Rainy Afternoon

Before my girls go to bed each night, we brush our teeth, read a story and take a moment to say one thing we are thankful for. That moment of thankfulness is the closest we get to prayer or meditation. We don't close our eyes or fold our arms, we just say a few things we are thankful for, which is usually ice cream, our bicycles or each other.

As an Agnostic Theist, who became an Atheist, I have never taught my girls to pray, and they have never heard of Jesus or a god, that I know of. So it caught me off guard when, as we were getting into the car at the grocery store, I caught Katelyn with her hands clasped and with her eyes closed, head towards the sky.

I do have to admit that it peeved me a little bit. It was starting to rain and now I had to deal with her talking to imaginary people. I kept my cool and asked my beautiful 4 year old what she was doing. I felt if she explained to me what she thought she was doing, I could easily promote healthy questions. She opened one eye, smiled and said, "Mommy, I am wishing really hard for the rain to stop, because I want to play outside."

It made me smile.

Bittersweet Memories of Georgia

It was 9 years ago this week that my mother kicked me out of the house for the last time. She told me I was an evil spirit, and she didn't want my negative influence around my three younger brothers. I spent that night on the phone to my long distance boyfriend, crying. He offered to come get me and bring me back to Atlanta, Georgia, to live with him. I had nowhere else to go, so I accepted his offer.

I quit my 3 jobs, dropped my college courses and packed most of my things. My mother ignored me the rest of that week. He arrived in California the first week of March 2001. We visited Disneyland, the Griffiths Observatory and a few other tourist places before hitting the road in my 1998 Chevy Metro.

We took the 40 through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Tennessee. Driving into Georgia, we hit traffic and sat for 3 hours because a Tractor Trailer carrying logs overturned. I remember listening to his mix CD and Cyndi Lauper as we sat enjoying each others company.

I still remember pulling into Atlanta. I remember how the sun was shining and how open I felt. We had driven all night from Memphis to make it to Atlanta. I remember parking and going up into the dorm rooms. He was a student at Georgia State University and lived in the dorms that were built for the 1996 Olympians. We were a short walk from Centennial Olympic Park.

As time carried on, I realized that I was alone in a new city in a new state. The first time I met my boyfriend was when he walked off the plane in California. And I did have him in Atlanta, but I was still getting to know him. That April, I was able to get a job at the Dave and Buster's in Marietta, Georgia. Shortly after that I got another job at the Cracker Barrel. We moved out of the dorm rooms and into our first apartment. I was working two jobs and he was going to school full time.

Our relationship was strong, but at times, awkward. I was in a transitional place in my life and it seemed as though he knew what he wanted to do with his life, but he wasn't sure how I factored into that.

No matter how I feel about him now, no matter what happened in the two years I was in Georgia, one night he did something that I will be forever grateful for...

He had done some research on the Mormon religion. And he found some things that didn't add up to him. I don't remember everything he brought up, but he pointed out the flaws regarding the referencing of horses, coins, and the blood lineage of Nephi. There are no traces of Jewish DNA in anyone native to the Americas. He challenged me, whether out of love or frustration, to question my beliefs. He asked questions I couldn't answer, it brought me to tears. He kept me up all night, showing me things online, asking questions, offering answers. When I told him I was done and didn't want to talk anymore, he kept on going.

Honestly, I was mad at him. I couldn't believe he could 'attack' me like that. I was supposed to be the love of his life and here he was, making me cry. I was surprised that night didn't lead to a break-up; we stayed together a year and a half after that.

I never attended a Mormon church while I was in Georgia. I did, however, attend a Baptist church every Sunday that we spent at his parents house out in Evans, Georgia. I never told him, but I really enjoyed it. I found it easy to question that Pastor, I wrote down things I didn't agree with. I looked up the scriptures he referenced and read and reread them. It became easier over time to start looking at the beliefs that were handed to me as a child, forced down my throat as a teenager, and to question them.

My relationship with him ended on uncomfortable terms. But my time in Georgia, my experiences there, I wouldn't trade for anything.

When I came home from Georgia, my parents welcomed me into their home. In order to live there, they required me to go to church. Their church... the one place I knew I didn't belong. I struggled to attend church for years after coming back from Georgia, but in the end, I knew that Mormonism, with all the guilt and the shame wasn't for me.

I miss Georgia. I miss the Magnolia trees in full bloom, I miss the friends I made there. And I sure do miss Pikachu, my one eyed cat. Because of my experiences in Georgia, I finally had the strength to question. And I will be forever grateful.

Mormon No More

I did it. I sent in my resignation letter. As of January 28th, 2010 I am no longer a Mormon. I walked away more than a year ago, but it's so nice to know it's official.

Wow. I am so relieved to be free, but there is a soreness I didn't expect to feel. It's weird and difficult to explain. I don't miss the blind faith, but I feel like the last piece of me that lingered from youth is now gone.

I wish they would have sent me a letter saying something along the lines of, "Hey, It was nice knowing you! We took you off the records of our church, have a great life. Best Regards, The LDS folks up in Utah."

Instead I got a letter stating that they "consider such a request to be an ecclesiastical matter that must be handled by local priesthood leaders before being processed by Church employees." WTF? Really? I mean, really? So now they are sending complete strangers to my house to talk to me about my personal decisions?

They also sent a cute little pamphlet called "An Invitation". A short little page of guilt, wrapped up like a loving request for my return. I think it's funny that they don't even know why I want to leave, but they are pious enough to think a small little request for my love, strength, loyalty and devotion is going to magically change my mind. Actually, that's probably why they are sending strangers to my house.

So now I sit and wait. I don't want to be mean to the poor folks they are sending into the lion's den, but I am livid that they would think I could be dissuaded. Like this isn't an issue that I've been debating within myself for the past year. Like the time and energy I put into my own research and study wasn't good enough. Or do they believe a perfect stranger wrote in on my behalf? Someone who knew my children's full names and birth dates? Someone who has a notary on payroll to be able to get it notarized in my name with no problem? I don't believe that.

I feel like they are trivializing my pain and intelligence. Do they think I don't know my rights? I don't do well standing up for myself in face to face situations. I am going to suck at telling them to go the fuck away.

This wasn't an easy thing for me to do. I know a lot of my Mormon friends who have fallen away from the church are still on the records. They may have embraced a new religion, or just don't believe in much of anything, but they never bothered to or even have wanted to have their name removed. That's their choice and I don't blame them. Honestly, some folks don't care if they are on the records of a church they don't support, it's just paper and holds no true meaning for them.

It's a bit different for me. I was reluctant to get baptized. When I was interviewed by the Bishop at 8 years old, I had to say I wanted to get baptized. My mother would have killed me if I said no thanks. Now as an adult I can go back and revoke that action that I gave into because of peer and parental pressure. It's not often that we can go back and set things right in life. And I needed to.

It was a difficult thing to do. I know that my Atheist friends may not understand how can it be hard to send in a letter to a pseudo-religion and resign. Looking at it logically, it shouldn't hurt, it shouldn't bother me and it should have been easy. But it wasn't. And there is a tenderness because of it. I just cut my family off on a new and more personal level. I just guaranteed that no matter what, my relationship with my family will never be the same. I think I may have pissed off some of my devoted Mormon friends.

I know I will heal and move on. I know this is what is best for me and my children. I know my husband respects me more because of it. I know he understands why I had to do it. I know that in the end, I will be stronger because of it. I already feel like I can breathe again, I no longer run the risk of excommunication. Which is also a silly thing to dread. But knowing that they have no power over me and I can sue if they try to take action against me, gives me a sense of calm.

I thought it would be like a birthday. You know, it comes and you don't really feel any different. But I do feel different. I felt a change in me when I walked away from Mormonism in November 2008, I felt a change in August 2009 when I came to the realization that I am an Atheist, and sitting here, now being free of Mormonism, I feel a change.

I love not being Mormon. I love being an Atheist. I love being a mother and I love being a wife. I love everything I am now. Last week I couldn't say that wholeheartedly. And now I can.

And I know when those unknowing gentlemen show up on my front porch, that I will be able to ask them to get off my property and never return in a kind and respectful manner, because that's the kind of person that I am, always have been and always will be.

My grandmother, my mother and I on my baptism day September 1988. (Thank you April for fixing the color on this photo for me!)

Losing my Religion

I have thought about my journey many times over the past few months. I have been trying to figure out where or how to start telling my story of loss. Many people say that people don't really ever truly believe in religion. They are tied to the traditions, pressured by the testimonies of their families and ofttimes their duality just gets the best of them.

I would hate to admit that I was ever gullible enough to ever believe in the pure crap the Mormon religion piles on you, but I am afraid to say I must admit I was.

It didn't help that the grandparents that I lived with until I was 12 were Mormon. It didn't help that all my cousins growing up were Mormon. All 52 of them, some through marriage. My 7 Aunts and 7 Uncles on my mothers side were Mormon and both my parents were Mormon.

It didn't help that I went to church almost every Sunday until I was 20. I went to Seminary every weekday from 6am- 6:50am, from my Freshman year in high school until Senior year. I went to Mutual every Wednesday night for a few hours. Went to Saturday morning service projects for a few hours each week, went to Sacrament Meeting and Sunday School for 3 hours every Sunday and Firesides Sunday nights for up to 3 hours.

In college I traded Seminary and Mutual for Tuesday and Thursday night classes at the LDS Institute of Religion. By which they just mean their religion.

I was a devout Mormon all through high school. I believed. I testified. I passed out Books of Mormon to my unsuspecting friends and fellow band members. I mocked people for not being righteous and I lectured my friends on their potty mouths. I was a pain.

How could I not believe? To hear the same thing over and over as fact. To hear adults testify to their truth. To be told that anything other than what the church writes about the church is Anti-Mormon Propaganda. It was difficult to be a doubter when surrounded by family, friends and leaders who were there at a moments notice to tell you that the devil was making you doubt.

But even with all that 'support', with all the indoctrination and peer pressure, my cognitive dissonance won out in the end.

My doubting began when my high school boyfriend broke my heart. I hadn't kept morally clean while dating him over the course of a year and a half. When he dumped me the summer after our first year at college, I was shattered. I dropped weight and chopped off my hair.

I went into the bishop to repent of my sins. He couldn't see me at church, so he asked that I come to his home. He was cold and preoccupied, even though I had made an appointment. He told me that I could never see my ex-boyfriend again, that I couldn't take the sacrament and that he needed to speak with me every Sunday for at least 3 months.

I called his clerk that week and set an appointment for the following Sunday. Sunday came, I skipped partaking of the sacrament and headed to the bishops office after the meetings and classes were done. He told me that he couldn't meet with me that Sunday, and that he would see me the following Sunday. So I went to the clerk and made another appointment.

The next Sunday came. I didn't partake of the sacrament and waited after church to talk with the bishop. I was doing really well on my path to forgiveness. I had started dating a Mormon guy and he was prepping to leave on his Mission to Galveston, Tx. I was reading my scriptures and praying daily. I even started writing poetry to deal with my pain and guilt. I was disappointed when the bishop blew me off again.

After 4 Sundays of being ignored by the bishop, I started sinning again. Not as bad as before, but still sinning. I didn't feel that my progress was being supported the way the bishop told me it would be. The 5th Sunday of not partaking of the sacrament, my mother noticed. When the bread and water (body and blood) are being passed, the chapel is silent. My mother took that opportunity to loudly whisper "You're not a virgin anymore are you?" after her face had contorted in disgust when she noticed I hadn't taken the bread. I just stared blankly at her. I was 19, felt it was none of her business, and I had no clue how to handle her. So I kept staring blankly. She stood up, grabbed her purse and scriptures and left. Yup, she left me and my brothers at church with no ride home.

It didn't surprise me. She had kicked me out of the house for being 5 minutes late for curfew. Then 5 days later asked me to move back in because my younger brothers missed me. When I had turned to her for comfort when my boyfriend of 18 months dumped me, she said, "Well, now you can date a nice Mormon boy.", then went to bed. No hug or comfort. And now she was punishing my brothers for my personal decision.

Walking home from church that Sunday, I started to realize how much perfection was expected in Mormonism. God made us with imperfections, why would He punish us for them? He made us with the ability to rationalize and think, why would He punish us for using said abilities? By the time my brothers and I got home, my testimony was shattered. My mother never comforted me or supported me through trials, pain and tribulations. Her love felt conditional. The bishop, who was supposed to be there to mind God's flock had totally ignored me for over a 1/3 of my repentance process. My mother and father were divorced at the time, so my father was absent and distant.

How could a God that loved His creations, His children, be absent as well? I felt ashamed for doubting God's love. But that walk home, with only my own reasoning in my head started a snowball that would continue to roll until 10 years later, when I walked away from Mormonism, then finally Theism altogether.

I attended church from that point on with my closest friend. We went to a singles ward. We stayed for sacrament meeting (which I never partook of the bread and water), then left to break the Sabbath by eating at a local restaurant called Islands. It became our tradition. It was honestly the only reason why I went to church for the next year, to hang out with her, talking about life and sharing some of the best hamburgers around.

Then my mother kicked me out for being an evil spirit and bad influence on my brothers and I moved to Georgia.

(The picture is my mother and I outside church one random Sunday in the mid-late 80's.)

New Year's Resolution

I normally don't make New Year's Resolutions. Mainly because I like to be a woman of my word, and I never keep them. It just gives me more reason to be disappointed in myself for no real reason.

But this year, I am making a few lifestyle changes. I am eating healthier and I am hoping to eventually get to the point of cutting out all white flour and sugar.

I am more aware of my community and hoping to volunteer more. As an Atheist it's sometimes tough get involved. So I have made myself a list of websites that offer some volunteer opportunities. I couldn't help but share.

www.craigslist.com

www.volunteermatch.org

www.servenet.org

www.change.org

www.idealist.org

www.networkforgood.org

www.volunteer.gov

www.helpindisaster.org

One day each year the non-religious participate in the National Secular Service Day.

www.secularserviceday.org

Please also remember that one pint of blood can save up to three lives. You can also donate platelets...

www.americasblood.org

And it doesn't hurt at all to get on the National Marrow Registry. If you can't register, you can always donate financially.

www.bethematch.org

I donated blood for the first time as an Atheist, and joined the National Bone Marrow Registry as an Atheist.

I know I have become a better person because of my Atheism. I love my country, my fellow human beings and my family so much more.

What could be better than a Sunday morning spent in the service of your fellow man?

Holiday Frustrations

Grrr....

I am usually a quiet, passive Atheist, with a few anger flare ups here and there. (Ignorance makes me angry, though I know I suffer from it at times.) But the moms on the momslikeme.com website really frosted my cookie today.

I love this time of year. Being an Atheist doesn't take away from my love of Christmas. If anything it's added to my love Christmas and of Hanukkah and Winter Solstice. I have a new appreciation of the world around me. I have a new love of different cultures and of actual factual history.

Being an Atheist has added to the richness of this time of year for me.

Last year I still considered myself a Christian. I had 'walked' away from Mormonism the month prior, but I still believed there was a God who loved me. Celebrating Christmas last year was more of a chore than anything. We had to be out of our home on December 24th. So in order to celebrate with my immediate family, we headed the Embassy Suites in Brea, Ca. Christmas Eve was wonderful. Christmas Day was the chore. We were glad to be on the road on the 26th.

This Christmas, I figured that since I was finally intellectually free, that it would be more wonderful than ever. But having now embraced so much truth and fact, there is a new frustration that I have faced this year.

When people say 'Merry Christmas' to me, I say it back. I know what they are saying is with love of the holiday season and they are just expressing their beliefs. Beautiful. Perfect. I understand. If someone were to say 'Happy Hanukkah' or 'Happy Kwanzaa', I would return the salutation. I think most Atheists, even if it peeves them, are kind people. They wouldn't start a fight with the Salvation Army bell ringer over the wish of a Merry Christmas.

But today on my momslikeme.com website, I was honestly taken aback by the full prideful ignorance of my peers. (Fellow mothers.) The question was, "What do you say this time of year, Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?" The majority of moms were saying that they choose to say Merry Christmas, which is no surprise. I could have guessed that. The majority of people in the States are Christian. What took me back is the blatant disregard for other peoples beliefs and feelings.

I always thought Christians said Merry Christmas out of love. I had no idea that most of these women were saying it because they didn't care what others celebrated. They felt if they say 'Happy Holidays', that they are denying their Christ. They say it because they hope the person they say it to isn't Christian, so they could 'stick it to them'. They don't give a damn if someone might be offended. Their reasons got as hurtful as name calling. They say it because the reason for the season is Jesus. The audacity!

Yeah, that sealed it. Actually, you pious, ignorant, disrespectful Christians on momslikeme.com, if you look it up, Winter Solstice is the reason for the season. Mithra, the unconquered son god, is the reason for the season. The fact that the days are cold and we gather around loved ones and the fire for warmth is the reason for the season. Earth's axial tilt being furthest from the sun is the reason for the season. In 46 BCE Julius Caesar established December 25th as Winter Solstice.

I think this is the first time that I am royally peeved about silly greetings and salutations. So these women on this website feel that Happy Holidays (Happy HOLY Days) somehow takes away from their religion. WTF?

I don't feel like saying 'Merry Christmas' takes away from my Atheism. Nor does 'Happy Hanukkah'.

I don't feel like my children lighting a Menorah and learning about someone else's culture this time of year takes away from my own culture. I don't feel like taking out the trash takes away from my femininity. What a ridiculous line of reasoning. I just don't understand.

I read something today that gave me that warm happy feeling again.

"It's always a great time of year to be an Atheist. The traditions of Christmas are almost entirely pre-christian, so that's not really a problem for us that some people are celebrating the birth of their god. We are doing what people have always done when the days are cold and dark - we look to each other for light and warmth."

That put me back in the holiday spirit!

A beautiful Seasons Greetings to all, and a Happy New Year!

On a side note, the English language is such a beautiful thing. I understand that when people say Holiday, they no longer think of Holy Day. Just like when people say sinister, they no longer think 'of the left' or left-handed. :o)

It was nice.

I took my girls to our first 'Mommy and Me' meeting down at the local Methodist church today. Yes, I am starving for human interaction so badly that I swallowed my Atheist pride to go to a church. It wasn't bad, actually it was really nice to get out and talk to other moms. Granted, they aren't aware that I don't believe in their god, as I kept my big mouth shut and I refrained from wearing my Atheism buttons and badges.

Not that they would have cared. I made sure I emailed before I showed up, asking if it was open to the public. I just viewed Atheists so negatively when I was a church goer, I feel that at least one of the moms there would have asked me to leave if they would have known.

It was the 'once a month' meeting where the kids spend the whole time in the nursery so the moms can have 2 hours of uninterrupted adult time. A few moms had their newborns with them, and for a moment before the meeting started it was like Breastfeeding Central. Over all, I had fun. My girls had fun too, they didn't want to leave. When I went to get them out of the nursery, they were dancing to 'Zoot Suit Riot'. (Maddy was spinning in circles and Katie was doing her famous 'bottom shake').

Maybe I am too used to what being Mormon means that I am having a difficult time understanding what being Christian means. Cherry Poppin' Daddies would not be a musical selection that would be playing in the background when picking up my kids from the nursery at a Mormon church. Granted, I don't know of any Mormon Wards that offer this kind of support to mothers during the day, with field trips and days that moms can drop off kids to run errands. But I am sure hymns would be playing come pick up time, if anything at all.

Maybe the term fellowship isn't the horrible thing I thought it would be. I had prepared myself to have an opening hymn, opening prayer, a bunch of talk about god and then a closing hymn and a closing prayer. In hind sight I was prepping for a Mormon gathering. They only mentioned god once while I was there, and it was only in passing. And not even in a pushy or offensive way. Have I said it was nice? Because it really was.

I think I may have to stop expecting Mormon behavior from religious people. I expected to be judged, I expected to be forced into talking about god or at least spirituality. I expected to hear my kids talking about Jesus as we walked to the car, and actually worried about doing damage control on the way home. But what I found was a group of wonderful women, all mothers, who got together on the first Wednesday of the month to share stories, exercising techniques and cookies.

It was nice. Having been with my children almost 24/7 for the past year, I can't even express how grateful I am to have found this group. I am hopeful that I may actually make a good friend. I've made friends since moving here, but a not friend that I actually go out with. A friend that I can craft with or even get my nails done with. I know it's going to be a while longer before I get to that place, but the hope is there. And that is really nice.