Talking to Myself

I stopped praying when I left the church. At first I was mad at God, sooooo mad and I felt justifiably mad. I was prepared to defy Him. I told him (without praying-oh, maybe that’s why he never replied then) that he would have to damned well destroy me (as He’d promised) because I was not going to be a piece of meat in his sick game any longer. There was no f***ing way that I was going to continue to stick around wondering if polygamy would be reinstated in my lifetime or not. Screw that! (Hmmmm… f**k, screw… maybe He didn’t think I was serious since I used such confusing profanity, maybe He thought I was being facetious?).

Anyway, fast forward nearly a year and I realised that I no longer even believed in God. So of course still no prayer. But (am I allowed to start sentences with ‘but’ yet? it’s so fun!) ...BUT… maybe I had been receiving some benefit from praying for all of those years. I mean when I was sad or lonely I could ‘pour my heart out’ so to speak. I believed God was listening. I believed He cared and that He would help me out. I even felt all of those promised feelings… good, warm, sweet feelings.

It took me a while but eventually I realised that these feelings were forming because I expected them to; I willed them to. I, clever me, was healing myself! Awesome. So then why stop?

It took me a good 18 months to realise that I had been denying myself this balm, this power. I started to talk to myself. I even imagined a copy of myself who was so lovely, so kind and understanding, so wise. She listened to everything I had to say and she consoled me and cheered me up. She still does. Now when I talk to myself I don’t have to worry about falling asleep mid-sentence and offending myself. I don’t have to kneel on the floor, fold my arms, bow my head, BE REVERENT! I don’t have to go through a ‘to do’ list first, thanking God for this and that and praying for the poor and the needy etc etc before getting to the point. It does not matter one little bit how or why or when or where I do it.

I feel myself relax when I start ‘the talk’. A smile usually forms on my face and I know that I have tapped into the real ‘power of prayer’. It is the power that is in each and every one of us to heal and love ourselves. 

Neurosis

It's been a while...

I have been stressed. Very stressed. My number one concern is definitely my sons eczema. It is not good. He has severe eczema on his arms, the backs of his knees and now his neck and face. He scratches all the time. In the morning his bed is covered in skin flakes and blood spots. He looks tired and sore. Anything that we put on his skin stings.

I just started writing a lengthy explanation of when the eczema started, how it progressed and how we have been managing it. I then deleted the paragraph. I am trying everything that I can think of to manage the eczema. It is on my mind day and night. I have nightmares about it.

This week the eczema has been improving. I feel hopeful.. but still scared.

..and I know that it is probably my fucking neurosis that is preventing the eczema from going away!!! I need to chill out and be strong for him. I need to get my head together and be his rock again. Poor little guy, I know that little kids look to their mums for love and comfort and stability.. and here I am turning my life upside down and probably making his life just as chaotic.

I did think about my children when I left the church. I wondered what it would do to them.

I don't for one second regret leaving but I do regret thinking that I could manage the process without much help. I am beginning to realise what a major change I have made in my life. I lost my whole belief system in a very short space of time. I also lost friends. I lost god. I lost my childhood innocence, my childhood dreams. I lost my sense of security, my anchor in life.

And it's not like I can get it back. It was a fucking lie!!! Do you get it yet?! They damned well made it all up! Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. I was quite happy before all of this thank you very much! You know... when I was deaf, dumb and blind.

Sometimes Mormons (family) ask how things are going since I left the church. I'm tired of telling them that things are good. Things are not fucking good! they are bloody awful. I feel ripped apart. I feel abandoned. I feel angry. I hate the Mormon lies. I hate that I was lied to as a child. I hate the brainwashing. I hate that I didn't get to grow up free to make up my own mind about god and sex and motherhood and..

I've been bottling all this up inside. Why? Still trying to please everyone I suppose.

I hate that I have Mormon friends on facebook who say they still want to be friends with me but then do nothing friendlike! I have hidden their comments for now. I am sick of reading about all of their girls nights out that I used to be invited to and now am not. Fuck! I even got some of them to get out of the house and back into 'time with the girls' in the first place. I think about un-friending them but that feels like a big scary step.

So how's that for a rant.

I thought I was going to be able to figure all of this out in my own sweet time but it would seem that the motherguilt is going to keep kicking my ass until I buck up and say fuck you Mormon church, you cannot take my heart and soul! I want it back you bloodsucking whore.

Sheesh!

I believe in love and goodness, family and friends. I am trying to reclaim my soul and to open it up again. I want to invite god back into my heart. Not that bogus Mormon god up in the clouds with white hair and a penis, no, not him. The REAL one, the one that loves everyone and doesn't care about what I wear, what I say, who I marry, what I drink, what I do on Sunday......................

That one.

Someone reminded me the other day that god is love.

Love.

Love.

Love.

I love... my son. (&T&P) (&me)

Gott ist tot

Hey, it's Maureen's DH!! and this being my first official post I'd like to state to the anonymous readers: I don't think you're all cowards, only if you seek to defame and slander under your anonymity; that is cowardly and holds no respect. Anyway I have been honoured with an invitation to post here at MBB, and I've accepted!

So, there we were, our 8yro daughter and I, in the dining-room and she asked a question apropos the Mad Hatter and his head twirling capabilities whilst he was futterwacken. Thereupon I explained and this conversation ensued:

'The Mad Hatter, darling, is a fictional character, just like in a cartoon they can make it look like his head is spinning; but it really isn't.'

'What's a "fictional character"?'

'Fictional characters are people, animals, things, that don't really exist; like Santa Claus.'

'Santa is real!'

'Well then, like the Easter Bunny.'

'Dad! the Easter Bunny is real as well.'

'OK, then like who?' I ask my knowledgeable daughter who is looking up at me, eyes full of retribution and scorn for proclaiming the myth, and she pauses to think, and looks away. Her gaze returns carrying in it's wake a glint and a grin.

'Like God?' She almost whispers.

'Well, yes.' I reply, proud and shocked. Previously all of my theological discussions with our little angel have been more along the lines of god's existence being up to the individual and if she wanted to believe in god that that would be OK with us. I continued 'Don't you believe in god any more?'

'Well, I did, but then we went to Scitech and they said that everything around us came from the sun. At church they told us that everything comes from god. So, I don't think that god is real.'

Our conversation continued of course but ended with the same sentiment: Gott ist tot.

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?

—Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Section 125, tr. Walter Kaufmann

Or a more contemporary take:

God is dead,

and no one cares.

If there is a hell

I'll see you there.

—Nine Inch Nails, Heresy

Here's to our fictional characters (or should that be Fictional Characters?)

T.