Serendipity Minds

• Not everyone was born in the church.

This might come as as shock to a group of religious people who emphasize missionary work, but not everyone (even in Utah) was raised in the church. Crazy, right? I mean, I’m a convert. And a recent convert at that! If you observed people’s interactions with me upon hearing this, you’d think I had three legs, was low-key famous, or living in a 50 billion dollar mansion. See, I was baptized back in 2011. I was raised Christian, and my mom (and a few others) did have experiences with the church, but none were practicing Mormons.  I was married at the time I was baptized, but upon getting a divorce, I moved to Utah in May of 2014. Back at my tiny ward in an isolated desert town in California, people were always there to make sure I understood things being taught in Sunday School and Relief Society. There’s still a thousand terms, stories, histories, and such that I do not understand or even know about. While I understand most people in Utah were born in the church, it’s this assumption that has left me feeling inadequate to even participate in discussions. In fact, I avoid anything beyond sacrament, because of both this issue and my current state of anxiety.

See, my heart stops when a teacher starts off with, “We all know the story of X and Y doing Z in the scriptures. So let’s discuss how it applies to us. Go ahead and discuss this with the people next to you.” I have no idea what they are even talking about, and the assumption that I do leaves me feeling, well to be honest, a bit dumb. I feel like I shouldn’t even be there, because I don’t know what they’re talking about. But it’s too late to run out now – and I’m left panicking, wondering why I even decided to attend anyway? I knew this was going to happen. At this point, while I’m drowning in fear, the person next to me introduces themselves, thinking I’m new to the ward, because I avoid these situations like the plague. No one knows who I am, and if they do, I’m the random inactive girl that hides in the halls.

Of course they ask what my thoughts are. I grow red and confess that I do not know the story that well, because I am a convert. You’d think this would open up a discussion for me to learn said story. Not always. It usually leads to fascination that I am a convert: “How did you discover the church? Do you have any family at all in the church? How long since you were baptized? Do you like it?” – Well, Susan, I’d like it a lot better if I could start learning more of what it is I am supposed to believe in and understand and know. Okay, so that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how I feel. Instead, I just answer their questions and stay silent when the Sunday School teacher asks our thoughts.

• Nor do I have a huge nuclear family

Sorry, but I don’t have 10 siblings and 50,000 cousins that I Skype with over the weekends, though I do call my mom almost daily. And whenever you asked how my family is doing or how my parents are doing, I kindly answer that they’re fine, but then you pry – and I have to state that my mother is fine, and I don’t speak to my sister all too much. “Oh, where’s your Dad?” “Don’t you have any other siblings?” “Are you going home for Christmas?” No. No. No. Just stop asking uncomfortable questions. Not everyone has the life you do. This leads me to my next point.

• Financial stability isn’t a given

I know this is something people in Utah realize, but the particular area I live in struggles with this idea. I swear, if one more person asks me why I can’t just up and leave to go visit my mom for the week, I think I might lose it. Let me break this down for you:

1) I don’t have the money to just go wherever whenever I want.

2) I have a job that I can’t just leave for a week, because it’s a job I am intending to keep for a few years. Not just a job that I work for a semester. I struggle a lot, because I have to support myself and my medical needs, which are frighteningly increasing. So no, I can’t just up and leave for the holidays. I have to work. Maybe in the future I’ll be stable enough to do so, but it’s OK that I can’t now. There’s no need to look at me like an alien for the life I have to lead.

3) Despite all of that, I’ll be just fine. Promise!

• No, I don’t go to BYU. Actually, I’m barely in school right now.

Thought I’m still technically a student at UVU – I have been taking a very, very long break because of reason #3. I simply cannot afford it, and my health comes first. So, until I can pay off my student debt and go back to school and still afford my medications and such, it’s not happening. That doesn’t make me stupid. Or less. I understand the importance of an education and I actually miss school, but the fact remains, I can’t go right now. I don’t have other people paying for my education, so please, understand that it’s not by choice that I don’t have my degree yet. Also, another fun fact, this doesn’t make me a poor marital choice. The looks I get on dates when I say I am taking a break from school, you’d think I had said I decided to drop out and experience life with just me, 20 cats, and a guitar in a van while I traveled the world. Which, after dating in Provo, actually sounds appealing.

• I’m not a standard Mormon. And that’s OK.

First, everyone talks about this, but no one really seems to get it. Well, I mean a few people do. Seriously, everyone complains about how Utah County is, yet almost everyone acts just like the people they complain about. They pretend to be perfect and assume everyone else is. Guess what? None of us are. Some are on a different level than others, but we all have our struggles. We all have our differences.

I’m divorced, which is a surprisingly common theme in Utah – just most don’t talk about it. In fact, I’ve noticed a lot of my divorced friends are a bit inactive, so maybe that’s why no one at church discusses it. Or maybe its because when we do, we’re looked at like ‘oh,  poor thing!’

I don’t need your pity – I assure you, I am much better off. Then there’s the fact that I color my hair pink, blue, red, green, purple – you name it! I also watch scary movies and I listen to heavy rock and rap music sometimes. I swear. I can be mean sometimes, and I can turn into a massive mess with my mental health. I’m not saying these things are “good” – but they are me, and they don’t make me a bad person. Maybe some of these interests will change as I grow more in the gospel. Maybe they won’t. I’m not a bad person, though. In fact, I can promise you there are so many non-Mormons (and even Mormons) in this world with tattoos and piercings, that drink coffee and alcohol, have differing interests, beliefs, and sexual orientations – that are AMAZING people.  I shouldn’t have to be Mormon enough for you to be my friend, or at the very least, to not judge me.

What I want people to understand is that all these things, and more, push me away. It pushes others away, too. I’m not saying you have to condone, say, my use of the curse words, but understand that I am trying. I have come so far from the person I was. I know my Heavenly Father sees this and loves me just the same as he did back then and will continue to love me as I grow and develop in the gospel. But it’s so hard for me to remember that church is for learning and growing closer to God, when Utah focuses on the social aspect so much, especially being in a YSA ward. This culture and my mental health do not coincide very well. In fact, this culture is quite toxic for me.

Most of all, I wish that “Utah Mormons” understood that not everyone has the life they do. Not even close. And that’s OK. I am OK, and so is everyone else, despite their life experiences and current state. Though I may not be Mormon enough for some, I know that God doesn’t have this Mormon Meter attached to me, waiting for me to reach 80% or higher to be loved. He loves me as is.  I am so grateful for that. I am grateful for the people in my life who love me regardless of how “good” I am, and who stick around even when I falter and stumble, because they are the people that I see my Heavenly Father’s love through. These people change from time to time, but they are always there. Just like our Heavenly Father, who loves each and everyone of us, and though we always say this – I think we ought to start truly believing it in a way that shows in our behaviors. Even me. Even I need to be careful not to judge those who judge me, who make assumptions, and unknowingly cause discomfort … because I know that ultimately, they mean well.

Utah just doesn’t understand people like me.

I’ve decided to start writing about the things that I can’t even talk about – at least not without cracking some lame joke and making it seem like yeah, it’s a thing, but I don’t care too much – because there’s no way I am going to let go, grow, or figure out how to deal with these things.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been terrified of death. As a young child – well before my father passed away, I wanted to know when I was going to die. I was stressed about it. As a teenager, when my anxiety decided to torture my mind, I’d lie in bed crying over the possibility of death. I used to console myself with the thought that maybe I won’t have to die. I had just finished the Left Behind series and started studying with the Jehovah’s Witnesses – while looking into other religions. Maybe, I would tell myself, Jesus would come back before I get too old and die. Somehow, that thought brought me comfort. When that thought didn’t completely alleviate my fears, I told myself that my death wouldn’t matter too much once I had children.  Though the fear has lingered in the back of mind, I haven’t freaked out too much over it. That is, until the last few weeks. I just realized how old I am – how much closer to death, and I’m still here. Not to mention how fast the last 15 years have gone by. Jesus didn’t come to hang out and stop this whole death thing. I don’t have kids, and I may never have children. How can I let go of this fear? I used to feel safe, almost immortal, around those I was in love with – but they’re gone, too. I’m left to myself and my own thoughts … and I’m forced to face this – either develop a faith strong enough or be okay with the unknown.

But I am not okay with the unknown. Very much like Gus in TFiOS, I fear oblivion. I’m pretty sure this is a universal fear – it just manifests itself in different ways. My psychology professor once said most people aren’t so much scared of death, but they’re scared of the way they’ll die. I am scared of death under any circumstances, because what if that’s it? I know I sound like I have absolutely no faith, and granted my faith is lacking, but what if? What if I cease to exist and all that I’ve known, my memories and experiences, everything I care about – it has no meaning. I start to take a C.S. Lewis-like approach to this thought – asking myself why does this bother me so much? Because I am me. I cannot cease to exist. I am more than this body. Maybe the reason I feel this way, the reason why the mere idea of ceasing to exist troubles me so, it’s something that is so contrary to what my soul knows to be true. Perhaps my soul knows things that my mind cannot understand. That’s why I say, “I want to go home” when I am already home. A part of me I am unaware of knows the truths my mind won’t recognize.

… And though that thought brings comfort, here I am wishing that I could have some sort of miracle. Some sort of sign – angels appearing in my room, telling me that everything is going to be okay … But let’s be real, even if that did happen, I’d probably go to the ER and have myself admitted into a psych unit. Instead I fell asleep last night with the light on, praying that I could escape these thoughts and know. The rational part of my mind says none of us will know anything until it happens.

Yet, I managed to stop worrying. I managed to calm down, and actually get sleep – which I haven’t been able to do in weeks.

… And maybe that is sign enough – because even with all my doubt, I somehow found comfort in the very thing I am struggling to have faith in.