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EX-MORMONISM SECTION 6
Total Articles:
50
A very large selection of posts made by those in recovery from Mormonism. Culled from throughout the Ex-Mormon Communities.
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I was recently diagnosed with Diabetes and looking back and analyzing the past year or so and how it affected me, I realized the negative impact that it unknowingly had on me and my mental and physical health.
ILLNESS: I was in denial for so long about what I had been going through over the past year. I had never realized that depression was a symptom of Diabetes. I did not even realize that I was battling depression until a few months ago. I was in complete denial. Andy had suggested that I go see someone on numerous occasions, but no, I didn't have a problem. I was miserable and I couldn't even see it. It had grown so gradually that I never saw it coming. But yes, I was depressed. I wasn't enjoying life, wasn't enjoying my kids, was restless, constantly frustrated, was not able to handle stress, and wanted change in my life, etc. All the signs were there and I was too blind to see it.
CHURCH: I was in denial for years about the problems that the church was causing me. It caused me anxiety and depression. I never felt like I was good enough. I could not truly embrace who I really am. I was playing a role that was not a good fit for me, personally. It caused unnecessary strain and stress in my life and in my marriage. I was restless, discontent, resented going to church, didn't enjoy my time there, felt alienated from other people in the church and like I did not "fit". These feelings crept in slowly, over time and I didn't realize exactly how bad I felt about my life, the church, and the control that it had over me. I was blind to the problems.
ILLNESS: It's amazing how you don't realize how terrible you feel until you feel good again. I never saw someone except my MD- never even mentioned that I'd been depressed. I never went through the classic "grieving cycle" that I was warned newly diagnosed diabetics go through. I never dwelled on "why me?" I just took steps to get it under control. And it does appear to be under control. It helps that I have a very supportive spouse who has made healthier alterations to his diet right along with me and encourages me to take care of myself.
I feel so much better and it's only been 3 weeks since I was diagnosed. I no longer feel depressed, restless, discontent, exhausted, or have chronic headaches(caused by blood sugar fluctuations). I have energy again. I can keep up with my kids and play with them, I can keep on top of the housework, I can garden, I can live again. I am happy to be where I am. I'm falling in love with my children all over again and my role as a SAHM. Things are so much better. I'm me again and it's good to be me.
CHURCH: It's amazing how you don't realize how terrible you feel until you feel good again. It's amazing how you don't realize that you've been controlled and trapped in a prison until you break loose and can enjoy the sweet smell of freedom. I took steps to take back my life, make it my own: not allow anyone to control me. It helped that I had a supportive spouse who reveled in my awakening and took me by the hand, leading me to embrace life and enjoy the things that I had been missing.
I can enjoy a cup of coffee, some good Green Tea, a glass of chardonnay, an intelligent conversation with no censorship of topics or mental gymnastics, good sex without inhibition, sleeping in on Sundays, enjoying family time ALL weekend, and so much more. I am free to embrace the person that I truly am. I no longer feel I have to play the role that is expected of me. It's been an awakening! I am finding out who I really am and it's good to be me.
| I am so angry this morning. I bring this on myself. I have been working on a series of essays for 1 1/2 years and I do a lot of research on LDS.org.
I seethe, fume, snarl, and want to get into my car occasionally and head to downtown (at the U of U) and demand that these men be accountable for the garbage they utter.
Sometimes - coming here does not help at all. I read about fanatic spouses, families, friends, missionaries, leaders, and I just want to smack someone upside the head.
I turn 50 in October. I left the church when I was 31. My father came over on Sunday and lectured me once again about "church" stuff.
I don't like to be mean or rude to him and feel like I have been at times. In the end - I don't want to feel justified that I behaved badly because he ignores my boundaries - but to realize that I responded with respect and kindness - but I have to admit I was stern. "Dad, I am 50! I will make my own decisions and I will not answer to you for those decisions." (said firmly - not with anger)
As he left I felt discouraged. I don't want him in my life or the life of my children. Once my sister (active TBM) told him, "please don't push TOL out of our family." He has pushed my children out. They avoid him, will not answer the phone if he calls, will not answer the door if he comes over, and will not visit him.
I then called my daughter (TBM - RM) and asked her if there is anything I need to be aware of so that we can continue (I think we have a great relationship) to love and respect each other. WHAT A SET-UP for me!
She would prefer I not swear. I don't, she pointed out, swear around my sisters or father - why won't I extend that courtesy to her. I told her that I love that she is more open and accepting than they are, that I revel in the fact that I can be myself with her. But since I asked for feedback - I would consider it. Conversation to be continued.
I want to send her examples of how the church changes, doctors, amends, perverts, and obscures history to make Mormon leaders look like good, righteous, and inspired people.
I want to send her reports that refute all the information they dish out without any reference to studies, data, documents, research, and expertise.
I want her to not ever be 31 and wonder "what on earth have I done?"
She won't. Mainly - I think (brag) because she has me and I have a good relationship with her. She is a very thoughtful young woman - who makes good educational, financial (other than tithing), and relationship decisions.
Still - the Morg takes it toll. She questions the validity of anything that is not "Mormon" approved. She does not even realize how mediocre the music, talks, lessons, and activities of the church are or how completely devoid of any inspiration or insight.
And you know what brought this on - this stupid quote:
"In this day of juvenile delinquency, we are greatly heartened by the fact that of the 256,000 teen-age boys in our Church, 70 percent are actively associated with the Church, and of the 238,000 girls of comparable age, 73 percent are actively associated with the Church. Think of this. Can you match this anywhere? Think of it. A half million teen-age boys and girls devoted to a church which prohibits liquor, tobacco, and premarital sex. Try, if you can, to duplicate that anywhere."
Even I can figure out that 70% of 1/2 million is not 1/2 million. They constantly lie, misstate, misrepresent, and misconstrue.
Oh - well I must work - but I am so angry
| No, except for the quote in the subject line, I didn't plagiarize Jim Morrison. I wrote this song about some of the feelings I experienced after rejecting Mormonism and religion altogether. I'm proud of myself for this one, because the chorus has an irregular rhyme scheme. Usually, I do either a basic stanza, or a couplet, but this is completely original. It flows well musically, but I hope the message isn't lost in the lyrics. Here goes...
Faith- Another word for fear
Afraid to face the truth
that we don't know quite why we're here
Doubt- A blessing in disguise
Protects us from the faithful ones
that attack us by surprise
Their nonsense talk I've heard before
They'll let any answer be
For there is no time to analyze
all that they hear and see
Look at me, who am I
but a twinkle in the sky?
just a simple speck of dust
And should the search for God
which troubles you so much
come up dry...
Do not be discouraged
There is much still here in store
Life is just as beautiful as it ever was before
Hope- a message from a dream
but the world you see around you
is only what it seems
Love- a pleasant thought I'd say
but those who say they love the most
have delt me the most pain
On and on, I hear them preach
of glory great, unfurled.
How could a God with perfect love
create this awful world?
Look at me, who am I
But a twinkle in the sky
just a simple speck of dust
and should the search for God
which troubles you so much
come up dry...
Do not be discouraged
there is much still here in store
Life is just as beautiful as it ever was before
It's a strange coincidence that I finished this song last night and just now in the cafe at the college I ran into another kooky jesus freak in a power chair. Am I attracted to these people? I happened to be drawing a picture for an art class I'm taking and she approached me asking what it was I was doing. I showed her, and also a few sketches I already had in my book. One was of Joseph Smith smoking a joint, titled "Joseph Smith's First Trip". Another was a picture of a man wearing garments floating around in limbo with other wacky simples of Mormonism and Masonry. She was glad to see that I was exmo, but had to argue with me about why I'm not Christian. I should have told her that after I left Mormonism, I had a personal bullshit meter installed in my brain, and that I had to apologize for it going off on red alert. This time, however, I had mercy. This young lady has a hard life. She has CP and her Mom died three years ago. I know this because she told me her whole Goddam life story. Her faith is probably the only thing that has kept her alive, and I wasn't about the take that from her. It doesn't really matter to me what others believe, and at the very least she convinced me that her faith is what has brought her a happy life. I just wish she wouldn't harass me about my own beliefs. Especially since she approached ME in the first place.
| I was reflecting today on the things that I was not able to enjoy as a Mormon and I realized that there were so many things that permeated my every day life. There were so many daily activities and choices that were dictated by the church. Now that we have true freedom to choice of our lives, we also have to live with the repercussions of our decisions.
*Clothing*
One of the biggest joys of being an ExMo has got to be wearing underwear of our own choosing in any style and color we want, or heaven forbid, not wearing any.
This choice of underwear can often be overwhelming. You can tell who is a new Exmo by the confusion and overwhelmed look on their face as they search through racks of underwear. They will often duck out of sight and act as if they are not looking at sinful underwear if a TBM that they know happens to walk by.
There are so many choices. What do you choose? When you are used to uncomfortable garments, you may go on a quest to find "the one true underwear", the ones that will fit like a second skin, the ones that will offer everything that garments did not; such as comfort, sexual appeal, and flattery. This quest can be quite costly as you try out different kinds of underwear. I have an entire drawer filled with every kind of panty, thong, boy-leg, and other style that I think has ever been invented, but still have yet to find my "one true underwear" and it's been two years. I honestly don't think anyone else in the world is as proud of their choices and selection of underwear as ExMormons are. Believe me, your non-exmo friends do not want you to show off all your different kinds of underwear to them. They don't understand.
We were instructed as Mormons that the sacred garments were also to be slept in. That made for very limited choices in pajamas and lingerie. Why not ditch the pajamas along with the garments? There is nothing more comfortable or liberating as sleeping in the nude. But beware, if sleeping with a spouse or partner, this sleeping arrangement may cause you be awakened in the middle of the night and lose a bit of sleep, so going to bed earlier might be a good idea ;)
Now that we are free from the regulation underwear, we have a whole world of clothing options as well. Sleeveless shirts and dresses, shorter shorts and skirts, low-cut tops, so much to choose from. We can wear whatever we want, whatever we're comfortable in. But a warning to the women: when wearing low-cut tops, beware the snack of crackers that crumble when in public. Fishing cracker bits out of ones bra can not be done discreetly.
| I sometimes find myself coming back to this site -- then breaking away again (but not back to the morg). Usually something Mormon "happens" and I swing by and check up on my sanity.
I came back a couple of weeks ago because of another incident and this time could not leave off. Someone on the site recently posted a question as to whether or not we "forget" and "get past" our Mormon upbringing as time goes on.
I am a fifth generation Mormon on my father's side and my mother was a convert. I left the church 25 years ago, about 18 months after my mission (feeling old with that statement).
Can we "forget"? *Not* being able to forget is what brings me back, as it always does. I have in the past broken contact with exmormon.org ... to avoid being a reaction -- to avoid living as a sort of inverted Mormon. I crave a life where Joseph Smith is not even a question anymore.
I couldn't possibly get further away. Could I? I live in Sendai, Japan. And in fact I have lived abroad for a total of 18 years (not all in Japan). It was only at about year five that I realized that I "enjoy" living abroad in large part for the insulation from conflicts which are "beneath me" or just plain futile -- like watching faces blanch when I don't follow my outsider role, like talking about what I know in a matter of fact way within a feel-good Mormon context. Or, when someone asks an innocent question, and where any sign of integrity damages the relationship -- a sort of hostage situation, where an honest word kills a relationship, ironically, within the doctrine of "love". What to us is cognitive dissonance is to them, "Why are you hurting me; aren't we supposed to love each other?"
There was an instructive exmormon story I read a while back where a rider beats his horse because it will not go through a gate, only to learn later that the horse could not see well enough to distinguish the gate from the rest of the fence and so was more afraid of going forward than of getting the whip. It would be a point of integrity *not* to push the horse further, i.e., not to shock those incapable of enduring or taking responsibility for the facts. I have really wrestled with this issue, Family? Integrity? Cruelty? I try to put family first (perhaps further evidence of my inheritance). I feel it is unnatural either way, though, to stay silent while being invited to a Mormon ceremony or to be blunt about my true feelings to someone whose relationship I value. It frustrates me when Mormon culture pits integrity against family, and it happens a lot.
In my earlier years of "dissatisfaction" -- to say the least -- I was angry and was tearing away from the morg toward a more self-reliant life-style. In the process, I punched hard. I debunked. When speaking up, I was asked why I didn't just go my own way? Why didn't I just leave the church alone?
Well after 25 years the answer is: because the church will not let me. Because in every attempt I made at returning to my old friends and family, I suddenly became a church project again -- i.e., the home teachers would knock on the door, I would be invited by a family member to attend a blessing or baptism, and there are a few other cases that are too sensitive to mention -- but all amount to the family relationship being held hostage, where their innocence is injured by my desire for honest expression. Integrity can be cruel and it should be used wisely, with caution and only where it will make a difference ... but this is often more frustrating to uphold that formulate. The more open, non-combative, and neutral I tried to be, the greater the invitation, it must seem to them, to bring me back.
So here I am in the middle of Japan, often running across Mormons while walking downtown -- for the most part avoiding any discussion longer than "howdy" -- since I'm walking about five miles an hour, looking very busy -- and this avoidance was something both requested of me by active mormons and something I request of myself, as a matter of personal dignity.
What happened. About a month ago I decided to get away from the city -- spontaneously. I never do this sort of thing. I guess I had been feeling some sort of unidentified discontent to begin with, and must confess that from the outset. Anyway, it was my day off and I had no plan but jumped on a train and went to a small town some of my students had mentioned -- Tagajo. When I used this town in some class discussions, it got a laugh. It is like cow-town, USA -- fishing actually -- and so talking about a "vacation to Tagajo" was reliable fun. Good comic effect. Middle-of-nowhere. I got out of the train and saw that it had a beautiful river flowing just outside the station. The sun was setting. The evening was warm, and pleasant. As I approached the river, I saw on the other side of the street (the river ran alongside a street) the unmistakable white shirt, tie, bike, and helmet. Next, I caught the black name tags on the shirt pocket. (Don't we all 'home in' on that pocket for confirmation?) I paused and turnedleft, as if that were the direction I meant to travel all along -- even though the other direction looked less populated and had a more natural setting, which was what I was really after. My back was to them and I was walking along a sidewalk, parallel to the river. Cursing under my breath ... I'm here on the other side of the world, for a country walk along a river, with this beautiful sunset, in Tagajo, Japan! Even many Japanese don't know where this is! I can hear them riding up behind, and hear them begin to brake. My heart sinks. I'm really tired of this conflict. Funny that Mormons had requested *me* to leave *them* alone! But I'm really just too tired of this cycle of futility to appreciate the irony.
When I think of my worst fears in this situation, it is not a scowling, self-righteous elder or a pig-headed one -- not the confident salesman with those spit-polished shoes ... I wish. That would have been easy, perhaps gratifying, and maybe even "worth it." No, this was a worst case scenario, bambi in a white shirt looking as innocent as a boy raised all his life in Utah -- which I'm willing to bet he was. I further resolved myself not to push any issues, not to ask any questions, but not avoid answering his questions. He spoke in English, asking me where I was from, my answer was to point to my shirt -- written in three inch high letters across my shirt -- FRESNO -- I didn't try to do this with a blank stare but really just didn't know what to do with the obvious. (and OK, OK, from Fresno to Tagajo -- or, "journey around the world from nowhere to nowhere"). His companion was Japanese and I could tell right away that he wasn't catching our conversation, which was a good thing I felt. He started off with theopener that I had become so familiar with as a missionary myself -- Had I heard anything about the church? I had read quite a bit about the church, I told him. Although I was determined not to offer information, not to "trespass" over his presumptions (that's how injured presumptions always feel), I listed off the standard works in spite of myself. He was a bit surprised. He probed further and we descend very quickly after two questions to a final question, "So do you think that Joseph Smith just wrote the Book the Mormon?" It was almost a reflex, but I informed him that on the title page of the first edition of the Book of Mormon he could find that Joseph Smith listed himself as the author and that only in subsequent editions was Joseph listed as translator, and so by Smith's own words he was the author. Funny thing is that I didn't answer his question, Joseph Smith did. But
I still felt cruel. It wasn't a slam-dunk finish to the discussion by any means. If he had wanted to he could have come back with something, but I could tell he was hurt and starting to sink under his responsibility. I was a missionary once myself. I know the feeling, and the duty. With that he stood up on his pedal, and as polite as ever -- (this self-control in most genuine Mormons is one point I really love about Mormon culture) -- said good bye, having been instructed as we all were to leave the "spirit of contention" behind. I looked at his Japanese companion -- he was still in that blissful state of having met yet another potential convert, not having understood a word -- one bambi loses his mother, the other saved by what he hasn't learned yet and may never learn.
What really bothers me is that this appeared to be a very well-intentioned, well-behaved young man (I cannot know for certain with this brief contact). I think his parents would and should be proud. And like the rest of us at his age, he is only following the "right way" in the best way he can with the limited information given to him. We both ended feeling quite miserable with ourselves, like I'd just killed bambi's mother.
What's really bothering me. I've spent a lot of time as an amateur enthusiast of animal behavior, contemplating dominance behavior and I feel a lot of what is claimed to be done for the sake of Truth and Light is really only just a platform to look down on others -- i.e., self-righteous -- and a lot of the time it is just revenge for having been looked down upon. I've been trying to avoid "debunking" for that reason, but then Mormonism is just something that just keeps falling out of the sky and onto you in the middle of Tagajo, Japan and you have to keep throwing it off.
At least, in this case, I didn't whip the horse. The horse walked on its own accord into an electric fence it could not see. But I still feel a little sorry about that. I could have pretended to be an idiot and let him bless me with the word of God then he might have left as self-satisfied as an Elder having just blessed a comatose member in a hospital. (An experience I had -- and no, I wasn't the comatose one.)
I am only now beginning to understand how much putting myself in a position not to be affected by Mormon culture has affected me. Here I am 18 years an expatriate and I really have no desire whatsoever to put myself in closer contact with a conflict that is so far beneath me that I just don't feel its worth the time even to resist, and then find myself on the other side of the world stepping in another Mormon cow pie. I live abroad in large part to live independently of Mormon culture .... and it is not working. If it had been Soka Gakkai (nearest Japanese equivalent to Morg, aka, SGI), I would have shrugged it off and enjoyed the rest of my walk -- since I haven't inherited the behavioral apparatus to respond to it. But Mormon contact triggers too much from inside me, more than I can shake off. Maybe BECAUSE I avoid contact I become too sensitive too it ... like walking barefoot on the first day of summer. We were polite and cordial to each other, but I was left humming with tension for about three days, asif I had been a tuning fork struck against a brick wall.
Sometimes I swing by RFM to regain equilibrium, sometimes to lose it -- i.e., when the abnormal begins to settle down as if it were normal after all: I'd rather be honestly uncomfortable than comfortably deluded, when that becomes an exclusive choice. For an exmormon, comfortable only *feels* normal. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for pursuing spiritual contentment, but only as long as it is distinguishable from a contented cow in a pasture.
That is the "normal" thing about all of this, that once one unwinds one's inherited faith it is anything but normal and this uneasiness, not being the warm and fuzzy "holy ghost", too easily sends us back to the equation, "comfort equals normal." Of course, epiphany is exhilarating and resolving a contradiction relaxes tension but it had been an error on my part, during my journey out, to think that after I had fully debunked "Mormonism," that everything would be comfortable, happy, and sweet smelling. For me, ex-mormon life has been a series of experiments with an ongoing socio-behavioral problem and never a "repaired idea." To wake up in a nuthouse and feel normal ... *that* would be insane.
So, being that there is no escape, no real comfortable mental position, ever, I thought I might look into the Exmormon Foundation. I've received enough information to classify myself as an exmormon foundation investigator. Louis Wagner was very open and helpful. I have not been admitted, since I haven't learned the handshakes yet ... oh, and for the fact that I only recently sent in my check. I laughed when I saw that it was only $20! But I don't think I will contribute more until I learn more. Once burned ... I'm also a little worried that my expectations are too high, and they are high -- which I know is unfair -- but that's where I am right now, hoping to find some sort of ballast for this exmo high wire act.
| In March of 1978 I sat for the first time in my life in a two-seat, reciprocating engine helicopter and watched as the instructor pilot started the engine and gently lifted us into the air to a 3-foot hover.
I thought I was going to EXPLODE with excitement!
This was just another magical moment in my life that I was thanking god for and drinking it in like a sweet wine and getting drunk on the experience.
We headed northeast from Hanchi Army Airfield to a small staging field where I was going to get my first chance to fly the Hughes trainer. A string of thirty orange helicopters spread out in front and behind us all destined for staging fields to have my fellow newbies try their hands at chopper flying.
In those days, helicopter pilots wear SPH-4 helmets that kept the majority of the deafening noises down to an almost-deafening level, so my instructor pilot couldn't hear me laughing and having a good time. Maybe he'd seen enough of us newbies to know that we were all screaming and having a good time...or maybe he was just intent on getting us to the staging area. Today I'm convinced he was thinking, "Yuk it up, kid. In less than thirty minutes you're going to wish you'd never signed up for flight school."
I was what you'd call "an experienced pilot". Actually, that's what *I'd* call myself, you'd probably call me arrogant and dangerous...which is how the army treated all of us. When I was 18 I got my pilot license and could fly single-engine, land aircraft -- or "fixed-wing" aircraft. Helicopters were called "rotary-wing" aircraft by the "fixed-wing" pilots. We called them "fling-wing" aircraft -- because we thought we were cool. We *never* called them "choppers" because that wasn't dignified or professional (like "fling-wing" was, of course) and we were professionals -- thirty-minutes into the flight.
As we approached the airfield where I was going to train, my instructor pilot talked me through, and executed, a beautiful approach again to a three-foot hover and then gently guided the helicopter over to an imaginary corner of the field. The airfield was surrounded by thousands of acres of farmland planted mostly in soybeans.
The corner was "imaginary" because he would outline some boundaries (the edge of the runway, the big tree 300 feet to the north, etc.) and tell me, "Keep it within that area.
The area he was talking about was about the size of two football fields positioned side-by-side.
Then he looked over at me and said, "Put your hands on the controls," which I did, and then he said, "You have the controls," and he let go.
What happens next can only be described to people who've never flown a helicopter by giving them an example that they might be able to conceptualize.
Imagine that you have a 200 foot pole that is two inches in diameter and is balanced on the ground. Now imagine that for the first time in your life, you are standing on top of that pole on one foot and that there is a strong wind blowing.
That mental picture is scaring the HELL out of me right now...and it's nothing like flying a helicopter. In fact, there IS nothing like flying a helicopter so why am I wasting your time giving you examples of poles, etc.?
Anway, as soon as the instructor pilot took his hands off the controls, I began riding a bronco that was headed in whatever direction it wanted. I could not keep it within the two football fields or under 40 feet from the ground. When it DID look like we were heading for a crash, he would reach out his hand and put his index finger on the joystick (a.k.a cyclic) and the helicopter would immediately stop its crazy antics and come to a gentle, three foot hover.
I looked out at the other ten or so helicopters also flailing about their own imaginary football fields and the same thing was happening there. Just before the pilots inside were destined to die...the helicopters would suddenly act all normal and do what helicopters were supposed to do -- in the hands of *real* pilots.
Anway, the moral of this story is, don't fly helicopters.
Actually, at the time I was an active member of the church, had a wife, one kid and two more in the oven. My wife was living in a trailer in Deer Run Estates (trailer Estates, I guess) outside the Fort Rucker, AL. We were dirt poor. I was putting my life on the line (not for my country...for myself) and would have left her and three kids destitute if I had died.
She had 3/4 of a college education in Child Development and Family Relations from BYU and couldn't have supported herself with a degree in that. My insurance would have covered about a year of living expenses if I would have died.
Almost NO decisions were being made with planning and foresight that would have been good for my family. She had no intentions of working -- or getting prepared to work. We had our first child before we were married a year. Everything was built on faith.
I would not have taken those crazy risks if I hadn't been in the cult...not with four dependent lives, that's for sure.
| We've had several posts about people whose wards, kids, or neighbors participated in staged "handcart treks" to mimic the pioneer experience.
How many of you did (or saw others do) dumb things, because "the pioneers did it?"
Like, BUY a whole bunch of produce, and then can it, because THE PIONEERS CANNED FOOD---even though you could have bought cans of corn, etc., at the grocery store for much, much less...
Or, like a woman in my university ward: BUY a ton of lard and lye, to make homemade soap, because THE PIONEERS MADE SOAP--even though it didn't work as well as store-bought soap, it smelled funny--and, again, it cost WAY more than store-bought soap!
Anyone who ever wore a calico dress or jumper past the time in the 80s when 'prairie skirts' were popular...
I used to bake bread--but it really WAS better & cheaper than the store stuff. I had a terrific sourdough starter, and made some wonderful sourdough bread, every Saturday--but I did it, to a great extent, because it was "what the pioneers did."
The whole "fifty ways to eat cooked wheat" thing.
The whole "Families Raised on Sunshine" and "Families Raised on Rainbows" things. (Anyone else have those books? I got them as gifts...they were chock-full of things to do 'because the pioneers did them...')
| I Hope They Call Me On A Mission: Catchy Roy Roger's type ditty (Klonk a klonk a, klonk a klonka....). I can see Trigger and Roy slowly trotting down the prairie....Or maybe Clint Eastwood; "Make my day, call me on a mission....PUNK!"
"A Child's Prayer"...very beautiful song. I like it and probably always will, but I don't play it because again, I'm not so sure I even believe in God after being a Mormon, but pretty is pretty to me.
"There is Sunshine In My Soul Today"...liked it, festive and made me feel peppy for a closing hymn to go home and shake the lengthy Sunday off and simply rest or eat some dinner....but I don't know if we sang that for Fasting and Testimony...We should have for a second wind nearing starvation by the end of services.
"I Know That My Redeemer Lives"...now, I like that song but I THINK the tune and words came from NON MOs in the 1700s but not sure on that, however, not surprised.
I like some of Peter Breinholt's stuff. If music is enjoyable or pretty, I like it, a wide range of it. I didn't throw his music away. I don't normally like country music but I liked his "A Call I Hear" song...it's a really nice ditty...but it's kind of preachy about Missionary work, if that bothers one. I ignore that part because the tune is so enjoyable, to me at least. I haven't heard it for a while but again, I wouldn't mind if I heard it.
"O God, the Eternal Father"...somewhat dramatic, but the very beginning often woke people up. Can you hear the very beginning of that song on the organ in your brain???? The intro is almost like something that would work in Phantom of the Opera. I forget but was that a Sacriment hymn, one we sang trying to keep up our strength from starvation?
"Nearer, My God, to Thee"...You can also sing this one if you practice unsafe sex or drive too fast.
One that even the tired MEN would get into was "Leaning On The Everlasting Arm"...(I think that's what it was.) You'd hear alternate parts for the "brotheren" to sing while us "sisters" sang our parts.
**Remember that annoying person, USUALLY a 'sister', who would sing SO LOUD you couldn't even hear yourself two pews away from her? God forbid she's sitting Next to, behind or just in front of you...annoying...a Tabernacki wanna be or former one. OH, and Lard help us if she felt she was trained in opera.***
"Called to Serve"..oh, a VERY peppy song. I liked it but we didn't sing it all that often. It was one of the more fun ones with a catchy everything. Whenever I would hear it, in my mind I see two Elders on their bikes so proud to be peddling and spreading that gospel from "Called to Serve". I think that was a PR short film.
"Because I Have Been Given Much"...I always loved this song, I thought it was a good message that many in the church didn't really live by. I think this was meant for HQ people who had overly excessive EXPENSIVE catered meals that they could take back to their homes aftwards...heaven forbid they take it to near by church members with large families on assistance.
Many, if one still believes in God after what they've been put through, can still enjoy some of the LDS used songs because not all are specifically for LDS world. I also know that some people still have strong Christian views and want to after leaving the church or keep something they feel may still be good for their children to listen to.
Some I can't listen too because they are so full of it, too programming, LDS defined, or just impractical. Many Primary songs are just saaaaaaaaad because of the message it promotes from the get-go, like the way they make the little ones drag out FT meetings by bearing their testimonies even though the kids are not supposed to like they once used to, "I know this church is true, I love my mom and dad" (as the parent is telling them right there what to say so the kid can play with the mircophone, because that's all it is to a kid, playing with a microphone.)...if the kid was really lucky and wants to impress, the parent/s have trained the kid at home on what to say, practiced it over and over at home so they look really awesome on a Sunday....Brownie points and all for the parents.
Now, I don't know if I believe in God, but not sure (possibly Agnostic) however, if something makes me feel good and doesn't bring back bad memories or makes me think it's full of crap, I will listen to it. Some things are comforting, some are not. I just don't think one should feel they have to go cold turkey away from it all, especially if the whole family left. Take what you want from it and leave what you didn't appreciate. Now some may hate ALL of it, understandably.
| Every so often I have a tendency to see where I have been and where I am headed. All my friends tell me that I tend to over analyze everything. I am sure theyre right, but what can you do!?
I have been reviewing my emotional experience from Mormonism so far. It begins as a devout LDS man with a few questions and doubts put on the shelf. I believed it all. I had taught the First Vision so much that I had actually dreamt about it as I had the Garden of Gethsemane scene. For me, these desire-inspired dreams were heavenly manifestations. I believed I had actually witnessed these events as a spectator. Not too many years ago, after coming home from the temple, I really decided to work on my calling and election. I wanted the reassurance that my life had been accepted of the Savior.
I had two major issues in my life at that point. The first was that I was burned out at church. For several years I felt nothing at all there except the pressure of work and callings. In law school I had served as the Elders Quorum president, followed by YM President, Ward Mission Leader, High Priest Group Assistant, Temple worker, 2nd counselor in a bishopric, HP Group Leader and finally 1st counselor in a bishopric. I was 38 years old and exhausted, but I believed.
The second issue was more difficult. I loved my wife dearly but felt no real intimacy in the marriage. It seemed as though we were both going through the motions of being husband and wife without really being committed to each other.
As I analyzed the problem I began to see that the root of both issues was the church and its teachings. I had some specific issues which the bishop could not answer, except with a make more room on the shelf type of comments. I couldnt do that anymore. So I researched and within a few days I had read it all, everything about the church and Smith.
I was at first stunned and in a way titillated about what I was reading. It seemed fascinating to me. There was a universe of information which was previously unknown to me. How could that be? I read everything. I tried for months to reconcile my new information with my old testimony. There had to be a way to make it all fit. Fascination quickly turned to fear that the new information wouldnt fit into my old wine jar- the jar began to break apart.
I next viewed myself as a New Order Mormon who knew the truth about Smith but could stay in the Church and be of service to others. I would sacrifice my own sanity for the sake of my wife, children, parents and ward members. I became a very devout Christian. Christ would be my escape, my passage to happiness.
That didnt work either. The sick feeling of deception would not leave. Night after night I prayed to understand and vomited after hours of celestial silence. If there was a god, he was not listening to me, or at least not answering me. Month after month of church assignments, talks, lessons, interviews and blessings left me feeling more and more angry. I love the people in my ward, they deserved better than I could give them. The bishop deserved a counselor who believed. Then came the moment I could no longer bear a testimony when it was my month. For a year I had structured my remarks to focus on families, people, service, not Smith and then not even Christ. Then came one Sunday at which I couldnt do it. I missed church. Then all the rumors started.
Soon I was on the stand having to listen to a dear friend teach the congregation that Joseph Smith was prophet and we shouldnt judge him by legal standards and burdens of proof. I felt that cold feeling of disappointment, despair, and as I left the church after sacrament meeting, the exciting feeling of freedom. I knew at that moment my membership was over. Although I attended one more time on Easter, I was through.
Those initial feelings of intrigue, fascination quickly ripened to disbelief, sadness confusion, which in turn developed into anger, despair, frustration, to be followed by relief, anticipation, anxiety and now, finally, peace.
I went from being an extremely devout Latter-day Saint, to a New Order Mormon (if there really is such a creature) to a Christian, and now probably atheist, although agnostic has a better texture to it. I have gone to believing Joseph Smiths concept of Deity to now only believing in science.
But yet I am the same. I would like to say I am a better husband and father today, and a much better friend. I am an improved neighbor and citizen. I have taken great delight in meeting neighbors without having any agenda, except to make a new friend.
In retrospect I have concluded Life is good!
| A Chinese Shoe
In one of the Marischal Museums collections there is a shoe. Actually many shoes, but there is one in particular that is of interest:
http://www.abdn.ac.uk/virtualmuseum/p...
The shoe contains a Chinese ladys foot. The shoe is a real shoe, but the foot is a plaster of Paris model. Above the shoe is a silk bandage.
The exhibit contains the description:
Model of the foot of a Chinese female, in plaster of Paris, with silk bandage and shoe. Michie (1887) 'Models of the compressed feet of a Chinese Lady.' Reid (1912): 'Foot of Chinese female, left, distorted.'
It seems that for a certain episode in Chinese history, it was thought the Lady must have a tiny foot. A normal foot was considered vulgar, masculine, or unpleasant. The foot had to be tiny.
In order for the foot to be tiny, virtually from the moment when the girl was born [correction: from the age of 4 to 7 years. (Thanks, Starkitty)], her foot would be bandaged tightly to prevent normal growth. In time, the foot would become deformed, more like a stump than a foot. It was tiny, of course, and this meant it that the female was indeed a delicate and feminine lady.
On the scale of sick things that have been done to women in the name of social custom--well, I guess clitoridectomy has to be at the top of the list. But foot binding is surely number two. (Those wasp-waisted Victorian corsets that distorted the rib cage are a good candidate for number three.) It was perpetuated by one of the world's great civilizations for a thousand years, during which time hundreds of millions of women were crippled for life, in most cases by their own mothers. The tiny feet that resulted were to Western eyes not beautiful but grotesque.
Source: http://www.straightdope.com/classics/...
So there I was, in the Marischal Museum, thinking about the foot binding, the shoe, the deformed feet, and the poor women who surely suffered extreme pain at the hands of their mothers, and perpetuated the suffering on their own daughters.
The Deformation Process Explain It
If you ask me to explain in minute detail the deformation of a baby girls foot when subjected to the binding and compression process, I would find it difficult. I am not well versed in human biology, nor am I a specialist in the field of bone and tissue growth.
But, I dont need to be an expert, do I? With limited knowledge in the required discipline, all I can say is that I know it is a cruel and damaging thing to put a girl through. Common sense tells me that there will be a lifetime of pain, suffering, and the crippled infant will never reach her full physical potential. She will never be able to run or to dance, and she will never enjoy all of the pleasures of a normal human female life.
Mormonism is like a Chinese Shoe
I think it would take somebody better equipped than I, to analyse, extract, document and catalogue the ways in which Mormonism damages the human soul.
There are probably members of the RfM who are trained professionals in relevant fields who could conduct and present the research in a well-documented and academic way. Perhaps this has been done. Maybe it has yet to be done.
But I do know that Mormonism, in all its glory, binds the human soul. It compresses and suppresses the natural physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual development of any boy or girl, and it can cause lifelong, severe damage.
Whatever God intended for his children is something that Mormonism keeps its victims from experiencing.
Why is it that:
1. The highest cause of death among young males in Utah is suicide?
2. Utah Women are the highest takers of Prozac and anti-depressants in the World?
3. Utah has the highest rate of bankruptcy in the USA?
4. You will never find a single member of the cult who believes they are going to attain the highest degree in the celestial kingdom. The gospel of Joseph Smith is one of complete and utter hopelessness.
Note: Incidentally, the three degrees of glory doctrine was lifted from the occultist / mystic and philosopher, Emanuel Swedenborg, by Joseph Smith).
In the early stages, I could not relate to the world recovery when emerging from the fog of Mormonism. I just figured that I had discovered the actual history and truth about Mormonism, and was delighted to be free. Over the last year or so, I have come to realise that the Mormon church is a cult, and that like all cults, it does indeed do significant damage to it members.
Mothers and fathers, who have been victims, go on to subject their own children to the same damaging processes that they have damaged by. The beautiful and natural instincts of the children are suppressed and repressed and moulded to fit the cult model. Most children give up the will to blossom and develop in the way that God would wish, and they conform. The life and free spirit of the child is snuffed out.
Gordon B. Hinckley once said that unemployment is the crucifixion of the soul.
He was wrong. Mormonism, itself, is the crucifixion of the soul. The individuality of a person is crucified by the cult. I wonder if there is ever a full recovery. Does anyone know?
Even as a devoted member of the church, I used to be a little bewildered by UK cult leaders who would seek to ape the Salt Lake City clones. I never understood it. I still dont, other than I now see these people as damaged victims. Yes.
A Poem
At college, I wrote a poem about a child. I had no idea then - absolutely no idea - that I was unconsciously writing about the effects of Mormonism upon myself.
I dont have the poem anymore, but it went something like this:
An Innocent Child
An innocent child of tender years
Not yet programmed with a grown ups fears
May approach whom he will
Spirit gentle and still
Examples and environment have won
With conditioning, the intimacy has gone
From this innocent soul
Now less complete, farther from whole
For years, after I wrote that, I wanted to write a third verse. One with a happy ending. But I never could. Maybe I need to try again.
Anyway.
Mormonism is like a Chinese Shoe.
| It was always drummed into us from being small at chuch that darkness =evil, darkness = devil, darkness = spooooooky. Darkness is the devil's domain - don't stray off the path of light.
But now, I like the dark! There is nothing scary about it. It helps you to sleep, and sleeping in the dark is even reputed to have anti-cancer benefits.
I used to hate rainbows because they reminded me of that 'I'll build you a rainbow' manipulative song, and that GA story that God will stop sending rainbows before the second coming. I like them now.
I used to hate looking at the moon in case it looked red. I like the moon too.
From being tiny I have been taught by church to be scared of so many beautiful natural things. I hid my own body in oversized clothes because to show any curves would be immodest or prideful. I was aware that god hated proud women and would punish them with baldness and sores etc. I feel upset writing this, because it's stirring up a lot of memories from my youth that I'd rather forget.
Now I can wear what I want, look at the moon without fear, appreciate rainbows and enjoy the dark. I feel free.
The phrase 'outer darkness' doesn't inspire fear anymore either. I feel more peaceful, and I haven't turned into an evil person since I stopped going to church.
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