I Need to Live

It has been awhile since I last posted, I have been fighting my own demons of depression and pain, sometimes it is so overwhelming I can barely make myself function to do the things I absolutely must and so I took a break for a time. There were other life issues that have kept me away but none that I could not have overcome if this mortal body was not so fallible. Depression and the vertigo of menieres have left me exhausted and struggling to take each step that I must.

You would think after knowing the heartache of losing my own son to suicide that I would never let the thought of my own death at my own hand be a thought that crosses my mind. Unfortunately knowing that the death of a loved causes so much pain does not take away the thought that I want to die more often than I want to live. I try very hard to not give those thoughts a home but they are always there. I want to die, I need to live.

I need to live for those around me who count on me, I keep thinking that the time will come when I am not really needed and I can then check out of mortality without guilt and then something will happen and no matter what I tell myself I can't find a time when there isn't someone who needs me here. I am and have been the primary provider in my household for years. I used to believe that I was worth more to my family through my life insurance and death benefits at social security than I was as a working mother, but we no longer have as much life insurance, my death needs to be accidental for them to get more and my children are getting older and so the amount of social security that would come in would no longer support the needs. I need to live.

I can laugh, I can joke and play around and sometimes I even genuinely enjoy myself but the war inside my own head is always there. I have been to therapy, years worth, and many different types of therapists, I have been on MANY different types of medication, on them, off them, know I do better on them so I make myself keep going to appointments and tweaking and adjusting and on and on. It never goes away it is chronic and is worse in the winter as the daylight hours dwindle. Winter solstice has become a strange kind of goal, if I can just make myself live until then, when the daylight hours start to lengthen again, I can make myself live through till the spring. I need to live.

It is often said suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem and that those who die at their own hand are short sighted, I don't believe that, people with chronic illnesses know that their disease is not a temporary problem. No matter what I do or how much counseling I get my disease is not going to go away. I try to control my thoughts so that they don't become actions but death does not scare me so much as living through the pain I feel in every part of myself. I have found the poem Just for Today from AA to be helpful, the first line is: "Just for today I will try to live through this day only and not tackle all my problems at once. I can do something for twelve hours that would appall me if I felt I had to keep it up for a lifetime." If a day is too much I live through an hour, a minute, a moment. I need to live.

It is interesting that I want there to be some kind of after life for the son I lost and yet for myself I want oblivion. I don't just want to have my mortal body die, I want to cease, I don't want to have an existence of any kind, living as a spirit seems like more punishment. I want my reality, I don't want the christian heaven, I don't want to be reincarnated, I don't want to be  disembodied energy, I especially don't want the heaven that Mormons believe in. I want peace. I need to live.

Two other things keep me from killing myself, number one is that someone has to find me, I know that people never get over that, I have thought how easy it would be to die in the hospital where it would be medical people who found the body and I still hesitate. Someone has to find me and the worst person I know still would not deserve that kind of emotional pain. I have flashbacks of the day Colley died whenever I see magpies clustered together a certain way and I didn't find his body. The second reason is that I would be autopsied and they will not know the difference between scarring from a willing participant and a victim of abuse, there is still shame tied to the sexual abuse I have suffered at the hands of others, if I was absolutely sure there was nothing after this life it would not matter but I am not sure and I don't want anyone to think I invited that abuse. I need to live.

I still want to die, I need to live. Enough for now.

Doubts

I am a descendant of the first Mormon pioneers to enter the Salt Lake Valley, I am amazed at the faith they must have had to make the journey. My ancestors were persecuted, their money, possessions and  property taken from them, they were forced from their homes and even at one point a declaration of extermination was made. In spite of this and all the struggles on the trail they persevered, they endured to the end, I know along the way some fell into apostasy, I have relatives in the eastern United States and up into Canada who are the descendants of Joseph Scotts' daughter who left the church while the saints were still in Missouri.

I admire the tenacity of my ancestors and hope I have in some small measure the internal fortitude they showed to not only endure but to thrive. My parents are fourth generation descendants of those who came into the valley, my parents have not always been active members but they instilled in us their belief that the LDS church is the fullness of the gospel come to earth. I never really questioned whether or not the gospel was true, there is something in me that can see that this world is too complex to have been a random act and then after I was abused I thought the only way to salvation would be to be the most perfect member I could.

Any time that I began to question anything I squashed the thought, I read my scriptures, attended, seminary, and prayed, always believing that if I did it right, if I endured, then maybe, just maybe, I would see heaven. If I wasn't accepted, or if I questioned, I figured this was my failure, it was that nameless evil within me that I could not have a constant and enduring testimony.

Heaven is a place I shall not see, Heaven was not made for such as me.

Still I continued to attend, I went to the temple and was sealed to my husband and children for time and all eternity, I am not saying that I would not have ever gone to the temple at a later date, but they day we went I think I would have left if there were not so many of our family members and church members there to see us. I did not do it for myself, I did it for my parents, the people who I felt judged me for being a teen parent and because it was expected if I was ever to erase the stain on my soul.

 I still did not question, I raised my children in the LDS church, baptized each at age eight, and agonized over their salvation since if parents do not teach their children then they are under greater condemnation by God. I thought that to be a good member that anything that appeared evil need to be avoided, I could not associate with anyone who had views differing from what was taught, I lost opportunities to spend time with friends and family who were not members or were not active members to avoid this "appearance of evil",or I so tightly controlled those times we were together that true closeness never developed. I regret every day the missed closeness I could have shared with good people.

Religious people(myself previously included) explain away hardship, tragedy and the failure of such things as blessings by the laying on of hands by saying such things as it was God's will or that it was your fault because you obviously didn't have enough faith, or you have not prayed hard enough or the right way or long enough. You need to endure to the end and God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I internalized this well, my depression, chronic physical illness, the death of my child were all because of the flaw in my own soul, no matter that I spent countless hours asking, not to be healed of my illness but just to know what was causing my illness, relief from my depression and above all for my sons to be protected, somehow it was my failure, I caused it. Supposedly God doesn't interfere in the natural course of events, and yet stories of miracles abound, stories of healing, timely interventions, and yet there was no such thing for my son. God was fickle, of course thinking this just proved I was bad and I pushed my doubts away.

I was angry, well meaning people would spout the phrase about God not giving us more than we can handle, I just nodded my head and refrained from telling them I didn't believe that. I thought about Emma Smith, she was the wife of the prophet Joseph Smith, she left the church after the death of her beloved husband after years of tragedy after tragedy and finally the martyrdom of the prophet.She could not take one more thing and stayed in Nauvoo when the other saints left, this great woman could no longer endure. Push the doubts away.

Four years ago I went on a pioneer reenactment, they needed a nurse for the medical staff, I was really excited and really wanted to go and have a small taste of what my ancestors experienced. The other staff members had been meeting for months previous to the trek and had established relationships, I was a last minute add on when the original nurse could not attend. Talk about being an outsider, there was no room for me in the staff circle, and as staff we were not part of the families that were put together of the other participants. If two people had not taken pity on me I would have been sleeping on the ground by myself, they even forgot to feed me the first day and I had to mooch off others. There were things that were wonderful and I have some good memories of the trek, but my feelings of being an outsider in the LDS faith were growing.

I chose to no longer be active just over a year ago, I gave up my card carrying status and began questioning the beliefs that I had been afraid to question before. I am sure I shocked people when I said that I was not so sure that there was a benevolent God watching over us or if there was he either had a wretchedly wicked sense of humor or he dropped us off here and left our world to its own devices to succeed or fail as we will. LDS beliefs are unique in our view of the universe and I just can't accept them at this time, my friend calls me rebellious and I suppose I am, but I also feel free for the first time in many years, I am still a Mormon by covenant and record but I will choose if I return for the right reasons, it won't be for guilt, or for family, it will be for self.

With my decision to revisit tightly held beliefs I worried my children would be angry or feel I had lied to them, I was surprised and relieved when talking to them, they accept and love me without question. I told them they are each old enough to make their own decision about what they choose to believe, that I want them to do it only for themselves, to be driven by their decisions, their faith, to never do it for me, or for any other person on earth. Lee is having a little more trouble understanding the me I am becoming, I don't have all the answers and he too will have to find out what he wants for himself without me dragging him along like if I could get him saved I could hold onto his coat tails into heaven.

Enough for Now.

Ideations

When you are so distressed you have thoughts about but no plan or actions tied to committing suicide they call these ideations. Most people have had transient thoughts when things are tough of killing themselves and if all followed through our population problem would cease to exist. As it is suicide is the third leading cause of death for children 14-19 years of age and children as young as 8 years of age have died of intentionally self inflicted injury.

 In previous posts I have told of my own attempts starting at approximately age 9. For many years I found comfort in having my plan formulated, it gave me a kind of peace that treatment did not. I am a sufferer of chronic depression. If you know someone with chronic depression you know that living with them day in and day out can be draining, medications that worked suddenly stop working and you start the cycle of trying to find balance all over again. We also have a tendency to stop taking meds when we are doing well because there is still a heavy stigma attached to mental illness and we think the depression won't reoccur.

Suicide is often referred to as a selfish, cowardly act, a permanent solution to a temporary problem, I do not see suicide this way. One of our most basic internal instincts is that of survival, the tiniest of premature infants will try to push away things that touch their face and are occluding their airway, they are not strong enough to stop it but they will try.

 Suicide is self execution, the person must override the most ingrained instinct to preserve their own life often using methods of execution that the ACLU would brand as cruel and unusual.

Why this subject? On November 18th my youngest son will be 14 years, 4 months, and 11 days old, he will have outlived the brother who we lost on Fathers Day June 17, 2001. Colley was our second child, part of the Sensational Six, bright, talented, not perfect, but perfectly ours. I name him here by his pet name because I want to remain as anonymous as I can, although I so dearly want to see his name and hear it, to feel this most important part of my heart has not disappeared. Colley died of depression, the instrument he used to self execute was a nine millimeter handgun, I do not often talk about him not because I am ashamed but to protect him and his brothers from the intentional or unintentional cruelty of others.

Colley has a story and in time I will give voice to it, I miss him fiercely, I will never be who I was before he died, but he was not selfish or cowardly. He was broken and felt that he was so damaged by his own secrets of abuse that for our family to be whole he needed to remove himself. I know that pain only chance has kept me here.

Enough for Now

Growing Pains

Marriage at any age is difficult, add in teen parenthood and too often you have an almost certain set up for divorce, I was determined I would not fail, I was already sure that I was a condemned soul but if I could save Lee then I could maybe have some small measure of hope.

We started attending church meetings, if you are not familiar with LDS(or Mormon) church services we meet on a block schedule three hours in length, the first hour men and women meet separately, middle is Sunday school, and last is Sacrament meeting where families are joined together in the chapel. Adult women are expected to meet in Relief Society starting at age 18 where we are given lessons on subjects such as being a good homemaker, so here I was 17 still in high school and put into a class where, while most were kind, I still felt the condemnation of not having been properly married in the temple. Still I went to class each week hoping to find some comfort in the words I heard but in my mind I was sure I would never attain the perfection a person like myself would need to enter into my Fathers' kingdom. We were married in the temple at a later date but that is a story for another day.

One other thing that happens when you are a child of sexual abuse is that intimacy is difficult, although I felt that I had given myself to my spouse and I felt that by the teachings of my faith that I was to submit to the will of my husband, I had difficulty responding, I rarely said no to his wants, I felt I had no right to. So I continued my role of shame, I wanted to feel, I wanted that normal release, I found it only when I could separate myself from the act, even when I didn't want to do the things that were asked of me, but didn't feel I could say no, separating myself led to different feelings of shame and so the circle continued, shame, guilt, remorse, fear, further separation, back to shame.

Lee never struck me with a fist, there are other types of abuse that can be just as devastating if not more. I never said no even when I felt shame or physical pain from what was asked for or even just taken(he would have called it persuading), I felt it was deserved, earned even, everything was my fault. On one side we were told to submit ourselves to our husbands and on the other we were given strict guidelines as to what types of intimacy were appropriate, so my guilt and shame increased. I was sure my sin could be seen by anyone who looked at me, like I carried some kind of scarlet letter on my head. It was six children, and many years of marriage and lots of therapy(for me) later before I ever stood up to my husband and called it abuse. It was one of the hardest things I ever did to admit to a counselor that I was being used that way, I thought they would blame me, or say it was his right.

Why did I stay? Why am I still married to Lee after more than 27 years? A counselor once told me I needed to decide what scared me more, staying or being alone, I hadn't told her of the abuse, that was too shameful, and at the time being alone was to be feared and being that I still felt I was damaged goods and could expect nothing better, I stayed. In the months just prior to the time that I finally told of the abuse I had an emotional affair, it seemed safe, he was out of state, I wanted to feel cherished, and I did for a time.

 I wish I could say it had stayed long distance and emotional, but I met him in person just once, we kissed, held hands, we had some physical contact although my husband is the only one I have ever been fully intimate with, I ended up feeling used, and dirty and evil, I actually contemplated death, I wanted to cease existing, I also felt like I was now responsible for any sin on his part. He never spoke to me again, he just disappeared, use them and lose them, and stupid me I let it happen again. I know a part of me wanted to give Lee a reason to leave me, to hate me. Obviously I went home, I ended up telling Lee what had happened, he wanted to know why I fell for such an obvious cad, I was probably just his newest conquest, surely I didn't think he hadn't been doing this for years?

I ended up confessing to our bishop, because of my guilt and shame and I was called to a church court and put on probation for my sins, Lee who had abused me for years and my bishop was aware of it by this time, was told to get counseling. He did go to counseling but I am never quite sure how much of it he absorbed, I know in couples counseling he wouldn't do the things we were assigned to do, we had one counselor tell us we were wasting her time, he was good at deflecting onto me and being the good little victim I was then, I accepted the blame.

Needless to say I have trust issues, while I don't think he would ever again force me, he still tries to repeat acts I find painful, I can at least tell him no know and he will stop, as long as I am firm about it, but I don't ever dare let my guard down. I still struggle to respond, I still separate emotionally during intimacy with him, it is a continuous battle within my head and heart. He can be more tender than he was but I cannot fully trust, I still feel this is my shameful secret.Most of the time I still sleep on the edge of the bed, as far away as I can, looking at us from the outside you would never guess that we are anything but what we appear, a married couple raising a family with a successful marriage.

So why do I stay? I don't know how to answer that, maybe it's just that I cannot imagine my life without it being intertwined with his, we have history, we know each others stuff and over time we have learned to accommodate each other to an extent that allows us to have some peace and believe it or not I do love him.

Why am I sharing this? I don't want pity, or anger, or protection, I am learning to be strong for myself, it is a continuous process, giving up that black and white thinking is a hard thing to do. I have to work at it, finding forgiveness of myself is a work in progress too, but sometimes you have to let go to move forward.

This is the story of me, my life still unfolds a day at a time, I am not through growing, I am learning I am not responsible for the salvation of others, that it is okay for me to find out who I am, I work daily to remind myself I am not evil, irredeemable, too damaged to expect good, to trust. I do not give trust to others easily.

 I am still a Mormon by birth, by heritage, and by ordinances, but I have stepped away from being active, some would say I am apostate, or that I am having a midlife crisis, maybe, but what I feel is free. I want my choices to be my own, I no longer want to continue to be ruled by guilt and shame.

Enough for now.

Hopeful But Unbelieving

I have been told that when a child is molested they tend to get stuck in their emotional development at the age they were molested. For me being the age I was it meant that I see everything as black and white, right or wrong, good or evil, there is nothing gray in my world, nothing in between the extremes. I have worked very hard for many years to change my view of myself and my world, at times I see that I have progressed and yet it is an issue I still struggle with, others can make mistakes, but if I do I cannot forgive myself, I fall apart and want desperately to hide myself, to cease existing, it is not enough to die because I believed that I would live in my shame for eternity.

 Mormons believe that after our life here and after the second coming of Jesus Christ we will be assigned to one of three kingdoms of Heaven based on how good of a person we were here, grace is also involved because no matter how good we are here without the sacrifice of the Savior we still would fall short of even the lowest kingdom. Being a child of abuse and believing myself to be evil I was/am convinced that no amount of my being a "good" Mormon is going to make up for who I am, for my fallen state. Somehow I think if I can "save" everyone around me then just maybe I might be allowed to be in the lowest levels of heaven. There is a part of me that realizes this is faulty thinking but I still go around in a state of anxiety because I still have a bigger part that believes it to be true.

I was still in many ways a typical child and teenager, I had my rebellious moments, I drank alcohol a couple of times, stayed out too late, dated before I was sixteen, smoked pot once and took pain meds I wasn't prescribed. I had friends but wasn't overly outgoing, I attended church meetings, got bullied, I still cried easily though not as much as I had as a younger child. I both loved and hated school, the perfection thing invaded here, if I couldn't do it perfect then I just didn't do it at all, so my grades often suffered.

When I was thirteen I was given a pamphlet by my church leaders called simply "Chastity" in its pages were the words of a talk given by a General Authority of my church, in it I read words that cemented my belief that I was evil. While I hope these words were not meant the way I took them, what I remember went something like this, "it would be better for you to die than to allow anyone to steal your virtue", I interpreted them to mean that I should have fought to the death rather than let my virtue be taken. Not only was I evil, I was without virtue, I had let a man steal my virtue and should have died at eight but even Jesus hadn't wanted me.

I Am a Child of Abuse

I have been told that when a child is molested they tend to get stuck in their emotional development at the age they were molested. For me being the age I was it meant that I see everything as black and white, right or wrong, good or evil, there is nothing gray in my world, nothing in between the extremes. I have worked very hard for many years to change my view of myself and my world, at times I see that I have progressed and yet it is an issue I still struggle with, others can make mistakes, but if I do I cannot forgive myself, I fall apart and want desperately to hide myself, to cease existing, it is not enough to die because I believed that I would live in my shame for eternity.

 Mormons believe that after our life here and after the second coming of Jesus Christ we will be assigned to one of three kingdoms of Heaven based on how good of a person we were here, grace is also involved because no matter how good we are here without the sacrifice of the Savior we still would fall short of even the lowest kingdom. Being a child of abuse and believing myself to be evil I was/am convinced that no amount of my being a "good" Mormon is going to make up for who I am, for my fallen state. Somehow I think if I can "save" everyone around me then just maybe I might be allowed to be in the lowest levels of heaven. There is a part of me that realizes this is faulty thinking but I still go around in a state of anxiety because I still have a bigger part that believes it to be true.

I was still in many ways a typical child and teenager, I had my rebellious moments, I drank alcohol a couple of times, stayed out too late, dated before I was sixteen, smoked pot once and took pain meds I wasn't prescribed. I had friends but wasn't overly outgoing, I attended church meetings, got bullied, I still cried easily though not as much as I had as a younger child. I both loved and hated school, the perfection thing invaded here, if I couldn't do it perfect then I just didn't do it at all, so my grades often suffered.

When I was thirteen I was given a pamphlet by my church leaders called simply "Chastity" in its pages were the words of a talk given by a General Authority of my church, in it I read words that cemented my belief that I was evil. While I hope these words were not meant the way I took them, what I remember went something like this, "it would be better for you to die than to allow anyone to steal your virtue", I interpreted them to mean that I should have fought to the death rather than let my virtue be taken. Not only was I evil, I was without virtue, I had let a man steal my virtue and should have died at eight but even Jesus hadn't wanted me.

Introductions

I am going to tell a little about myself, those who know me may recognize me in these words but that is not why I am writing, this is my alter ego my true self.

 I was born in the great state of Utah with all that entails, I am a descendant of the pioneers, those incredibly hardy souls who came into the valley and laid down firm foundation in their homes and in their religion. I am a Mormon, I was raised not to question God too much, all things are for our good, we are never given more than we can handle, He has a purpose for all things, and with enough faith I would have all I ever needed,but maybe not what I wanted.

 I am the youngest of seven children, all of us living and all with children of our own. We were raised in a home our parents built with their own hands, every shovel of dirt, every brick and shingle, placed in the perfection that only my father could imagine. I didn't doubt my parents loved me, I was oblivious to the abusive nature of our father's interactions with us, I just knew that when he got mad it didn't do to be too close since often it meant the belt for whoever was unlucky enough to be in range. I rarely was the target I was a softhearted child and cried if I thought someone was mad at me so crying or hiding kept me safe.

Being softhearted had its drawbacks, while I was safe at home I was forever a target once I left the front door of my home. I was teased and bullied by many of the area kids, this lasted throughout my childhood and adolescence. I wasn't without friends, I had some very good friends, but it was rough when there were so few kids my age in the area and most viewed me as entertainment.

 I suppose my growing up was much the same as any other child, we weren't rich but I never went without, I both loved and loathed my siblings, I went to church, and was as sheltered as my parents and location could keep me. Sometimes being sheltered and softhearted leaves you vulnerable and predators pray on those who they know can be manipulated, I was such a child and evil has a way of finding you.