Religious Trauma Syndrome

Please, read this article. Then, think about what you’ve experienced at Church. Then, think about what your children may have experienced.

Religious Trauma Syndrome

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Dear Utah, please…vote yes on prop 2.

I can’t even. Seriously can’t even right now.

So, as you may or may not know, I recently moved from Utah to Oregon after a 10 year stint in the Mormon Bubble. Now they have had their strict, and very unusual, laws about liquor (which were recently changed, but not necessarily for the better). But this just takes the cake.

Now, you also may or may not know that the LDS Church claims to allow its members their own agency, or freedom to make their own choices; however, that is not actually how it works. The Prophet of the LDS Church (he’s like the Pope, but for Mormons) has had a letter drafted and sent out to all of the Church members for whom they have email addresses.

Here is the letter:

Subsequent political advertisements of those aligned with the Church are airing on local Utah television stations. The ads are attempting to lead the public to believe that dispensaries are going to breed crime in their area, and that their children will be able to go inside and purchase cannabis, without a prescription or a medical card. If you’ve ever been to a cannabis dispensary, you know that’s a load of crap and you’re probably angry by now.

The LDS Church is using scare tactics to keep people from approving of medical cannabis because they own billions of dollars of stock in Big Pharma. Read the article by KUTV News Utah here. Another fun fact, as of 2016 (numbers aren’t in for 2017) the prescriptipn drug addiction rate in Utah is 3% than the national average and has maintained this trend for over a decade.

Are you beginning to see a pattern here? By asking their members to vote No on Prop 2, the LDS Church is essentially trying to keep the masses addicted to their “legal” drugs because the feds say it’s okay. Think about it folks. The benefits of medical cannabis outweigh (and fix) the consequences of chemo, epilepsy, Parkinson’s, anorexia, bulimia, anxiety, depression, chronic pain, and many other things.

Why would you continue to allow people to suffer because of propaganda the government has spread in an attempt to maintain control through legislation?

The dad you never knew

How do you explain to your younger sibling that he has only heard half the story, and from an unreliable source? Let me preface this by telling you a bit about our mom. She was in a motorcycle accident and suffered a severe head injury at age 17. She doesn’t remember her senior year of high school, or graduation but she was there. I have pictures. I think this injury damaged her brain in ways other than just her short term memory, but that’s another post. Our dad is schizophrenic and self medicated with alcohol and drugs because he refused treatment. It got worse when I was in high school. When I met my husband, he figured out what was going on and took me away from my dad. It was the best thing for everyone at that point.

Now you’re caught up.

My brother is fiercely loyal to our mom, which I totally get. She’s the only parent he’s ever known, and now that he’s discovered how to use his size to defend himself, he’ll protect her at all costs. I will too; the only difference is that I don’t have the same kind of connection with her. I really don’t remember feeling that close to her at all.

Okay. My brother has lived with me twice, and we talk frequently. Every time I say something about Dad he shuts down or gets extremely defensive. This happens because he only knows Moms half of the story, in which she is the victim. I am not denying that she was the victim of emotional, mental, and physical abuse at the hands of Dad. I saw and heard it regularly. They both developed drinking problems, and fought a lot because they didn’t know how to compromise. Dad was pretty much useless except when it came to taking care of us kids. So he never got a job, and mom always worked. I bonded with him instead of her because of this.

Dad was a good dad, for the most part. It was when I got to my teens that things went horribly wrong. But that’s another post.

My point here is that it’s not fair for one parent to fill a child’s head full of only the negative and not share anything positive about the absent parent. Just because all you want to remember is how he hurt and abused you doesn’t mean he was like that all the time. He wasn’t.

The problem with Trump as our president…

Since last Tuesday I have been trying to help the Trump supporters around me understand why him being elected has caused us to revert to 1950 when it comes to womens rights, and the right of people of color. Maybe some of you will listen…

When a candidate like Trump acts the way he did on the campaign trail, all of the ignorant are called out of the wood work and have been shown that racism and sexism are okay. Some of the things I’ve seen and heard in the last week make me sick. I have provided links to a few YouTube videos posted in the last week or two so you can see what I mean. 

This video in particular is the worst I  have seen so far. This man got out of his car in stopped traffic on the freeway to harass a black man he thought cut him off. 

Trump Supporter Goes Ballistic

This woman voted for Trump and thinks slavery was a benevolent act.

Trump Supporter Endorses Slavery

And this Trump-supporting woman thinks Jesus wants only male leaders.

 Jesus Wants Men Only!

This is the kind of ignorance that electing someone like Trump has made okay. These people have no understanding of civil rights, nor equality. 

Here is a flyer that was posted on Wednesday by an ignorant student at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah.

As a bisexual woman with a gay brother, I’m scared shitless.

Eleven years later…

Eleven years ago today I received a phone call from the roommate of the man I was trying to win the attention of…after two months and an unbidden kiss I wasn’t sure of untol he called. Said roommate told me that Mr. X, now Daddy, had been diagnosed with walking pneumonia and was being a baby and wouldn’t take his antibiotic, so naturally I had to rush right over…

Hahahaha! The joke was totally on me as I soon discovered that the roommate simply knew women better than Daddy did, and that I was just a naive girl who was suffering from Florence Nightingale syndrome. He’d taken his pills hours before hand (which meant he was no longer contagious) and I had been baited into spending time with him in his natural habitat. Two and a half years later, on February 12, 2008, we were married.

“Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman just came on…it’s one of his favorite songs…he should be home from work any time.

Anyway, it’s now eleven years later and I can’t imagine my life without Daddy. I can’t breathe when he’s not with me. I can’t sleep until he is asleep because he doesn’t sleep well. I don’t feel safe anywhere but with him, or in his arms, or at his feet with my head in his lap. When I leave for school, and he leaves for work, in the morning I feel like I’ve misplaced part of myself…and it’s gone until he is back at my side.

I’m afraid of what I feel for him…and what the world will be like for me when he leaves me behind in our golden years. I don’t even like to say the words, it makes me queasy.

He is my Sun, Moon, the stars, the ocean, the forests, and everything in between. He’s the best man I’ve ever known, and I’m eternally grateful I walked into the Porn Shop when I did that day. 

Who knows…maybe we were always meant to be, even in past and future lives…

“Are you okay?”

This post is different from my usual posts because I need to share something with you all.

A few weeks ago I lost a friend to a heroine overdose. I do no condone the use of hard drugs like heroine, cocaine, meth and the like, so obviously I had written her off because she was a junkie. Then she died. I hadn’t thought about her since the last time I saw her, then Sir told me what had happened. He found out from a friend at work. I couldn’t help her, and my first reaction was anger when I heard that she’d O.D.’d. Anger with myself for not trying harder to save her.

Today my dearest girlfriend messaged me on Facebook because she needed to talk to someone who would understand. You see, I didn’t ask my other friend if she was okay and I lost her because of an addiction that was fueled by family trauma. This time, I wasn’t going to let go until my friend felt better and knew what she needed to do.

My girlfriend is suffering from post-partum depression that is fueled by hormone imbalance. I too have hormone issues, and am on a few different things to help me get through life, so my friend took a chance and finally let me in. Her husband is acting like a man-child, and she has an infant and an almost four year old. She doesn’t want to ask for help because she feels like being a stay-at-home wife means taking care of the children and the house all by herself, as do I. But like me two years ago, she can’t keep up with everyone because she has no energy to be her awesome, kick-ass self.

All it took to help her decide what to do was to ask, “Are you okay?” and just listen to her. The question, “are you okay?” can make the difference between life and death, between sanity and insanity, between going through life and actually living your life.

I was able to saw my friend today with three little words. If mental illness is hard for you to talk about, ¬†imagine how the person suffering from it feels. It’s the hardest question to ask, but it has to be done. Don’t be afraid to ask, “are you okay?”