Grandma and Grandpa's House: Acceptance

I slowly got used to life in Minnesota. Even though I missed the mountains, I grew accustomed to the tall water towers in every city. I got used to the Minnesotan lingo and even started using some of the phrases we used to mock. I stopped hoping for snow days; Minnesotans are not phased by massive amounts of snow. I wore socks to bed and bundled up for school for months on end, including some summer months. There were really only two seasons in Minnesota: winter and road construction. I learned about wading/kiddie pools. I learned about the importance of hockey and hunting. I learned that tractors are usually the reason for traffic jams. I started to appreciate how beautiful Minnesota is, with the many lakes and endless farms. Everything was lush and green, so different from Utah.

I got used to being away from Dad, JD, and Esther. Es was attending college in Rexburg, Idaho and working part-time. She was busy but happy. JD was living with Dad in Orem, Utah. I have little memory of life pre-separation and thankfully, my Minnesota life wasn't as consumed with post-separation war as it had been when we lived in Santaquin, UT. Dad was hard to talk to, making it easier for me to accept how little he called. His calls always revolved around talking about how Mom didn't really love me, how much he was hurting, how my rightful home was with him and JD, and how she would burn in hell for destroying us. I would like to say that it was shocking that he so readily said these things, but it wasn't. He was so different than what I remembered. Sometimes, I would dust off my old memories and replay them, memories of him coming home and kissing Mom before dinner. Memories of waking up early to watch cartoons and say goodbye to him as he left for work. Memories of him teaching me how to weed and plant my little garden. Memories of him making fresh tea with the peppermint from our yard. Memories of sitting on his lap in church. Memories of seeing his car on our road and holding onto his handles as he drove up the driveway. Memories of late night snacks that he would share with all of us. Memories of a seemingly happy home with two happy parents.

After they separated, my friend taught me that my wish would come true if I made it at 11:11. I spent the day running around the old Santaquin house, counting all of the clocks. I also counted the ones in our cars. I counted a total of 10 clocks and so, I made this wish:

I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. 

I later revised it to:

I wish my parents were back together times 10. 

10 years later, I caught myself saying it in my head while in a college class. It shocked me to realize that my wish had become habitual.

Our yearly summer visits to Utah were rough. To be fair, it must have been extremely difficult for Dad. He wasn't Dad anymore, but an entertainer. We didn't have a routine with him anymore and we no longer lived near our old friends. When visited him in his two bedroom apartment, we quickly realized how little we had spent with him when they were married. His work schedule took him away from us for hours at a time and we suffocated in the hot confinement of his apartment. We hated it and so did he. JD wasn't really there. He was physically there, but he rarely spoke and never left his room. He played computer games late at night, all night and then he slept all day. He always looked the same, unhealthily thin and pale with gray circles under his eyes. Every now and then, he would open his door and talk to us. It was always the highlight of the summer, talking to him, hearing him. He was so angry and unhappy. I think that anger is what kept him alive, helped him survive those depressing years. This new and unhappy Jeremiah overtook my memories of him. I couldn't remember what he was like before all of this happened.

Esther would come to visit us in Utah and in Minnesota. I didn't realize until I was older that she was forced to be an adult at a very young age. She always had a job and took care of herself. I think she knew that she had to; she didn't have a choice. She was the cool older sister and I quickly loved everything that she loved. It seemed like she always had a new hair color every time I saw her. She bought me my first CD, a Dido CD. I listened to it on repeat. She took me on a sister date; we went shopping and ate at Los Hermanos. I still have the blue sweater that she bought for me on that date. I remember watching her clean the downstairs bathroom of our Santaquin house. She had been trying to record Torn by Natalie Imbruglia on one of her tapes but had only gotten a partial recording. I remember hearing her cheer, because she finally caught it in time and recorded the whole song.

Santaquin became a memory. It wasn't home anymore but a past life. I stopped writing letters to my friends, stopped visiting them when I was in Utah. I stopped praying that everything could go back to the way it was. I looked forward to coming back to Grandma and Grandpa. I had moved on and loved my home in Minnesota.

Awakening: Open Mind, Open Heart

I'll never go back. I can't go back.

I stopped going to church regularly over 3 years ago. Besides the few times I would go when visiting family, I did not attend. My thought process was that I had a lot of unanswered questions that I felt were never going to be answered. I felt that the church didn't have answers and that I had to accept that. I couldn't accept that. It's hard to explain, my needing to have my questions answered. Put simply, I could not rely on faith, because I did not have it. So, I left thinking, "I'll never go back. I can't go back."

In high school, I started to lead a double life. I think I had always led part of a double life while growing up. My parents separated when I was 8. I was shocked. My mom had taken us out for a treat and when we came home, he was gone. My dad had packed some of his belongings and moved out. After that day, my life crashed; I felt myself crashing down into a 10 year spiral of depression, anger, stress, and lies. I will not go into detail about my childhood post-separation, because I spent a lot of it as a confused and sad little girl. I don't like to revisit it. But, high school. High school was where I wanted to be free. I wanted the freedom that my friends had, but I had a strict home. So, I lied. And surprisingly, it came easily to me. I really think it's because I used to tell my dad what he wanted to hear when he asked about my mom. I wanted him to be proud of me; so, among other things, I would lie and tell him that I was on his side when in reality, I didn't want to be on a side.

In high school, I was a leader in the church and I loved it. But, I didn't have a firm testimony. I wanted to party with my friends, and I didn't understand why I couldn't do both. So, I secretly did both and I felt liberated. I grasped that freedom hard, so hard that I didn't care about or even realize the consequences of what I was doing. I didn't realize how unhappy it would make me feel, opening up this double-life jar of lying to everyone closest to me just to get these quick, short moments of 'happiness'. I became someone, something that I never want to be again. I lost relationships and friendships, because I was out of control. And after it all, after looking at all of the broken, scattered pieces of myself, I was left with nothing but the want of a new beginning.

College. BYU-I was fun! I got to make my own decisions and I answered to ME. I got to spend time with LDS members who are my age, a vast improvement to the one LDS girl back home in my grade. But, I still felt different. I still had questions that I was scared of asking. I still had issues that I thought I already knew the answers to, answers that didn't sit well with me. And, besides that, I felt myself turning back into the person I was in high school. I didn't want to be that person anymore, the person who didn't follow the teachings but pretended to. I didn't want to pretend anymore. I didn't know if I would ever recover from it, especially because I still struggle with being truthful about how I feel. At that point in my life, I felt that having all of these rules I had to follow as a member of the church made me judgmental of other people. And I hated that, mostly because I constantly felt judged. While I hated dealing with people like that, I had to hold myself accountable for doing the same thing. So, not only was my testimony weak, but I was weak. I stopped going to church 3 years ago. I turned my back on it and didn't think I would return.

Then, something changed in me. I'm not sure what it is. I think it might be that I want a family in my near future, and I constantly worry about what I'm going to teach my children. Leaving the church didn't make me an Atheist or anti-Mormon. I still believe much of what I was taught in the church. I think it started when my sister, Sarah, told me that she's going on a mission. I was stunned when she told me she wanted to go. It was hard for me, because we have always been so close. We're the closest out of all of my siblings; we're best friends. And, after I shared my struggles with the church to my family, she had revealed to me that she was struggling too. I knew that when I left, I would feel alone, because all of my family members are still active in the LDS church. I prepared myself for it. I even went a little overboard with my preparations. But, I did not prepare for someone to not only understand my side of things, but agree with them. I was elated to find out that I was not alone. But then, just as quickly, I was alone again. Though she had struggled, she persevered, worked on herself and found her testimony. I am so happy for her. She's a different person now, more content with who she was, more real. Despite my fear of loneliness, I love who she is and how happy she is. And, her new found happiness made me wonder what had changed. So, we talked; we talked a lot. We discussed all of my issues and questions. We talked about how angry I was, angry because I felt like people blindly followed/accepted teachings that didn't have answers, that didn't make any sense. We talked for a long time and Sarah didn't have all of the answers. She still understood and agreed with a lot of the problems I had. But, the difference now:

"Lei, I don't understand why we can't do certain things. I don't understand or have an answer to it, but I want to go to the temple. I want to be married in the temple, and in order to do that, I have to let those things go and accept it. If God doesn't want me to drink coffee, then I won't. If He doesn't want me to go to an R rated movie, I won't. If He doesn't want me to get a tattoo, I won't. I also have to accept that people are human beings. The church is always true. The doctrine is true. You have to let go of how some of the people are..." 

The difference is that she accepted it. She accepted that there are a lot of little things she doesn't understand and probably won't ever understand. She accepted that people make mistakes, but that's their decision.

During one of my family visits, Esther had the sister missionaries over for dinner. They shared a message that struck me. I had started to open my heart to the church again. And, this message brought everything into perspective.

Doctrine and Covenants 64:9-11:
9. Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
10. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.
11. And ye ought to say in your hearts - let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.

I was blown away, stunned that this, out of everything they could have shared, they shared this. I felt my anger start to melt away as I knew that this message was for me, that God sent this message to me. Peace replaced the anger and resentment that I had felt for the last 3 years. And, I didn't realize how tiring it was to be so angry. I need to forgive.

A few months later:

I still have problems and issues, but I want to resolve them. I think that's the difference from what I did before. This time, I WANT TO RESOLVE them and I am motivated. I am keeping on open mind and an open heart. I have always said that I do not want to go back to church until I am in a good place. As I said before, I want to be firm; I want to be strong. I want to hammer out these issues so that I don't keep them inside, because I've already done that, and I don't want to go back there. I talk to Sarah every week. Each week, we have a new prompt - usually it's a question that I have - and we discuss it after we both do research. It's been going well.
I talked to TJ about going back. His response was that he's been wanting to go back to church for a long time.

I have started to have a testimony again. It is small, but it is mine and it is real.

I know that God is real. I know that He hears me and answers me. I know that He loves me.

One More Day

I like to read depressing things. I like to listen to depressing music. I like to watch depressing movies. I have always liked to do this. I like to feel. So, while I was listening to One More Day by Vast (great song!), when I came across an article that was about a note someone found in an airport. The note was titled, "Read Me". He opened it and read:

I  recently left an emotionally abusive relationship. After months of insults I won't repeat, false accusations, lies, delusions, broken mirrors, nightly battles…. I left. I know that I was being poisoned by each day that I stayed. So with a heavy heart, I left my lover of three years, knowing that I had already put it off too long. At first he begged, then he cursed, but eventually he packed his bags and faded out of my life like a bad dream. For the first few weeks, my body seemed to reject this. For three years I had seen the world through him - colored glasses. I didn’t know who I was without him. Despite the kindness of friends and even strangers. I could not help feeling utterly alone. But it was this sense of aloneness that set me free. Somewhere along the way, I let go. I released all of the painful memories, the names he had called me, the shards of him buried deep in my brain. I stopped believing the things he had made me think about myself. I began to see how extraordinary, breathtakingly beautiful life is. I meditated, drank too much coffee, talked to strangers, laughed at nothing. I wrote poetry and stopped to smell and photograph every flower. Once I discovered that my happiness depends only on myself, nothing could hurt me anymore. I have found and continue to find peace. Each day I am closer to it than I was yesterday. I am a work in progress but I am full to the brim with gratitude and joy. And so, since I have opened a new chapter in my life, I want to peacefully part with the contents of the last chapter. The end of my relationship was the catalyst for a wealth of positive changes in my life. It was a symbol, most importantly, it was an act of self-love. It was a realization that I deserved to be happy and I could choose to be. And so, in an effort to leave behind the things that do not help me grow, I am letting go of a relic from the painful past. I wore this necklace-a gift from him-every day for over tow years. To me, letting it go is a joyous declaration that I am moving forward with strength and grace and deep, lasting peace. Please accept this gift as a reminder that we all deserve happiness. Whoever you are, and whatever pain you have faced, I hope you find peace.
Namaste,
Jamie

About Jeremiah

At the time of his wedding, these pictures were what proved that Jeremiah could actually smile. Growing up with him was difficult, mostly because he was not involved in my life as much as we both would have liked. After my parent's divorce, we were parted as my brother chose to live with my dad, me with my mom. Living in other states was very hard for us, probably more for him since he is my older brother; I did not pay attention to my parents at that age. Jeremiah went through a phase in his life where he was not really seen by anyone; he stayed in his room all day, keeping to himself. From what he has told me, I know that he felt alone and that he did not know how to cope with the loss of his sisters and did not know how to move forward from this point. Throughout my childhood, I had always felt that Jeremiah never really loved me; I correct that, I knew and know that he loves me. But, I felt that he thought I was not good enough to be near him, to be his sister. I definitely was not a peer, because everything I said was wrong. Everything I did was wrong. It was like I owed him for something. I owed him for not staying and any actions taken or thoughts that did not evolve around coming back to him was 'evil' and not of a loving nature. Reading this makes me think that the response to my words is going to be along the lines of sarcasm or, "Of course I didn't feel that way. Of course you did not owe me. Of course it was not your fault". But, really. Every discussion that had 'meaning' to Jeremiah were topics that involved me coming 'home' to live with him. Every time we spoke, I felt that if I did not come back, I helped my mother 'destroy' my family. It was always 'up to me' to fix my family. It was up to a child to know adult issues and to solve them. I can't even begin to explain how ridiculous it was that I felt that it was my place to intervene, that God would not be happy with me if I did not somehow bring my parents together again. This is something that my brother and I will always disagree on. He will always feel that children need to know every secret that parents keep, every memory of the past as he and my father told me things I should never have known. Is it guilt? Does he feel guilt? Maybe he thinks that God will punish him, because it's his responsibility. I still don't know why my brother had and still has so much anger in him.

My father thinks of him as the smartest in the family. He has told me on many occasions that he doesn't understand how Jeremiah can disown my mother as she is evil and wrong while I still love her. "Maybe you're just too small, too young to realize what she has done to you". I know that my mother has made mistakes and that my father has made mistakes. I know that my mother was not happy for most of their marriage and that while my father may claim that she did, she did not suddenly wake up and decide to leave. She wanted to leave from the very beginning. I can't answer why she waited so long. She's dedicated. She tried to fix things many times, both of my parents admitting to going to many counselors. I know that they fought a lot. I know that if I was a mother, if my husband took my children away, not telling me where he was taking them or when he was coming back, I would grow to despise him. I am surprised that when the end of their marriage came, she still had this love for my dad. She tried very hard to stay in the middle.

Now, somewhat masked by his apparent masculinity, I would doubt that he would admit vulnerability. But, I know Jeremiah is vulnerable. He loves so hard. He hates indefinitely. He is vulnerable, because he feels so strongly. He feels emotions so passionately. I really love my brother. Seeing him the way he was, even traces of it today, makes me so sad. I think a part of me will always have this small hatred towards my mother, because I could not be with him; I couldn't have game nights or tease him or steal his candy anymore. We only had a few days a year where we tried to patch up this torn relationship that literally was being held by strings. I don't think he'll ever know, or really want to know, how much it hurt me to leave him every time I had to. He won't ever fully know how hard it was for me to try to be there when he couldn't just be the brother I so badly wanted him to be.

I know that my mother did what she had to do. I know that she tried so hard to keep our family together. Despite what my brother thinks, my mother is the only person I know who actually tries to follow the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints; she is an example to me. I know that she is such a special woman who tried for so long to work on her relationship with Jeremiah, because she loves him. I know that it hurts her to ask about his wife and his baby, because Jeremiah will never let her be a part of that family. I know that it really hurts her to the point where she does not even want to ask about Levi. I know that it hurt her deeply when Jeremiah sent her nasty letters, calling her many different names; he did not hesitate to do this over the phone. I think of how hurtful it would be if my son did those things to me. I think of how God must react to the way Jeremiah treats my mother. I think of how Jeremiah justifies himself. I question life: victim or villain, do you deserve this?

My brother loves me. He may not approve of me or my actions, but I know that he loves me. I know that he tries on a daily basis to do what is right. He is also an amazing father and husband. Maybe someday he will let me talk with him and he will miraculously understand. Maybe.