Thursday 19 April 2018

I felt like… a prophet.

I’ve been teaching English as a Second Language, and I generally enjoy my job. I work part-time and pick up other shifts subbing. I was asked to sub yesterday, and I was asked to give the students an assessment… a test. The students were not pleased by this news, and it was very much new news to them. I took the first part of class teaching them about letter writing. It was supposed to be review, but it seemed full of ideas foreign to my students. When it came time to administer the test, they retaliated. They gave me every good reason why they should not have to write the test, and begged me just to teach them instead. I told them we were writing the test. I tried to prepare them for the test, giving them all the information they would need, but they were not listening. They had determined that they were not writing the test. I tried to explain that the test was the material which the teacher had left for them. I was just following orders. I didn’t know why she had left them this test, but I gave possible explanations, guessing at her motivation. They were stubborn. So was I. They threatened to go to a different school, an easier school, if I made them take the test. At one point another teacher walked by the window. I gave a slight nod of my head, beckoning for his help. When he entered, I told him the situation, and he told the class that I was just following orders. They could complain to their teacher, but they shouldn’t complain to me. It was nice having him back me up. He was a second witness, but the class still did not care.
It was then that I started to cry. I didn’t want to manipulate them with my tears, really, I didn’t want to cry, but it didn’t feel like I had much choice.  My tears softened them, but didn’t change their resolve. They assured me that their frustration wasn’t against me, they promised that they liked me, but they were frustrated with all that had gone on that semester and they were not writing that test. One of the students came and put her arm around me, another told me not to cry, while a third asked me why I cried. The only answer I could think to give him was that I am fragile. Through my tears, I taught them the English saying “don’t shoot the messenger,” and pleaded with them again to write the test. One of the students asked me to just teach them. “I can’t teach anymore,” I said. I didn’t mean I could never teach again, only that it is hard to teach and cry at the same time.
The hour allotted for the test was now diminished by half. My resolve was weakened, and I asked them to try. I told them to do the test as practice, and I would help them, and they could ask me questions. I placed the tests on their desks. They looked one to another, trying to decide if they would indeed try. Slowly pencils met papers and they began the test.
I reflected on the question, “why did I cry?”
I cried because I felt disappointed.
I cried because I felt like they were trying to manipulate me.
I cried because I want to do what I have been told to do. Foundational to my molarity is a need to do what I am told, and what I have agreed to do. I am good at following instructions, but they sought to deny me of the joy of doing that.

As I walked home, I thought about prophets. I thought about prophets like Samuel the Lamanite who stood declaring a message only to have people hurl stones at him. I thought about prophets during the years when black members could not hold the priesthood. They wanted to give suggestions about why that might have been so, but really they did not know. They were simply doing what they had been told to do. I thought about prophets today, declaring hard truth against gay marriage. People may threaten them, tell them they will join a different church, an easy church, if the prophets don’t change their mind. The message doesn’t come from the prophet. If we must complain, we should complain to God. President Nelson offers that invitation in these words, “Pour out your heart to your Heavenly Father. Turn to Him for answers and for comfort. Pray in the name of Jesus Christ about your concerns, your fears, your weaknesses—yes, the very longings of your heart. And then listen!” (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2018/04/revelation-for-the-church-revelation-for-our-lives?lang=eng)


I’d better post this, and then get back to work.

Friday 13 April 2018

Death or Life

The blogpost I read yesterday left me feeling pretty hopeless.
What I took away from it was that the only way to find happiness in this life is to hope for, seek for and hopefully find, a romantic partner, where both partners feel strong romantic feelings for the other. One idea that was strongly presented was that denying oneself of the pursuit of a romantic relationship resulted in dying, in becoming more and more anxious and depressed and far too often in suicide. While he did not quote any sources, he spoke with one having authority, and I cannot deny his struggle nor the struggles of so many like us.
Am I depressed because I don’t seek for a girlfriend, because I don’t allow myself to hope for a romantic relationship with someone I could love?
Is there no other way to be happy but to search for a romantic partner?
Even if I take anti-depressants, if I exercise and socialise, am I fighting a losing battle? Is the battle to become a happy, faithful Latter-day saint one that I can never win?
Am I dying? Am I killing myself slowly by denying myself of an intimate relationship with a woman?
With these heavy questions playing through my mind, I got to bed late, only to wake up early to head to the temple. While the temple has motivated me to stay faithful before, I wondered if it is really worth it. I go to the temple regularly, I enjoy my time there, but it hasn’t brought lasting peace into my day to day life, it hasn’t made me happy. It hasn’t taken my depression away. I am still dying on the inside.
Before the session began, I found myself focused on a picture I had never noticed before. It is a picture of Jesus Christ standing on a hill outside of a city. I wasn’t sure if it was depicting a specific story. What I did notice, however, was the light radiating from the character of Christ. I was reminded of my institute class from yesterday. “I am the light and the life,” Jesus said.
It struck me, Jesus Christ is my source of life. No potential lover can take his place. While I believe that (and I also believe looking for such life from humans will lead to disappointment), I also believe there is value, a lot of value and a lot of good that comes from human interaction and human intimacy. It isn’t good for Patricia to be alone.
As usual, I struggled to stay away during the session. Suddenly, a phrase hit me, jolting me awake, having me wish I could rewind and listen again. It was a phrase reminding me of a covenant I made with God, a covenant I made to sacrifice, to sacrifice, if necessary, even my life. If the aforementioned blogger is right, if foregoing any hope of a lesbian lover causes me to die inside, even death is not a reason to forsake my covenants, for dying is what I have covenanted to do.
I didn’t get any warm-fuzzies, while I was in the temple, telling me that my life would be easy and happy, but I was reminded that I do have hope. I hope for that which God has planned for me, I hope that his plan is greater than my plan. I hope, indeed, I have faith that what he offers is greater than the joys I could find in a romantic relationship. I don’t know what God envisions for my life, but I know his vision is greater than mine and so I have hope.
I hope that hope is enough to keep me going and to keep me living. Not just to keep me physically alive, but to keep me alive, and thriving, inside.


Thursday 5 April 2018

Enlarge My Plate

I know that feeling of having too much on my plate. I feel that way almost every day. The reality is, while I feel like I have far more to do than I can possible handle, I don’t. While I feel that adding one more activity to my week, will cause my balance boat to tip and sink, it won’t. The reality is, most days I have plenty of time to waste playing games on my phone and I can’t find the motivation to engage in useful tasks because none of them are pressing.
Today I took on a task, made of goal, which I am not sure I can accomplish. As I was feeling overwhelmed, I prayed, expressing how I felt that I had too much on my plate, but acknowledging that I can accomplish more than I think I can. Rather than praying for activities to be taken from my plate, I asked that my plate would be big enough. Rather than having fewer tasks required of me, I want to have the ability to accomplish more, and, I want to have peace, knowing that God will not ask me to do more than he will enable me to accomplish.


Mosiah24:15 “And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.”

Monday 2 April 2018

Freud*

I am sure Freud would say
I have some sort of repressed memory
Something that happened
That makes me the way I am,
But what if
I am just the way I am?
Perhaps if I
Make up a reason,
Create a repressed memory,
I’ll have something to blame,
Something to call wrong,
So it will no longer be me
Who is wrong.
If I create a repressed memory
I’ll have somewhere to start.
A place from where
healing can begin.
If Freud is right
Maybe I can be alright

After all.

*I took an introduction to psychology course about ten years ago.  That is all I know about Freud, in other words I am not an expert and have no idea what he would say.  I don't think I have a repressed memory of a dramatic event, but I do at times think it would be nice if there was a reason why I have the struggles I have.  It would be nice to have something to blame so that I don't need to shoulder the blame.