RaNt (Part 4.11 §10 ¶ 3 of the Trilogy of Fear) General Conference and Mission Health

I'm going to talk about religion. If you don't want to read it, leave now.

In preparation of the first part of this essay, I want to preface this with a small setup. Much of my life I spent time consciously “dismissing” things that didn’t fit in with the way my life was headed or things that disagreed with my feelings on how life should be lived. I dismissed friends that felt differently about religion or sex or politics. I built a self-imposed echo chamber around my life because to actually listen, to have sympathy or understanding, might create a conflict.

In the past few years I’ve realized that some of my life has fallen out of the narrative that I felt I was expected to live. I became open to listening to other’s experiences and feelings and opinions. I began to understand them on their own terms and found so many wonderful new friends and new ways of looking at life.

This following video explores someone whom I would have dismissed in a different part of my life. She didn’t fit in how I felt a woman should feel. She was “other”. Now, I can understand where she is coming from, even if I don’t fully empathize. But this is her opinion and she has strong feelings about it and I completely respect that. She yearns for a divine feminine. She wants to be understood on her own level, as a woman, in a male dominated religion. My word, how wonderful, and angering, I find her words. This woman deserves to be heard, to be understood and to be respected.

This woman, like all others, matters.

For the rest of this rant, see this story on Missionary Health.

I'm going to go once more to the well of my mission. I'm going to be honest about it. If you don't want to hear what I feel, then why are you reading this? Anyway, here it goes.

I went on my mission for the best of intentions. I was thankful to God for what He did for me. I had a bad relationship with my parents for a time and going to church helped me repair that. I thuroughly enjoyed going to a church school as I could focus on my education the way I thought I should. I found some great friends, dating a beautiful woman and I just wanted to be the best person I could be, The people in my life deserved the best I could be and this was how I was told I could accomplish that.

I had a terrible time. Depression gripped me like grim death. I hated what I was expected to do as faith and religion were intensely personal to me. All I could foresee was not helping my fellow man but selling God, opening up parts of me that I didn't want to open for ridicule. Instead of the acceptance I craved, I was throwing myself into a pool of rejection. Guilt and shame kept piling up on me. Unlike the article, I did see someone about the depression. I can't remember much about the meeting but hysterical crying. I was a mess. I was told that it was suggested that I do not leave on my mission. With that, I want to refer to my first quote of the article.

Missionaries who do get sick may be reluctant to report any serious problem to an authority figure, in part because they fear getting sent home early, according to most Mormons I spoke to. Every former missionary I spoke with told me that those who leave a mission prematurely are ostracized and stigmatized. They struggle to find a spouse willing to marry them or friends willing to be seen with them. Friends and family presume you weren’t righteous enough to serve—or you just couldn’t hack it. Even missionaries who return home due to serious medical conditions such as cancer are suspect. As one former missionary told me, “You’ll do almost anything to avoid being sent home early.”

This. This kept me on my mission. If I went home, I would come home to NOTHING. My girlfriend would certainly leave me. My friends would leave. I would have to go to another school because BYU wouldn't accept me back (I had a bad last semester and was counting on Returned Missionary or RM status to return.) I still believed in the church, but I knew what my life would be like. I stayed. My depression began to consume me. I was losing weight and losing sleep and I began to hate the life I enjoyed just a few months earlier.

I was called to Switzerland. A more beautiful place on the earth you will never find. I was broke, starving and hoping that some money would come my way. I lost more weight and felt so far removed from the things I wanted to be grateful for. Eventually, I had lost enough weight and was so devastated that I was sent stateside in hopes money and a bit of positivity would come my way.

I still lost weight. I was still depressed. I wasn't suicidal, but I wanted to disappear. I wanted it all to go away.

So, I stayed out. I think I was about 50 or so pounds lighter when I returned home ( I had lost 40 before coming back stateside). The knowledge that I was happy once was what had kept me going, that I was going to come home, meet again my wonderful friends and date and get to know new wonderful people who wanted to be around me. Leaving was the only thing that kept me going, and the irony is not lost on me. I still believed, but my mission time was the darkest part of my life and I hated the idea that it would define me. I never mentioned it but a sentence at a time. Indeed, this next quote summed it up for me.

I found Mike, along with many of the former missionaries I interviewed for this story, through Sick RMs, a website that gathers the stories of ill and injured missionaries. (RMs are returned missionaries.) “I am now 48 years old,” Mike told me, “and I still have recurring nightmares about being ‘called’ back on a new mission. These nightmares are draining, feverish events that leave me cold, yet sweaty, at the same time. My mission is my deepest regret.”

I still feel I lost most of what was me during my mission. It is only now, as I approach my 50's, that I have a feeling that I am returning. That is why I'm as verbose on this as I am. I need to be honest about my life so that my friends and those around me can understand. I'm tired of being quiet about it. I want to be known.

I am thankful for those friends who have stayed by me. I no longer believe in the church and I try not to be overbearing on the matter. I realize that others had very different experiences on their mission and with the church. This was mine. I don't think anyone I know dismissed it. I know my wonderful wife hasn't. She's had to put up with a lot of things lately as I try to sort out all the things I had hidden down the rabbit hole. I can't tell her how much I appreciate all the time we sit talking about things. I think both of us have come out better for all of this.