Shame Verses Me

I have been reading a book* about a transparent people. They are so open, that they can read each other’s minds. They do not lie, they have no secrets, they are not ashamed.

I was recently learning about picture books where the pictures tell a different story than the words, not only are the stories different, they contradict each other. I wondered if I could write such a story about my life: the narrative, what goes on in my head, the pictures, a depiction of my life. Would they contradict one another?

I am not prone to cry, even less likely to cry in front of others. Recently I found myself in tears, video chatting with SJ’s mom, feeling uncomfortable as I allowed her to see my humanity.

I have secrets. I am ashamed of who I am. I constantly fear the disproval of others. I am afraid to be wrong. I am afraid that if others really saw me, they would not like what they see. Therefore, I ponder many different ideas, but I act in a way which I think will be agreeable to those around me. If I do not know how they want me to act, I freeze. I do not think people want to see the negative emotions floating inside my head. I doubt they want to hear my apathy, I can’t be bothered to share much of it anyhow. I fear that if I share my fears and anxiety, others will fear what I fear, or they will disregard my fears, and disregard me, as nonsensical. So I hide my feelings, I hide my thoughts, I hide me.

This is a challenging way to live, and it be sure, I don’t think it is at all good for my mental health. My physical health seems to be suffering too. I want to change, I want to improve. I want to change the name of this blog, post it on my Facebook, and walk around naked (at least metaphorically). Change is hard, and I am afraid. Part of me is afraid that I don’t really know me, I don’t know who I am, not sure who I want to be. A big part of me is afraid that people will not like me if they see the real me. They will learn that I am pesky and miserable. I want to be a happy person, but when I am not happy, is it wrong to pretend to be content for the sake of others? Perhaps rather I should ask, is it helpful or harmful to pretend a mood.

It is also important for me to remember that I am allowed to change. Though posting on the internet is much like writing in indelible ink, and my past has very much shaped me, it does not define who I am today. My feelings, positions and perspectives are allowed to change, and are encouraged to do so. The aforementioned book* discusses how changing and improving are crucial in our lives, and provide us with purpose and meaning. The people have names that change and develop as they learn and become new beings. They celebrate who they become, they celebrate their accomplishments, not to boast, but as a way to acknowledge the goodness in and around them. They know who they are, they recognise their value.

Who am I? I am a child of God. Perhaps my greatest value in this life comes from being a child of God. Because he is my parent, I have potential to become like him.  I am human.

I am a daughter of God. I do not believe I fully understand or appreciate this part of me. I do not mind being female, but I wonder if there are ways I can better be motherly towards children and youth.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am a follower of Christ. I have chosen to take the name of Christ upon myself, and make and keep sacred covenants with my Heavenly Father. I desire to become like and follow Christ in all I do.

I am gay. I am particularly attracted to one woman, and I desire to express my love for her in a way that aligns with the pure love of Christ and the covenants I have made. I desire to speak more openly about my sexual orientation, but even when given an opportunity to share, I most often shy away. On a deep level, I am still ashamed that I am gay. Since I have yet to fully accept this part of myself, I cannot expect others to accept me.

I am a teacher. I love teaching! Perhaps one reason I so appreciate my job is that I can stand in front of my class, make a fool of myself and still be accepted. My inner class clown, the attention seeker I’ve always suppressed, has an opportunity to shine.

I’ve been taking anti-depressants for about 6 months now. I think they are helping, but I don’t want to rely on them for the rest of my life. I think if I can learn to be, love and appreciate me, I might not need anti-depressants any longer.

I am an auntie. I love my nieces and my nephew. I love spending time with them, though I feel like often my energy in inadequate.

I like to run, I like to bake, I like to write and I like to create, but interest in these hobbies waxes and wanes. These hobbies do not make me who I am.

These sorts of thoughts are not new to me.  They are not new to my blog.  I hope posting this post is the first of many steps to change. The process of reconciling myself with myself, may not be easy. Perhaps the next step will be changing the name of this blog, coming out to a few more people, or crying openly. Change may not be easy, but I believe it is possible, I believe it is worthwhile.

*Morgan, Marlo. Mutant Message Down Under. (HarperCollins, New York, NY: 1994)

WITOR

This is my WITOR (Who Is The One Researching).  As I seek to answer the elephants I want to first disclose my biases.  I will try to research objectively, but I am not objective.  I have a bias and this is it.

My experiences, beliefs and desires which shape my biases are vast and self-contradicting. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since February 2014, I have spurts of budding faith and stifling doubt.  After deciding to believe in God I joined the LDS Church because the God They spoke about seemed to be a good God, and also because of the exemplar lives of Mormons around me.  My conversion was not based upon feelings I had when reading the Book of Mormon.  Nevertheless, I have since felt that I received direction and understanding from the Spirit.  I use the word “felt” with skepticism.  I am not one to trust feelings.  Rather, I typically look to logic and the scientific method to satisfy epistemological questions.

My experiences prior to my LDS baptism have also shaped the way I approach research.  Four years of theological training at a local Bible College instilled within me a hermeneutical approach to scriptures.  As I read holy books I question the context in which they were written, the meaning it had for the people of its time, the use of words in their original language, the underlying principles and the significant for today. 

Throughout my life, I have attended with commitment many different denominations including (Listed in order from longest duration to shorted duration): Baptist (Canadian Baptists of Western Canada), Mennonite Brethren, Christian and Missionary Alliance, Roman Catholic, LDS, Plymouth Brethren, Christian Churches (Stone-Campbell Movement).  The list of churches I have visited is far longer. 

While I abandoned Christian thought to embrace agnosticism/atheism, I have never ventured far into understanding non-Judeo-Christian worldviews.  As well as completing Bible College and regular church attendance throughout most of my life, I spent four years working for an evangelically minded youth organization.  During this time I sought to lead Mormons out of their church and to who I deemed was the “true Christ.”  To strengthen my polemics, I studied anti-material and stacked up the Church’s flaws.  Meanwhile, I visited Utah and was inspired to write the Plan of Happiness, a story about a gay teenager and her struggle within the LDS church.

For a number of years I have advocated for the LGBT community, yet only recently have I come to acknowledge my own gayness.  While I believe I can be perfectly happy single, immersion in a community that constantly commends heterosexual marriage frustrates me.

I am an idealist. I imagine the world as I think it should be.  Let’s all just get along. I am a people pleaser to a fault.  I live with the constant temptation of saying what people want me to say, doing what they want me to do and lying rather than speaking offense. 



this is the small print

I want the LDS Church to be true. I love being in the temple and do not want to jeopardize my temple recommend.  As I consider serving a mission for the LDS Church, the stack of anti-material I once created come back to haunt me. Previously I held to truth as the highest transcendental, being of greater importance than goodness, success or virtue, than beauty, happiness or creativity.  I have since realized that my own happiness is far easier to judge than the veracity of a doctrine, let alone a church.  Nevertheless, truth matters.  I want to know if the LDS Church is true, not only true, but is it good?  Is it beautiful? 

My appreciation for the Church’s principles, prophets and procedures has been acquired through chosen blindness towards elephants.  Though I was aware of the Church's flaws (both real and perceived I’m sure), I joined without working through them.  I want to see these elephants, let them speak for themselves and accept the truth that they share.

 

“I have always had the satisfaction of seeing the truth triumph over error, and darkness give way before light.” *

*Letter from Joseph Smith to Oliver Cowdery, Sept. 24, 1834, Kirtland, Ohio, published in Evening and Morning Star, Sept. 1834, p. 192.

On Understanding

You say you want to understand, but understanding is a lot of work.  If you knew all that was involved, would you still feel the same way?  I so desperately want to be understood.  I want to believe you, but I’m afraid.  I’m afraid I’ll be disappointed.  You’ll never understand me.  I can’t say I’ll ever understand myself, and when one thing comes to make sense to you, I’ll change.  But, I’m not sure you really want to understand me.  I’m not sure you know all that is involved.  Professionals, they’re paid to listen, but you, I feel bad taking your time.  I’ll keep buying you supper because I feel that somehow I need to give back to you.  I need to make every hour we spend together worth it for you, and I can’t believe that you’d find it worthwhile, just hanging out with me.  I love you so much, that’s why I’m so afraid.  I’m afraid that you just put up with me.  I don’t want to annoy you.  I don’t want to force you to listen to me.  I’m selfish.  I love talking about myself, I love being with you, so I’ll try not to talk about myself too much, because I’m afraid I’ll push you away.  I wish this wasn’t all about me, but like I said, I’m selfish.  I’m not sure I have anything to offer you.  Can I buy you lunch?

So much for authenticity.

Well, if the following information is new to you, and you feel like I should have told you in person, or should have talked to you months ago before making this decision, I'm sorry.  You're probably right.  I should have talked to you, but I had a hard enough time telling my family.  Don't take my not telling you personally, personally.
Have you ever done something that you think is good, but you know others with not approve?  Have you wanted people to rejoice with you, but you knew they would be sad.  Well, that's what I'm going through, and it's tough. 
On Saturday I was baptised at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  That's the long way of saying that I've decided to become a Mormon.  If you know me at all you'll know that for the last 5 years I've loved Mormons but thought very poorly about the LDS church.  So, something's changed.  A lot of things have changed, the journey has been long and I won't share all of it now.  But still, you're probably asking why.  Well, I wanted to follow Jesus, I wanted to know God, and I'd seen many things in the LDS church that seemed good.  There are things about the hierarchy that do seem good to me.  I saw a lot of small things in the LDS church that were good.  Those things by themselves are insignificant, but together they amount to something.  Part of that is realising the my LDS friends are not crazy, they are not brainwashed, they are not naive, but they are living according to their beliefs, and consequently they are living good lives. They are living testimonies that the LDS church is good. 
On Sunday I was excited to be part of the LDS Church, I learned new things, felt for the first time that the Book of Mormon was good and valuable.  On Monday things were swell.  Tuesday was okay.  I told people at my college about my decision, I do not yet know if they'll let me graduate.  On Wednesday, oh, that's today, I don't feel great.  I don't feel great at all.  I wonder if I did the right thing.  I wonder if my faith will last.  I wonder if I'll end up feeling disappointed by God again.  I'm afraid.
I had a hard time telling my family.  It had me feeling stressed and sick.  I knew the news would disappoint them, and make them sad.  I don't like making people sad.  I continue to have a hard time telling people.  There are many who will disapprove.  I understand.  Not long ago I was among them, offering disapproval to those who joined the LDS Church.  Sometimes that past self haunts me.  She laughs at my baptism, calls it a joke, wonders if it really happened.
Anyhow, I'm not giving up.  I'm still going to strive to follow Jesus and be a good Mormon.  Today it's hard.  Maybe tomorrow will be better. 

The Holy Spirit is like unto...

Today I was playing soccer with my sister.  I really like playing soccer with my sister, and I like when she is on my team.  We play well together because I recognise her still, quiet voice.  "Back" she says, and I know I can pass the ball straight behind me and she will get it.  I do not even have to look.  "Time" she whispers later on, so I take the time to look around me.  I know her voice, I trust her voice, I understand what she is saying and so I act according to what she has told me.
I wish I could say that my relationship with the Holy Spirit is like unto playing soccer with my sister.  I wish I knew and understood the voice of my shepherd and trusted what he says.  I wish it was that clear, but unfortunately it is not.
I think about my other friend with whom I pray soccer.  His voice is not as clear to me.  He will say "yep" or "here", but I have to look up to see where "here" is.  Still, he is speaking to me, and I get a general sense of his position from his voice.  My relationship with the Holy Spirit is not like that either.  Honestly I am not hearing anything at all.
Another friend with whom I play soccer rarely says anything at all.  Yet I have played with him long enough that I generally have a sense as to where he will be.  If he passes me the ball, he will run up field and get in the open.  I look for him there and then I can pass it back to him.  This can be quite successful, especially for our basic play, but when I am trapped in the corner, I wish I knew where he was so I could pass him the ball.  I cannot say my relationship with the Holy Spirit is like that either.  Sure I have read his playbook, but I am never sure where he will be, and when I look around to where I think he could be, I never see him.
There are a few new players.  I think about one guy who neither speaks much, nor do I know his moves.  I am constantly looking around for him, or passing the ball to where I think he should be but he is not.  We don't play well together, but as we work towards the same goal we are slowly learning.  The Holy Spirit and I are not like that either.  I feel no progression in our relationship, and I am not sure we are even aiming towards the same thing.
I have another friend who I texted today to invite to play soccer with us.  He never responded to my text.  I do not know if he is just too busy for me, changed his number, doesn't like soccer or is dead.  I feel like my relationship with the Holy Spirit is a bit more like that.  I feel like our relationship is only my half hearted attempts that I don't know if he is ignoring, not getting, or if he just doesn't care.  Maybe the Holy Spirit only uses facebook.

Cookies and Biscuits

The table is set, the water hot for tea, my mess shoved into the closet.  I’m waiting for him to come.  He never gave me a time so I’m antsy, nervous.  I go into the kitchen once more, wipe off the counters and put the dry dishes away.  I glance at the beige table cloth I’ve chosen, is it too dull?  I look at my other choices –too childish. –too bright.  –stained.  I hold the one I think he’ll like best.  An olive green, simple but embroidered with leaves.  I glance at the clock.  It won’t take me long to change the table cloth, but what if he comes when I’m in the middle of the task?  I put the olive table cloth away.  I go flick the kettle on again.  Then I sit down with a book, with his book.  He’d be pleased if he sees me reading that when he comes.  I’m a little too anxious to focus on the words.  I go change my shirt, wash my face and brush my teeth.  I wonder if I should be wearing a dress.  I glance in my closet and shake my head.  He’ll have to be fine with me in a t-shirt and jeans.  I sit back down with his book.  Then I get up and change the table cloth.  I am just replacing the last tea cup when the doorbell rings.  My heart jumps.  I detour through the kitchen to turn the kettle back on.  I take a few deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart.  I unlock the door and creak it open.  There before me stands a boy with a silly smile on his face.  Maybe he is a man, I cannot tell.  The worst thing ever is happening.  I do not know if this is he.  Perhaps it is just a boy scout from the neighbourhood selling cookies standing at a loss for words, or maybe it is I who is at a loss for words.  I stare at him until I feel rude then I quickly turn away.  He stands there grinning.  It is as if he enjoys the misery he is putting me through.  Suddenly I feel that even if this is him, I am not sure I want him in my house.  Finally the silence, beating like a drum, forces me to act. 

“Come in” I say at last.

He steps inside the doorway and looks up at me, awaiting the next direction.  I’m still wondering, if this is him, wouldn’t he be more assertive?

“Come sit down for some tea”

“It is a pleasure to meet you” he says as we walk towards the table.

“You too,” I reply halfheartedly. “take a seat, I’ll just grab the tea.”  I think about asking him what kind of tea he likes, but I doubt he’s picky so I chose earl grey so I can use the same tea bag twice.  Then I wonder, what if he’s Mormon.  I don’t want to offend him, so I pull out my herbal teas.  Raspberry lemon drop?  Is that too girly for him?  I settle with apple cinnamon.  I stack my homemade biscuits on a plate.  I cannot wait to see his face when he bites into one.  He’ll be telling me I’m a good cook.  I know it.  I take out his tea and the plate of biscuits.  When I go back for my tea and the plate of cookies – I plan to impress him with the array of baked goods – I start to worry.  What will we talk about?  I try to look at my reflection in the microwave.  Nothing’s between my teeth; everything’s perfect.  I sit down across from him.  His face still dons a large smile.  I look away from him and focus my gaze on the cookies I just sat down.

“Try some,” I offer. “There are oatmeal, double chocolate chip and peanut butter.”

He reaches for a double chocolate chip cookie, “if I didn’t know you better” he smirks “I’d think you were trying to make me fat.”

I don’t know what to make of his comment so I decide to be offended.  I take a cookie and slouch back in my chair, diverting my eyes to my tea.  This isn’t him, I reason, he wouldn’t say that.

“What would you like to talk about” he asks after giving me a moment to sulk.

I thought he would know, but right now I just want to hear him say that the cookies are delicious, the table cloth is just right, and my house looks beautiful.  He takes another bite of the cookie, but I cannot tell if it is because he enjoys it, or if he is just trying to be polite.  I take a sip of my tea and it burns my tongue.  I bit my lip to avoid saying anything I’ll regret.  Of course he knows what I am thinking.  I look up to see him still smiling.  This time I want to curse at him.  I wonder if he knows, but his mannerism doesn’t change.  Of course, I think, he is supposed to love me even if I am not quite perfect.  My imperfection isn’t going to shock him, but I thought he might at least comment on my perfection.  His question still hangs, unforgotten in the air.  I think I am supposed to echo it back to him, but I’m afraid to hear what he wants to talk about.  I could ask him about the morality of homosexuality, but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.  I could ask him why I am so lonely, but he’d probably answer with a confusing parable that would leave the blame on me.  I think about asking him why there is so much suffering in the world, but I am not sure I was to hear his answers.

Finally I reply, “Don’t you know.”

He nods, sets down his mostly unfinished tea and stands up.

“Where are you going?” I ask him frantically.  Had I offended him?

“I’ll come back when your heart is open to what I have to say.” He says as he slips on his shoes.

“But I thought that was part of your job!”  I protest as he slips out the door.

I stare longingly after him as he walks down the sidewalk, and turns, walking out of my sight.

Angrily I survey my tidy house.  I pick up his barely touched cup of tea and throw it against the wall swearing.  I rip the table cloth from the table and watch as the biscuits and cookies fly everywhere.  I stomp on the ones that land on the floor.  Cursing, stomping, pushing things over.  Then utterly exhausted I collapse on amidst the mess.  I lie there, steeped in misery, hoping he’ll come back.

Driving with God

I went for another long drive with God.  I felt like our conversation from yesterday had been cut short, and it needed to be finished.  I am not one for driving aimlessly, but with the mountains an hour away, there is always an aim.  It was pretty spontaneous, and I was pretty set on it.  I didn't even double check my agenda book to see if there is anything I was forgetting to do today.  
I tried to figure out why I was unsatisfied.  What was it that I wanted?  The answer I believe is pleasure.  I was trying to figure out what this "life to the full" that Christ offers really is, and I was getting quite tired of waiting for him to give it to me.  I was thinking that it was about time to go look for it on my own.  I've always felt like living a Christian life is not about feelings, nor is it about being happy, but I wanted to feel God near me.  I wanted to be happy.  Is there anything wrong with that?  
I hiked up a mountain quickly, until I was sweaty and gross.  I had to get to the top before the sun started going down.  I didn't want to hike back in the dark.  All I concluded is that God is my hope, my only hope.  There is pleasure in enjoying God's creation; I love hiking.  Singing kids' songs with actions while running down a mountain may not scare to cougars away, but it's a challenge and lots of fun.  I don't have the answers, but I'm not about to give up anymore.  I feel a lot more content than I have for a while.
Now I have to do the homework that I put off to go hiking in the daylight...

Swearing at God...

Today I went for a long drive with God.  I had just turned on the music, when a sudden urge came over me.  I wanted to swear.  I didn’t just want to swear, but I wanted to be able to hear it.  I turned off the music before I could even identify the song and reached my teeth over my lip.

“F***”

That was just the beginning. 

For the past could of years I’ve held the belief that swearing when praying is perfectly acceptable.  It is part of being open with God, right where you are at.  That said, I’d never done it before.  After all, I don’t really swear, and by "don’t really" I mean Monday was the first time I’d ever said the "f-word".  It is such a cold, harsh word, and I wondered if allowing myself to say that word caused me to say or think things that I otherwise wouldn’t have said to God.  I am pretty sure the answer is yes.  It wasn’t that those thoughts were not in my head; rather I had no way of articulating them.  The "f-word" was the medium I needed to get my thoughts out and to get my point across.  If I hadn’t been using the word, I wouldn’t have said what I did.  I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.  As I thought at one point “I can’t cry, but I can swear.”  It is not often I take the time to express myself.  After swearing a lot this afternoon on my drive, I started thinking about the idea of swearing around people.  It is something I don't think I'd do.  I tried to imagine people who I could see myself swearing around, but everyone was scratched off the list for one reason or another.  I thought even if I am not in a healthy place with God, at least I can be myself around him which is better than around anyone else.  I am not currently very happy with God, and while swearing when praying is different than swearing at God, I did both.  Maybe the latter is not okay, I don't know.

I don’t have a happy way to end this, but I prayed today, for a lot longer than I’ve prayed for a long time.  Prayer is good, right?