Recently I read an article on a Facebook friend of mine's newsfeed. I'll admit I did a naughty thing. I read the article which was somewhat, possibly, influentually, anti-mormon, then I posted a thoughtful rebuttal someone else did on that article and then immediately defriended that person.
Like a noble coward I fled!
I don't like disagreeing with people (I suppose people other than douches rarely do) and I couldn't take the inevitable backlash that could have resulted from defending my beliefs. I am very sensitive about my religion, dammit it hurts to not be taken seriously, or not thought intelligent because you believe in angels and God! But of course that's pride talking because I shouldn't care if others judge me. And I suppose to a certain extent I fear my faith being shaken. But here's the thing, there was a time in my life where I was shaken to the core and still lived. This is the miracle I choose to believe will carry me through even nasty Facebook comment battles and friendships where there are differences of opinion on the matter.
First of all, lets get one thing straight. There is such thing as Satan. And I believe there are such things as lies. I feel like everyone is welcome to their opinions, but to each child of God is the gift of discernment between good and evil. Without getting into any specifics, I also believe that each person has an inherent light of goodness in them, but that they can be influenced by evil. Again I'm not talking about specifics or people who are not me or people who are not part of my church! I have come to love more people outside of my religion than in, so please don't think I'm taking on a holier-than-thou attitude.
Second of all, here is the story of my descent into my own personal hell and how things happened that you may or may not think is a miracle and why I decided to come back:
A new apartment, new full-time job and a new boyfriend the fall after I graduated at BYU. My self-esteem sucked a lot (read my old blog entries, barf, and then you will understand) and I thought all of these things were exciting and good. My mother had died about 3 years before and I considered the progress of my grief process to be coming along swimmingly. Soon, however, the job turned out to be extremely stressful as the recession hit. I was expected to produce things that were beyond my control and resented not being recognized for the truly amazing person I was. Then, my "boyfriend" decided that he just couldn't control his manly impulses for my ravishing beauty and intelligence and slowly lead me down the path of not-so-awesomeness. Around that time I also found out that my fat, lazy, tv-watching roommate was passive aggressive. Cool.
Depression engulfed me like the quick-sand did Buttercup in the Princess Bride. I held my breath and desperately searched for someone to help me out. I prayed for death in fear of the trauma of suffocating. I still tried to go to church, but I knew the others could smell my sins on me. Rejected on all sides (even that of my Bishop at one time...yeah, that didn't continue a complex in me....) I prayed one night to Heavenly Father that if He didn't send me a way out, that I would take another. It is still hard to this day looking back at my darkest hour without compassion for my little, scared, broken self.
The next morning I checked my 10-year-old hotmail account (which was very rare) to find an email from my college mentor telling me about an Assistantship in Costume Design that had just opened up at the University of Memphis. I applied and was offered the position only an hour after my phone interview with the entire faculty.
I'm sure you think you totally know how this all goes. I totally turned back to God and now I'm a good Mormon girl, thank goodness that's all over! Yeah right.
Memphis was a new world to me. I had never felt such freedom to reinvent myself. The thing about Stapley/Bailey women is that they get better-looking with age and with my new confidence and refreshing naivete you better believe those Southern boys took notice. Old habits die hard though, and my ability to put myself into submissive/abusive relationships shone as I dirtied up the grad pool with my seduction and grudge holding.
Fail.
To a certain extent I felt that being Mormon thus far in my life hadn't helped me one bit. It had really only made me feel guilty and miserable. I new the things I was doing didn't follow everything I'd been taught, but I chose to continue and not care. My ideas changed though as angels in disguise came in the form of a few people. My roommates, V and M basically saved my life. I couldn't have had better or more wiser friends to guide me through my first year follies. Kind, generous, and though I know I drove them crazy, they were so patient in teaching me how good a person can be in their hearts no matter what they believed. Then there was Jenn. I know you're reading this, I will not forget the day you told me my skirt was cute and bustled your way into my life. You told me President Goodale was a good man. I decided to trust you and I owe you forever for guiding me to him. With my distrust of Church leaders even just talking to him was crossing a major hurdle. But he didn't speak to me like other leaders, he didn't try to bore into my soul and try to take what I was not willing to give. He listened and loved me. That's all I needed, what I had felt God had taken away when He took away my mother.
Then came my relationship with D. He wasn't really my type, he was really Southern...I will never forget during a fishing trip him shooting a shotgun with his shirt off....Anyway! He had been away from the church for 9 years! But he was making his way back. And as I built a relationship with him, we both decided that's what we wanted to do together. Though different things had taken us away from these things, I think we both remembered a sense of peace, or rather, Home-ness that the our beliefs in God provided.
Well, he broke up with me and when I got back to school you better believe I took it out on the grad pool yet again because I really, really, really liked drinking alcohol and making out with charming guys who thought I was pretty. But President Goodale knew that was me lashing out against pain. Its amazing how much strength a person acquires to get through a trial know that someone truly understands how you feel. So I stopped. Then I met Ryan, we got married, we moved to Utah. I then began a whole different struggle, but at least this time I wasn't alone and I chose just the right one to help develop an eternal me.
Miracles are subtle and they are people. Sometimes people leave the church or God because it is too painful to believe that He would let us feel such pain or betrayal. But we feel! The very thing that shapes our thoughts and actions I believe was given to us to expand our compassion and see so much deeper into others in order to love them! I thought I would never heal from many of these experiences, but as I am patient (totally not perfect.) I start to see how the shape of my life has turned me in to a deeper soul. The more I see, the more I see, its incredible sometimes.
But then there are days that I don't see it and I have to try to remember all the while feeling slightly resentful that I've been blinded again. But time and time again the good things return. How could I deny that my soul is full?
Like a noble coward I fled!
I don't like disagreeing with people (I suppose people other than douches rarely do) and I couldn't take the inevitable backlash that could have resulted from defending my beliefs. I am very sensitive about my religion, dammit it hurts to not be taken seriously, or not thought intelligent because you believe in angels and God! But of course that's pride talking because I shouldn't care if others judge me. And I suppose to a certain extent I fear my faith being shaken. But here's the thing, there was a time in my life where I was shaken to the core and still lived. This is the miracle I choose to believe will carry me through even nasty Facebook comment battles and friendships where there are differences of opinion on the matter.
First of all, lets get one thing straight. There is such thing as Satan. And I believe there are such things as lies. I feel like everyone is welcome to their opinions, but to each child of God is the gift of discernment between good and evil. Without getting into any specifics, I also believe that each person has an inherent light of goodness in them, but that they can be influenced by evil. Again I'm not talking about specifics or people who are not me or people who are not part of my church! I have come to love more people outside of my religion than in, so please don't think I'm taking on a holier-than-thou attitude.
Second of all, here is the story of my descent into my own personal hell and how things happened that you may or may not think is a miracle and why I decided to come back:
A new apartment, new full-time job and a new boyfriend the fall after I graduated at BYU. My self-esteem sucked a lot (read my old blog entries, barf, and then you will understand) and I thought all of these things were exciting and good. My mother had died about 3 years before and I considered the progress of my grief process to be coming along swimmingly. Soon, however, the job turned out to be extremely stressful as the recession hit. I was expected to produce things that were beyond my control and resented not being recognized for the truly amazing person I was. Then, my "boyfriend" decided that he just couldn't control his manly impulses for my ravishing beauty and intelligence and slowly lead me down the path of not-so-awesomeness. Around that time I also found out that my fat, lazy, tv-watching roommate was passive aggressive. Cool.
Depression engulfed me like the quick-sand did Buttercup in the Princess Bride. I held my breath and desperately searched for someone to help me out. I prayed for death in fear of the trauma of suffocating. I still tried to go to church, but I knew the others could smell my sins on me. Rejected on all sides (even that of my Bishop at one time...yeah, that didn't continue a complex in me....) I prayed one night to Heavenly Father that if He didn't send me a way out, that I would take another. It is still hard to this day looking back at my darkest hour without compassion for my little, scared, broken self.
The next morning I checked my 10-year-old hotmail account (which was very rare) to find an email from my college mentor telling me about an Assistantship in Costume Design that had just opened up at the University of Memphis. I applied and was offered the position only an hour after my phone interview with the entire faculty.
I'm sure you think you totally know how this all goes. I totally turned back to God and now I'm a good Mormon girl, thank goodness that's all over! Yeah right.
Memphis was a new world to me. I had never felt such freedom to reinvent myself. The thing about Stapley/Bailey women is that they get better-looking with age and with my new confidence and refreshing naivete you better believe those Southern boys took notice. Old habits die hard though, and my ability to put myself into submissive/abusive relationships shone as I dirtied up the grad pool with my seduction and grudge holding.
Fail.
To a certain extent I felt that being Mormon thus far in my life hadn't helped me one bit. It had really only made me feel guilty and miserable. I new the things I was doing didn't follow everything I'd been taught, but I chose to continue and not care. My ideas changed though as angels in disguise came in the form of a few people. My roommates, V and M basically saved my life. I couldn't have had better or more wiser friends to guide me through my first year follies. Kind, generous, and though I know I drove them crazy, they were so patient in teaching me how good a person can be in their hearts no matter what they believed. Then there was Jenn. I know you're reading this, I will not forget the day you told me my skirt was cute and bustled your way into my life. You told me President Goodale was a good man. I decided to trust you and I owe you forever for guiding me to him. With my distrust of Church leaders even just talking to him was crossing a major hurdle. But he didn't speak to me like other leaders, he didn't try to bore into my soul and try to take what I was not willing to give. He listened and loved me. That's all I needed, what I had felt God had taken away when He took away my mother.
Then came my relationship with D. He wasn't really my type, he was really Southern...I will never forget during a fishing trip him shooting a shotgun with his shirt off....Anyway! He had been away from the church for 9 years! But he was making his way back. And as I built a relationship with him, we both decided that's what we wanted to do together. Though different things had taken us away from these things, I think we both remembered a sense of peace, or rather, Home-ness that the our beliefs in God provided.
Well, he broke up with me and when I got back to school you better believe I took it out on the grad pool yet again because I really, really, really liked drinking alcohol and making out with charming guys who thought I was pretty. But President Goodale knew that was me lashing out against pain. Its amazing how much strength a person acquires to get through a trial know that someone truly understands how you feel. So I stopped. Then I met Ryan, we got married, we moved to Utah. I then began a whole different struggle, but at least this time I wasn't alone and I chose just the right one to help develop an eternal me.
Miracles are subtle and they are people. Sometimes people leave the church or God because it is too painful to believe that He would let us feel such pain or betrayal. But we feel! The very thing that shapes our thoughts and actions I believe was given to us to expand our compassion and see so much deeper into others in order to love them! I thought I would never heal from many of these experiences, but as I am patient (totally not perfect.) I start to see how the shape of my life has turned me in to a deeper soul. The more I see, the more I see, its incredible sometimes.
But then there are days that I don't see it and I have to try to remember all the while feeling slightly resentful that I've been blinded again. But time and time again the good things return. How could I deny that my soul is full?
