Monday, May 23, 2016

Bisexual & Mormon--Leaving, and Coming Home

I'm not gonna lie.  I was disheartened to read my last nine posts and realize that I've been going through pretty much the very same mid-life crisis since 2012.  I still tell the story to everyone as if it's new!! The newest part is that my daughter, who has been warning me since she was about 13 years old, that she WOULD graduate early and head to California, is now about to graduate early and head to California.  I always knew that she wasn't kidding, but whoa!  It's like mid-life all over again.

Another new part is this:  Last year, she came out to me.  She came out as a lesbian, but is working very diligently to date boys right now.  She may be bi, or she may be swimming in a very, very small pool of possible "dates" at a high school with almost no "out" lesbians, unless you count her English teacher, who has two kids and is way too old to take my daughter to Jr. Prom. 

My daughter may be bi.

My reaction to her coming out surprised me.  I cried like a baby for two whole days.  I cried because I imagined how the Mormon kids in her school would likely react if she ever decided to globally come out (which, actually, except for testing the waters with her two closest friends, she decided against doing). I cried because it brought up all the old stuff in me, and I suddenly wanted to protect and save her from all those crazy people who were going to say stupid, hurtful things, and who were going to possibly leave her.  I cried about the "crush" she was experiencing with her best friend, a very straight and very devout Mormon who could never "like" her back.  I cried about the potential losses.  I cried because I had no idea whether there would be someone who would take her to the Jr. Prom.  And, I cried with joy, knowing that she was delighted at being able to be open with me about what she was experiencing. She is safe with me, I realize, in a way that I am still not safe with my own parents.

Probably, more than any other reason, I just cried because she is growing up so fast, is now graduating early, and is heading to California.  And I can't change or stop any of it... and shouldn't want to.  But what we should want, and what we do want, are rarely one and the same. 

So, the empty nest is looming large, and the irony is that I am finding that I need to be alone in ways I've never needed before.  I NEED it like I need water to drink and like I need sleep.  I'm kicking out my newest roommate at the end of the summer, and driving my child out to sunny Cal, and then I'm coming home to silence, but a different silence than I spoke of in my previous posts.  This silence, strange as this may sound, is alive and pulsating with the creative forces of my life.  I'm on the verge of something so new... and I don't need to know exactly what it is because I understand now, that my life is unfolding and will continue to unfold whether I poke my dirty little fingers around in it, or not.  

The past several months, I've been obsessed with two subjects:  1) Progressive Mormon podcasts; and 2) books, blogs, DVDs, and YouTube videos about transgender people.  ??? I can't explain either obsession, but I finally stopped trying to explain and gave in to the need to learn everything I can possibly learn about the lives of other recovering Mormons, and the experiences of transgender teens, children, adults, and their families.  I know.  I really cannot explain it.  But, I have learned SO MUCH.  And, after four years of lamenting that my mid-life crisis has seemed so much bigger than my actual life, and after 16 years of being inactive in the LDS church, while never quite being "out" of it, I've done something astounding.  I've turned in my resignation. 

I realize that this may not seem like a big deal to any of you, but it is a big deal.  A really, really big deal. I actually planned on never "officially" leaving.  I guess I thought if I lingered around the periphery that I could avoid having to do the harder work of grieving and saying goodbye to old ideas about happiness and purpose, and the even harder work of having to find, within this life of mine, some meaning that wasn't first defined for me in a Primary song book.  

I've turned in my resignation, and it isn't over yet.  I still need to hear back from the lawyers, and then from LDS, Inc., itself.  I've asked for no contact, but I suspect that could actually result in a few extra folks on my front porch over the next few weeks, but we'll see.  I'm no longer afraid, which is... well... quiet.  It's quiet to no longer be afraid.

So, maybe my obsession with ex and post-mormon stories, and with stories about transitioning children and teens, has something to do with crossing a threshold that I haven't been able to step over before now. Maybe it's about finally being willing, and more importantly, able, to come out.  Come out for real.  Come out as all the things that I am, and as all the things that I am not.  I am not gay.  I am bisexual.  I am not a dancer, and yet I am starting to dance again.

I am not a Mormon.

I am no longer a Mormon.  And my life is so happy, and so simultaneously sad. It's like being a mom who is about to send her youngest child to California to make her way in the great big world.  I'm so thrilled at who she is and at how brave, beautiful, and brilliant she is, and how driven she is to absolutely be herself, even if it means having to let her mom down and leave when it truly is time.  And I'm simultaneously sad.   Sad about the things that were once true about my life, and sad about the things that never were true about my life, and sad to set them down, and let them finally go.  I remember feeling sad as a little girl, thinking about how devastated my mom would be when I left the church. It was odd, considering I was so young.  How could I have known all the way back then?

It's time to set it down and let it finally go.  It never really was my life, and certainly hasn't been my life for most of my children's childhoods.  It's a story that only included me because my parents told it to me, and because I sang it, for so many years, in primary.  

And yet, there is the richness of my heritage and culture.  I'm not talking about pioneers.  I'm talking about the art of Mormon women (crochet and cooking and needlepoint and music) passed down to me from my mother and my grandmother and all the generations of Mormon mothers before them. I'm talking about hymns and primary songs. I'm talking about stories of survival and service.   I'm talking about the richness of family connection and of green jello at Family Home Evening.  I'm talking about the things that I've forgotten that I loved.  I've been wondering what I'll do for the next 45 years, (without an eternal companion to go with me on missions?), and here it is.  I'm going to speak and live Truth.  I'm going to serve and advocate for those who are most vulnerable, and I'm going to live life.  I'm living it already.  And I'm going to cry when my sweet teenager leaves home in less than a month.  After 24 years of "momming" other humans, I deserve to cry a little.

And then, I think I'll sleep.