Faith is a Relief
I think I was maybe 16 or17 years old the first time I verbally expressed my opinion on religious faith to someone - in this case my mom.
Now, we've had a rocky relationship for a lot of years. There was a great deal of misunderstanding between us, and my mom made a lot of assumptions of what and who I was. I suppose it's a great relief that we had rare moments like these on which to build a foundation for what would become a tenuous and growing relationship. We still have our struggles, and sometimes when I experience a PTSD trigger and flashback, it's easy to believe we are back in those bad times. But this notion that I expressed to her - it's the thing that kept me going when home was not a safe place and the best I could say of my relationship with her was that I loved her so much that it was worth the trouble.
So, late one night, in the frozen stillness that only comes as it grows later and darker, I told my mom what faith meant to me.
I said, "Mom, I'm tired of spending time with other mormon kids. They think that being mormon is about being together and doing the same things. They think that being mormon is defined by a list of things they don't do... I don't really relate to them. It's as if mormonism itself is their identity."
As I remember it, she asked me a few questions. There was an edge of concern in her voice. At this time in life, she didn't really understand or trust how I worked.
It was dark, I had been sleeping in her bed. That wasn't uncommon for me. Was I embarrassed when my brother brought it up to company (in my mind to try to shame me into giving my mom space)? Yes. Yes, I was. Truthfully, though, it was the only time I really had any access to my mom. Our relationship changed so drastically when Dad died, it was as though she and RJ had holstered up and gone dutifully to war. I just didn't get it - I needed time. I needed peaceful space. And then shortly after he was gone - was my first instance of rape. It was about six months after he died. I didn't really know what happened to me, let alone that I should tell someone. My mind blocked a lot of things out, except for dysfunctional snippets that escaped it bouts of rage I didn't even recognize as rage. They were on the front lines, and I felt I was being beckoned to war. But I didn't think there needed to be war... it was not my duty to go and do normal life. I had me to take care of, and that was a full time job.
Let it suffice to say, this created a lot of conflict, and that conflict quickly got terrifying and triggering, crossing every boundary of every safe place I had ever resided in. If I didn't have post traumatic stress disorder at the age of 12 after the bloody death of my father and a very violent episode of both physical abuse and a painful rape, darkened by not knowing all that had happened, having blacked out on a garage floor during the episode, it definitely developed during this time. I was terrified of everything, but especially my family. I believe I would have developed PTSD either way, I am 24 years old and I'm just starting to get back some of the more traumatic details of that beating and rape.
So nighttime, when I couldn't see her face, in the dark and sacred stillness, was the safest to me. There were often episodes of me having night terrors and clawing at her, grasping her in the night. It was near impossible to wake me. I remember a lot of dark, dark nightmares. Sometimes my flashbacks aren't literal, they're metaphors for the loss of safety and trust. There were so many dreams about being coerced or pushed into dangerous situations and being left to be traumatized and suffer slowly, nearing death but never tasting its sweet relief from the torture. And in those moments, some trust was recovered because, if I woke, it would be to my mother.
This is why I was able to talk to her about serious things in the middle of the night, frequently to her greater frustration.
However, I pressed on. I said, "Mom, if I'm mormon, its because I know myself, my real self... and because those values line up with what I know about me. The church is just the vehicle for the truth and comfort you get when you participate. I'm mormon because I know my soul... and because that's what makes sense to my soul. Honestly, if it were for the friends or something like that, I would never choose to be mormon. They're not nice to me."
It was a rewarding moment, with my mom, because she was glad to hear where my testimony came from. We talked more about Jesus Christ and what he meant to me, about the relationship I had with the values of the Young Women's program (Faith, Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Knowledge, Choice & Accountability, Good Works and Integrity [later, Virtue was added]), and some of my spiritual gifts (I still don't believe I understand some of my spiritual gifts). I'd like to share why I choose faith, despite the struggles associated and the difficulties it gives me personally.
I choose to have faith in a living God because I'm smart enough to not lay any claim of omniscience. I think my paradigm is unusual to the point of being completely unique. I don't think there are many, if any, who see the world like I do.
I could very well see the world as cynically as I please with the things I've experienced, but I choose optimism because it is the logical choice. Optimism, for one, can be contagious. It promotes change, and casts responsibility where it belongs. I don't think that cynicism or "realism" as it is often called, is any wiser than optimism. While bad trends and evil things have great power, good has great stamina. I don't believe than any amount of bad can fully stamp out good, and thus optimism is justified. I could write quite a bit more about this, but I digress...
It's important to have my perspective on life, but it is only one piece of a great, multicolored looking glass. Our collective self and world understanding, as the human race, is a reflection of behavior and action. The more we are aware of paradigms and perspectives, the greater power we have for change. Without all of these perspectives, we will miss important pieces.
I could never ever, in a million years attain all the knowledge I need to improve the world as I wish I could. I feel exhausted at the very thought. But I know this, and this is anecdotal evidence to be sure, but not less valuable as such: I have fought my way through tough circumstances. My awareness of my own lack of knowing and my willingness to trust the greater purpose in my suffering is what carried me through. And you know what? Because of my experiences, I am an agent of bettering my community. I better lives around me, and show great, great compassion. If I have the capacity and motivation to forgive those around me who have clearly wronged me and to forgive, in my case, God, or in any case, the universe or circumstance or life or whatever it may be termed, than what can I not forgive? And forgiveness is a great power.
Why is forgiveness a great power? Because forgiveness is the agent of acting rather than reacting. Forgiveness is the power of choosing our own actions rather than being ruled by our misfortunes and that - that is true power.
So forgoing control and allowing a higher power to be the agent for taking my best efforts and making the good enough and worthy enough, assuming that things will eventually be made right, will be made good, worthy and better - that is my greatest strength.
I choose faith. Not because my parents told me or its easy or convenient (it isn't). I choose faith because my life's experience tells me it's the greatest power I've ever had.
Faith tells me I'm good. Faith tells me I don't have to know everything. Faith is something I had to believe in and trust when no other belief or trust was available to me. Faith takes responsibility for the world while I take responsibility for myself. Faith makes things worthwhile, even when they're terrible. Faith sustained me when I would have otherwise surrendered my existence. Faith is everything to me. I choose faith.
Love and Admiration,
Shareeta
Now, we've had a rocky relationship for a lot of years. There was a great deal of misunderstanding between us, and my mom made a lot of assumptions of what and who I was. I suppose it's a great relief that we had rare moments like these on which to build a foundation for what would become a tenuous and growing relationship. We still have our struggles, and sometimes when I experience a PTSD trigger and flashback, it's easy to believe we are back in those bad times. But this notion that I expressed to her - it's the thing that kept me going when home was not a safe place and the best I could say of my relationship with her was that I loved her so much that it was worth the trouble.
So, late one night, in the frozen stillness that only comes as it grows later and darker, I told my mom what faith meant to me.
I said, "Mom, I'm tired of spending time with other mormon kids. They think that being mormon is about being together and doing the same things. They think that being mormon is defined by a list of things they don't do... I don't really relate to them. It's as if mormonism itself is their identity."
As I remember it, she asked me a few questions. There was an edge of concern in her voice. At this time in life, she didn't really understand or trust how I worked.
It was dark, I had been sleeping in her bed. That wasn't uncommon for me. Was I embarrassed when my brother brought it up to company (in my mind to try to shame me into giving my mom space)? Yes. Yes, I was. Truthfully, though, it was the only time I really had any access to my mom. Our relationship changed so drastically when Dad died, it was as though she and RJ had holstered up and gone dutifully to war. I just didn't get it - I needed time. I needed peaceful space. And then shortly after he was gone - was my first instance of rape. It was about six months after he died. I didn't really know what happened to me, let alone that I should tell someone. My mind blocked a lot of things out, except for dysfunctional snippets that escaped it bouts of rage I didn't even recognize as rage. They were on the front lines, and I felt I was being beckoned to war. But I didn't think there needed to be war... it was not my duty to go and do normal life. I had me to take care of, and that was a full time job.
Let it suffice to say, this created a lot of conflict, and that conflict quickly got terrifying and triggering, crossing every boundary of every safe place I had ever resided in. If I didn't have post traumatic stress disorder at the age of 12 after the bloody death of my father and a very violent episode of both physical abuse and a painful rape, darkened by not knowing all that had happened, having blacked out on a garage floor during the episode, it definitely developed during this time. I was terrified of everything, but especially my family. I believe I would have developed PTSD either way, I am 24 years old and I'm just starting to get back some of the more traumatic details of that beating and rape.
So nighttime, when I couldn't see her face, in the dark and sacred stillness, was the safest to me. There were often episodes of me having night terrors and clawing at her, grasping her in the night. It was near impossible to wake me. I remember a lot of dark, dark nightmares. Sometimes my flashbacks aren't literal, they're metaphors for the loss of safety and trust. There were so many dreams about being coerced or pushed into dangerous situations and being left to be traumatized and suffer slowly, nearing death but never tasting its sweet relief from the torture. And in those moments, some trust was recovered because, if I woke, it would be to my mother.
This is why I was able to talk to her about serious things in the middle of the night, frequently to her greater frustration.
However, I pressed on. I said, "Mom, if I'm mormon, its because I know myself, my real self... and because those values line up with what I know about me. The church is just the vehicle for the truth and comfort you get when you participate. I'm mormon because I know my soul... and because that's what makes sense to my soul. Honestly, if it were for the friends or something like that, I would never choose to be mormon. They're not nice to me."
It was a rewarding moment, with my mom, because she was glad to hear where my testimony came from. We talked more about Jesus Christ and what he meant to me, about the relationship I had with the values of the Young Women's program (Faith, Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Knowledge, Choice & Accountability, Good Works and Integrity [later, Virtue was added]), and some of my spiritual gifts (I still don't believe I understand some of my spiritual gifts). I'd like to share why I choose faith, despite the struggles associated and the difficulties it gives me personally.
I choose to have faith in a living God because I'm smart enough to not lay any claim of omniscience. I think my paradigm is unusual to the point of being completely unique. I don't think there are many, if any, who see the world like I do.
I could very well see the world as cynically as I please with the things I've experienced, but I choose optimism because it is the logical choice. Optimism, for one, can be contagious. It promotes change, and casts responsibility where it belongs. I don't think that cynicism or "realism" as it is often called, is any wiser than optimism. While bad trends and evil things have great power, good has great stamina. I don't believe than any amount of bad can fully stamp out good, and thus optimism is justified. I could write quite a bit more about this, but I digress...
It's important to have my perspective on life, but it is only one piece of a great, multicolored looking glass. Our collective self and world understanding, as the human race, is a reflection of behavior and action. The more we are aware of paradigms and perspectives, the greater power we have for change. Without all of these perspectives, we will miss important pieces.
I could never ever, in a million years attain all the knowledge I need to improve the world as I wish I could. I feel exhausted at the very thought. But I know this, and this is anecdotal evidence to be sure, but not less valuable as such: I have fought my way through tough circumstances. My awareness of my own lack of knowing and my willingness to trust the greater purpose in my suffering is what carried me through. And you know what? Because of my experiences, I am an agent of bettering my community. I better lives around me, and show great, great compassion. If I have the capacity and motivation to forgive those around me who have clearly wronged me and to forgive, in my case, God, or in any case, the universe or circumstance or life or whatever it may be termed, than what can I not forgive? And forgiveness is a great power.
Why is forgiveness a great power? Because forgiveness is the agent of acting rather than reacting. Forgiveness is the power of choosing our own actions rather than being ruled by our misfortunes and that - that is true power.
So forgoing control and allowing a higher power to be the agent for taking my best efforts and making the good enough and worthy enough, assuming that things will eventually be made right, will be made good, worthy and better - that is my greatest strength.
I choose faith. Not because my parents told me or its easy or convenient (it isn't). I choose faith because my life's experience tells me it's the greatest power I've ever had.
Faith tells me I'm good. Faith tells me I don't have to know everything. Faith is something I had to believe in and trust when no other belief or trust was available to me. Faith takes responsibility for the world while I take responsibility for myself. Faith makes things worthwhile, even when they're terrible. Faith sustained me when I would have otherwise surrendered my existence. Faith is everything to me. I choose faith.
Love and Admiration,
Shareeta
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