Jack Mormon

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or in popular terms, I am a Mormon. I am not active by choice, I have become for all intents and purposes what we oldies call a Jack Mormon. I have no idea where the term comes from, but it means that though I am and will remain on the records of the "church" I am not living by the precepts I was raised on. When I was a child the way my parents talked about Jack Mormons I thought they were the same as the Boogey Man, whatever you did you didn't want to be caught by one of those, or be one of those, they were scary. It was okay if you were not Mormon, but to be a Jack Mormon was the same as being the devil, after all you were a member of the "church", you knew all the truths.

When I was young I thought I couldn't question, it was part respect and part fear of my parents. As a young adult I was raising children and couldn't question, if I didn't raise them in the "church" I would be forever damned. As an adult I couldn't question, I have some deep seated belief that I am responsible for everyone else's salvation if I am to get to heaven. As a middle aged adult I couldn't question, or could I, can I? Can I question the black and white thinking that is so ingrained into my being?

I know that the extreme black and white thought patterns I have came from being sexually abused as a child, but Mormons tend to be very black and white in their thoughts as well. Dare I break that habit and venture out into the world a bit and truly find out who I am for myself. I am daring it,  one foot at a time, testing the thoughts and patterns made up of a lifetime. Many(my spouse Lee included) think I am having a mid life crisis, maybe, but maybe I am just maturing through the points that most go through in adolescence, the finding me stage I skipped since I was stuck developmentally in my black and white thinking, and because I was a teen parent.

So I have become a Jack Mormon, and along the way I am finding room in my life for friends I would have been afraid to reach out to before, I am learning tolerance and love, and I am just a bit rebellious, I don't want to be told I can't do something without a really good reason as to why. I am stretching myself, I sang karaoke at a bar, I drank shots with my friends, I have good days and bad, my ducks still won't stay in their neat little rows but I no longer think it is because I am not a good enough person. It's all just life, I still need counseling to deal with it in ways that are healthy, I fall back into black and white thinking when I am really feeling overwhelmed but I am better, even if I am a Jack Mormon.

Enough for Now

Redneck Notices and Ducks

So apparently my neighbors have had enough with the ducks at our house not staying in the neat little rows that they think we should comply with, so we got a visit from the county who left us a notice to get our ducks in the proper rows. I have always called these redneck notices, mostly because of the stereotype that people have of what a rednecks house would look like. In other words cars and and other stuff that respectable people don't have in their driveways, on their porches and in the front yard, of course in our case it really is more of a, you have too many teenagish boys living in and visiting your house kind of notice. You are allowed to have only one unlicensed vehicle in your driveway, we have three, you may not store water barrels in the front of your home and you may not have anything on your porch beyond something to sit on and maybe some yard appropriate decorations. I have all kinds of  stuff on my porch, shoes, swimming stuff from summer, sleds, toys from my grandson, a Christmas tree stand, oh and the only approved thing, an outdoor bench. So we have until leap day to get our ducks properly in line so we are now trying to get all those ducks to clean up and make us respectable.

I also got another kind of redneck notice this week, we have the three dogs as I have mentioned before, and the Escape Artist decided that she needed an adventure and took the Hoarder and Snort along, more ducks not in their row, staying properly behind the fence, so we got a visit from animal control, and redneck notice number two. I take good care of my dogs, they get all their vaccinations, they are microchippped, they are loved, and fed and spoiled, but they are not licensed, it's just one of those things you think about occasionally and then forget. That works until, well, until the county gets a call from the neighbors saying your dogs got out, again, and then they show up at your door with your ashamed looking dogs in tow and that tell tale piece of paper. So now I am busy trying to force all the ducks in line before the 29th of February so that the redneck notices can go away.

The problem is the ducks never stay in line, just when I think I have them going the same direction, one of them decides that it has a mind of its own and it goes a different direction, so I spend all my time chasing ducks.  I want order and I get the chaos called life. Every so often Horatio reminds me that they aren't my damn ducks, picks me up and sets me on my feet and off I go still trying to keep the ducks in line.

Enough for Now

Little White Lies

I went and saw a counselor on a more or less emergency basis, my work has it set up that you can't just decide you might need to go to counseling without going in for an assessment and telling someone you don't know your secrets in 20 min or less and then they decide if you need someone to give you regular counseling. My psychiatrist has wanted me to go to regular counseling for the last year but I have avoided it since I hate the process of starting over and with our system it means doing it twice. Spilling your heart to someone and waiting to hear their judgement is horrible, but I knew I didn't like where my thoughts were going, for the first time in months I felt like I couldn't take it anymore and wanted to be gone, I try not to give such thoughts a home but they can be insidious.

So I went and I sat and I told my secrets, sure enough she told me she thinks I need regular counseling, so I will get to start over again. She was a very reassuring person and I would have liked to see her as a continuing counselor but no one there is like Marcia was and skirts the rules that I can only see them three times and then I must move on. She asked if I was actvely suicidal and I told her the truth my thoughts were trending that was but that I was still in control, she asked if I was safe with myself and I told her yes I was. Then she asked what I would do if I wasn't safe with myself and I told her the truth I would lie. She was a bit taken aback by my answer and looked at me and said, wrong answer. So I told her what she wanted to hear, I would tell my husband if I was suicidal, I would check myself into the hospital, I would not hurt myself.

Part of what I said is true, I will not hurt myself, I do not want to die, I just want relief from the never ending battle that life presents. I want all "my" ducks to stay in a row and I don't want to be told they aren't my damn ducks. I want my dog to not have cancer, I want to be able to pay all my bills and have enough left over to not feel guilty doing things for myself, I want my sons healthy, I'm tired of the weakness of mortal bodies, of the endless pain.

I am going to go to a counselor on a regular basis, what she asked did I want my counselor to be like, hmmm, no one has ever asked me that, so I was honest, not too Mormon, someone who has experience with sexual abuse, not younger than me, I don't want a counselor my kids age telling me how to do things she learned in a book, needs to be female. Our time was done, she looked at me and said you are amazing look at everything you do every day, Now I was surprised, but she meant it, I get up, I take care of my grandson, I work as a nurse, I work in our tax business, I do laundry I breathe, I take care of a child with a chronic illness, I do what I have to, trying desperately to keep the ducks in line as best I can, even if they aren't my damn ducks.

Enough for Now

They're Playing My Song

Welcome to K-F--- radio! Playing all negative, all the time!

My friend Horatio calls it playing K-F--- radio when your head is endlessly filled with thoughts of how inadequate you are, what a screw up you are being, going over all the things in your life that are causing stress, things you can't change for the most part, like a childs' chronic illness, or your adult childs' choices. The thoughts are rarely rational, or helpful, serving only the purpose of self flagellation.

 I know this but I still let K-F--- radio run through my head like the latest hit song until I'm sick of myself. Lately it is the only station I can seem to listen to, awake or asleep there is no escape, my thoughts even follow me into my dreams, often leaving me more exhausted upon awakening than I was when I went to bed, this is provided I can turn off my head long enough to fall asleep at all.

I haven't felt this trapped and depressed in a long time, I can usually remind myself that each day the sun shines a little longer before the darkness begins, but right now while I am in the middle of this bone deep sadness it is difficult to see that it will have and end, that I will feel better in time.I don't feel like I can share my feelings with others, I have learned that I lose the ones close to me if I burden them with my dark thoughts. So instead I put on my mask and go out and pretend I am fine, and I share here where I am anonymous, where the tears of my heart can be released.