February 8, 2003
The Adventures of Paisley
Blue
I was just listening to "Leather and Lace" by Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty and it put me in a very mellow, reflective mood. I started thinking about the twists and turns my life has taken, where I started, where I've been, and all the things life has taught me.
In all fairness I have to admit that this mood started last night. I'm not sure why but I typed "Molly Mormon" into a search engine just to see what would turn up. I was not disappointed. There was a wonderful little article written by a woman who laid out what she thought Molly Mormon was like, then compared herself to that standard, admitting where she succeeded, failed, and then gave a final analysis of just who this mythical Molly Mormon is in the LDS culture.
Of course, having been born and raised in the Church I knew exactly what she was talking about. Most of my life I have tried, and mostly failed, to live the teachings of the Mormon Church. I used to think it was because I was a bad person, like some kind of malformed individual who was supposed to have been thrown in the reject heap, but instead somehow managed to get a body and come to earth.
I think it was somewhere around 1992 when I gave up. I assessed the situation and decided that I was not the problem. After all, by every measurement standard I could find, I was basically a good, decent, ethical person who cared about people and loved mankind and the earth... well, maybe a little too well since church leaders had called me incorrigible, promiscuous, and other adjectives since my teen years.
I remember in my younger years I used to answer those allegations and accusations by saying that Christ told us to love all men, and I was just doing my part. Other times I would toss out the "I'm being patriotic" line because at that time I was seeing mostly GI's. That's only natural when you live on a military installation.
However, despite those tongue-in-cheek replies to those who judged me, I honestly did feel, deep down inside, that every encounter I had was special. I didn't call it sex - I called it a 'connection.' It was my solid belief that when two people connected, they shared a part of their souls, and by doing this with many people we could learn and grow a lot more than by just connecting with one person over and over again.
I have to say that as an older - and hopefully wiser - individual, I look back on that and all I can say is that I was younger. Time and experience on this ball of earth spinning in space has taught me that there are lessons and experience and joy to be found in all paths. I was not necessarily incorrect. I just also needed to experience the wonder of connection with an individual in a long-term monogamous relationship. To see it from 'the other side,' so to speak.
Some would say that the open, promiscuous lifestyle is more full of danger and possible heartbreak, especially with the possible fatal consequences that unprotected, casual sex can introduce into a person's life. I have to point out to those people that a monogamous relationship is just as full of danger and possible heartbreak.
And I hope that we, as human beings, are finally getting educated to the point of knowing that all unprotected sex can be fatal, whether you're in a committed relationship or not. You are always sleeping with the people your lover has slept with... and you can never know 100% for sure... I'm not saying you shouldn't trust your partner but I am saying that you are the only one who can watch out for your body 100% of the time. And even that's not always possible... if someone takes the choice away from you.
So how did I go from the subject of Molly Mormon to my views on sexuality? Hmm... well it's not really a far stretch in my mind. The sex thing was just one of the ways that I didn't fit into the Mormon culture and lifestyle. It was a biggie, though. The church leaders liked to hone in on it, pick it apart, demand all the dirty details.
An amusing side note is that when I was a teenager, my local church leader, the Branch President, would have me come into his office every week for an hour-long confession and counseling session. This man was barely in his 30's and he was locking himself up in a room with a very precocious, sexually active girl of 15 and 16. He would question me, and allow me to ramble on, about anything that came in our minds about sex.
My parents did not realize this was going on until over a year later when his wife accused me of trying to steal her husband. That came as a huge shock to me because I used to babysit for them, and thought of them as a second family. I had never entertained thoughts of stealing him away... well, maybe occasionally I had thoughts of connecting with him, but that didn't mean I wanted to keep him!
Once my mother and father started figuring out what had been happening, they placed any and all fault and blame at the Branch President's feet. After all, what was he doing spending that much time with me behind locked doors with nobody knowing about it? And when I was asked what the heck we talked about all that time, I was frank. We talked about my ongoing efforts to become a better Mormon, and that meant confessing my sins.
My mother was taken aback at that point, though. She had a hard time believing that I had so much going on that I needed to confess each week. Actually, I think it broke my parents' hearts because I was their oldest, the one they had pinned their dreams on for giving them a temple wedding to arrange, and giving them grandchildren.
That was part of the problem, too, though. That is exactly what I wanted all the years I was growing up. I just wanted to grow up, get married, and have babies. I wanted to be Molly Mormon, who baked her bread and sewed her family's clothes and held multiple callings to serve in the Church. I wanted to be the homemaker, the thrifty shopper, the intelligent, witty, and humble housewife who made her husband look good and made her parents proud.
But then... I'd finally had enough... and I admitted to myself that I would never be good enough. I'd never live up to the standards of the Church. For one thing, I never felt like I could speak my mind. Anytime I did something that wasn't 'inside the box,' I was censured and punished. It's definitely a club and if you don't follow the rules, they don't want you.
So I started wondering if there was anywhere that I fit in. What did all these clubhouse rules have to do with God, with obeying the commandments, with being a good person, and with returning to heaven when we die? Were they all really necessary? Or had this somehow evolved into the same problem the Pharisees had in Jesus' time? The Pharisees loved the letter of the law but denied the spirit.
Another strong factor in this equation is that I have always been an intensely spiritual person, for as long as I can remember, and I can remember all the way back to being a toddler. I used to ask questions that would stump adults. First, they would have to get over the fact that a three-year-old just asked them that question, and then they would have to actually try to think of an answer that would satisfy me. I think I was three when I first asked why we don't have a Heavenly Mother. I knew before all the others in my Primary class that we really did have one.
It was like being the first to know that there is no Easter Bunny. Instead of being disappointing, though, it was like being trusted and allowed to know a very special secret.
I never felt like it was a secret, though. Of course we had a Heavenly Mother if we have a Heavenly Father. I never questioned their existence because I felt their presence in my life. Their presence in my life had nothing to do with the fact that I was Mormon, and I also knew that from a very young age. I knew that I was a special little girl, that not everyone could feel the spirits that walked amongst us, but I just accepted it and was not bothered by it.
As I attended classes and services as a child, I would keep my ears open and learn. I would keep my eyes open and see. But I always decided for myself if something felt right or not. Of course, I learned how to say things in the manner that was expected, and I learned what was appropriate and what was not for sharing with classmates, for sharing with church leaders, and for sharing with non-members.
There was always this underlying layer of spiritual self-awareness, though, that I assumed others had, but as I got older I began to question that assumption. Regardless of what anyone else had, thought, or whatever, though, I was quite comfortable and happy in my spirituality.
And then puberty hit. Things got confusing. I needed the foundation and structure and the promises I had grown up hearing from the adults in my world. I was faced with the predictable dilemmas of peer pressure to drink, use drugs, and other forbidden activities. I remained strong in my faith, delving into the activities that the Church provides for young people. This worked fine for a couple of years.
Then I was raped at age 14, and the ground dropped out from beneath me. The church, and even my parents, turned against me, accused me of lying to cover up promiscuous behavior, and I was punished. The Church put me on probation. My father accused me of being a whore. I didn't even have a good idea of what that word meant, but I soon found out. I learned a lot of things...
...because I was suddenly adrift. I still had the spiritual feelings in my heart but the chemical frenzy of adolesence and the changing rules and expectations of those around me left me feeling unsure of what to believe. Who was in my world everyday at that point? The family who did not believe me, who now expected - and soon got - the worst from me. The church that punished me for being attacked. My friends from school who had their own understandings of how the world worked. The GIs and other men who said and did whatever they needed to convince me to take my clothes off for them.
I think this is where my 'connections' philosophy was born. I connected with men from around the world, from different belief systems, from different levels of society... and I learned from each and every one of them. Even if it was just an hour or two of play, there was always conversation, and I picked up something of their hearts and tucked it away into mine.
I remember one young man from Montana... he had never been away from home for so long before. He missed home badly. His buddies had taken him out, and when everyone was pairing up, they had set him up with me. Oh, we were attracted to each other, but he was very shy and so we sat on the side of his bed, holding hands, and talked.
He just wanted to be accepted for who he was. Around his buddies he felt awkward and they called him a 'hick' because he'd grown up on a farm. I gave him acceptance and I listened to him and I connected with him. I saw him a couple more times after that, and I could see how being with me had changed him in a positive way. He decided that he wanted to have a relationship, though, and it was illegal to have one with me because I was underage (he didn't know that when we first met). So we just remained friends.
Hmmm... that was another step in my evolution. I was friends with men, when everyone around me told me that was impossible. There were even movies made about that 'fact.' However, during those troubled teenage years the people who held great sway and influence over my development were men who were friends.
This is not acceptable behavior for a young Mormon lady, though. I got off probation and was soon after disfellowshipped. I cannot remember exactly which incident precipitated that discipline, but I'm sure there were many to choose from. At that point I decided that I really was a bad person, though. I had still been trying to reconcile my personal spiritual beliefs with the demands of the Church... but I just couldn't do it.
They teach that the Church is perfect, but the people aren't. Well, if the Church was perfect, and I just kept getting punished for being myself, then I was the broken one. Of course, I also got assaulted and raped from time to time which further reinforced my view that I was defective and not worthy of being loved.
It was so liberating when I walked away from this. I am still entwined in different, subtle ways, to the workings of the Church, but I do not attend services and I do not beat myself up trying to be a good little Mormon girl. Now it's a sad, disillusioned but gently cherished laugh that escapes my lips when I think about my goal to be Molly Mormon.
Overall, it wasn't a bad goal. It's just not what turned out. The good part is that I adjusted, I improvised, and I overcame. I survived what life threw at me. My marriages have not worked out and the miscarriages have taken the place of childbirths. But I am still that confidently spiritual person I was at three years old. All the things I have been through have not managed to kill that special, confident spirit that lives inside this body.
Not for lack of trying, though. LOL
~Paisley Blue
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