(no subject)
International Coffee's "Dark Mayan Chocolate" is very good. Rich chocolate, enough coffee, and just sweet enough without being sick-sweet.
Someone posted in the Exmormon LJ community about an article she'd read about Mormon Women, Prozac and Therapy. This article's been around for a while, but I'd never taken the time to read the whole thing. I wonder if I should send a copy to my sister...
Anyway, it reopened a few of those wounds I thought had healed. It served to remind me why I left the church and why I refuse to teach the girls its doctrine (much to Mom's disappointment). I still deal with the beliefs taught to me as a kid, and in which I believed, whole-heartedly, until late in my first marriage.
This article describes the mess I was as my marriage crumbled around me, and I was nearly forced into Mormon faith-based "therapy". The woman I was referred to was little more than a newly-converted shill for the Church, encouraging me to follow the party line and promising everything would be all right.
The final showdown occurred late one evening, and I had my dad and BIL with me as I returned to our apartment to get my things. A lot was gone, and Brian threatened to not let me take Kenneth. We'd called the cops to prevent problems, and I seriously believe that is what prevented things from getting totally out of hand. When my counselor arrived for our appointment that evening, she got to see first-hand what I was having to deal with. She put her hand on mine while we sat in her truck outside my sister's house and apologized for not understanding.
It wasn't until a couple of months later, when my sister and brother-in-law took me to see our bishop for advice on how to handle the separation that I realized how ridiculous it all was. How could this man, who barely knew my then-husband (and I thought was totally taken in by his charm), comprehend the hell I was going through? How could a stranger presume to advise me on this most personal of matters? Who, exactly, gave him this much authority over me?
I have never felt more powerful than when I came home that night and consciously decided that I was going to divorce Brian. I'd taken charge of my life - finally - and no one else had any right or input.
It wasn't a cakewalk, but it made it easier to make the clean break the kids and I needed.
Now, Jay expects me to make decisions on my own. He takes it for granted that I can. Not having had much experience with it, I find it challenging and scary. I've probably mentioned this before, but the above article explains it more clearly than I feel I can.
With my work, I'm astounded by the amount of respect I'm given by my supervisors and coworkers. I expect, sometimes, to be "yelled at" for some shortcoming; that's why I avoid email sometimes. It's the source of a lot of my anxiety. I'm not used to it (the respect, I mean).
I'm only just starting to accept that just because I CAN do something, doesn't mean I HAVE to. I'm referring specifically to the cake incident at Sarah's birthday dinner. Sure, I could have made a cake, but she wanted THAT one. I didn't see any reason not to let her have it, except to salve my or my mother's pride in our baking abilities.
I'm starting to ramble...but Jay gives me a dumbfounded look sometimes when I try to explain the Mormon mindset. No one who was raised as a nonmember can really get a grasp of the injury such a mindset causes, and how long-lasting it is. They can't understand how someone would voluntarily stay in such an environment.
It's easy. You have no other reference. You're taught to fear (or distrust) anything "not us". Anything not of the Collective is shunned and rejected as "less than". Guilt becomes a way of life. Prayer becomes simultaneous refuge and torture. Add this to a brain already missing a few chemicals, shake well, and you've got one scrambled psyche.
(I don't mean the above comments in a disparaging way, or in a "oh poor me" way. Sometimes I try to explain why I have trouble with some things and Jay can't understand why - it's like trying to describe "green" to a blind person.)
Someone posted in the Exmormon LJ community about an article she'd read about Mormon Women, Prozac and Therapy. This article's been around for a while, but I'd never taken the time to read the whole thing. I wonder if I should send a copy to my sister...
Anyway, it reopened a few of those wounds I thought had healed. It served to remind me why I left the church and why I refuse to teach the girls its doctrine (much to Mom's disappointment). I still deal with the beliefs taught to me as a kid, and in which I believed, whole-heartedly, until late in my first marriage.
This article describes the mess I was as my marriage crumbled around me, and I was nearly forced into Mormon faith-based "therapy". The woman I was referred to was little more than a newly-converted shill for the Church, encouraging me to follow the party line and promising everything would be all right.
The final showdown occurred late one evening, and I had my dad and BIL with me as I returned to our apartment to get my things. A lot was gone, and Brian threatened to not let me take Kenneth. We'd called the cops to prevent problems, and I seriously believe that is what prevented things from getting totally out of hand. When my counselor arrived for our appointment that evening, she got to see first-hand what I was having to deal with. She put her hand on mine while we sat in her truck outside my sister's house and apologized for not understanding.
It wasn't until a couple of months later, when my sister and brother-in-law took me to see our bishop for advice on how to handle the separation that I realized how ridiculous it all was. How could this man, who barely knew my then-husband (and I thought was totally taken in by his charm), comprehend the hell I was going through? How could a stranger presume to advise me on this most personal of matters? Who, exactly, gave him this much authority over me?
I have never felt more powerful than when I came home that night and consciously decided that I was going to divorce Brian. I'd taken charge of my life - finally - and no one else had any right or input.
It wasn't a cakewalk, but it made it easier to make the clean break the kids and I needed.
Now, Jay expects me to make decisions on my own. He takes it for granted that I can. Not having had much experience with it, I find it challenging and scary. I've probably mentioned this before, but the above article explains it more clearly than I feel I can.
With my work, I'm astounded by the amount of respect I'm given by my supervisors and coworkers. I expect, sometimes, to be "yelled at" for some shortcoming; that's why I avoid email sometimes. It's the source of a lot of my anxiety. I'm not used to it (the respect, I mean).
I'm only just starting to accept that just because I CAN do something, doesn't mean I HAVE to. I'm referring specifically to the cake incident at Sarah's birthday dinner. Sure, I could have made a cake, but she wanted THAT one. I didn't see any reason not to let her have it, except to salve my or my mother's pride in our baking abilities.
I'm starting to ramble...but Jay gives me a dumbfounded look sometimes when I try to explain the Mormon mindset. No one who was raised as a nonmember can really get a grasp of the injury such a mindset causes, and how long-lasting it is. They can't understand how someone would voluntarily stay in such an environment.
It's easy. You have no other reference. You're taught to fear (or distrust) anything "not us". Anything not of the Collective is shunned and rejected as "less than". Guilt becomes a way of life. Prayer becomes simultaneous refuge and torture. Add this to a brain already missing a few chemicals, shake well, and you've got one scrambled psyche.
(I don't mean the above comments in a disparaging way, or in a "oh poor me" way. Sometimes I try to explain why I have trouble with some things and Jay can't understand why - it's like trying to describe "green" to a blind person.)