Raised on Lies and Magic

I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don’t know what he laced them with, but I’ve been tripping all day!

Hello my pretties!

I'm contemplating how being raised Mormon is still affecting how I interact with the world. 

At eight years old I was taught a formulaic prayer to cast out evil spirits. One time when my dad came home and found four of us kids angry and fighting, he had us kneel in a circle and we each took turns praying that exorcist prayer until we felt the spirit of anger leave our home. 

I don't know how old I was when I heard the story of the three Nephites who in 32 BC asked Jesus for the blessing to live forever so they could spend a millennia spreading the gospel. Subsequently, I heard lots of stories in church from people swearing that some stranger approached them to give them exactly what they were looking for and they just knew that person was one of the three Nephites. 

There was also the idea that if I prayed with a pure heart with real intent God would answer my prayers through the Holy Ghost who speaks to my mind and my heart, and God cannot lie. So if I prayed for an answer to a problem, and I got a strong feeling, that feeling would be from God and following that feeling would be in my best interest, and no matter what happened because of that choice it will all be for my own good (even my two abusive marriages). 

Once a month we were encouraged to stand in front of a crowd of 200 or so people and express our personal experiences proving how we knew the church was true. Crying scored extra vulnerability points which was always good. The more personal and vulnerable you were, the more you were feeling the Spirit. 

So it must come as no surprise that lots of Mormon women get into crystals and manifestation and essential oils and homeopathy. I got into lots of this stuff, like magnet healing and muscle testing and rapid eye therapy and so many more that I have to end the list somewhere. 

Basically I was raised to read intense meaning into everyday occurrences. I was supposed to be and do and have everything to be worthy of God's love.

Anyway, when I left the church, it was very hard to figure out who I was without the church. I continued, and still continue, to be cringingly vulnerable to strangers. I tend to think there is one answer to any problem and I need to find that answer, even if the question is as benign as: what do I want to do right now? 

For the first time in my life I am choosing to settle in and create stability for myself. I have married a man who feels like the best possible companion for me. I work at a job that has the most job security I could ask for. In the next year I am hoping to buy a home where I can happily live for the rest of my life, where my kids can grow up and feel safe and free. 

But as I make these choices, I feel the old Mormon creeping in: Am I missing something? Will I be punished for making a mistake? Can I be doing more? Is this the right choice? 

Goddammit, I should just relax and enjoy my fucking life. If I want to stay in bed and read all day that's my choice and it's not hurting anyone. Right? Right. And I don't need to have an excuse like being sick or anything.

I don't have to prove to anyone that my life is worth living. I don't have to prove to anyone that my life is joyful, or that I am a good person, or that I'm even nice. I don't have to be nice or joyful. I don't have to prove anything. I can exist in whatever way works for me. 

I can say all this, but really, I struggle. I hoped that leaving all the scrupulosity behind would stop the constant panic attacks, but it hasn't, because I've just redirected the scrupulosity toward other things. 

You can take the girl out of Mormonism, but you have to pry the Mormonism from the girl with a metaphysical crowbar.   

Happy national awkward moments day!

With a cringeworthy amount of love and an inappropriate amount of kisses,

Sophia Skyy