I actually wrote this blog post a couple of weeks ago and
wavered as to whether or not to post it. Given all the current media
surrounding Mormon sexual abuse and associated cover-ups, the crisis AND trauma
just continue to compound. So here it is. And FYI, since I've written this,
it's gotten so. much. worse.
It's not an overstatement. Crisis AND trauma. There's no
other way to define it.
Allow me a little space to get everything out of my head and
send it out into space. I have so much to do today the last thing I need to add
to my agenda is a blog post, but I don't think I'll be able to accomplish
anything when my mind is so preoccupied, my spirit is grieved, and my body is
physically hurting from years and years and generation upon generation of
neglect, indifference, and abuse.
It's all come to a head.
I can't take the time to go into the whole history - and -
fair warning - this blog post is all about me. So if you're looking for more
family history stuff I'm afraid this time you're out of luck. It started when I
was born. It reared its ugly head right there in my own home while I was
growing up. It became a frightful reality while I was a business student at
BYU. It became MY reality when I got married. I tried to fight it, but
ultimately I gave in to the system and conformed. I tried to be happy. I tried
my best. But it never fit. NEVER.
I was told by a prophet of God - many prophets, actually -
that if I didn't get married and have children and teach them that The Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is their only way to happiness and salvation
I WOULD NOT go to the highest level of the celestial kingdom. It was my
God-ordained destiny and divinely-declared duty as His daughter to bear and
raise up children unto the Lord. For married fertile Mormon women it was
absolutely required for exaltation. There was no choice. Women had no choice.
And now I can't help but wonder what my life would have been
like if I had the equivalent to a "wife". What could I have
accomplished if I had someone at home taking care of my children, doing my
laundry, cleaning my house, cooking my meals, running my errands, and allowing
me the privilege of coming and going as I pleased - using my professional and
Priesthood responsibilities to completely opt out of the incessant,
overwhelming drudgery of housework. Who would I have been? How far would I have
gone? What would I have chosen if I actually had a choice?
I could ask these questions all day. But the "what
ifs" are moot. It's too late to explore any of those things - really, it
is.
And then 2011 happened and the beginning of my "faith
crisis". Seeking "truth" is a long and painful process. And then
2015 happened when we were literally thrown out and thrown away. New ward
boundaries - "the Lord's boundaries" - were much more important than
the needs of actual human people. Priesthood leaders who speak for God himself
were to be obediently followed regardless of the cost to human suffering.
Nobody cared about us - nobody. We were completely expendable - the boundaries
were not.
I know. I'm being vague and this is all so confusing. I
can't promise it will ever be made clear. I'm just trying to clear my head. I
would have to say that what put me in my current crisis AND trauma mode, in a
big way, started last Sunday. (Today is Friday.) The bishop's counselor - a really, really
nice guy - opened up testimony meeting by reassuring everyone that we don't
need self-help books. We don't need to wonder or worry about where to look to
find answers. We don't need to look for various unknown resources to solve our
problems. We don't have to struggle like the rest of the world does. Because we
have direct access to God - through his prophet. The prophet speaks for God.
The prophet is our direct access to God himself. The prophet is all we need.
How blessed we are to have a prophet.
I had to physically stop myself from instinctively shaking
my head "no" for fear of anyone seeing my true reaction to his
"testimony". In other settings, we also talk about how we know
prophets are mere men and subject to outside influence just like everyone else
- they're not infallible. But this is a type of double speak that is common in
the church - something we never like to think about or acknowledge.
The pain of polygamy and patriarchy didn't end in 1890. Or
in 1904. Or when Boyd K. Packer threatened CES employees with church
disciplinary action and eternal damnation for exposing the parts of the truth
that he didn't find very "useful". Or at any other time in history.
It became pain in the underground. A quiet, unspoken pain. An unprocessed pain.
And the pain continues. MY pain continues. And expands.
Tuesday brought an innocently offered comment from a
"friend" of a brother-in-law on a silly, satirical Facebook post:
We need to remember that the phrase "church policy" is just two words that are used to communicate to us what GOD has told his prophets, seers and revelators to do. Church policy is not what a group of men and women leaders of the church have thought up. It is what God has inspired them to do for the forwarding of the gospel and for our benefit.
No. Seriously? Really? Not only are we supposed to believe
that "doctrine" is revealed to our prophets - even though current
church doctrine is vastly different from Joseph Smith's theology and is
constantly in a state of change and revision - but "policy" comes
directly from God as well? Polling a progressive Mormon Facebook group provided
me with feedback that, yes, this is exactly the way most current, orthodox
Mormons think. Sorry, there's no way I buy it. Church policy IS what a group of
men leaders of the church have thought up. They would freely admit to that even
members don't believe it.
And then, Wednesday happened. A phone call with a trusted
family member provided me with a safe place to actually say these words out
loud:
I hate the church.
It was cathartic and painful and relieving and true. When I
actually heard myself say it out loud the realization became crystal clear.
Sometimes I really do hate the church. Sadly, today, it's true.
And then a podcast on Wednesday afternoon. The topic was
this: "If you could go back and give advice to yourself right before your
faith crisis, what would you say?" One of the podcast participants talked
about being an active non-believer - the exact way I would describe myself. (I
had come to the conclusion that "belief" that the church is
"true" isn't the only criteria for activity. Binary thinking would
insist that if the church isn't true it must be false. As I have tried to move
away from that way of thinking, I have had to redefine "church" and
"religion" and "faith community" and see them from a
completely different perspective. It's not a matter of being true or not true -
it's a matter of value. Does the church have value in my life? Does it fulfill
a good purpose? Does it promote good and goodness? Does it inspire me to be a
better person? Does it inspire me to come closer to God and to serve others? Is
it a faith community and a support system that is necessary and valuable to me?
But I also have to ask myself if the
harm - the group think and adherence to authority and patriarchy and false
narratives and accusations and privilege and guilt-induced messages and
fear-based teachings and all the other stuff affecting me so profoundly as I
sit in the Sunday meetings and hear what's being said - outweighs the value.)
He spoke about focusing on something
destructive for too long and prolonging the pain - re-living the pain over and
over again - rather than putting time, energy, and focus into something
beneficial and productive. He also talked about being "one person".
He said:
He and others spoke to my soul. I was finally forced to face
the facts and acknowledge the deep seated crisis AND trauma I'm experiencing
every single day. It''s real. It's ever present. It hurts. It's not going away
on its own. And I honestly don't know how much longer I can endure it.
"You've brought this all on yourself."
"You've been influenced by Satan." "Just stop blogging about you
ancestors." "Don't read about church history." "Ignore it
all and forget everything you've read and learned and processed and it will all
go away!" "Pray more." "Read your scriptures."
One, I didn't intentionally hide church history - the church
did. Satan didn't do it either. Two, I'm not the one who misrepresented loving, caring Heavenly Parents as a male God
of polygamy surrounded by his multiple wives who required the unnecessary
suffering and abuse of women. Three, I can't unlearn, unread, or un-see things
that I have learned, read, and seen. Four, ignoring facts won't change them.
Five, there is, in the long run, great value in knowing truth - real, actual
truth. Six, as my belief and certainty in the church has left me my faith in
God, compassion for others, and concern for humanity has increased in ways I
couldn't have imagined. Seven, I've made a commitment to myself and my
ancestral mothers to tell their stories. I won't let them down. I won't forsake
them. I won't let their suffering be in vain. Eight, prayer and scripture study
can be valuable in anyone's life, but no matter what church leaders/members
want people to believe, they don't solve the problem and they won't turn anyone
back into an orthodox believer.
But the last straw happened Thursday. I had a mental,
emotional, and physical reaction. I've known about some of this, but seeing it
in black and white absolutely proved that the same male-centric world that
promoted and adopted polygamy is still alive and well in this patriarchal
system we call God's church.
A like-minded friend posted this on Facebook:
Handbook 1 is, of course, a book of instructions to stake presidents and bishops. It was never intended to be seen by the general membership of the church but has been placed online by private individuals who are concerned about the secrecy of the inner-workings of the church and feel a need for more transparency. It's not hard to find with a simple Google search.
My comment and takeaway from reading this:
So far, there has not been a lot of push back from his orthodox Mormon friends as they are accustomed to doing on posts such as this. Just silence.
After all, how can anyone defend the indefensible?
They know they can't defend it, but they're unwilling to deal with it. Or even acknowledge it. They will just put it on the shelf and forget about it. Rationalize it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Assume that "God" has his reasons and believe it will all work out. And above all else: they will follow the prophet - he knows the way.
I can't stay active - it's slowly and systematically killing me. I can't walk away - it's my identity, my heritage - it's who I am and all I've known.
And then there's my husband. My kind, loving husband. Our relationship has evolved into one of unlimited devotion, mutual trust, and complete fidelity. Things have never been better between us. He knows my beliefs have changed. He knows I've read and studied things that he hasn't. Every once in a while I'll share with him bits and pieces of what I know and what troubles me, but, for the most part, I've done everything I can to keep my faith journey from influencing him and from influencing our marriage. How can I shatter his world? How do I explain my crisis and trauma in a way that won't cause him pain? And there's my children and oh my gosh...my grandchildren!
I have no answers. I have no idea what I'm going to do or how this will play out. For now I'll continue pretending - pretending I'm someone I'm not. Pretending all is well in Zion.
And every day I continue to pretend another little part of me dies.
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