Mormonism Returns

I have been an ex-mormon now for right about 12 years. I left when I was just beginning adulthood, despite having grown up in the church. I left almost my entire family behind, except 2 brothers and my mom. None of the rest of them speak to me (and let's be real, we were mormon so there were a lot of them.) I tried born-again christianity for a couple years after that but eventually turned my back to organized religion and began to embrace my own sexuality (now mid-20's).

Fast forward to now, I've been talking to a long-time friend of mine who [I think] is older than me by a few years, and still isn't out. We always discuss our love for wilderness and the peace it brings us amidst our daily struggles. His struggles are different as he lives a life still very close to the church whilst I live mine in exile. There are great struggles with either choice, of course, and those struggles are areas we have found comfort in each others' stories and support. In doing so more consistently than we have in the past, for the last month or two, I have come to realize that there are a lot of unresolved issues I have with myself relating to my upbringing in the church. I've cried a bit and cringed many times with a lot of pain that's resurfacing just in the last couple days. One of the most difficult things was realizing that I don't know how to act in society. Mormon society was very standardized; you could attend any church just about anywhere across the globe and the verbiage, actions, schedules and even the lesson plans would all be just about the same. The people would act the same, have the same reactions to the same discussions, sing the same hymns and interpret uniformly the same scriptures. It was safe, secure, and I always knew what to do. When I left it was abrupt, almost overnight. I never saw myself doing so. I never grieved the deaths of all the relationships I'd known all my life. And according to everything I'd ever known, those were the only relationships that mattered since outside of the church relationships (be they friendships/acquaintances/other) were temporary since those people would never get to heaven and we were only supposed to spend time with them inasmuch as we were able to proselytize.

It only took me 12 years to realize that coming out as gay, and never going to church again is not dealing with [still the] majority of my lifetime's experiences and upbringing. I have a lifetime of cult-culture behind me making up and reinforcing everything I've ever known about the human existence, including how to treat myself and others. It appears I'm beginning a long process of healing to make up for this. If I'm honest, I miss the ease of having everything written down in a book; my life's instructions, and the standardization of culture: it was so easy, and I knew the system as well as any of them. But that's the problem inherent in that cult-system: There's no room for our differences, and our contributions are not valuable outside of supporting the machine that drains our souls to empty husks. I'm not wanting to go back (I actually can't according to doctrine without shedding my own blood whilst dying in sacrifice to save my soul - that's real doctrine, no joke), just acknowledging my feelings. So I'm acknowledging also that I don't know how to value my self, or others, in our diversity and apologize to the Universe for my short-sightedness. It was my tool to survive for my entire life as a child; everything I ever learned, and now it only serves to hold me down. I cannot be true and will never be whole until that attachment is dissolved. Then when I am whole I may be able to incorporate into society and provide my community with whatever gifts have been hidden by my lack of vision.

I am not embarrassed to disclose that as my mormonism returns, I am in the process of joining an ex-mormon support group, as one of the most difficult things has been surrounding myself with people who just don't understand what it means to have grown up in that culture. I am excited to seek friends with similar stories, who have also grown up in the church and left; knowing how we all used to walk, how we all used to talk, and supporting each other in our new journeys into the world community.

The Battle for the Soul: Part 2.

Well shit... So I called on every spirit being I've ever known and all that were interested that would help. Had quite a turnout. I got handed off back and forth quite a bit so not sure I remember who was who in any particular moment. Plus going into and coming out of the trance fucks with the memory quite a bit. We all met at the wall. Wolf spirit wanted us to find a way through, break away a small bit at a time and create a narrow breach into the unknown. Through this point, I can travel to and from, each time wearing down more and more until it disappears. Although not in disagreement, the shaman came from the shadows and in conjunction with the horned god of nature, took me straight up to the wall, turned me so my back was facing the wall and pressed me against it. They told me that the wall was put up with intention and would therefore be removed with intention. Facing into my known life, and without the illusion of vision, I perceived their message and with their help in modifying the way my spirit perceived, I saw the wall simultaneously as before and as it's own negative, intention. We switched to the negative perception and the wall faded completely for a few moments. It began to fade back proportionately with my recurring inhibitions; the reason for the wall in the first place. This is a time of great change and I must tread slowly as to not ensure I eventually transmute all of the intention to keep that wall, and that I don't venture too far past it when I do, until I have better control of my intentions for its existence.

I heard a voice nearby; the same child's voice that had called out to me before. I realized that it did not come from beyond the wall and exercised the same ability to perceive my environments negative that made the wall disappear. The world turned black in front of me except for a yellow-orange light emanating from a younger version of myself, battered and on his knees on the ground. I went to him to lift him up and he thanked me, saying that he'd been stuck there in that prison for so many years. He was very weak and the spirits that had come to help with the wall helped me hold myself up. We sat for some time together, face to face, and as the older me, showed my younger self [some of the] compassion I hadn't received then. We sealed our intention with a sensuous union of spirits, and I will continue to heal and integrate myself to wholeness. I knew then that I had locked myself away years before, hoping I would just change into something I wasn't in order to get the love I couldn't give myself from others in my life. There is much healing ahead, this part of me literally needs to receive the strength to walk again, and integrating a much less mature part of myself to an older me will be interesting to say the least. I know that the path must be compassionate and abundantly accepting.

I find it strange that I cannot recall whether it was the night before or after my soul journey, but I had a very disturbing dream: I was with a group of good friends in some wilderness location just doing whatever friends do, when we were attacked by gunfire. Helicopters, assault rifles, all the accoutrements of an all-out assault against my current state of being. After running for some time, loosing people on both sides, we finally glimpsed our attackers: 2 adolescent boys, about 12 years old. They started to shoot my friends where they were hiding, so I came out unarmed to confront them. I asked them what they wanted and why they were hurting us. Their answer is foggy but I remember they wanted to be known/recognized. I tried to be friendly and they seemed to respond fairly amiably. I got them to stop shooting at us but they told me I had to come with them. They said no one had ever been kind to them and that I needed to be their friend. The second boy went somewhere I couldn't see and so I stayed talking to the first. I realized he was me; a negative dream-aspect of myself saturated in so much enmity as to be willing to murder friends and my older-self. I did my best to provide as much compassion as possible to this younger me whilst in fear for my life at the volatile nature of his emotions. The dream memory ends there and I know the road to healing will be long, nuanced, delicate and difficult. It will take enormous courage but what other choice is there when I know I am to be made whole? [A rhetorical question, to be sure.]