to watch and listen, but you can't even tell them that you don't agree. It's an icky double standard.) The fact that my family sees ME, loves ME, and accepts ME is beyond awesome!

I feel sad and lonely because I feel like I am doing them a favor by not being around them on conference weekend. I am protecting them from me. I'm also protecting me from my own anger. I don't like to feel angry, and I really don't like to feel angry and sit there and pretend like I'm not.

Not grateful. Peaceful.

In a conversation with BJ, he once said he felt guilty for feeling grateful I am in his life. In essence, he was concerned that by being grateful for the way things are today - that also meant he was grateful for the pain I had suffered.

Can I be grateful for where I am today without being grateful for the circumstances that got me here?

I've thought about this a lot. I've written and rewritten this post several different times over the last six months.

The first was really snarky. (I might have just made that word up, I don't actually know what it means... Sarcastic? Bratty?) It talked about feeling gratitude that there are abusive people in the world. If no one was abusive, how would we ever grow? I could go into it more, but there IS a reason I deleted that one.

The second was very tearful. I don't believe abuse is what made me who I am. I was already strong, kindhearted, empathic. My friends who have been abused were already clever, funny, compassionate, beautiful, wonderful people. Their abusers didn't make them that.

The third was a little closer to what I wanted. I talked about how I might not have never met some of the amazing people I know today if I hadn't been through the hell of abuse. I might not have ever seen how strong they are if I didn't know how hard they had to fight just to survive. We might not have connected if we hadn't been through so many similar (and extraordinarily painful) experiences. I am grateful they are in my life today. I am amazed and astounded at the people I have the privilege of calling friends.

I'm trying again.
I am not grateful for the past. I am at peace with it.
When I think about my life, I don't have a need to change what has happened. I've accepted it. That doesn't mean I think for a second it is okay for a man to rape his wife, but I am at peace with where my life is. That makes me at peace with my past. (Or maybe being at peace with my past has made it possible to be at peace with where my life is. I'm not sure which came first.)

I don't know who I would have been, or what life would have been like if I hadn't been abused as a child, or married a man who raped me, or any of the other circumstances. And, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't need to know. I am done mourning who I might have been.

I am grateful that BJ understood what emotional abuse was, and I also wish he had never experienced it. I wish he didn't understand how damaging it is. I am grateful to have people in my life who really understand the pain of rape, sexual trauma, PTSD, eating disorders, and depression, because it feels GOOD to be understood. I also wish for their sakes, they had no idea how it felt.

I don't know how or why there is so much pain and heartache in the world. I don't know why some people choose to hurt other people. I don't know why a God that can bring these amazing people into my life couldn't also have stopped them from being abused. If it was left up to me, I would have sent down angels with flaming swords to prevent children from being molested, spouses from being abused, or young women from being assaulted. I suppose I'm glad it isn't up to me.


I guess what I'm saying is I feel trusting. I trust the process. I trust where I have been lead. I trust God to balance it all out. I trust me to find my way. I trust my friends to find their way.
I trust. There is someone or something who takes care of it all. I don't know what that looks like. I don't know how it all works out, and... it does.

The words are just not coming the way I want them to.
Why does this feel so hard to write, and yet so important?
Because it is far more personal than I am letting on. There is ONE thing, one piece that I need to face, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid to admit how deeply I feel...

I would give up everything I love in my life if it meant that BJ had never been abused. I would trade the feeling of love and acceptance I have from him, if it could just mean he hadn't been hurt so deeply by someone who claimed to love him. I love my life today, and still... it just doesn't justify someone I love being hurt so much. I HATE it!  I feel so sad. By being grateful he is in my life, am I also grateful that he was abused?

The answer to that question is No! And still, I accept that it is the way it is. We are all connected. We help each other. We find the people that will help us to grow, to learn, to love. We also find people who hurt us. We learn to move on from them. We learn to trust, and we learn who and what to trust at any given moment.

I am not grateful for the pain in my past. I am not grateful for the pain in BJ's past. I am not grateful for the pain in other friends' pasts. I am at peace with my life today.

"It isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal"

I just read a blogpost on "Gaslighting".
Gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse where the abuser tries to make their target think they are crazy, their reactions on abnormal, or wrong, or... in some way completely invalidate the other person.

The blog is not superbly written, and there are a few things I really didn't like about it. (The biggest being that he seemed to think that it was only a problem done to women, and that he could tell other women what their problem was.)

There was one line that really struck me, "That “forget it” isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal. It’s heartbreaking."

Here it is in a little more context:

"These women aren’t able to clearly express to their spouses that what is said or done to them is hurtful. They can’t tell their boss that his behavior is disrespectful and prevents them from doing their best work. They can’t tell their parents that, when they are being critical, they are doing more harm than good.
When these women receive any sort of push back to their reactions, they often brush it off by saying, “Forget it, it’s okay.”
That “forget it” isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal. It’s heartbreaking."

That is what emotional abuse does to a person. They can't express what is going on, and when they try to express it (especially to the person that is already abusing them), they are told to forget about it, and in order to forget about that kind of violation to their own psychological boundaries, they forget about themselves. We dismiss ourselves. I dismissed myself.

It's heartbreaking.
After years of being told to dismiss my own emotions, experiences, myself, I didn't need anyone else to do it for me. I told MYSELF I was crazy. I told myself I was too sensitive, overreacting, nuts, I deserved it, to just forget it, it wasn't important, I wasn't important, etc.

I believed it for a long time, but it just wasn't true.
I still have a hard time knowing if my reactions are "too much". The most valuable tool I have found is to think about how I would react if someone was doing or saying (...) to my sister, my friend, to those that I really love, how would I react? I believe I deserve the same love (and boundaries) I want for those that I care about most.

I wouldn't want my sister to take abuse, so I won't take abuse.

Fear and Love

Just some thoughts for today:

Everything will change, because change is the only thing that is constant.
When I change out of fear, it just brings more fear.
When I change out of love, it brings more love.

What would I like more of in MY life?

Dance!

A few days ago, I went hiking with some friends. At the top of the mountain, Kim decided she wanted to dance. I hadn't heard the song "Sexy Back" since my CFC days. In my CFC days, I definitely did NOT allow myself to move and dance and enjoy the music. Something about being on the top of the mountain, hearing the song on her phone, and being with friends allowed me to get more comfortable in my own body. For the first time in my life, I didn't think it was "wrong" or "bad" for me to dance whatever way I felt like dancing. It felt GOOD.

Last night, Angie invited me to a drum circle to celebrate the full moon.
I've been in drum circles before, at CFC they were a big part of therapy. Nothing like THIS though.
The energy, the love, the freedom, the movement was amazing.

At first, I just moved with the drums. It was awesome, but I could tell something was missing. I was moving to be moving... At first, it wasn't about nurturing my body, it was about exercising my body, and exercise in my world isn't a good thing. I sat down and rested. I listened to the drums. I watched others move. And then something changed.

I watched Sylvia dance. The best way to describe my experience watching her is that she "filled her body". There was no part of her body that wasn't HER. Every bit of her was dancing. Her feet, her hands, her legs, her shoulders, her face, even her hair, every part of her moved with intention. It was beautiful to watch.

I went back out and this time I DANCED. My hands, my feet, my shoulders, my hips. My body moved in ways I didn't know it could. There was nothing technical about my movements, but I felt like I was IN my body completely for the first time ever.

I didn't notice the change at the time. It just...happened... but as I drove home, I started to think about how my body FELT. I am a beautiful, strong, sexual woman. I have the power to move, to create, to BE in a way I have never had before. I don't quite understand it.

Today, I feel WHOLE.

Sunday Solicitors

The deacons came by the house this morning. Asking for money. They've come by before - I've always told them I'm not interested, and they've left.The little guy this morning was rather pushy. He kept shoving the blue envelope at me even after I said I wasn't interested and went to close the door.

That got me thinking.
As an active member of the church, if anyone else had come to my door, asking for money, on a Sunday afternoon, I would have been really upset. Door to door soliciting? On a Sunday? How dare they?

Why is it okay to send the little boys out begging for money if they're asking for money for the church?
How is that any different than going door to door for work?
Why is it okay to do it to bring in money for the church, but not to support my family?
Why is it okay to write a check for THIS pushy kid, but not the one selling coupons or car washes?

Or, why is it when I wanted to go volunteer at a soup kitchen or shelter on Sunday afternoon, I was told Sundays were a day of rest and worship, and that wasn't an appropriate Sunday activity?

These are the things I think about when I can't sleep.

Ask for what you want

BJ had planned to go riding with his dad today. This morning, he asked if I wanted to join them. My first answer, "YES!" because I never turn down an opportunity to go riding. Then, I stopped and asked, "You really want me to go with you?"

His answer, "Well... no... not exactly... and yes at the same time."
I asked him to explain. What do you want? Exactly?

He wanted me to join them for a little while - take pictures of the two of them - and then he wanted the rest of the ride just the two of them, but felt like that wasn't a reasonable request.

My plan for the day had been to take a drive up the mountains and find a spot to read and meditate.His request actually fit in perfectly to what I wanted. Ride for a bit, take pictures of the two of them, then find a spot by a stream and read or meditate.

This time, it wasn't me that was afraid to ask for what I wanted. It is still really hard for me too.
I'm afraid people will do things they don't want to do, just because I ask them. I'm afraid I ask too much, but I won't even know it's too much. There is still a part of me that believes if I get what I want, then someone else is going without and maybe hurting.

I'm so glad he asked.

It was fun taking pictures of the two of them. BJ's dad was concerned about me being alone in the mountains. I promised him I wouldn't get eaten by bears, but I couldn't promise anything about mountain lions. He looked at me like I was nuts when I told him, "I'm far more afraid of people than I will ever be of bears and mountain lions. The worst a mountain lion can do is kill you, and there are things far worse than dying."

It worked out to be the perfect day for me. The mountains were so incredibly quiet. I sat in the shade and watched the bugs crawl through the grass and trees. I put my feet in the stream and felt the REALLY cold water wash over them. I felt the sun on my shoulders. I listened to the silence and to me.

It would have been my wedding anniversary. I was worried it was going to be a hard day. No matter how "bad" the relationship was... it was never all "bad". There is sadness that it didn't turn out the way I wanted or planned. I thought I would spend a lot of the day crying, but I didn't. Instead, I just enjoyed a day with me. I'm great company. :)

I've changed a lot in the past few years. I don't believe I need a man to complete me. I don't believe marriage will (or could ever) complete me. I don't believe my happiness is dependent upon anyone else. I no longer feel sad that things didn't work out the way I planned - they worked out so much better than I ever could have planned or dreamed.

Maybe

Just wanted to share this song today. Loving the lyrics.



Maybe I’m a dreamer
Maybe I’m misunderstood
Maybe you’re not seeing the side of me you should
Maybe I’m crazy (Maybe I’m crazy)
Maybe I’m the only one (Maybe I’m the only one)
Maybe I’m just out of touch
Maybe I’ve just had enough

Maybe it’s time to change
And leave it all behind
I’ve never been one to walk alone
I’ve always been scared to try

So why does it feel so wrong
To reach for something more
To wanna live a better life
What am I waiting for?

‘Cause nothing stays the same
Maybe it’s time to change
Maybe it’s hopeless (Maybe it’s hopeless)
Maybe I should just give up (Maybe I should just give up)
What if I can’t trust myself?
What if I just need some help?
Maybe it’s time to change
And leave it all behind

I’ve never been one to walk alone
I’ve always been scared to try
So why does it feel so wrong
To reach for something more
To wanna live a better life
What am I waiting for?
‘Cause nothing stays the same
Maybe it’s time to change

Dumbledore knows what he's talking about

I'm in the process of rereading all of the Harry Potter books. I just finished the Goblet of Fire.

Near the end of the book, Harry has been through hell. He's lost. Everyone around him is lost. This is the advice Dumbledore gives:

"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can  there be recovery. He needs to know."

The most powerful part of that to me is only with acceptance can there be recovery.
I had to accept I was abused. I had to accept it wasn't my fault, and there is nothing I could have done to change it. I had to accept that it has changed me and my life forever. I had to accept that some of the people that were supposed to love me the most are the ones that hurt me the most. I had to accept that what I thought was love, wasn't. I had to accept that I am who I am, and I've come to accept ME.

And then came recovery. The REAL recovery. The kind that leaves me feeling peaceful, fulfilled, happy, and connected to the people that love me.

(Back to the book) Harry was exhausted. He felt like he couldn't push any more. His friends were telling him to rest, sleep, take a break. Dumbledore had more advice.

"If I thought I could help you," Dumbledore said gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

There is a time for postponing and numbing the pain. I am positive I would not have survived without all of my various ways of avoiding the pain. If I had been able to deal with it back then, I would have, and it wouldn't have grown in intensity like it did.

Surviving the horrors of life takes great bravery. It also takes courage to stand up and use your voice and "Tell us what happened."

(So much for my "just for fun" reading, huh?)

Briefly describe a miraculous event that happened to you in your life.

A friend posted this question as his status (I love facebook):
"Briefly describe a miraculous event that happened to you in your life."

 And this is my response:
"It's hard for me to describe the miracles without the understanding of the pain. I don't want to sound dramatic, but I had a lifetime of abuse that lead to fear, guilt and shame so huge, it's a miracle I'm still alive.
I had just what I needed to find my way out of the pain.

Miracles included: Splintering myself into different personalities, so the different personalities could hold the pain until I was ready to integrate myself, being able to go through flashbacks so I could remember what happened, understand it and accept it, trusting myself and others when it felt impossible, finding the right books, friends, and therapist at the exact right moment, somehow finding a way to love and accept myself, and so much more. I felt like each step to my own healing and recovery was shown to me just as I needed it. I didn't have the wisdom, but there was Love and Wisdom that guided me.

Because I wanted to hear it back then, I will say, my miracles didn't come because I was "worthy" or a member of a certain religion, or for any other reason than life is miraculous, and we are all deserving of Love, Wisdom, and Miracles."

Friends

Two years ago, I came to the realization that I was spending all my time with people who wanted me in their lives, but not necessarily with people who I wanted in my life. They were people who said they loved me, people who seemed to need me, people who wanted something from me.

I realized I didn't like living like that, and decided to make a list of the people I would want in my life. One of the friends that topped the list, was Sara. I called her - she felt the same way, and we had a ton of fun together. And then, in August of last year, we just sort of stopped hanging out. Occasionally, I'd text her or she'd text me. We even talked on the phone a couple times, but something had definitely changed.

For me, I was a little nervous about what she'd think if she knew I'd left the church. I was worried that I might say something that would start her questioning, and I didn't want to do that. I was really angry at the church for a while, and I was worried I might tell her about my anger. (We'd always been incredibly open with each other. There isn't a topic we haven't discussed at length.)

Last week, I got a text from her saying, "I miss you. I need a friend. Can we hang out?"
I've become pretty comfortable in my own skin, and felt ready to tell her about my status with the church. I was not quite comfortable enough to wear a tanktop to her house, but when she came to her door, guess what she was wearing?

It took me back a little. One of the things we had in common was we were both very devout members. I didn't say anything then - I waited while we filled each other in on the last year. It got quiet, and she said, "I need to tell you about where I stand on religion. I'm SO nervous, but... I just have to tell you."

I told her to keep talking, because I was pretty DAMN sure we are in the same place.
That shocked her. She then went on to say that she's not sure how she feels about God, or if God even exists, but she knows for pretty certain that religion seems to seriously mess people up.

We talked about the guilt, the fear, the strange culture, the controlling ways people treat each other, we even talked about the good things the church had brought into our lives. It served a purpose for both of us - in many ways, for a time, it helped keep us each alive. And then we both moved past it. She said she didn't feel the need to use fear to teach her children to be good. She wants to be around people who are good, just for good's sake, not because they want blessinga in the afterlife, or because they are afraid of God's wrath, or because they are afraid of what others will think of them if they don't follow all of the commandments.

She said she wouldn't go recruiting people for this new way of life, because it's HARD. It's hard to have to make decisions about what you think and feel, because suddenly, there's no one telling you how you SHOULD think and feel. It's hard to make decisions on your life based on what is true for you rather than following a strict plan. The plan might not be right, and might make you miserable, but at least you know what to do... And then she said she wouldn't go back and do it any other way than what she is doing now.

I couldn't help but smile. EXACTLY how I felt.
Ironically, we had both withdrawn from each other as we were going through the same process. Afraid of what the other would think.
I came home feeling so happy. And so lucky. I've been through hell, but leaving the church has not been nearly as gut-wrenching as it is for some. Many of my friends went through the whole process totally alone. I had them.(I started listing out names, but I know I'll forget someone, and the list was a lot longer than I even knew) who left the church long time before I met them. I was in the process of leaving, and I had their friendship. I found a support group for those who were questioning their faith, and I found several friends there. My family has been loving and supportive and non-judgmental. All they've ever said to me is that they want me to be happy. I also have old friends - my old roommates from BYU and Sara. My "never-mo" friend Amanda who listened as I tried to sort out what I actually felt. And more than one bishop who cared about me enough to tell me to get away from the church.

How did I get so lucky? I have many close and wonderful friends - not just acquaintance - REAL friends. It amazes and astounds me to feel the love of so many amazing people.

The Invitation

This is beautiful.
I was going to pick a favorite quote from it, but I can't. I'd just copy and paste the whole thing...

The Law of Chasity

I just left my parents house. Apparently the lesson this week was the Law of Chasity. Everyone talked about it a little. My dad was telling stories from the lesson. I wanted to run away and hide.

Now that I'm home - I can think a little more clearly, and this is what I wish I would have said:
When you talk about chastity and sex like this, I feel dirty. I feel like I'm disgusting. I want to hide, because I am worthless. Like a crushed flower or a piece of chewed gum. My body hurts. My chest feels tight. I want to scream or cry.

Do you realize what it's like to hear about the importance of no sex when I had "sex" when I was only five? My body responded the way the body is supposed to respond to sex. I blamed me. I felt gross and disgusting, and combine that with all of the teachings on chastity, and I just feel intense hatred for myself and my body.

I understand that my experience isn't everyone's, and it is still my experience.

I didn't say anything. I sat there and withdrew into the back of my head. Now, I'm sad, suffering a bit. Feeling broken. I never even understood what they were saying or talking about in church. I didn't get it. I was weird and broken. When others spoke of sex, I knew only abuse.

I'm not sure what else to do now other than to curl up in a blanket and cry.
That is what I will be doing now.

Happy Sunday!

I have always hated Sundays. Sundays = guilt = things I don't want to do = things I don't want to listen to = places I don't want to be at.

Sundays are now a wonderful day of rest.
I do what I want to do. I feel very peaceful.
This morning, I slept in. I fed the horses. I cleaned the kitchen. Now I'm sitting up the canyon: blogging, reading, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze.

When I was in my early twenties, I served as a service missionary at the MTC. My job was to let the missionaries teach me the discussions. We were told to come up with a story about our current beliefs in God - we were supposed to lie and not tell them we were already members.

I told them that I love the mountains and the outdoors. When I am sitting outside and I look at all of the trees and flowers and bugs and animals, I feel so much love. That is where my belief in God comes in. With amazing beauty like this, there must be a God.

That "story" came easily to me. Bearing my testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, or prophets, or even Jesus Christ was very difficult.

Today, I've gone back to that "story". I feel so much love as I look at the beauty that is nature, and I believe that feeling is God.

(This isn't quite the direction I was planning on going when I started typing. Meh. It is what it is.)

For me, I find that feeling easiest in the mountains with a horse. My mom finds that feeling with her family and in the temple. I feel very grateful that I found Love. I'm very grateful my mom has found it where she has found it. This feels good.

I am powerful. And that is a good thing.

Talking with a friend: He was talking about how he's tired of all the shit in his life. He just wants it to go away.
The only thing that popped in to my head to say was, "You're a very strong and powerful person, and that is a very good thing. Stop holding yourself back!"

And then I burst into tears.
It was a moment when I had to wonder, "Did I just say that to him, or to myself?"
I asked. Through his tears, he said, "Maybe both."

I am afraid of power. I have spent my life pretending I had none, or trying to make it disappear by giving all my power to others. Power and strength hurt people. I don't want to hurt people, therefore I will not be powerful. A woman is not supposed to be powerful. She is supposed to be meek. I've tried so hard to be meek and submissive.

Only. That hasn't worked. Who I am is powerful. I am strong. And that is a very good thing.

Self Acceptance takes away an abuser's power

I really like this post.

There were two quotes that jumped out at me:

"If you want to know who your truest friends are, ask yourself who encourages you to accept yourself as you are. For it is all but the very mark of true friend that he or she encourages that in you. Yet, most of us have few friends of that caliber."

 I thought of all of the amazing friends I have that encourage me to accept myself as I am.

The second quote that hit me was this one:

"It is possible that no one but your truest friends will accept that you do not condemn your “darkest impulses”. The rest of the world is reluctant to give up that means of manipulating you."

I was SO afraid of accepting myself. I was terrified I would suddenly become a horrible person. I was afraid of who I would be without guilt and shame driving me. I have seen first hand what "darkest impulses" can do, and I didn't want to BE that. I didn't want to hurt others like I had been hurt. I fought with Paul constantly about this - he believed his job was to help me accept ALL of me, including the darkest parts. I believed I had to manipulate and force myself to be something I wasn't. I didn't even require outside forces doing it.

Today, BJ asked me what was wrong with him going after his wants. What was wrong with him doing what he wanted? I didn't have an answer... other than, "Nothing. Live YOUR life."  He asked me to play the devil's advocate. Come up with a reason that he shouldn't do what he wants to do. I had a hard time. Years of therapy where I kept telling Paul that I couldn't just be ME, because ME wasn't good enough... I couldn't just do what I want, because the whole world would fall apart, or I'd hurt people, or... and today, without coming back and reading old blogs, I couldn't remember how I used to think. (cue trumpets!)

For most of my life, I was told that having control over my own life was selfishness. It was not okay to pursue my dreams or goals, or to take care of my wants and needs unless I FIRST took care of everyone else. That is SO WRONG!

There are many people who don't want me (or you or anyone else) to accept ourselves. If I accept myself, I will not use anti-wrinkle cream on my face, or get plastic surgery, or eat this or that diet, and there goes a billion dollar industry.
If I accept myself, I might not do what everyone else thinks is right. I will do what is best for me. Always.
If I accept and love myself for who I am, I do not have to be a slave to you to earn your love.
If I accept myself, I will not allow myself to be abused. When someone tries to manipulate me into doing what they want, it just won't work. Power hungry people cannot handle a person who loves themselves. It takes away all their power.

I stayed in relationships that were very unhealthy, because I believed no one else could love or accept me. After all, I hated me, how could anyone else love me? Through a miraculous combination of therapy, books, friends, horses, and experiences, I have come to love and accept myself for who I am. With that love came the power to walk away. It didn't matter what they said, because I knew myself and I loved myself.

I have amazing friends. On a hard day, they remind me how much I am loved by them. And then they remind me that their love doesn't matter nearly as much as my love for me. And I am grateful.

This is My Story

It's kind of a stressful week for me. Work requires that I be in an environment that is just HARD for me, but just for a few days a year, so don't feel the least bit sorry for me. This environment has brought it to my attention how wonderful my life really is.

I have created a life with friends, family, animals, work, play, passions, and love that is EXACTLY what I want. It isn't what anyone else would have chosen for me. It isn't what I thought was "right". It is just how I want to live my life. It's amazing!

I have the opening lines to the song, "This is Our Story" (from Shrek the musical) in my head:


"I've waited all my life,
lived it by the book.
Now I know that's not my story.
You, take me as I am.
Love me as I look,
Standing here on all my glory.
I am sweetness, I am bratty. I'm a princess. I'm a fatty.
I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress.
I am sappy. I am sassy. When I'm with you I am happy.
This is my story."

I LOVE this. I've waited all my life, lived it by the book, now I know that's not my story. My story is very different, and it's MINE.

My passion: Connecting to the world.

This is prompted by Becky's blog:

My passion is connecting to the world around me through nature, music, deep discussions, writing, and reading.

What are your passions??

Modesty

Modesty. This is a topic that has been on my mind for months... I've thought about writing at least ten different blogs on the subject, but never came up with the words to express what I was thinking and feeling.

I believed my body was something that needed to be hidden. I needed to cover up to prevent others (particularly men) from thinking evil thoughts. I also believed that covering up my body kept me safe... or at least kept me safer. If I was modest, men were less likely to rape or assault me.

I hated my body. I hated everything about it.

As an eight or nine year old, I became so terrified of my body, I stopped showering naked. I wore a t-shirt and underwear, or an old swimsuit, or anything so that I wouldn't have to see my naked body. I did that up until I was fourteen years old. Around fourteen, I also developed an eating disorder.

My hiding continued. I wore layers and layers of clothing. I wore undershirts and shorts at ALL times. It was like I invented my own "garments" to keep me covered.

At CFC 1997, I had a therapist who wouldn't let me wear my layers. I actually had to walk around the mall in daisy duke shorts and a tanktop. He wanted me to understand that my body was not something to be hated. He was LDS, but also saw that my "standard" of modesty was not based on anything good for me.

When I left, I had gotten rid of my layers of underclothes, and I wore shorts and sleeveless shirts on occasion. I still struggled with feeding my body, but I had learned to accept it a little more. That is until Johnny.

I quit going to church. I didn't like it. At the time, I "knew" it was true, but I just couldn't bring myself to be active. I felt so guilty and horrible when I was there... I assumed that feeling would go away when I was "good", so I just needed to be "good", and then I'd like church.

Johnny was my home teacher. He was working hard to reactivate me. He came over and we read scriptures together, he invited me to church and to firesides. He spent a lot of time asking me what my sins were, so that I could repent. We also went on dates together.

One night, we went for a walk around the temple, and then he said he wanted to just sit and talk in the car. That was not what he wanted. I completely dissociated when he touched my stomach. I still can't remember what happened from my own perspective. When I remember that night, its as if I'm watching it all happen to someone else...

I believed I deserved to be assaulted. I believed I was no good. I didn't have a right to say no to him, he was better and more spiritual. I believed it was my fault - I had tempted him with my short shirt. (I was wearing overalls, but the shirt I was wearing showed skin on the sides of the overalls.)

I became devoted to the church and to modesty in an effort to (in essence) make men treat me the way I wanted to be treated. I wanted to deserve to have men respect me.

Two months later, I met Larry, six months after that I went through the temple and we got married. I loved garments. It was not a hard adjustment to wear them. I had hated my body my whole life minus the few months right after my time at CFC. I didn't have any desire to be "sexy" or beautiful... I just wanted to hide.

Larry treated my body horribly. He had no respect for it. The garments didn't make him treat me any better. But in my mind, they kept me safe. Nothing bad was happening to me or my body, because I was wearing them.

Fast forward ten years.
I'm trying to learn to love my body. Accept it. Stop hurting it. Respect it. Nobody at CFC 2008 asked me why I never wore shorts or sleeveless shirts. They accepted my "standard" of modesty and respected it. Nobody challenged me on it, but I sure needed to be challenged.

I'd been taught that modesty was all about respecting your body, but the reason I covered up was NOT respect. It was hatred. I knew that, but I wasn't ready to face it yet, so I didn't tell anyone.

Six months ago, I was ready to face that, but still terrified. I went through many different stories and emotions.
If Larry raped me when I was modest, what would happen to me if I suddenly wasn't?
What would people think of me if I showed off my shoulders?
(and on the reverse side) Why should I hide my body to control what other people think? It is NOT my responsibility to prevent a man from thinking dirty thoughts?
Why are sexual thoughts even considered dirty? He can think whatever he wants. Just don't touch me.
People already think I'm a slut and a whore because I live in BJ's house, wearing "immodest" clothing will just add to that.
What will BJ do if he suddenly sees my shoulders? Will he think I'm giving him permission to touch me "like that"?
Will Satan have power over me if I don't wear garments? What will he make me do?
My body is ugly. It NEEDS to be covered up. No one wants to look at me.
I want to learn to love my body, and I don't see how I can love my body if I insist it needs to be hidden. I want something different. It's time to try something different.

I started experimenting. A tanktop. Shorts. A $5 bikini from Wal-Mart. New underwear. Then I'd freak out and go back to wearing garments. And then I'd try again. (This has been over the course of months.)

This morning, as I got dressed I realized I have found a place that I am happy and comfortable with. I don't wear garments anymore. I can wear tanktops, but I prefer not to when I'm in public. I like my shorts to be shorter than they were when I wore garments, but not really short.

I now feel like I dress to respect ME. The way I dress tells me that I am beautiful, wonderful, and my body is perfect. It is a female body, and I can finally appreciate that. I don't like getting sunburned, but I LOVE the feeling of the sun on my shoulders. (Sunscreen is a beautiful thing.)

I do feel like pointing out that modesty has nothing to do with rape or sexual assault. A rapist will rape, and he doesn't care how a woman dresses. Most men are not rapists, and wouldn't hurt a woman no matter how she was dressed.

I no longer judge others on how they are dressed. I enjoy their expressions of themselves. I had no idea how harshly I was judging until I finally learned to dress MY way. Learning to love myself has definitely helped me learn to love others.

My mom has told me she dresses modestly, because she loves and respects her body. It is something she only chooses to share with certain people. I appreciate that. It is her body, and she DOES get to choose how much she shares. My body is MY body, and I can (finally) choose how much I share.

I would like to go to a nudist beach one day. I'm not nearly comfortable enough yet. (Just the thought of seeing naked men triggers a nightmarish reaction.) One day, I think it would be a wonderful experience.

I know this was long and not very succinct, but it feels good to have gotten all of these thoughts out of my head and onto "paper". I feel lighter.

Love is beautiful.

A friend posted this link on facebook. I can't quite explain why I loved it so much. I cried lots of happy tears for those people who have wanted to get married and finally can and did.

Wait.
I just realized I looked at 60 wedding photos of couples I don't know, and I am still upright and thinking (mostly) sensibly.
Apparently, not only do I not have a problem with gay marriage, I love it!
 I might have some little bit of romantic in me after all!

Refreshing

I spent yesterday with my aunt. She wanted to talk about her upcoming divorce. It's her second. She hasn't filed yet, but she's pretty sure that's what she wants and needs to do. We just talked.

It felt so refreshing that I could have a good, honest, open conversation. I shared my thoughts when she asked for them. She asked a lot of questions about my recent divorce, and I didn't hold back anything.

It felt so good to be me. Fully present with her and her pain. No judgment or advice or guilt. It is hard to describe the freedom of just being. I could hurt with her. I felt angry with her. I felt hopeful with her.

I don't know HER experience of me, but I know I loved my experience with her. (And this was what happened after feeling so afraid of going to my grandparents' house. SO glad I went!)

Old shame

I'm going to visit my grandparents today. I used to go visit them all the time - I'd just talk and hang out, but in the last two years, as I've tried to sort out my own life and feelings, I've avoided much of my extended family. I miss them, and so made the plans to go. Now I'm feeling anxious and afraid and part of me wants to run away.
Here's my fears (I'm listing them so that I can see the irrationality of it all later.)
My grandma will ask me about my callings in church. If she does, I plan on being honest and telling her I haven't been to church in two years. And I suppose the real fear is that she'll be really hurt or sad.
They'll talk about my cousins and their kids, and I'll feel like I'm "less-than" because I'm divorced twice and I don't plan on having kids.
My grandma will make comments about my weight, and it will do funny things to my head.
They'll ask questions about my life, and my life isn't what I used to want or used to think it should be... I'll feel the old shame.

It IS ironic, as I write this, I realize I already DO feel the old shame. Here I go. I hope to just spend time with my grandparents. Enjoy their company. I don't want people I care about to be triggers of old shame. I think the only way to disconnect them as triggers is to face the fear, the shame, and see that really... there is nothing there.

My backyard

Just thought I'd share a little bit of the loveliness at my house tonight:

I'm all famous and stuff!

Ok. Famous is totally pushing it. But I did just post my first ever post on a blog that is not mine.
Go check it out!

Happy Father's Day

When I was a kid, I was a total "daddy's girl". I wanted to go everywhere with him. On Saturdays, I remember MANY trips to the hardware store. He always bought me something. Some little trinket, treat, something. I didn't go with him so he'd buy me something - I went because I just wanted to be with him.

People would tell me I have my dad's smile, and I thought that was the best compliment anyone could ever give me. I was HIS girl.

At the same time, I was afraid of him. As I got older, I realized that the way he treated some people around him (namely my brother) was just WRONG. I watched in horror as my hero fell. I was angry at him. I was angry at my mom for staying with him. It hurt. When I think about it, it still hurts a little.

A year ago, I still (mostly) believed that my parents would rather me die than leave the church. I was so scared of what my dad would think if he knew I hadn't been to church in months. I told my mom first. I let her tell him. He and I didn't really talk until that day a few months ago when he told me he loved ME. He saw the light in my eyes, and that was an answer to his prayers. He wants me to love me, and the church just kept getting in my way.

Since then, we've been able to just talk. And although I'll never be "daddy's girl" like I was when I was seven, I'm happy to know that my dad loves ME. I know I'm pretty darn lucky to have a dad that is willing to see me rather than what the church tells him to see. I'm also really grateful that he is him. Love you daddy!

Why is it??

When I'm out in the mountains, riding Sunny and enjoying the sunshine, I think of a million things to write about., and I feel very clear about what I want to say...
But then, when I come home, and I sit down with my laptop, I can't think of a durned thing??

Great wisdom

A friend posted this as her status on facebook:

"True giving happens when you are overflowing from the inside, and cannot help but share. When there is so much love within you that it has to flow to others or you would burst open. There is no thinking involved, no willpower in such sharing. It just flows out. If you have to force yourself to be kind, to love, to feel compassion, you've missed the first step of filling in your own Self with these emotions."

I LOVE this!

It made me think of a day at CFC. We were in a group - discussing the benefits of being sick. One benefit was getting a break... a day off. I felt confused. At the time, I didn't take a day off for anything. Fever. Puking. Passing out. There was NO good reason to take a day off. I was terrified to say anything, but I finally just asked Espra to explain to me... A day off??

She then had me come sit in a chair in the front of the room. She kept asking why I couldn't take time off. She pushed until I got the "real" answer.

I just want to be loved.

She then brought the whole group up. They picked me up and held me in a "cradle" while they played a song.

The first ten seconds, I fought an internal battle. I was terrified. Touch was difficult. I wanted to feel loved. I wanted to get everything I could from the group, and I wanted to run away.

The next twenty seconds, I was able to just let it in. I felt the love of my friends.

And then, for the rest of the song, all I wanted to do was share the love I felt. I wanted to look each person in the eye. I wanted them to know all that I was feeling.I realized how easy it was to love, to give, to serve, to share when I was full. And it didn't take much for me to get "full".

I appreciate the reminder tonight.
I'm feeling a lot of love for the world around me.