Far from Home ~ Closer than We Think

This is how I really feel...

FAR FROM HOME - Classic Crime's EP, pre-2nd album


I’ve got a bad
Taste in me
It’s like I’ve been robbed
Of something I once was
In my childhood memories

And it’s buried in sandboxes
Backyard where we used to see
That dreams could come true
If believed
The sidewalks scream our names

We are so
Far from home
Far from home

I’ve got a bad
Pain in my heart
It’s like the first time
That I looked in your eyes
The first time
It all fall apart

And it’s buried in sandboxes
Backyard where we used to see
That dreams could come true
If believed
The sidewalks scream our names

We are so
Far from home
Far from home

But now we are so
Far from home
Far from home

All I have is words
To which I’m a slave
I scribble them down
Hoping they'll
Save me
But I’m lost
I’m so lost

These pages will burn
And I’ll pass away
Yesterday’s gone
And I just can’t shake
The fact that I’m lost
I’m so lost

But now we are so
Far from home
Far from home

Now
We are so
Far from home
Far from home

But now we are so
Far from home
Far from home
Far from home

We are so
Far from home
Far from home

Now we are so
Far from home
Far from home

Now we are so
Far from home
Far from home

CLOSER THAN WE THINK - Classic Crime's 2nd album


What's it gonna take for me
On my hands and knees
While all the poets fill pages of loose leaf
I feel cheap, and I feel empty
We will bathe in the sea of disbelief
But we will not go quickly.
No, we will not die so easily.

And I knew that this would happen
It always does
And I couldn't stop my reaction
So I let it come
I let it come

I still hold the belief
That we are free,
That we don't need the rules
To see
That despite what we've done
We're not alone
We're closer than we think to home

It didn't take me long to believe
That I could do anything,
Turn the songs up loud
So we can sing
I am true
And I am living
We will walk through the valley
Of the shadow
Of the boring
And burn it all
No, we will not go quietly

And I knew that this would happen
It always does
And I couldn't stop my reaction
So I let it come
I let it come

I still hold the belief
That we are free,
That we don't need the rules
To see
That despite what we've done
We're not alone
We're closer than we think to home

To home, to home
To home, to home
To home, to home
To home, to home

Across the water you call me
But I'm not listening
As I sink down
Water fills my lungs
As I begin to drown
I knew that this would...

I still hold the belief
That we are free,
That we don't need the rules
To see
That despite what we've done
We're not alone
We're closer than we think to home.

Public Eye

I'm tired. Of hiding. Of fighting. Of pretense. Of debating.

So I'm just going to open myself. I have nothing to hide. Let all who wish to follow do so. I welcome your support, thoughts, prayers, constructive comments, etc.

One step closer to being the real me.

Bring on the public.

Remade Frustration - Questions

My stomach hurts; what else is new?

OTR and I had a number of discussions after Prayers for Bobby on faith, and the Church, and everything else. Doubt is rampant. My testimony muddled. My confusion...unending.

I sit in Church every week and feel little, wishing to be elsehwere. Watching, listening, taking note. There are very few true Christians there. People going on and on and on about Nature of God this, I know Joseph saw that, but like Tommy says, how is that adding to their growth and movement in the Kingdom?

As I half-listened to the testimonies today, I thought about going up there. About talking about being a true Christian. About pleading with the people to return to "a hospital rather than Pebble Beach". But I didn't. Honestly, who would listen? 

Every day that Scot and Rob, and others, are prejudiced against, every day that Prop 8 creeps up in conversation, everyday people get in trouble for trying to make a difference, then what's the point? In Sunday School we were talking about "The True and Living Church" which my teacher hated, so she changed the title to "Church Organization ala Restoration" which I felt was much more fitting. We were reading in D&C 20 which is basically the Church's "Constitution" and outlines the formation of the Church, then goes into the Plan of Salvation. 

31 "And we know also, that sanctification through the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is just and true, to all those who love and serve God with all their mights, minds, and strength."

32 " But there is a possibility that man may fall from grace and depart from the living God"

33 "Therefore let the church take heed and pray always, lest they fall into temptation"

34 "Yea, and even let those who are sanctified take heed also."

I found the part about the church falling into temptation very interesting. Zion's Camp failed because of the dissidence and unbelief in the church, well, when I look around now, all I see is pride and self-righteousness. Sure, there's love and support, but honestly, deep down, I only remember one testimony today given where I said to myself, "That man is a Christian, and believes it."

This past weekend riled up a lot of thoughts in my mind. I went on the Father/Son campout, held on an island in the ocean, which was pretty cool. But I didn't relate to many of the men there; no, talking to the kids was far, far easier. None of the men made any effort to include me, or carry on conversation either. One man did invite me to sit down, and then about 6 minutes passed in silence, the two of us just sitting there. I've been having alot of doubts recently wondering about my future children and if I really want to bring them up in the gospel and the church. I mean, it's a great place, right? It protects them, and teaches them how to stay afloat in a drowning world, right? But I just don't know. One of the little 7 yr olds I befriended had on a bracelet that said "Future Missionary" and I just wondered. Is this right? Is this okay? Is this the way it should be? What does this boy whose head is already filled with dreams of being a great missionary bringing people to the gospel know of equality? Or true charity? Of undying, unbiased love? Anything?

I find myself growing more and more dissatisfied with the solitary stance that our Church takes. One of the testimonies that really bothered me this morning was a man who was going on and on about the misfortune in his neighborhood, and the economic problems, and the relationship difficulties, etc, etc, etc and then he went on to profess how blessed he was, how BETTER he was, just because he's a member of our Church. I was extremely bothered by that. And then as a ward today everyone was fasting for those who were struggling or having trouble, and I just felt like they were once again trying to assert their superiority because they have blessings and the others don't. Where's the Jesus Christ in that?

I've been fighting with my mom alot recently too, which hasn't helped me. Once OTR left I decided that the "remake" of myself lay in me and only me. I mean we wholly determine our attitude, circumstance, etc; that's why agency is so amazing and powerful. So that first day I woke up early, made my bed, cleaned my room, went for a bike ride, went swimming, took a shower, and felt really excited for the day. Then came the brushes with my mom, who for some reason has taking to picking at me. For the way I talk, the way I dress, she even yelled at me one evening for the way I was sitting on the couch. That really offed me. She goes on and on about respecting her, about this is her space, this is her house, and clearly, I have NO place in it. She cannot have respect for me and accommodate me within her threatened respect. So I felt shattered, and closed myself off in my room, since it's the only space I have here that's mine. Were moving possible, I would have already done it. Were going elsewhere possible, I would have done that too. But I have no one here; nothing. So I'm stuck. The next three days were spent in my room, behind a closed door, feeling completely unwanted and unwelcome. Then since I wouldn't speak to her, my mom took the fight to email. It was incredibly draining.

And just yesterday I went to the grocery store, and I believe this is partly due to watching all the little ones scurrying around at the campsite, but I'm becoming resigned, and it scares me. Utterly frightens me. I've been thinking about the future, and if we go into the Peace Corps, I'll get back and be almost 28. And then I started to despair. Be honest. I'm not going to have kids, am I? I'm already 25 and I'm not going to be one of those happy people married young with beautiful, hyper kids disrupting church meetings. I am beginning to accept the entirely disheartening reality that I will never have children of my own. People say that if you can dream it, you can do it... so where' my confirmation? Where's my solution? Why can't I have what I want most? Why am I denied such happiness? WHY DAMMIT?

Conference is looming on the horizon, and I'm scared out of my mind. This will be the first year in 7 that I'm not attending in person at the Conference Center. I have a friend in Michigan who keeps calling me, wondering why I haven't made "right" with the Church. When I was at BYU I made some mistakes, and if I'm honest, has compromised my Church worthiness, which is why I don't participate in anything, or use my priesthood ever. She's been waiting for a year now for me to get "back on the path" but I'm fairly certain that will lead to excommunication before I get my temple recommend back and can have fixed everything that I've broken.

I'm not even sure I WANT to. I don't know where I stand with the Church anymore, as alot of bloggers have been wrestling with as well. Are we wrong? Is this really the path to hell? Can I really turn my back on what I've believed for so long, so deeply? How many times have I wanted to before and failed? Will this be my breaking point? Why do I have to have such a conviction and surety? Why can't this just be easy, and I cut the ties and free myself from pain and guilt and suffering and prejudice? Damn this church for the beliefs it has given me. Damn this church for instilling them in me from my youth. Damn me for believing in them soul, heart, might, and mind.

So General Conference is coming, and I'm wondering what will be said. Will I feel sick like previous years? Will I cry? Will they address what I need them to? Will God finally talk to me through his chosen prophets? We sang "We Thank Thee O God For a Prophet" around the campfire on the trip, and I was hesitant. Then it was the closing song in Sacrament today, and I didn't sing. I DIDN'T. Because I don't know. Do I thank God for a prophet? Do I even believe in Thomas Monson as a prophet?

So I'm drowning, I'm breaking, my remake is shattered in pieces around me, and I'm beginning to give up on dreams that I don't see happening - even though I want them more than anything else on Earth.

And then I got to Priesthood. It was combined, unexpectedly, I guess the Elder's Quorum Teacher didn't show, and it was on hope. Which we had in Elder's Quorum about 4 or 5 weeks ago. But I guess I still need it. Hope. I hate hope. Just like I hate faith. Because they are part of the chains that bind me to truth, and peace, and love, and this damn church.

Proverbs 13:12 "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life."

How? How can I continue to hold on to that which drains the life from me and is filled with two-faced lying, hurtful people?

Albert Camus said, "In the depth of winter, [we find] within [us] an invincible summer." But I don't. I don't have that. I just have a flickering flame that's dying, that I sometimes wonder if I myself have blown out.

President Uchtdorf counseled in the last General Conference that "there may be times when we must make a courageous decision to hope even when everything around us contradicts this hope. Like Father Abraham, we will “against hope [believe] in hope."

That's all I have left.

I pray fervently that Conference will not destroy me further. But it may be the final decider where my feet next take me. And that, is soooo scary.

Prayers for Myself

It happened. I can't believe it finally happened. I've been trying since I got here for my parents to sit down and watch Prayers for Bobby with me. I think it partially due to the fact that OTR is here it actually happened, otherwise they would have found more excuses or reasons not to. My dad was supposed to be doing Board of Reviews for a bunch of Scouts tonight, but he got a sub so that he could be here for this. Thanks Dad!

Before I go into tonight, I want to take a second to talk about the First time I saw Prayers for Bobby. I borrowed my Grandfather's car to drive down to Salt Lake where I met D, Scott, Sarah, and their kids. We stopped at McDonald's on the way up, and poor Sarah spilled water :( But it only made me love her more. The frantic scramble and dashing about reminded me of my own parents, and of course - being the 2nd of 7 - and loving kids, I settled right in with Lil' S to play on his Leapster. He was so super cute. It started snowing pretty hard on the way up the canyon and we got a little nervous, but Scott was an amazing driver and got us there in one piece. When we turned on our tv at the cabin we found out that our rush hadn't done us any good because it had already started! Oh no! I was devastated. But luckily, it was going to play again right after. So we played with the kids for an hour and then settled in.

Prayers for Bobby was indescribable in its impact and profundity. As mentioned last time, I cried so hard my stomach hurt. The movie was perfect in every way, and I related with Bobby as I have not to anyone since reading My Name is Asher Lev. Gut-wrenching, heart-rending complete relation. His pain was my pain. Even tissues weren't enough.

I've expressed this before, but I'm going to do it once more: Thank you Scott and Sarah so much for that night. You may never understand just how much it meant to me. Then when we went back of course the snow got worse, and I "tragically" had to stay an extra day and play with their kids. I also got invited to family dinner, which proved to be awkward and a bit discriminatory, and prompted Scott to send a letter. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed my weekend and will be eternally grateful to both Scott and Sarah for their love and assistance.

Now then. Scott gave me a copy of the movie right before I came here, and tonight we finally sat down to watch it. Tonight was the night because the kids are all gone at Scouts, Mutual, or work. But we didn't have a full 95 minutes, which is how the long the movie was. So we wanted to have it set up beforehand. The dvd player wouldn't read, but the disc worked great on my laptop. So then my lil bro set up the playstation and it loaded the play screen. We thought everything was great, but when my dad finally got home, and the kids were off, the disc would say read error anytime we clicked play. Agh. 

So we ended up watching it on my laptop. 4 people huddled around, lol. But it turned out okay. I bawled as much as last time, and OTR was right there with me - she actually cried even harder, if that's believable. 

My mom HATES HATES HATES sad movies, and I had warned her beforehand, so I'm so grateful to her for sacrificing and watching it with us. She didn't cry (that I saw) like OTR and I sobbed, but it still had some impact. When it was over she said, "You were right. That was a really sad movie." That was about all she said, then withdrew. But I didn't expect anything more from my mom. She takes a while to process and open up. I'm hoping for more conversation in the near future with her. Oh! I almost forgot. I knew she was enjoying it to some extent (my mind had only pictures of them being scathed and offended by the club scenes or the kisses) because with 20 minutes left we had to pause the movie because the kids were done at the church. There was a brief chat of who would go and who would stay, and my mom voted my dad since OTR didn't know how to get to the church. Then as soon as he got up, she said, "Okay, continue. Don't leave me hanging." 

When my dad got back with the kids, things progressed as normal until they were all in bed, then he came to my room to watch the last twenty minutes. When it was over, he said, "Powerful message." Then he just kind of sat there in silence, and I could tell he was thinking, so I bit. 

Me: "Penny for your thoughts? Here, I'll even give you a quarter." He didn't take it, but he did smile then said he didn't really have any coherent thoughts just then, but that he did take away this: 

"Sexual orientation doesn't determine a person's worth, they're still a person."

Then he went on to explain it was like Mary had said about people born with no arms who get ridiculed or discriminated against. He even mentioned curly vs straight-hair people. They didn't choose that, that's just them. I almost burst smiling, because this level of acceptance was never anything I'd heard him say before. But I had to know more, so I asked: "But are all they ALL things you can accept outright?"

He didn't say yes right off, but dodged a bit. He said, "You can accept, like understand and love, but that doesn't mean you embrace." Because apparently embracing me is too much to ask...my burst of smile was quickly snuffed out. However, I refuse to give up. I still hope deeply for the day when my parents can be like Mary and be proud of my difference. 

He continued, "Accept is like being indifferent about it." He thought a second, then amended, "But at least it's not rejection."

Me: "But I think indifference is worse." (ie, more painful, hurtful, etc.)

Dad: "Yeah, I can see that. It doesn’t give you anything to fight for or against. It just is." It really doesn't. To me it's almost as effective as being ignored. I'd rather you outright reject me than keep around and just be 'meh' about it. I think that the line that still has the greatest impact on me is when Bobby's sister tells him she won't ever change and that he won't ever be welcome at Christmas or Thanksgiving with a boyfriend. That's still how I feel with my family, though I give them credit for not trying to bury me in religious healing. 

Dad: "I don't know though that I can agree with what Mary tried to say about knowing from the beginning. I didn't." My inital thought was that he just didn't want to and that's why he says that. I also called him out by saying, "So when I came out to you, it took you completely by surprise?" 

He relented that no, he knew then, but if we went back to when I was a kid he wouldn't have guessed, or expected it. Which is funny to me, because my brothers totally saw it way back then. And I definitely wasn't ever interested in sports or anything uber-macho like that. 

Me: "I knew when I was 11. It’s in my journal. I wrote about it. But I sure as hell wasn’t telling any of you, because I felt just like Bobby. You’d hate me, reject me, kick me out, call me Evil. So I buried it. Deep as it would go. Ran and ran and told myself it wasn’t true. Me? I’m not gay. Until on my mission it came back full force to slap me in the face. And then when I got home and moving on to the next 'phase of happy mormon life' wasn’t working... I decided to be honest. Completely. Get out the box and bring it forward and accept myself and that's what I did." It was neat to be able to color in just a few more of the black spaces in my life for my dad so he had a more complete picture of me. He knew about my experiences on the mission, and after, from our summer together in '06, but didn't know anything before that.

His last comment was: “Good story.”

Me: “Yes. And a true one.”

Dad: “One that’s happened probably hundreds or thousands of times.”

Me: “Almost hundreds and thousands plus one.” That kinda hit him, and he looked at me somewhat surprised.

Dad: “Well, I hope you stay with us.” I shook my head. 

Me: “There’s nothing to worry about anymore.” (Just a lot more work to be done between us).

Dad: “Good. You still have a lot of stories to write.”

Then he left. I wasn't impressed; mom and dad didn't hug me and say sorry at all, but honestly, I don't feel letdown either. I feel like after it was over we didn't really dig into the issue like I'd wished, but part of that was because I was comforting OTR. By the end of the movie she was inconsolable, and seriously cried at least a half hour after it was over. She just didn't think that it was fair so many people had to hurt so badly, and we make it worse for them by our hate and discrimination. We had a good chat about that and how it's not fair for her to say that her pain has been any more or less than ours; she's been through her share of hell too. She's taking time now to question her faith in hopes of finding the deeper faith that Reverend Whitsell spoke of. 

My response to her, my father, and Mary is this: 

I will not give up on love. I think every time before I say Amen, and definitely always listen. My dreams won’t die. I’ll carry them on for Bobby and anyone else who didn’t get the chance.

Most of all though, like people who feel the utter need to bear their testimonys for fear of being ungrateful to God, I must cry out from every fiber of my being: Thank you Mary Griffith. Thank you Bobby.

Continuance

I have alot to say... I just don't want to. 

I'm debating, toying, mulling on what to do with this blog. Should I make it public? Delete it? Continue on with the two active readers I've still got? Sigh.

I got hit by a car, and I'm sick of talking about it, so if you don't know, that's all you're gonna get. Sorry.

So now I'm back in Florida, at my parents. Reliving the summer of 06. Except this time I can't walk, so in some ways it's worse. I don't know. My parents took steps back then to accept and understand, but often, it still seems like nothing is different. 

One of the first nights I was here, I asked my dad if one of my uncles knew about me. When he got what I was talking about, he was like, "Oh, you mean your leaning." 

Excuse me? My Leaning? My inclination? The way that I have decided to move myself? I was so incredibly insulted by his comment. I couldn't believe after all that we've done that he would still say something like that. 

Since coming here Feb 13th, I've tried to get my parents to watch Prayers for Bobby with me, but with no luck. They just avoid. Put it off. Make an excuse. When I saw it with Scott, Sarah and D it was INCREDIBLE. I cried so hard that my stomach hurt after. Prayers for Bobby is just BEAUTIFUL. And I want my parents to see it. I want them to understand more. To understand better. To reopen the discussions that I die to have, and they avoid. 

And yet, as mad as I get at my dad... he does great stuff too. He built me a desk. He pulled me around the neighborhood in the little red wagon. He totally bought me an 8-pack of "contraband" soda pop I've been craving that my mom would never ever buy. 

The good and the hurtful mix together and I no longer know how to look at him. Do I give him credit? Do I hate him for being so hurtful? Do I just write him off as imperfect? But in which direction? 

It's just confusing, tiring, and still, even after all this time...painful.