Tuesday's Warriors

I was dreading Tuesday. I was terrified of Tuesday. Last Tuesday I was ostracized, outcast, and oppressed. Tuesday broke me.

But this Tuesday... Tuesday was to be the day that I stood up to my fears. Tuesday was to be the day that I stood up to my oppressors. Tuesday was to be the day that I stood up for myself.

It turned out to be so much more.

I attend Institute at the Salt Lake City Institute at the University of Utah. Last week, when I attended my "Teachings of President Thomas S. Monson" class, I was absolutely smeared and belittled for being gay by the substitute teacher. Here's the story. I was scared to go back... I was so excited for this class, and now I'm fighting with myself to go. It shouldn't be that way.

I sent out a cry for help to Mormons Building Bridges, Young Mormon Feminists, Affirmation Millennial's, and Feminist Mormon Housewives on Monday. Dozens from out of state sent their love and their prayers. Others got a hold of family members that live in Salt Lake to see if they could attend with me. All in all, three people were able to make it to my class: Andrew, Laura, and Katie.

Andrew and I arrived together, and set up shop in the front corner of the classroom. A few minutes after class started, Laura came in. We didn't know each other until that day, so she stood in the back and said, "Is Ellen here? I'm looking for Ellen." Very timidly, I rose my hand and said, "I'm Ellen." And she came right over, full of self confidence and spunk, and kicked Andrew right out of his seat! He was a great sport, and Laura was thrilled to see that he was there for me too. She introduced herself and gave me a hug, and then let class continue. A few minutes later, Katie came in. I waved her over, and she came to sit right behind me. My army had arrived. I felt safe. I had the strength to speak my truth.

The lesson was a crap fest. Very traditional, orthodox Mormon. The class focus is supposed to be the Teachings of President Monson, and yet, the only thing discussed about him was the age change for missionaries. I brought up how wonderful it was to see more Sisters entering the mission field. Brother Butler agreed with me, and suggested that it was divinely inspired to "level the playing field" between the men and the women. His logic was that educated, professional women intimidate the men, and therefore encourage them to be lazy and play video games all day.

 

*facepalm*

Laura, in all her Mormon Feminist glory, spoke up and asked, "Why is it a problem for women to be professional and have careers? Why is it a problem for them to own their home or condo? Why are these young men intimidated? Maybe we should be raising and teaching our young men differently."

Next up was the equating argument between Motherhood and the Priesthood. Laura countered and explained that Fatherhood = Motherhood; Priesthood is an entirely different thing. While Brother Butler stepped back to clarify that he meant it in more of a metaphorical way, he never backed off of the comparison.

He explained that it's the mother's responsibility to usher us into the world, and the Priesthood's responsibility to usher us into the hereafter. He talked about the Ordain Women movement, and described it as a "peculiar new idea", after which a girl spoke up and started saying that "being equal to men doesn't mean to be the same as them." Which then segued into a call to read Sherri Dew's new Book "Women and the Priesthood". Which is gross.

The argument about how Satan hates family was brought up often. How he continually attacks the institution of the family (though he never brought up LGBT families, which I consider a win), and the divine role of women. He hates women because he will never have an eternal family with a wife and children. It was certainly an explanation that I had never heard before, and it certainly raised a few eyebrows, even if they were just from the four of us.

Heavenly Mother was brought up, and the first real explanation as to why we never talk about Her was given: "It hasn't yet been revealed." It was nice to have someone say, "I don't know," rather than to divert back to the "She's too special," cop out. Katie absolutely rocked it by offering places to find information on Heavenly Mother... specifically this BYU Study. Once he realized that he had a handful of Feminists in the room, he said that he was open to difficult discussions, and topics.

To end the lesson, we went over a timeline of the big moments of President Monson's life and ministry. We closed with a prayer and a hymn, and then the rest of the class dispersed. Katie, Andrew and Laura all stayed behind with me so I could talk to Brother Butler about the concerns I had from last week. He was already aware of mormonsandgays.org, and he didn't erase it from the board after I wrote it there. He listened intently while I told him about the collapse of my mission, and the affirming experience I had in the Temple that brought me out of the deep depression I had slipped into. He listened to what Elder Peters had said and done last week, and he welcomes the fact that I'm outspoken, and that I will stand up for the things that I believe in. We'll see if he really wants what he's going to get...

All in all... the Thomas S. Monson class is going to be the most challenging class. But the Women and the Gospel: Eternal Perspectives class... the class that I was convinced was going to be a shit show... is going to be my salvation. That class is at 7:30 in room W003. Please come and experience the awesome. I'm going to start blogging about that class too, so stay tuned!

Modesty

Modesty... let's talk about it.

Now... before you jump all over me about this, and start calling me an apostate and a whore (ok fine... most of you don't call me a whore), I'm all for people dressing modestly. Seriously. Cross my heart, hope to die (No needles in my eye though... those mofo's give me the creeps).

But seriously, all sarcasm aside... I love it when people dress modestly. It shows the world that you show yourself dignity and respect. And it generally means that you treat others with the same dignity, and the same respect. I'm all for that. Also... take note that I did not direct any of this exclusively towards women.

For me personally, I have always dressed "modestly". I had the strapless dress at Homecoming and Prom, and the occasional tank top on the beach to show off my rockin' body, but I had always been a t-shirt and jeans; hoodie and boardshorts kind of girl. Hell... it was my mom's greatest goal in life to get me to wear anything that emphasized my womanly curves.

 

What I find ironic, is that when I was in high school, the lack of bared skin labeled me as a prude. After I joined the Church though... those bare shoulders turned me into Potifer's wife.

The Church is obsessed with modesty. It is obsessed with what women wear, or don't wear. We teach our young women that they alone are responsible for keeping the "priesthood holders" clean and worthy, and that we alone are at fault when they look at us with leering eyes. We teach our young women that modesty is directly connected with their virginity virtue, and that their virginity virtue is directly connected with their marriage potential. We teach our young women that their virginity virtue is everything, and that if they lose it, they will be a chewed piece of gum, a shattered vase, a crushed rose, and a dozen other horrific analogies.

Stop it already!! Men know how to control themselves... and if they don't... well, there's something much more serious going on. And trust me... I know that beautiful women in bikini's are hard to keep your eyes off of, but if I can keep it in my pants, so can the guys. We are all taught about inappropriate touching and respecting others as kids. Those rules still apply throughout adolescence and adulthood.

I vividly remember one of my very first Sunday's attending my Singles Ward after being baptized. I was poor. I was SO poor that ramen noodles and goldfish with a glass of water had become the center of my diet. Because I was poor, and because of the circumstances in which I moved to Utah, I did not have much to my name. I had one three year old skirt that no longer fit, and I had a bunch of my famed hoodies and shorts. I had no church clothes. But I did have dress slacks. So I wore pants before it was cool. But it was NOT cool with the Bishop, the Patriarch and the Relief Society President who was counseled to "talk to me" about what's appropriate for the Lord's house.

I was mortified. And I stopped attending my ward. The missionaries went a little haywire, and so did my roommates who were just so excited to have a new convert move into their apartment. But I stopped coming. And I went to another ward where people didn't care.

Modesty isn't about the clothes you wear. Modesty isn't about your virginity. If you carry yourself with dignity and deal with your fellow men and women with kindness and fairness, then you are living a modest life. If you strive to live within your means, and not be flamboyant and ostentatious, then you are living modestly. Modesty is about the life you live, and the person you strive to be... and it has nothing to do whatsoever with the length of your shorts, or the covers on your shoulders.

Drowning

How do you cope with the loss of the love of your life? How do you cope with the sudden loss of companionship and intimacy? How do you accept that they left you and fell in love with someone else? How do you do that?

I don't have any of the answers. I'm sure that's a big surprise to all of you, but hey... the truth's the truth. I haven't written about Melissa for a while. I've instead continued to write about the "Gay Mormon Paradox". There's a couple of reasons for it. First, I think the paradox is more important to write about, and has more purpose to my community. But the second reason is what really gets under my skin... I let someone push me around. If any of you know me personally, you know that I am the very last person to let someone walk all over me. But in this case, I laid down at her feet, just to make it easier for her. About a month-ish ago, my friend (though I'm not sure if I'm her friend anymore... I offended her with some sorely needed "unsugared" honesty) told me that I was being, "creepy, sad, and embarrassing" about the situation, and I was exemplifying it by blogging about it. I got self conscious, and I stopped.

Pathetic, I know.

Well I'm starting again. It'll be a little different, because I got a request to write about how I'm coping with the loss of the love of my life... especially with the circumstances in which it happened. And I will happily oblige.

I haven't gotten over her. Plain and simple. I'm sad for her because she's making some poor life and health choices, and it breaks my heart to see her do it. She's moving on, and it breaks my heart, because I'm still in love with someone who has fallen out of love with me.

The thing that hurts the most, is that there's another woman. Melissa still insists that nothing happened between her and Megan before she broke up with me. And it's still possible that she's telling the truth, because I haven't been able to prove it otherwise. But she moved on immediately after our break up. And it eats away at me. She may not have had a physical affair before we broke up, but she absolutely had an emotional one. 

I go back and forth between being sad and being angry. I hate to love her, and I love to hate her. And I love to love her, and hate to hate her. There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't cried. And there hasn't been a day where I haven't been angry. And the anger isn't always directed at Melissa. I hate Megan with every bone in my body. She's a home wrecker, and she has shown absolutely no remorse. She's polishing her trophy, and she doesn't care who she stepped on, and destroyed to achieve it. She's a poor excuse for a woman...

I feel like I can't really move on. I'm still in love with her, and I don't know when that'll change. And because I'm still in love with her, I can't go on honest dates with anyone. And even if I could, I have absolutely no desire to do so. I'm drowning. And they say drowning, and burning to death are the two worst ways to die. Figures.

So I'm not over Melissa. I'm not healed. And I haven't keeled over yet from hyperventilating, or dehydration. Death by drowning is still plausible. It's a poor start, but it's a start right?

Maggie Mayhem

Some of you may know her from the movie "Whip It" (brilliant movie, if I do say so myself... And Ellen Page is HOT!) However, I know Maggie Mayhem, as my dog. She is also referred to as: The Beast, Dog Face, Bat Ears, Deer Legs, and "Bad Maggie". You can obviously see how horribly her name suits her.

This is Maggie: (I'm writing this on the iPhone app... Not sure if they're going to show up or not). She is a 2 year old Border Collie-Aradell (sp?) mix. She's hyper, sheds like a maniac, and is FAR too smart for her own damn good. Technically, she's Melissa's dog, she got her after her dad passed away 2 years ago. But we're practically an old married couple now, and I've decided to adopt her as my own. I question that decision everyday.

The stories are never ending... There's the one about where she eats underwear... Or the one where she likes to drink out of the tub. Or the time where she laid down in the middle of 700 East in Salt Lake City (an extremely busy street). And then the time where she insisted sleeping on our bed... So Melissa and I put her bed on top of ours. (See picture below). She also has severe separation anxiety, and follows us around like a shadow. And the endless barking. Then there was the time that Melissa gave her a hair cut in the bathtub. Then the day we came home from work, and she had escaped from the bedroom, into the kitchen. No clue as to how that was accomplished. Countless stories of car rides (Melissa has a short cab pickup... Yeah...). She tries to chase cars while on walks... But only certain ones. She practically refuses to eat dog food, but then looks at us when we're eating with this sad puppy dog face saying, "But guys! This isn't fair! You're starving me to death!" Melissa and I read her thoughts and narrate them. She has a southern hick accent, by the way... We think it suits her nicely. She has this silent bark thing... and she is quite talkative without actually barking. And last, but not least, is that she enjoys licking things... Particularly boobs.

We even made a list! A list of things that are NOT for puppies. (note: this list is compiled of things that she has already done, and has been told NOT to do, touch, get into, etc.)

The List:

Dr. Pepper
Slingshots
Fortune Cookies
Countertops
Shoes
Burritos
Raw Meat
Lotion
Hamburger Helper
Laundry Baskets
Plastic Bags
Barking
Chocolate
Barking
Toilet Water
Underwear
Pizza
Goldfish
Backgammon
Hot Dogs
Trash Cans
Posters
Ellen's Boobs
Ellen's Legs
Ellen's Food
Ellen's Bed
Ellen's Face
(List is added to almost everyday)

I only have 3 simple rules...
1. Don't lick Ellen's face.
2. Don't eat Ellen's food.
3. Don't sleep on Ellen's bed.

Do you see a trend?

I have hair everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I can't escape it! No matter what I try on. And when I pull clothes out of the dryer, half the lint catcher is filled with Maggie hair. It's taking over the house!! I pull hair out of my mouth multiple times a day. It's driving me insane.

Now, you're probably thinking, "Wow... She's a bitch. This dog can't really be that bad."

She is.

Have you ever seen "Marley & Me"? Cute movie. Absolutely love it. Maggie is like Marley. But worse. But Melissa and I are like Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson (Melissa is Jennifer... HOT). We really do love her. Like ought now... She's laying on the bed (my side... So I can't stretch out my legs...), and snoring. She's adorable. Not hyper, not jumping on me, not licking me face... She's being good. And honestly, on the mornings that Melissa goes to work early, and I'm still in bed, she's a great cuddler. :)

There ya have it folks! You've officially met my dog. Want to hear more? Let me know... I could go on, and on, and on, and on, and on.............