A Couple of Loners


Legit have had this convo with my momma! hahaha I feel you, Lisa! from: http://imgfave-chat-herokuapp-com.global.ssl.fastly.net/image_cache/1344738261495361.jpg

You know that 2 years ago we packed everything up, our house, our kids, our lives, and literally moved home, to my parents’ house.

There were a few reasons for doing so, and, frankly, we at the time thought that we were going to end up staying back in the area we had both grown up in (we grew up about 10-15 mins from each other).

I have to admit that 2 years ago, I was SO not handling the Mister’s exit from the Church well.  I mean, really.  I wasn’t ready to face it. And I DEFINITELY couldn’t accept it. I insisted he came to Church with us every week because it’s what we do as a family and how this family started in the first place. PRETTY sure I even told him that if he stopped coming we’d have to talk about separating because we obviously wanted such different things.

Eye roll. Oy vey.

(Sorry, babe).

And, 2 years ago, after being in the same ward for 10 years, I felt I had no one. Not a soul I could go to for help, for support. I had no friendly shoulder to cry on or listening ear.

My two best friends were completely not even a member and an ex-Mormon going through the ANGRY stage of her leaving the Church.

I needed a Mormon. Desperately.

So, we moved home. (Again, for lots of other, REAL reasons, too. I’m not that vapid that I’d force my family to pick up and move because I felt lonely. Give me SOME credit.)

I was excited to go home. My parents are members. His family are members. And we were returning to the area where so many of our friends and memories are from, and some remain. We were sure it’d be just like old times with people.

But, of course, as busy as we are in our careers and raising kids and juggling living with parents/grandparents/inlaws, so are all of our old friends.

So, we moved. And we still had no one.

And I had no one.

I even begged, like, LITERALLY begged, an old friend who occasionally gets together with some other old friends for girls’ night to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE invite me! PLEASE! I’m so desperate, please don’t post pictures of you guys without me, let me come! I need to come!!

But I wasn’t in the next round of pictures. I guess desperation really is that off-putting! hahaha (I’m totally picturing Kate Hudson’s BFF in “How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days” one of the best Rom-Coms EVAH).

We tried a couple of times to host parties and get out to events, but people are just too busy. We’re too busy. Work and kids makes us all busy.

So we had each other. And my parents. hahaha my poor parents! (Love you guys!!)

I learned a lot feeling lonely at home.  I learned how to listen a bit better. So when I got the promoting that maybe I needed to lighten up and give my man a break so he doesn’t grow to hate and resent me, and my religion, I was able to hear it. It was MY idea he stop coming to church with us, a far cry from the initial this-marriage-is-over-when-you-stop. And it was so good for us. I think it was the first time I was actually able to say, okay, I’m okay. I can do this. We can do this. You are a good person no matter what our dogmatic differences are.

I realized what I was doing to him by forcing him to come. I recognized that I was hearing what he was saying to me but refusing to accept it, to accept him. How can it be okay for my friends and other family to not be in or to leave the Church, and I’m loving and accepting of THEM, but I can’t be the same for my own husband? Who I love MORE than the rest of them? (No offence, folks, but he’s still my fave!)

So he stopped coming. And I started the Sunday Single Parent gig. Which is HARD! But when I do it I look around and see the every-day single parents – every single freaking DAY you rockstars do that!! You amaze me – and the other Sunday Singles who I’d never batted an eyelash at before because their spouses are off serving in various stake callings or wherever else. So I joke about it, but I’m good. (And sometimes we even come home to lunch ready-made for us! What a treat!)

And now, we’ve moved. And we’re back where we started our time together. In the ward we started in when we got married. In a different area, in a nicer house, but the same ward. And it feels like it used to.

Absolutely, completely like it used to.

Except now, maybe it hurts a little more? Maybe just today, though. Today has been a funk-day.

We were here for 10 years, and for 10 years I tried to fit in. To feel accepted. To be part of the group. But I just, I couldn’t do it. I’m not one of them. I’m too different. I don’t have anything in common with any of them. Everyone likes me, at least, to my face, but no one CARES about me, you know? Not that they don’t care, but like, hahahaha they don’t care! I can’t even come up with a better way to describe it.

But we knew that’s what we were coming back to. We knew I felt this way before we left, it would be the same when we got back.

I just hadn’t expected in the short time we were gone for there to be so many new people, so many new people who have done what I couldn’t do. In 10 years I couldn’t infiltrate and in under 2 they have.  The bonds these people have…I just have no words. I want that. I don’t mean to be so envious, but it makes me ache watching, and knowing I’ll never have it.

I’m just not made that way. I’m not made to get along with other Mormons.

Mormons are hard.

Good thing my hubs isn’t Mormon 😉

On being wrong


What does it feel like to be wrong? Please take 20 minutes and watch this excellent talk by Kathryn Schulz as she dissects what being wrong feels like, and why it’s important to know the answer to that question. And don’t think that reading this post can substitute for watching, because I will be going way off topic. I didn’t see this video until just recently, but I feel it describes well parts of my experiences in the last year. I used to be so sure that God was in his heaven and that I knew who his prophets were. Now, I don’t. My wife, my father-in-law, and many other people have asked me in on one form or another “What if you’re wrong? What if Joseph Smith was right all along? What if Satan has deceived you and is dragging you down to hell?” I think I may have responded with something along the lines of “What if you’re wrong?” If I didn’t, I’m sure whatever I came up with in that moment was equally as compelling. So, how can I be sure that where I stand now is right and where I stood before, where my wife stands, is wrong?

The plain fact is I can’t. That is the great truth here: I don’t know. I didn’t know. I probably will never know. But that’s not a bad thing, and it certainly needn’t be a scary thing. I could dilute myself into thinking I have it all figured out for certain and I am right and my wife is wrong, or I can accept that I don’t know, and just focus on being good and trying to approach an answer.

If I die, and come to stand before a god to be judged, will I regret how I lived my life? I hope not. I hope that a god responsible for the creation of all the universe, who cares for our actions here, will actually care more about how I lived my life than whether or not I offered him my oblations. I do not believe in God any more. So what? I believe in doing good. I believe in honesty and integrity and curiosity and inquest and discovery and improvement and security and human kindness and community. I am opposed to cruelty and arrogance and tyranny and selfish hedonism and complacent ignorance. And I believe in raising my children to believe in all that too. And if there is no God, or if there is but it does not pay much mind to us small bipeds who have lived for a fraction of a moment on a small speck of rock in some small pocket of its creation, then so what? Our live spans are measured in years and our domains are measured in kilometres. Let’s all do the best we can with the time we have and let the chips fall where they may in the end.

But I digressed into a small rant. Please forgive me. Am I right? I don’t know. Do you?