::pack:: of fixations



life after tragedy. living while grieving. love and triplets.

3.03.2018

Strike 1

If you told me only but a year ago that I’d be writing what I’ve wriiten in the past couple of months I wouldn’t believe you.  But what I’m about to write now is another side of my story.  Please proceed with caution.  I don’t write this to offend anyone’s beliefs.  This is just my story.  My TRUE story.

I grew up in American Fork, Utah.  My parents home (I may refer to it as Hell, because that’s what my version of Hell looks like), is in a culdesac.  I’ve painted a picture for you of what my self worth looked like but just want to reiterate that I had none.  I always had boyfriends, well I tried to because it helped keep me going; it meant that at least one person loved me.

Our Bishop in our ward lived directly across from my parents in the culdesac, as well as most of my Young Women leaders.  Young Women’s is part of church for girls starting at age 12 & goes until 18.  I was MIA Maid president at the time.  It was the only time I was ever anything in Young Women’s, primarily because the leaders choose the president & then the teenage president(s) choose their counselors.  And none of the presidents ever chose me, because (of course) I was mean girled at church too lol.  My leaders would wave to me multiple times a day as they’d see me driving to & from school & work etc.  I genuinely liked them because I thought that they were sincerely nice to me.


In church I was taught repentance.  There were certain “sins” that needed to be discussed with your bishop, sex being one of them.  I had sinned with my Narcissistic boyfriend 5 times (+ the one time I was raped).  The very first time it happened (for 2 seconds; 12 seconds all together if we are doing the math (wink wink)), I immediately started to sob.  I sobbed because sex was so disappointing & I knew I’d have to tell my Bishop for 2 seconds of nothingness.  I intermittently proposed to my boyfriend with pre-ejaculation issues because my life would be over if he didn’t marry me. No one would want something “used”.  I waited a couple of months as I built up my teenage courage to repent to my bishop who lived in our same culdesac (& his wife was one of my young women leaders).  I knew a girl who repented for having sex with her boyfriend & she had to go before a huge council of old men & tell them all about her slutty transgressions.  It’s funny looking back at this now because I’m realizing that our boyfriends did none of this.  To say I was terrified was an understatement.  But, I was always told that your bishop was sworn to secrecy, so at least my parents would never ever find out.

In my Bishop’s office I repented of my sins.  I was crying so hard that he probably couldn’t understand me very well.  His reaction was nothing like I expected.  He looked at me sternly & almost seemed angry with me.  He asked what ward my boyfriend was in & what his name was & that was all.  I was a bit relieved that I didn’t have to stop taking the Sacrament or go sit at a large table with 10-15 old men & tell them what a slut I was.  Every Sunday my bishop would glare angrily at me from the stage/pulpit (idk what it’s called).  It confused me because I did what I was supposed to do.  I did exactly what I was taught.  The repentance process wasn’t consistent across the board from all the horror stories I’d heard all about growing up from other girls.

The biggest change though wasn’t my Bishop’s utter disappointment, it was the women.  Within 48 hours all of them stopped waving to me.  One of their daughters wouldn’t even say hi back to me in the halls at church.  For years I thought that it must just be some crazy coincidence because I believed & trusted what I had been taught my entire life.  But deep down I knew that he told his wife & that she had told all of her friends.  What Would Jesus Do?  What would Jesus’ wife do?

There’s a common saying amongst Mormons in Utah County anyway that goes, “it’s not the religion, it’s the people”.  Meaning that you can’t stop believing in the religion because there are a few bad people in there.  But for me, him being my bishop (called by God for a 4 year term), her being my young women’s leader (also called by God), it seems that maybe the religion made them that way.  I named this post strike 1 because that’s what it represents to me.  This was my Strike 1 of me being out.

5 comments:

  1. I’m so sorry. I was also shamed and mean girled for a sin. A sin that as I grew older I learned is a normal part of learning sexuality. I hold a lot of anger towards the church that I’m just barely getting help with through counseling. I’ve learned a new word for what I’m experiencing called, religious shame. People excuse themselves with the religion is perfect, not the people. Bullshit. It’s an abusive relationship to stay in something that is shaming, guilting, and dragging you down. I’ve never felt more free than when I left.

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  2. I can relate to this on so many levels. Thank you for such an enlightening comment!

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  4. So sorry you had to endure this.... It's great to know that you are free of those shackles now.

    This story reminds me of the story a few weeks ago about how the wife (or probably both wives) of Rob Porter (White House worker) went to her bishop to ask what to do about her husband abusing her and the bishop basically said to suck it up so that she wouldn't jeopardize his career. Huh?? How about "call the cops" or "leave him". Seems like these bishops are ill equipped to be compassionate leaders or even decent people. -k

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    1. I’m gonna have to google this! How sad!

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