;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
A guest post from Ashley
On Sunday morning Georgie, my 5 year-old daughter, noticed me wearing a dress at the breakfast table. “Are you going to church?” she asked me. “Yes,” I told her. I had been asked to substitute for the Primary pianist. She wanted to come with me and ran to her room to pick out her fanciest dress. We didn’t go to Sacrament Meeting, even though I was dressed in time. Instead we read a book together on the living room couch. When the time came for the second hour we pulled ourselves away and walked hand-in-hand on our ten-minute path to be there in time for Primary. It was a perfectly cool spring morning, green with sunlight, and Georgie talked my ear off about school, Jesus (her recent obsession) and her beloved kindergarten teacher. I savor these one-on-one moments with my children. I knew that I was running behind so I did my best to urge her on despite hanging on every one of her perfect little 5 year old words.
When we arrived, the chorister was standing behind the piano, trying to conduct and play the opening song at the same time. I was late. And oh, how I regretted my tardiness. Here I was, the previous Young Women’s President, now less-active sister, showing up after sacrament meeting, with only one of her three children in tow, late for her teeny, tiny, substitute responsibility. (And if they could see that I was wearing a sleeveless dress underneath my sweater…gasp!) I felt as if everyone was sizing me up, judging me, whispering. Usually a very confident person, I avoided their eyes, smiled at their foreheads, and slunk behind the piano. Georgie clung to me. The chorister introduced two visitors and announced that we would be singing a welcome song. I didn’t hear her, as my thoughts were too focused on my failure. “Sister,” she said sweetly, “we’re singing a Welcome Song.”
“Oh, gosh! I’m sorry!” I found the page and began to play. I engaged in some positive self-talk in my mind and managed to regain some composure. The rest of the hour passed without any difficulty, but for the remainder of church I felt acutely aware of my status there: Community Loser.
With every passing week over the last three years, my insides have groaned louder and louder as Sunday approached. I would be having a pretty great week, feeling good about who I am, and then BAM! like a gopher from an arcade game, Sunday takes a mallet to my head. As soon as I pass through those heavy, glass doors the words “You don’t belong here” seem to chip at my shoulder. Chip, chip, chip. “If they really knew me, what I believe, what I don’t believe, what would they think? What would they say?” Sunday’s church attendance triggers my regression back into a sniveling, insecure, emotional teenager. And I am a 31 year-old fully grown mother of three who, on weekdays, happens to really like herself!
The thing is, I know where I am and I am at peace here. I am on a journey that feels valid to me, and, contrary to the beliefs of my more orthodox Mormon brothers and sisters, I don’t think my journey has an end. I will be ever searching, considering, praying, seeing, and learning until life, as I know it, is over (and, hopefully, beyond that). When I go to church on Sunday it seems as if I am expected to feel as if I have arrived. And I resent that.
I remember when my Mormon life was fulfilling, when I believed in it and made all of my decisions according to its tenets. And more importantly, I remember when it believed in me. Is it this memory that drags me back, reluctantly, almost every Sunday? What is this place that used to give my life meaning and direction but now seems to offer nothing but a social life and a good dose of “We think you suck” every week? Why is it still here and what do I do with it?
I have that feeling many Sundays. I actually read the BoM and the conference talks and am more LDS than not, but I face having to put on the shirt and tie and show up as Mr Inactive making his semiannual trip to church, and I just can’t face being in the fishbowl. The 52 year-old grandfather regresses to the dream of the teenager who arrives at school and realizes he doesn’t have any pants on.
LOL! Last night I had a dream that I went to church and they made me step on a scale and it weighed me as 20 lbs more than I actually weigh. I kept my mouth shut but wanted to tell everyone, “NO, I only weigh 135!!!” I still can’t figure out why I couldnt’ say it!!
I consider myself an agnostic, but still call Mormons my people. So I’m just pretending I’m on a mission again. I go to church when I want. I’m very open about my beliefs, but go out of my way to talk with others. Not to challenge them on anything, just to be nice and happy and loving. I’m hoping one day somebody will ask me why I’m so happy, and I’ll reply, “what to you know about agnostics, and would you like to learn more?”
I know…wish we could convert ’em;)
“Sunday’s church attendance triggers my regression back into a sniveling, insecure, emotional teenager. And I am a 31 year-old fully grown mother of three who, on weekdays, happens to really like herself!”
Yes! You captured the feeling of being an outsider so well. It makes me crazy how insecure and aware of all of my faults I am when I’m at church or around orthodox folk who don’t quite know “where I am” but rarely see me at church. I become aware of the fact that I’m wearing a sleeveless dress under my sweater and what will they think if they notice! I think of the mixed drink I had the night before at dinner with my husband and think what if they knew! When any other day of the week, I’m hoping to bump into somebody at Target as I walk around with a Starbucks coffee in my hand and a bottle of wine in my cart. Ugh. I totally get it. :(
Wish I was in H-town to commiserate in person!!
I can totally relate to this! I don’t know what pulls at me to continue attending church, but when I do go, everything just seems to say, “You don’t belong.” And the thing is, I know I could belong. I know I could talk the right way, make the right comments, wear the right clothes, and do everything to really fit in. But fitting in is no longer worth the charade. I still, though, have this longing to belong, just as “me”.
Oh, nat kelly, I know that longing oh so well. Almost every Sunday for the longest time I went back with the hope that it would be different this time. “This time, I’ll get something out of this. This time I’ll feel uplifted.” I don’t have that hope anymore…..
I can’t tell you how much I agree with this line: “The thing is, I know where I am and I am at peace here. I am on a journey that feels valid to me, and, contrary to the beliefs of my more orthodox Mormon brothers and sisters, I don’t think my journey has an end. I will be ever searching, considering, praying, seeing, and learning until life, as I know it, is over (and, hopefully, beyond that). When I go to church on Sunday it seems as if I am expected to feel as if I have arrived. And I resent that.”
Honestly, that is word-for-word how I feel, beautifully expressed. I’ve never loved myself as much I do in this period of my life- this period of doubt and humility and freedom. The only part of my faith journey that has made me despair at all has been the parts where I worry what others think of me- my family and my ward.
I could have written this word for word. What started as an agonizing journey has opened me up to so much joy and love. The only hard part is dealing with people who are hurt by my choices or think they need to fix me instead of just being happy that I’m happy.
amen Mindy!!! It really sucks having you’re happiness break so many hearts. It’s so, so, so sad.
Jen, YEP!! Tough place, for sure!
Ooh, you totally elucidated all the reasons why I could simply no longer screw up my courage to attend Church. Even when I was completely active, I was always the odd one out. I remember one RS homemaking meeting when I mentioned (don’t remember the connection) something I’d read in the National Geographic.The RS president spent the next few minutes publicly making fun of me and my reading habits. For the National Geographic, for heaven’s sake! Nope, I NEVER fit in, and so, after doing something else that made me odd one out (daring to divorce an abusive husband! For Shame!), I simply stopped going. And that’s a move I have never regretted.
I can relate to these feelings, as I have often felt like an outsider. But I’m having a hard time understanding what what was making you feel so badly; from your story, it didn’t sound like anyone actually did anything that should have made you feel badly. From what you wrote, it sounded as though you were harder on yourself than anyone else was. And it sounded like “seems” was used a lot… Although from the comments it does sound like we feel that a lot of this we put on our own shoulders.
Like I said, I can relate to the feelings. Having gone through a few years of being in not so good standing, but still mostly trudging to church on Sundays, I know what it can feel like. But (and maybe this is another thing that might just depend on your location) I have to give credit to my fellow congregation members in that they didn’t ever say or do anything to make me feel that way…I merely did it to myself because of my perspective and attitude at the time. In fact, when I actually gave them a chance (which wasn’t often, I’ll admit), they were downright open and non-judgmental. Opening myself up more to the members around me, instead of staying confined to my own thoughts that everyone was looking down on me actually surprised me in realizing that there were a lot more people like me than not.
I loved the description of your morning with your daughter. That sounds like the perfect Sunday morning. :)
@spiderlady, that is awful, that she made fun of you like that!! I’m glad you stuck to your decisions and made peace with them, even while facing that kind of behavior.
Thanks for reading guys! I’m glad to hear (or should I say sad to hear?) that others commiserate with my reasonable (I think) immaturity!
@srtapapaleguas I completely understand your question. Before submitting this I wondered how many people would think the same thing. ANd my answer to you is, you’re right, no body in that meeting did anything wrong. I wasn’t personally offended by anyone. And, like you, I’ve had great experiences and lots of acceptance from the friends that I have opened up to. And while they’ve always been kind to me and my family and I know that they love me, I don’t think they honor or respect my experience. I’m used to (or at least always hoped to be) being valued and respected by my community. So it’s just something that, try as I might to not be this way, eats at me at church, chips away at my shoulder. I think a lot of us are trying to find our new place in our wards (or decide if we want a place) and dealing with the fact that in many ways, we’re just tolerated, not admired, put to use or valued within it. It’s been really hard for me. Because, as a believer, of any place in the world that I wanted to succeed, it was at church. It’s hard to go to a place where you really can’t succeed at “the game”. You have to make up you’re own game and play it alone. Or duck out. Does that make sense?
Yes. It makes sense. So much sense.
And yeah, I want to contribute! I was released from my calling 6 months ago and have asked, repeatedly, for a new one. I’ve practically begged. But nothing, so far. One of my friends assures me that the local Methodist church would love to have someone who would volunteer–happily!–to be in charge of the whole children’s music program. Or would volunteer–happily!–to teach a weekly Sunday School class.
But it seems like my own Mormon congregation doesn’t need/want me. I alternate between being totally crushed by that realization and pissed.
I can see where you’re coming from. Maybe a lot of them simply don’t understand your experience, but if they did might know how to honor and respect it as you would like. I was disfellowshipped for a few years, so I definitely felt so many of the feelings that have been described here. Believe me, I can relate! I felt like an outsider and “less than”…the truth was, (a) hardly anyone actually knew what I was going through and (b) I was just really bitter about a lot of things. I had a lot of things to learn during that time, and I am in a much better place now. Because of all of those feelings, it was very difficult for me to continue going to church where “the game” and that feeling of needing to “already be there” kept me from wanting to make the effort to even go. What was the point?, I’d ask myself, when I felt, as you wrote, that everyone was thinking “We think you suck.” I am still on my journey, as so many of us are still. I am also at peace with that. Isn’t that the point of life? To continuously strive to be better? One of the most important things I learned during my time of being in not so good standing was how personal the gospel is for me. I had to learn that I couldn’t go to church to seek approval or even companionship. Sure, it would be great if that happened. But what I had learned was that the only one I could always count on was my Savior. So He is the reason I go. Sometimes I hear things from the pulpit or in lessons that don’t sit quite right with me. Often I discuss these things with family and friends. But I guess, having come from such a low place, knowing that I’m still traveling this road, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. If they didn’t fully understand where I was coming from, what was happening to me, within me, around me…well, maybe then I don’t really know all about them. If I have peace about my journey and my choices, my questions and my relationship with my Lord…well, I went through way too much to let anyone take that away from me. I think one of the problems with Mormon tradition and culture is that it seems to create this sense of not being good enough around each other and needing to have this false face of perfection on. Molly Mormon and Peter Priesthood and all that jazz. In reality, we’re so, so human. And that’s how God loves us. And I love that about Him. And He takes precedence.
But, having said that, I definitely understand how hard it is. Like I said, for so long, it was hard for me to go every week (and I often didn’t). And I understand that it’s different for everyone. I guess from my own experience, I just realized that I was putting thoughts into people’s heads based on my own insecurities. And when I learned how to let go of the expectations I thought everyone had for me, and when I learned to be okay with who I am becoming…well, I’ve just been much more at peace. Although, one last caveat…I guess I do also kind of keep to myself most of the time at church. :-P
For personal reasons I won’t relate here, I can totally relate to this experience. Active Mormons tend to be saturated with the unspoken (and often unrealized) assumption that because they are “faithful members of the kingdom” they are entitled to look down on and judge those who aren’t. They’re taught to believe that everyone outside the church isn’t “really” happy, or certainly isn’t as happy as they could be.
But when some strange twists and turns of life took me on a path that eventually led out of the church, I discovered that not only was I a hell of a lot happier, but that others really were genuinely happy too, living rich full lives filled with purpose and Christian love. My family and I have found a new church where we’re welcomed with open arms and none of that subtle judgmentalism that was a big factor in our leaving the LDS church because we no longer fit the approved family model.
I remember one day waking up and realizing that the LDS church and its authorities had only as much power over me as I chose to give them. If I chose to give them none, then I was completely free to live my own life and make my own decisions. Of course I knew this intellectually before, but I didn’t really believe it. Don’t know what changed, but one day it just sank in. Yes, transitions can be challenging, but this one was my choice and life is SO much better, happier, freer, more full of real purpose than before. Same for the kids. Like stepping out of a small stuffy room and seeing the whole wide, bright, glorious world for the first time and breathing its fresh air. One of the best things I ever did.