Pink Pedestal

It all started when I punched Seth in the arm and called him my friend. This shouldn’t be a big deal.  He is my friend but I also think he is way hot.  As I was talking to him I became aware of the Berlin Friendship Wall I was erecting. I try to appear unattractive to him and point out all the reasons I should not like him to myself.  This wall is one of many invisible barriers I put between myself and potential relationships. I started seeing a therapist to help me deal with the church.  She has been pushing me to talk about my last relationship with a man named Pillsbury(see:  Princess and the Penis).  I’m learning it was not the end of that relationship that was tormenting me.  It is the beginning. 

His name was David.  We spent everyday together skipping down the silver streets of New York.  We had what is known as a connection. Connection.  A while ago Seth reintroduced me to this term. (see: Great Sexpectations) This word has been ringing in my ear ever since.   I have used it many times before but only now am I starting to understand. See, Pillsbury and I had a relationship.  David and I had a connection. Cue massive regrets.

How many times did I punch David in the arm and call him friend?  How many times did I convince myself to just be friends with this dashingly handsome man.  I loved him.  I have never met a man I cared for them the way I cared for David.  I thought about him all the time.  Everyone in the ward thought we were dating.  We might as well have been.  We were inseparable...well except for my wall.  I told him all about my Skype relationship with Pillsbury.   David soon became angry every time I brought up Pillsbury.  So I stopped talking to him about it.  He did everything he could to show me he liked me.  Just shy of tying me down and screaming "I like you!" What happened you ask?  Nothing. Every hint he dropped, I gave him the old "We are such good friends".  I liked him so instead of playing dumb why I didn’t just say something.  When I told him Pillsbury was flying out to see me he was irrational.  His face dropped and he ignored me.

"Come on." I said with an innocent smile "arnt you going to check him out for me and make sure he is good enough?"

He just looked away, "I’m really busy that week" he said...I never said what week he was coming...and David was unemployed. 

The whole thing blew up in my big play dumb face. I was insensitive and afraid. I blew off one of the most meaningful relationships I ever had so I wouldn't risk losing it. I was afraid to be loved.  And I have done this countless times.  I saw David a few weeks ago.  My wall was still up, still in denial. But as we were surfing on carts through the wal-mart parking lot my feelings for him began to surface again. I thought to myself “He is truly an amazing man. I would go back to church if I could find a man like him.”  I snuffed those thoughts out but thanks to my therapist I must face the truth.
  
By trying to protect myself from being vulnerable I have ended up wondering “what if?” Pillsbury was easy to date.  I was not attracted to him so I thought he couldn’t hurt me(wrong!) We was the model Mormon man. He pursued me the way I expected to be pursued. He put me on a lovely pedestal.  Many of the Mormon boys I have dated have done this.  But I don’t want the pedestal.  I want to be an equal. I remember being told so many times by boys at BYU how unattractive a woman is, who pursues a man.  They want to win you with gifts and acts of valor.  Who doesn't want that?  It sounds fun but to truly play this game you might as well be an apple on a tree waiting to be picked. 

The churches expectation invites sexisum. A single mormon man is at fault for being alone but a woman.  We are told it is not our fault our husband must be in heaven.  I want to be down on earth with my unemployed lover running through central park. I want to take responsibility for my relationships. I want to accept that I have a choice on who and how I love.  Who know what would have happened if I allowed myself to open up to David. Maybe nothing would have changed.  I have been replaying the events over and over in my head but about a year too late. 

I’m coming off my pedestal.  I don’t want to be spoiled anymore.  I want to find a connection.  The stigma of a "DTR"(mormon term for Define The Relationship) is so negative.  I did everything I could to avoid it.  Like many Mormon men and woman who suffered years of reinforce stereotypes I became silent to my own thoughts. As I move forward in my personal relationship I will remember David. I would be fine dating a guy who’s only gift to me was his heart.  

Potty Training

Lazars were flashing, the music was blaring and I was wearing a little number I bought in New York City 7 years ago.  I was nervous to bust out my low drop tank top.  I bought it during my rebellious youth but never warn it.  Unsure the affect this top would have called my friend Jen to basically ask her permission.  I even packed another shirt just in case.  My Boobs looked amazing.  You never would have guessed I was a virgin from the way I was moving on the dance floor.  My friend Kate even pulled me aside to learn how to drop it like it’s hot.   I was among friends + one friend of a friend.  His name was Rodrigo.

After a few drinks I noticed Rodrigo noticing me.  The definition of tall dark and handsome.  Brazilian and beautiful.  After a few more drink I contemplated the existence and proximity of this man.  After a few more drinks I found myself more than contemplating proximity.   As a group we moved from one bar to the next, Rodrigo at my hips.  Around 1 am the group started to dissipate.  Kate had also made acquaintance with a man who was at her hips.  

I was beginning to sober up but most of my friends were still wasted.   I started to wonder what I was doing.  Who was this guy I kept kissing and why didn’t I care?  Rodrigo told me very specifically that he was going into the bathroom. 

“okay.” I said

He left…he came back and again told me he wanted to go to the bathroom. 

“fine.” He smiled and I smiled back.

A third time he came back slightly frustrated.  He said to me a third time “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“then go!” I said

“I want you to come with me.” He said

“I don’t have to go,” I said

“Come, please”, He said

“Is there a line?” I said.

 This time he looked deep into my eyes and smiled. “There in no one.  Meet me,”

“Oh God!” I thought.  I had seen this in the movies. Commode Coitus! I was no good in a bedroom much less a bathroom! As he was walking away I realized I was WAAAY over my head. Most of my friends had left.  Kate was still there with her hitch hiker.

“Kate!” I said with combination fear and adolescents “Um. I have never done anything like…anything.  How do you…what should I do?”

Kate just stared, “You okay?” 

I was trying to figure out a really cool way of saying “Help!  This man wants to do sexy times in the bathroom and I am no good with a pee pee. I should run and hide but he is very attractive!”

Just then Rodrigo came back from his fourth potty trip. He took my hand and started to guide me toward the bathroom.  I stared at Kate the way you stare up at a ledge after you have fallen.

 

“I think it’s time for me to go home.” I said abruptly. I left and he fallowed. We walked hand in hand back to my car.  God he was good looking.  And leaving to go back to Brazil in 12 days.  It was the perfect crime.  But he was friends with my friend Jack.  As we were walking back to my car I saw Jack and called out to him.  Rodrigo kissed me to stop the sound.  “Don’t call him over here.  I just want to be with you.”  Did I mention how incredibly handsome he was. 

  

We kissed all the way to my car. And in my car.  And I drove him home where we continued to enjoy my car. (tho it was totaled a week later)  After we enjoyed the car I told Rodrigo it was time for me to go home.  Then something happened.  Something I did not expect.  He said,

“Wait.  Can I get your number?”

My very first thought was “Why?” There I was naked with a man who was also naked.  And I wondered “Why?”.   As I drove away a small black hole formed in the pit of my stomach.  I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, except maybe indecent exposure as my car windows were not tinted.  I’m sure Rodrigo had no intention to call me.  I was sure this was what the kids call a hook up. No sex but still sexy. So why did I feel so raw. Why? Why? Is this what I’m becoming? So detached? My mind was trying to sort tho what transpired in the car.  At one point Rodrigo asked me what I liked about him. I said “I like how sexy you are.” To that he asked “is that all?”  What if Rodrigo did like me for some odd reason?  Am I really that heartless?  I thought back to Rob and Seth. (See: Sleeping With the Enemy, and Great Sexpectations) I liked Rob sort of.  I really liked Seth tho I basically convinced myself not too.  Rodrigo… I didn't know him...Oh my.

Unexpected Soul

I was finally starting to enter into a healthy non-mormon environment. I had a job offer.  I was making friends, drinking beer, learning about sex, looking for a co-ed apartment so I could move out of my parents basement when SMASH!  I was hit by a man going 45mph.  My car totaled, my guitar destroyed, and my head pounding. (see: Car Crash)  I have a bad concussion and have been on bed rest for over a month now.  My head still hurts.  I can’t really drive, I can’t read, and can barely write.  I normally love sunny days but the sun aggravates my condition so I stay indoors like a vampire.  I can’t believe after all my excitement to leave the Mormon community I have been thrown back into it.  A helpless, sexless, drinkingless, lifeless person.  At least that was what I thought.

For the last month I have had to “hit the brakes” (Pun intended) on my secular education.  tho this time is frustrating I have realized a few very interesting things.  At first I was angry. I wondered if God was punishing me.  A week before the accident I had met a man in a bar and attempted to give him a hand job in my car (a funny story I very much look forward to telling you about!) As I contemplated this theory I remembered the indent with my windshield (see: Waiting for Godot) Basically I learned shit happens, not always for a reason.  

 There were emotional triggers at first.  I can’t drink, can’t make new friends, can’t have sex.  Not that I was even close to having sex but I felt restricted.  Like I was back under the church’s church thumb.  A very few of my Mormon friends came to visit me.  Tho I was sickly and in bed they never failed to send me a text inviting me to church on Sunday.   Also a few of my secular friends came to see me which was extra special as they had to drive very far.

I spent the first two weeks watching stupid movies, cried and ate ice-cream.  I realized this this was temporally my life and I needed to make the most of it.  I started going to the library and instead of renting your run of mill Reese Witherspoon movies.  I checked out documentary, History’s, and travel DVD.  I learned about the McCain campaign and actually felt sorry for Sara Palin.  I marveled at the Taj mahal, and swam through Great Barrier Reef .  I experienced the life a standup comedian. I witnessed the horror facing Afghanistan soldiers.  I climbed Mt Everest.  I learned why Oprah is a Goddess to middle aged woman.  I watched the Hindenburg crash to the ground and I learned why it is a bad idea to keep a Viper as a pet.

Before this accident I felt empty.  I had lost my friends, my community, and my culture.  The brave history of Joesph Smith turned out to be an April fools joke.  The stories of the Nephites and Lamanites turned out to be just that…stories.   But as I educated myself I started to appreciate a new culture, a different community.  This community was much bigger.  Roughly 7 billion people.  This culture Full is of triumphs and tragedies.  These people were not just waiting for missionary’s to save them.  My only concern was the History of Mormonism and why it is wrong. I failed to recognize the splendor of what makes the world so right and wrong.  I look forward to getting better.  I think when I can once again grab a drink with my friends they will see me differently.   Someone whose soul goes deeper than the river Jordan. 

FriendShips

Hellooooooo?  Is anyone out there?

You have done it.  You have jumped ship off the Mormon cruise line(see: bon voyage) and now you are floating precariously on a door in the middle of the secular ocean.  So what do you do now?

Making friends was very difficult for me after I left the church.  I’m outgoing but I was used to having my social events planned for me.  Without my pot lucks, FHE’s, institute, CES firesides, and enrichment activities I was lost.  I went to bars alone and promptly left as soon as the drunken men grab my ass.  I went on tons of bad on-line dates.  Most men who wanted to help me find my pussy.  I went dancing… alone.  I went to concerts…alone.  I even tried a few meetup.com groups with little success. One group advertised as single professionals turned out to be a room of 40+ men giving me the eye and a bunch of 40+ woman giving me the stink eye.  One night I went to a neat bar where you could drink and play table tennis.  I went in…alone.  I’m not sure how familiar you are with table tennis but it requires 2 people to play.  I stopped a waitress.

“excuse me,” I said to a woman whose hair was so white it could only grow on trees, “Do you have like tournament nights or teams you can join?”

She looked at me “No. You just come with your friends and stuff.”

“Oh well I’m new in town sort of, I mean I grew up here but I’m just…I just don’t have a ton of friends…like any. Ha ha.” What the hell?  Why was I telling her this? “You don’t have any like mingle nights?” I stumbled out

“Oh my God that is Sad” her big fake eyelashes fluttered “I have friends and I, like, hang with them and stuff.  Why don’t you have friends? You’re cute.”

“No No. I do have friends they just don’t like to go in bars or do stuff outside of church…it’s a religious thing...for them…not me.”

“Oh my God, were you like Amish er something? I hear they don’t even use I-pods when they work out. Is that true?”

What the hell was this woman talking about?  “Yes Amish.  What’s an I-pod?”  

“Oh my God I’m so sorry for you.” She grabbed my arm tenderly and said, “It’s okay.  Just don’t do crack. It’s so weird.”  Clearly she was speaking from experiance. 

This city was just not panning out for me.  I noticed on meetup.com that another city a little over an hour away having cool activities all the time.  It has a reputation for being a huge party town.  I decided it was time to try my luck there. 

I noticed a HUGE difference.  People were my age, were fun to talk too.  We related on a ton of issues.  I started going to this city every other night despite the hour drive.  I got in with a group of really cool people who introduced me to some very common 20-something activities.  We went to concerts and comedy shows.  We talked and drank.  They supported me when I played at an open mic night.  They taught me how to play Beer Pong, and Flip cup.  I did my first Kegs stand. I got 45 seconds because the guy was not pumping the Keg so nothing was coming out.  (for those who have never seen a keg you have to pump them to make them go) When they realized I had fooled them all they made me do it again.  This time I got 2 seconds.  How the hell do you drink upside down? Silly.  They all had a good laugh.  I feel very loved by these people.  They know I’m a little odd.  Sometimes they are speaking a foreign language.  They say things like “Rail Drinks” “Riders” “D.D.” “Assed out” “Shmagled” “DTF” “Job”(not the kind where you make money…hopefully) 

It’s not easy making your own social calendar. I miss my pre-planned activities.  It’s also tricky navigating the whole “Mormon” Issue.  I get three different responses when I tell people I am leaving the Mormon faith.  There is the non-chalent “oh yeah. I was Catholic growing up. I get it.”  No offence but few of the Catholics I met were as severely indoctrinated as even the most lay Mormons.  For example:  I had not actually looked at my own vagina until about two months ago.  It just felt wrong.  The other response is a very solemn “Oh my God!  That’s huge.  Your life must be upside down right now.”  I appreciate the sentiment of these people, but it can get over bearing.  They want to know everything you are going through even if you are at Amanda’s birthday party. It’s almost imposable to talk about my life without talking about the church. I really like people who take the time to understand but also don’t dwell on it.   I think I’m many ways I just want to feel normal and not be afraid.  

September 11th:A Close Call

12 years ago today I almost lost my older sister.  She was working as TV personality and had planned to take American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston to LAX. For many years I took credit for her not boarding that plane.

My sister had been doing a lot of traveling by air for her work.  The joke in our family was that we never knew what state or even country she was in. ha ha ha.  She was traveling the world as a good example of what a Mormon should be. It was late at night and I could not sleep.  I just kept worrying about her.  I couldn’t stop.  Planes are so dangerous and she flys all the time.  What if something bad happens?  What if the wing falls off or the engine blew.  What if her plane crashes or is bombed? I tried to forget it and go back to sleep.  I tried but the paranoia got much worse. I was crying.  Heaving one gigantic breath after another.  Around 3:00am I ran into the bathroom crying.  Begging God not to take her life.  Silently screaming at him making promises I’m sure I have broken by now. It was almost as if I knew something was going to happen.  After at least 30 minutes of pleading with God for her safety I felt a release. I looked in the mirror with day old mascara running down my face. I laughed at myself and how foolish I had been.

About two weeks later the planes hit.  I knew my sister was in danger but I calmed myself. I knew she was in Boston but I knew that she would not be on that plane.  I just knew it. I was right.  She was not…but she was supposed to be.

When word spread about her brush with the 9/11 high jacking people immediately accused her of a publicity stunt. As if she was using this tragedy to forward her career.  That was not true.  Opera and other talk shows invited her to speak about her close call but she turned them down.  This was not something to brag about.  She became a shut in.  The truth was she had gotten in a fight with her boyfriend in LA and at the last minute decided not to go.  Her friend from the band she was traveling with convinced her he was a jerk and to stay in Boston…Thank God?

For years I “knew” I had saved her life.  God heard my prayer.  So two years later when she announced she was leaving the church a sick thought squirmed in my head. Was she supposed to die? I had head in church that it is better to die in the church then leave it.  I tried to tell her about this story to convince her to stay. She wouldn’t hear it. She said I was brainwashed.  What had I done? Did I save my sister only to have her sent to an eternity of outer darkness?  I didn't care!  I loved my sister and was glad to have her.  I’m not sure I’m strong enough to handled such a tragedy.  I love her so much. This was when the first seeds of discourse about the church settled in.  Maybe it was selfish, but I was glad my sister was still alive despite her leaving the church.

The world changed 12 years ago.  So many innocent people lost their life’s.  People of all different faiths and creeds.  People who I’m sure prayed just as earnestly as I did.  I did not save my sister.  God did not spare her. A dumb boyfriend and dumb luck saved her life.  I can't explain why I was up till 3:00 am begging for her safety.  Every year I remember how lucky I am that my sister is alive.  Without her I’m not sure I would have the courage to leave the church. She has been an example of strength and confidence.  She did leave even though everyone was watching.  I’m discussed with myself that I ever thought I made a “mistake”.  That I begged for her life only to watch her take off her temple garments.   My older sister is alive when thousands were not so lucky.

 There is one person I can thank.  He never walked on water or heal any lepers. He is the lead singer of a band and though he was really only trying to give basic dating advice he inadvertently changed my life forever. I have thanked him many times without getting on my knees.

Coming Out the IKEA-Mormon Closet

You are going all in. Your palms are sweaty, your mouth is dry.  Why are these three little words so hard to say?  It’s silent.  Their eyes anticipating as the letters rock from one side of your mouth to the other.  Like a sea sick sailor it’s time to spill...  “I don’t believe”

There is one thing every single post-Mormon must face.  Telling people.  You can’t hide it.  Once you pick up a beer, or ware a tube top, or move in with your boyfriend the word is out.  You imagine all the things people will say about you. Probably the same things you said about those who left before you.  Coming out is a big deal.  Before you open the door to the closet, do a little IKEA style organization.  There are thing you need to have in place mentally before you open yourself up to scrutiny. If you don’t clean the closet your baggage will spill everywhere and make a real mess of your life.

#1.  Set up Your "PORTIS"  There are so many different people from different walks of life.  Put yourself in your friend’s and family’s shoes.  They love you and they love the church.  You need to do your best to make it possible for them to love you both.  Avoid using words like “hate” “brainwashed” “cult” “indoctrinated”.  Find people you can trust as your outlet. 

#2  Sort out the rogue socks  You may have a strong feeling of betrayal.  Suddenly you just hate every darn thing about the church.  Some things you used to love.  Some ideas may still be good ideas but now you want to rebel.  And some grudges that are highly exaggerated in your mind.  You may, like me, just have crazy mouth (see: Gift of Tongues) It is wise to find those Ideas that are destructive and just throw them away.  Like the red sock with green dotes. You will never ware it again in will just turn all your white socks pink. 

#4  Organize your “BESTÅ”  You may want to have a throw down with your friends or family.  Tell them everything you learned.  You may be thinking it’s not personal.  Wrong!  It is very personal.  If it is a true friendship they will be able to Shelf the disagreement and focus on the person you are. Keep your copy of No Man Knows My History right where it is.  When they pull out their Book of Mormon remind them that you already have one. If they try to argue with you simply don't.  If they tell you "you will be punished" smile and nod.  Some of your friends my earnestly want to know the history. With this I take a Que from Le Var Burton.  I say, "Here are some other books you may like, but you don't have to take my word for it."

#3  Get a "HEMNES" with Closed Drawers  Just because your closet is a walk in dose not mean anyone is welcome.  You need to set up boundaries for yourself.  You can leave out your Sunday Sailing hat but maybe tuck away your lacy lingerie with the front clasp. I'm not ashamed of my *cough* experiments.  But I don't feel a need to share with  my relief society friends exactly who has been vacuuming my shag carpet. It is no one business what you do. You decided to Whom, exactly When, and precisely What you want them to know.  

#5  Hope Chest I’ll bet your head is swimming with confusion.  I know mine is. Regrets, what ifs, and emotional unrest.  Throw everything you don’t understand in your hope chest and sort it out later.  Maybe with time, or a therapist, or even a soul searching trip to Thailand you will find your inner peace.  Until then, make do with what you have.  You will never have all the answers. That is okay.  All you need is the confidence to build your own life. Do what you believe is right and hope for the best.

I’m no expert.  I’m just a 27 yr old girl with an optimistic attitude and a concussion. Start by telling your closest friends.  People who you trust like family.  Recognize that the dynamics with your friends may change. It is not because they don’t like you, but because you may not be able to relate as well.  It’s times like these when you find out who your real friends are.  Wheather you have lost your religion or lost your car to a Buick going 45 mph, your friends are the ones who come over with a bowl of soup and a big ass hug.  

Car Crash

on the 22nd I was stopped at a red light. I looked a the rearview to see a car careening toward me.  An old man driving 45mph smashed into me. I was throw a crossed the intersection and blacked out.  I have whiplash and a concussion.  They say I'm lucky. 

at the emergency room the woman asked me a few questions.

Nurse: Whats your name?

Me: Emma(naild it)

Nurse:  Your address?

Me: 123 main st

Nurse: And your last name?

Me: 123 ma...ah  main no.  123 main

Nurse:  phone number?

123 main ......st

Nurse: okay whats the date?

Me: ah the 22nd

Nurse:  and the month?

Me: October, no. September,,,,No.  July...no January.  it's January.

This has been one hell of a year.