13 May 2009


I'm back. I got tired of all the BS at my house, and I bought a plane ticket, and I skipped town.

Why I've come back to the most red, close-minded state, I'm not sure. Something draws me here though, and it definitely feels more like home than anywhere else. Besides the support system I have here is so much stronger.

So for those of you who read (or lurk, or stalk), but haven't had the opportunity to meet me, well here's your chance. Cuz I'm back in the UT, and lovin' life.

See ya round Utah kids.

10 May 2009


Today in Sunday School I announced that I was leaving and everyone was so upset. Teach told me later that she cried for me today, and she's not a crier. She realizes how hard it is for me here and can't understand why my parents can be the way they are.

The lesson was really good. We talked about living the religion, aka "how to not be a snooty bitch." And living it with truth. When we are down, and struggling, and bothered to no end by bigots, we simply need to remember this. Christ is the center. He is the everything. And everything, absolutely everything, he did was selfless. This is all about how we treat others, not anything else.

Most Mormons are masqueraders, and damn good ones at it too. They live by the book, they stick to the rules, and they follow their mold. And people like me don't fit that. I'm real, and I'm gritty. I've been hurt, and I've made serious mistakes.

And? My testimony is stronger and more powerful for it. See, most of these "God-fearing," unbending, close-minded Mormons don't know the meaning of true faith. They don't know what the spirit is really about, they don't know how to hear it, to recognize it, to understand it and, least of all, how to follow it. So they stick to their safe zones - their rituals, their parades, and their traditions of Mormonness. And they end up being snooty bitches to those who kick against their bullshit.

We are not. We've built our faith on blood, tears, sweat, and pain. We are the true followers and disciples here. And because of it, we live our religion differently than the rest, and that bothers them. They want to judge us, they want to condemn us, they want to think less of us. And I won't act like I'm completely beyond that either. When I first got here and saw that my teachers - the people giving me my spiritual recourse every week - seemed mostly inactive, swore, and seemed more interested in the lastest gossipy events than teaching me a lesson... I was ready to judge. I was ready to question. I could scorn, sure. These weren't "real" believers. They weren't "real" followers. What did they know about being spiritual or righteous?

No. No, no, no. These people are friends. True friends. And they have testimonies that beat out other members entirely. Others haven't been depraved alcoholics on the street fighting for a reason to keep moving forward. Others haven't fathered children out of wedlock and then had to deal with the stigma afterward. Others haven't had to reconcile parts of who they are to fit with the way they worship and love. The largest majority of them have been cut-and-dried, from-the-get-go followers, and I think deep down they are suffering for it. They are all teenagers desperate to find the way to move forward; and like deceptive, secretive, shameful lemming-like creatures they pander, and preen, and follow one another, always checking to make sure it's by the book, by the letter, and the way it's always been done. And even some who do know what it's like to be different try and cram themselves into the rules and the rituals and the way it's supposed to be, comparing they way they live their religion to everyone else, and trying to fit in as much as possible.

This is wrong. How many of these people I look at in Sacrament Meeting as I spout off words of a hymn telling me that my home should be a heaven on earth actually have that? How many of them don't have vices and secrets and problems? How many of them truly, deeply, wholly live and move every moment by the power of the spirit and allow that to govern all they do and say and are? How many?

I think that our (I can't remove myself entirely from being at fault here too) falsity, our professed faith, and vain meanderings measure up to nothing less than Rameumptom-discipleship. And it's hurting us as a Church.

Whenever I begin to doubt, and I begin to waver, and I am discouraged, and fed up, and tired of bullshit, I need to remember.

Remember that I live my faith, and my actions are real. All of them. I don't pretend to read my scriptures every day, I don't pretend to pray when I get up and go to bed. I don't do fake Mormonism, rules, rituals, and motions. I give of myself to others. I remember the center. I remember Christ, and I follow Him, and I try and be like him. I strive to find the Spirit, know the spirit, and follow the Spirit. I'm HONEST about my faith, and most of all, I'm humble about following Christ. My job is to serve and to love, the end. I'm not here to promote myself, or show you what an awesome Mormon I am by getting up and bearing my testimony while I cover up my vices and my problems. Too many people forget that as they work desperately to prove themselves within the church, to be on display - look at me magnifying my calling! I'm celestial material!

Forget the nay-sayers, and the mockers, and the doubters, and most of all, the haters. Live your religion the way you want, and I will live mine the way I know. The way that burns to my core, pulls at my heart, and pleases my God. This is my religion, and yes, it's the same as yours, only I live it differently. And that's okay. And it needs to be okay with you too. This is truth, and this is real, and you can't take it away from me no matter how hard you try to push me away or get me to follow your "proper way" and pretend nothing's wrong with me and that I never mess up and I never struggle or that everything is easy and perfect. Never.

04 May 2009


As if it couldn't get worse. As if it couldn't hurt more. As if.

Tonight my Dad came into my room and wanted to have a "father son chat." Oh boy, here it comes. And then it did.

Full force, and with more oomph than I was expecting. And now I'm hurting, and crying, and I just want to...

I need to get out of here.

Yes, I'm looking for jobs. Yes, I'm trying to do something (that's a lie. The depression that has curled itself around me tighter than a glove leaves me unable to do anything but wile my hours away on the internet playing mindless games - which is ALL I do. Everyday, every minute, there I am. Buried).

Have I looked for a job? Yes. Have I applied to grad school? No. He thinks I should. But I'm broke and I can't afford it... ugh. Am I writing? No. Not a lick. Because I can't concentrate, and I can't handle this place.

I need insurance, I need a phone, I need a place to live. All money I don't freaking have. And the kicker...

He said I was welcome to stay here but I can't keep acting the way I do. Just because I slipped up and said the word "damn" today where my mom could here, now I'm in trouble? He also claims that I use the word "crap" too much. I outright told him I didn't appreciate his hypocrisy since I'm not the only one who says it. And then he swore up and down that they had it totally under control and no one said that before I came back. Bullshit.

I hate this place. I hate it, I hate it, God. I HATE IT.

F M L.