Once Upon a Time I Was Crazy

A year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder). Many people don't understand this disorder. I know I didn't before it happened to me. Oftentimes people think that a person with GAD is just a person that worries. A lot. While this can be true, it's not the kind of worry that average people, in their every day lives, feel even in excess. The worry that a person with GAD feels is so severe that it is beyond control and it interferes with functioning.

Most of the time I feel like no one (except maybe my husband and those who've been through it) understands it. But, as is the case with any mental disorder or hardship, understanding from others is tremendously important to the sufferer's rehabilitation. When no one understands or even tries to empathize with another person's hardships, it is truly isolating, and that can be truly debilitating. I realize this might not fall under my blog title (it's not like anyone reads this anyway), but I just felt pushed to write about it. Probably because my husband just left on a plane (you'll understand later)

I have always been a worrier. Some of the ridiculous worries I get now I can remember starting when I was in elementary school. At twelve years old what did you worry about? I worried about falling off of mountains I didn't climb, getting so fat I couldn't leave my couch, rape, infectious diseases, and getting diagnosed with cancer (at my next doctor's appointment), just to name a few. After 9/11 happened, I wouldn't fly until high school, when the idea of going to New York City outweighed the possible consequences. Now every time I (or anyone else) get on a plane I think it's going to crash, be hijacked, or run out of fuel. At ten years old I worried about what it would mean if there was no God. Could I blink out of existence? What did that feel like? When I stopped breathing would I feel it? What if I died before I got married? What if I died before I had kids? What if I never got married, because I was too ugly to be loved and then I died and never got to experience life as a married woman? What if I got married but my husband died? How would I survive? What if I got married but I died? Would my husband think it was his fault? Would he get remarried? Would he love her more than me? Would that mean I didn't get to be with him in heaven? What if there was no heaven and I never got to see any of these supposed husbands ever again? What if I never got to see my mom ever again? What if she died?! Is my mom going to die soon?!

That's a tiny trail of thought from a 9-18 year old me. This was not fun, but as far as I know, it was not GAD. However, I did not go to therapists for fear they would send me to an asylum or take advantage of me sexually and no one would believe me, because I was nine years old.

Most people don't realize when this stuff is going on inside others' heads. We appear normal on the outside, either because we are very good and are worried (worried? who us?) about people thinking we are crazy, or because no one spends enough time with us to get a full picture of what's plaguing us.

Then two years ago it all came crash banging down.

It was after I moved home from Washington. There was a family crisis that consumed me, and my fear and worry about it became so intense that it started to rub off onto other things. Those worries became bigger worries which became bigger worries which became so consuming that I stopped sleeping. Doctors looked at my sleep, confused. Maybe I should see a therapist. I took Ambien for sleep and on it, I got about 2-4 hours each night. Each hour or two I would wake up, have a panic attack, and maybe fall back to sleep. All day I worried about how I would sleep the next night. My reaction time slowed immensely. I couldn't pay attention in class. Suddenly, what was once easy took me 10 hours to finish. My stomach was constantly on edge. What normal people feel when their lives are in tremendous peril (that butterflyish, stomach hurting, stress response) I felt all day long, sometimes for no reason at all. I had a panic attack at least once a day for several months. At one point I went catatonic for a few hours and my husband had to stick me into a hot shower to wake me from my stupor. Every hour felt like a day, and every day felt like a year.

Those thought trails I explained a few paragraphs earlier got worse. I was going to fail college (I had a 4.0). My husband was going to die every time he left the house (he had only been gone for 15 minutes, or he only had to drive 5 minutes to work). The school was going to have a shooting. Every plane would crash. My mom wasn't answering her phone---she must be in serious condition. If I didn't sleep I was going to die. I was never going to sleep again. I was too tired to exercise like I used to. I was going to become obese,  and my husband was going to stop finding me attractive. I was going to get pregnant (I was on birth control) and I didn't have money for a baby. We were going to become completely poor, because I would get pregnant, or we would lose our jobs, or my medications were too expensive, and then I was going to lose my home and be out on the street. If I asked my dad for help he was going to disown and hate me, because he would be disappointed that I needed help. My husband was going to get so tired of my anxiety he was going to leave me, divorce me, cheat on me. I didn't want to hang out with friends. I didn't want to go out. I didn't even have control over my outward expression of my feelings anymore. I developed a sleep deprivation induced depression. I began to hope for an end, not by my own hand, but by one of the accidents I feared. Maybe a car would hit me? Maybe that plane would crash? Maybe I could put my husband out of his misery. I told no one about this part, not even my therapist. I was terrified that my problems weren't really that serious, that I was taking much needed time away from other, more severe mental cases.

And where oh where was God in all this I would wonder? My journal is full of pages that say, "God please help me. Please help me stop feeling this way. Please help me be somebody different."

I almost gave up on ever being me again.

Then I asked my husband for a blessing (I guess this does have to do with being Mormon, but not on purpose), and as he was putting his hands upon my head he said that I would know what to do to help myself. And whether or not you believe in my church, or even God, is not relevant. I had a feeling. You can choose to believe it was God or believe that it was some power I had within myself. I choose to believe it was God, because I like that thought. My feeling said that I needed to tell my therapist that Something that I was hiding: The Ultimate Scary Thing. If I told him, all would be well.

After 6 months of the same thing day in and day out, after I finally admitted to my therapist that I was thinking that dying would be a good thing, I got the blessed diagnosis: I had GAD. It was blessed to me, because it meant that something could be done. It meant I could be in control of myself again. It meant I could live again. It meant I wasn't completely and totally insane (just a little insane). It meant there was something wrong with me, not just that I was "overreacting" or "a drama queen" like I was so often told. It meant that there was a REASON for me to be feeling the way I was feeling. It meant that I wasn't alone, because other people had this too.

I wasn't alone.

Isolation is a terrible punishment, but rising from its ashes is freedom. I started the medication I had been so against for months of therapy. When I told him what I was feeling, he said that he believed it was something I had to do, even if I was scared. Right away my body responded--- the key to my locked door. Within a week I was sleeping 6 hours a night. Within a month 8-9. This gave me hope. My brain actually needed a jump start. I wasn't just being hysterical for no reason.

After my sleep increased, the depression went away. The anxiety became manageable. It never went away like my depression (I still have some ridiculous fears and panic attacks every few months), but I will take manageable. After the medication, my head was free enough to finally use what I had been practicing all along in my CBTherapy. I finally began to feel like I had control over my own thoughts. I finally stopped worrying about what others thought about me. I could be more me than I had ever been in my entire life. My family noticed the difference in me, and after months of not "getting it," thinking I was just being lazy or overdramatic, something clicked inside of them. There had been something seriously wrong with me, and they knew it.

I can honestly say that the last year has been the happiest of my life, and GAD made me that way.

A month and a half ago I went off of my medication. My anxiety has increased, but my sleep has not decreased, and my depression has not come back. Today, my husband got on a plane to go find us a new house where he will be going to med school, far away from everyone we know. I cried, because I worried that he would die and that I wouldn't be able to see him again. I can see some of my symptoms returning in anticipation of our new-and-huge life change, but I have also seen myself rise from the fire and return from a dark place once before. Even if I do have to go through it again, I believe that God was with me all along last time, waiting for me to figure things out, waiting for an opportune time to help me. I've got my husband, and a more understanding family, and I know the name of what I've got.

This time I will not be Isolated.

Private Club, No Non-Members Allowed

Yesterday, I read this blog about gay marriage. Later on I found out this is my friend's cousin; life is coincidental like that.

In summary, this blog is about a Mormon girl who "came out" in favor of gay marriage. She stated all of her reasons why in a very respectful manor. She never said anything negative about those that don't support it. It's a scary thing to figure that your opinion is an unpopular one, and then to go on and tell people about it. You would think that since she did this in a respectful way, she would have received respect in return. And while there were many people that did give her respect and politely disagreed, and those that said, "Me too, Lexi! <3 Gay Ppl!"...

                         ...there were also a lot of hateful comments posted by other members. One called her an apostate, but not just an apostate, a "Stage 2 Apostate." Oooooh that is some scaaaarrrry shit, Lexi. Seriously. Repent now. Another person said that she isn't really a Mormon if she believes that. There were over 200 comments so I can't quote them all, but I was severely disappointed with these rude, disrespectful, and hateful comments.

I began to think about it intensely. So intensely I decided to write about it for the first time in many months on a blog that no one reads (I don't have 300 followers like Lexi sadface). It's hateful, loudmouthed Mormons like those that commented on Lexi's blog that make my message so much harder to get across.

I too have "come out" in my support of gay marriage. Several years ago, during the whole Prop 8 fiasco, I said, "NO." I could not support something designed to take the rights away from others. I didn't live there. I couldn't vote on it. And still I received and onslaught of negative comments from my fellow members. A boy at my university told me I shouldn't even be Mormon. I should just "leave now" if I "couldn't support the leaders" of my church. The hypocritical friend from my other post called me "a bad Mormon." This confused me. I struggled with it intensely. Why was I being told to leave something that most members believe is the most wonderful message on this earth? Where did that line up with their beliefs? I thought this was a church about Jesus? Wouldn't Jesus let me stay with Him at church?

I was only slightly honest for a couple years after that. I kept a piece of myself hidden. I became recluse, as many "different" members do, with church activities and meetings. My husband and I moved to Washington for a summer and I was able to see what it was like to live somewhere else, somewhere a little more Liberal, somewhere a little more like me. I felt free and open, and loved my ward there, and when we had to move back I was devastated. I was terrified to move back to a place where people made me feel unwelcome in the spiritual place of my choosing. I became very unhappy when we came back. I had a breakdown (for more reasons than just my spirituality). I stopped sleeping. I went crazy. I went to therapy. After what seemed like a million months, I woke up from my certifiable insanity and stepped into the realization that I have to be exactly who I am to be happy. I stopped being quiet about myself. I wasn't apologizing for my feelings. If I love everyone then my message will still be true to myself without being offensive. I can and will be Mormon and be the weird person that I am.

A few months later I started this blog with that intention. I wanted other people to know that it was possible, that if this is what they wanted to believe, they didn't have to be a cookie cutter Mormon mom/girl with conservative ideals, who dreams to stay or stays at home with the gaggles of children she started having at 19 after dropping out of college, is overcompensationally modest, perfect, and proper (unless of course that is what they want to be---in which case I say GO YOU and have no qualms with you). The point is that we are all different and we all think differently and we all do different things.

And there is room in this church for everyone.

MY church teaches that church is for everyone. Does your church teach that? MY church teaches that church is a place of comfort and spirit, and that we should allow EVERYONE to feel it. We are not an exclusive club where only our ideally "perfect" people get to join. We are an open bar, a feeding trough to the hungry, even the runts, even the gluttonous, even those that have scars, even those that are different. MY church teaches us to follow the teachings of Jesus, and He taught that we should love everyone.

This has become my message, wherever I go, whomever I talk to. Lexi's blog won't let anyone post anymore comments, but if I could I would tell Lexi that the longer I have made this my message when sharing my differences, the more I've met people like me. For every nasty comment I've received about my being different, there have been several filled with respect and love, even when they don't agree with me. I have made friends I never thought I would have made four years ago, when my journey really started. Although I have still discovered those inside and out of my church that are disrespectful and not accepting of my inbetweeness, those people taught me who my real friends are, or will be in the future.

I am a Mormon. I will continue to be a Mormon. I have friends outside of the church that try to scare me into leaving now by telling me that I will be excommunicated (which I won't) for being different, or that I will be ostracized (which I'm okay with, because church is not a social call for me), or that I will be kicked off of church property (seriously do they even do that to people who haven't killed anyone recently?). There are people inside of the church that tell me I don't belong there (to which I say phooey, cause Jesus <3s me), that I am a sinner (I sure am! So are you!), and that I'm a bad Mormon (or am I the best kind of Mormon?). But as long as it ("it" being the doctrine, not the people) lifts me up I will continue to be at church meetings. A tiny piece of paper (a church record), callings, temple recommendations, and church attendance does not a Mormon make. A set of beliefs makes a Mormon (or a Christian, or a Muslim, or a Jew, or an Athiest, or a Democrat, or etc, etc). You decide that you're a Mormon (or a Catholic, or a feminist, or a stay-at-home-mother, etc.). And hopefully, that makes you a better person.

So don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Give me an H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E!

hy·poc·ri·sy/hiˈpäkrisē/

Noun:

The practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one's own behavior does not conform; pretense.

In high school I knew this kid who was the most laid back person I had ever met. I would even describe him as a "hippie." I had heard he fit the stereotype well, pot and all (He denies this now). We were close friends and I had this massive crush on him for years. He was a major gentleman, not too opinionated, just the sweetest kind of guy with some dark blond hair and rock hard abs (I digress). When I was dating his best friend who just so happened to be an ass hole, he stood up for me, tried to convince me to drop kick the kid far far away.

After high school he didn't go on a mission, a fact which I am totally cool with. I think that the people in the LDS church put too much pressure on kids to go on missions. A mission is not for everyone, no matter how much you think it should be. If you have so much faith in and love something so much that you want to go out and share it with everyone, I admire you. However, I would not be one of those people. I would not make it, not only because I'm one of the weirdest Mormons you'll ever meet, but also because I have GAD and being in that situation would probably drive me to have a nervous breakdown. We can't force kids to go out and proselyte to everyone any more than we can force them to clean their rooms. My friend, we'll call him Sam, didn't feel a mission was right for him, and I supported him.

We lost touch for a while, except for via facebook, and I noticed a change in him. A one hundred and eighty degree change. A change that I still don't fully believe has happened. It was gradual for a little while and then BOOM one day he was a right wing religious nut job. Not to call all right wingers nut jobs. No way. This is a special type of right wing (or left wing) that is so far right (or left) that their ideas seem almost ridiculous *cough* michellebachmann *cough*. Not only did he become this special kind of crazy, but he now uses his religion to back it up.

I don't understand this.

I may have different views but I don't claim my religion tells me these views are correct. I say that I feel that they are right, but that my feelings could be wrong. I fully admit that I don't have all the answers, and sometimes I'm using my heart of hearts and my logic to determine what I think.

As a preface: Nowhere in the scriptures does it say that we should hate gay people. Nowhere does it say that we should dislike those who are different from us. In fact, if Jesus were still alive, He would love these people, talk to them, discuss with them, and NEVER force His ideas upon them.

So when I said that I didn't support prop 8 and that I supported the LGBT community, my friend Sam basically told me that I was a bad Mormon, and "how dare" I "disagree with the leaders of the church." He went on for a few minutes about the fallacy of my thoughts. If anyone else had said this to me, I may have just shrugged it away, but Sam and my sister were now good friends and I had insight into his life. Sam liked to go to bars with someone close to me and he also liked to feel her up pretty good. Neither of these bothers me by themselves. My friends drink, and I mentioned that I was a bit of a tramp in high school, so obviously I've got no issues with other people getting down and dirty. I do, however, have a problem with someone using the church against me or others, especially when that person isn't following his/her own rules to live by.

In order to attend temple sessions you have to do a few things. You have to pay tithing, you have to obey the Word of Wisdom, you have to respect your fellow man and treat them in accordance, you have to obey the law of chastity, and you have to support the leaders of the church. This is the gist of the temple recommend interview and every other church interview. For anyone who reads this who is not LDS the WoW basically says don't drink or partake of anything that is addicting or unhealthy for your body. This includes alcohol, tobacco, drugs, coffee, and teas that contain tannin (not herbal teas). The law of chastity is about not having sex or being a part of sexual acts outside of marriage--including unfaithfulness to a spouse, and all of the things I did in high school (oops. Repenting sucks.)

I have a temple recommend. I can answer "yes" to all of those questions asked of me by my bishop in a temple recommend interview.. To an LDS person the temple is the ultimate goal. It's a place of peace and wisdom, a place to think and ponder. It is a place to get closer to the Lord-- Sacred marriages are performed here, families are united forever. Again for those of you not in the church, or who haven't been, I'm sorry we don't talk about exactly what goes on inside the temple. I will discuss my thoughts on this later (basically the temple is beautiful. I love the celestial room. The whole experience is kind of...boring not in a bad way--just in an it's-really-not-that-big-of-a-secret way). To be allowed inside the temple means that you should be following the basic principles of the church, unless you lie.  It encompasses all of the most important principles. When it is asked "do you drink soda pop?" or "Do you have a disdain for gay marriage?" I will probably not go to the temple anymore...

My point is that I feel that I am doing a pretty damn good job. I'm not perfect, but I strive to be a good person and respect the wishes of my church. Sam judged me for an opinion, a feeling, that isn't exactly the same as everyone else's. I don't live in California. I didn't protest prop 8. I just felt that it was wrong. Sam, on the other hand, was doing things that are against the wishes of the church (things I don't give a rat's ass about) while judging me profusely and making me feel as if I don't belong in a church that teaches that church is for everyone. I don't care what he was doing. It doesn't bother me that he was drinking or getting busy with my friend. It does bother me that his actions were the very definition of the word hypocritical. Who is he to look anyone else and say they are not doing what the Lord wants? Who am I? Who is anyone? The difference between most of us and people like Sam is that most of us don't put ourselves on a pedestal while putting others in a deeply dug hole in the middle of the earth. When he decided not to go on a mission I applauded his bravery for standing strong on a very controversial issue in the church. When I announced that I don't feel it's right to disallow the gay population an equal right, he condemned and criticized me for my feeling.

The church I belong to stands for being there for people, for supporting them when they are feeling weak or down. Church is a place for those who need it most, those who are not perfect, those who are struggling, and those who need guidance. The people tend to make this not so. I'm not sure what makes some people so egocentric, unable to empathize with others. The people that need to be at church most are the people who are most belittled for being there, like it is a place of perfection, and your imperfect hands will taint the very walls with their sins. Women hear a young teenager is pregnant, and instead of taking her in, tell their children to stay away. Someone struggles with pornography and all avoid this someone like he or she is filled with a disease that could be spread on. A man cheats on his wife and people don't want him to come to class or teach their children in scouts, when that is the very place he should be to feel better, to learn lessons, to realize his mistake.

I've got news for you. We all make mistakes.

The only one that can tell you or I that something is indeed a sin is God. We have no right to judge the inherent rightness or wrongness of another person's actions, because for every commandment, there will always be exceptions. There will always be circumstances, and only the Lord (if there is one) knows what is inside our hearts. What if that pregnant girl was raped? What if she was coerced? What if she was just confused? Maybe you have heard about that person looking at pornography because he is trying to change. Maybe that husband is trying to figure out his life again, and the only place he feels peace and can sort out his feelings is in his position at church. My God doesn't push people away. The God I read about doesn't condemn us. He loves us. He is the perfect Daddy, who hushes our tears, and holds us after mistakes are made, to watch us cry and stroke our cheeks. My God, my Heavenly Father, loves us no matter what we do, and besides the individual, only He is the one that holds all of the keys to the situation, and our hearts.

So Sam, you now think that everything is so black and white, when really that would give us a very dreary world. In your Black and White world, you can never possibly be pure white, so I suppose you are the blackest black.  In my world there is color and progression and diversity. I am somewhere in the middle, working one step towards the white white white. Which world would you rather live in?

How can we judge another person's supposed flaws, when we ourselves contain so many things to "fix?"

hy·poc·ri·sy/hiˈpäkrisē/

Noun:

The practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one's own behavior does not conform; pretense.

Don't Put People in a Box

A few months back I was on a plane from Salt Lake City to Seattle to visit my husband's family. I always get nervous when I'm one of the first people on a plane, because I have to watch people sizing me up, deciding whether or not they want to sit by me. It's a pretty freaky situation for me, because sometimes it is a male who just wants to hit on me, and sometimes it's a really fat dude/lady who pushes me into the aisle with their massive mid section, and sometimes it's the kid who kicks the seat in front of him and wipes his boogers on my arm rest.

Nice.

This time, however, I sat next to two dudes who seemed as laid back as I am/ want to be. One had some odd piercings that I wanted to touch profusely, and the one in the middle excitedly told us that his dad was a pilot so he gets lots of free alcohol vouchers and would totally give us some. I politely declined, you know, thanks but no thanks, and we began to talk about stuff like life and religion. He was really excited that he sat by some "cool kids," and had picked us out on purpose, because we looked normal and cool, "not like any of those Mormons." Now obviously, because you have seen my blog title you know I am Mormon, but I wasn't offended. I don't like to appear like the loud part of Utah (a minority everywhere else) that seem to bother so many, so I quickly surveyed myself to see why he hadn't made this assumption about me. Apparently I don't look Mormon. Apparently Mormons have a certain look. Apparently I am not it.

Let's see I've got my skinny jeans, my own band's t-shirt, some bleach blonde hair. Is it the neon orange and fire engine red streak that's taking up the side of my head? Do I have some odd not mormon swagger?....
Oh yeah. Maybe it also is because I have a star of David hanging off my neck.


That's right. I'm also Jewish. My mom is Jewish-converted-Mormon, and brought me up knowing that I was still Jewish no matter what else I may be. I guess I could explain it like this: If you walked into a synagogue and said, "Hey rabbi I want to be Jewish!" He'd be like, "You be straight trippin'. Fill out all this stuff, and do a bunch of other stuff, and maybe you can be Jewish." But if I came into a synagogue and said, "Rabbi I want to be Jewish!" He'd be like, "Dude... you already are." Does that make sense? If Mom = Jewish, then Kids=Jewish.

So back to the plane---I giggled at this Middle Seat Kid, because he and most other people, including fellow Mormons (or LDSes), like to put other Mormons in some box and that box is all we can be, and all we can aspire to be. Middle Seat spent an hour or two telling me how Mormons hate gay people, we judge everyone, we don't swear, we have a million children, we get married just to have sex and be kinky with our ladies/men, we're all crazy republicans, and basically just that we are terrible people.

This is a pretty simplified version of the conversation, and granted, a lot of the stereotypes fit many of the Utah members (Don't freak out. It's okay. Stereotypes have to come from somewhere). I really just had to laugh, though, at his judging a group of people he claims judge everyone else. I never told him I'm a Mormon...Jew, and sometimes I wish I would have, just to see that awesome look on his face when he realized that he had been bashing something he thought I wasn't a part of for the better part of two hours.

Here's the point: In my lifetime I have experimented with many different identities. Until the age of about fifteen I was the really good kid. I got good grades. I went to church. I pretended to be perfect, with some little mishaps thrown in (At 12 I flashed some boys in my neighborhood during truth or dare, because I was the only girl that had some boobs). At fifteen I was mommy's perfect angel... After age fifteen I got confused. I was lots of things. I was a straight A student, but I was a bit of a ho/slut/skank/whore, at least by Utah standards. If you're confused this means I got around, but I never had sex because I didn't want no babies. I stopped going to my church. I changed how I dressed about five times a year. I got to college and made out with somewhere around 50ish guys. I don't know. Really. I lost count at 44. I got tired of doing that and figured out that I was in love with my best friend. After a year and a half we got married. I came back to church. It wasn't until this past year that I really started to solidify the stuff that is who I am.

At times I have struggled with my religion. I was/am not the same as "everyone else," that box of people--that tiny little box of people. I always wondered how I could be who I was and be Mormon. How could I change my opinions and inner beliefs? Most of my friends dealing with the same issues have now left this church. They found that they couldn't be who were and stay strong. Some just didn't believe it anymore. Some of them are a lot like Mr. Middle Seat on my flight to Seattle. On the opposite spectrum I have lots of stereotypical LDS friends: semi-judgmental, doting young wives, that dropped out of college to get married and have lots of children, be stay-at-home moms etc., etc. I make no judgments on who they are or where they are with their lives. On both sides there are great people and great friends. But I am not like them.

I am the Middle, and I'm totally fine with it.

I am here to say that you can be whoever you want to be. You can believe whatever you want to believe. Cultural and religious restraints have no hold on who you are, and the only person that can alienate you from anything is yourself. That's why I am starting this blog. To say to anyone who finds it that we Mormons/religious/group members are not all the same. We don't all fit into your little box. And if you want to be a part of this religion or any other religion or any group and feel that it's right for you, then to hell with anyone who tells you that you can't be who you feel you are and stay strong in what you believe.  I am a part of this church, because it is right for me, because I like the person it makes me. It pushes me, and it's the closest to my ultimate wants, dreams, and ideas. I make it work for me. I do not work for it.

So as an introduction to whatever I do with this blog:

I am a backwards (Jewish) Mormon.

I do not believe that there is one right way to God. I don't care if someone isn't Mormon. I don't care if someone isn't Christian. I don't care if someone doesn't believe in God. I believe that what is right for me may not be what is right for you.

I support the LBGTQ community. In fact when someone tells me that they are gay, I cheer for them. I actually put my hands up in the air and shout, "yaaay!" because they are being who they are in a society that makes it hard to be that way.

I am a gay rights activist.

I swear like a sailor.

I am my own kind of feminist.

I do not want to be a full time stay-at-home mom.

I don't want to have kids for around five or six or seven years, even though I've been married for two.

I don't want to give birth to a bunch of babies. I will not become a vortex of children.

I'm a video game fanatic. My husband and I play Halo as part of our dates.

I've been told by members to get out of my church, because "I don't belong there."

I watch the movies that I want to watch and feel are okay.

I believe church and state should be kept separate.

There is no rule that says you can't drink soda.

I am a temple recommend holding member of the church.

I like to dye my hair odd colors.

I'm not a republican.

I'm not a democrat either.

But I am socially liberal,

Even though I hate politics because it makes douches out of people.

I celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, Easter and Passover.

I enjoy going to other people's religious ceremonies.

I teach primary.

I am more of a spiritual person, and not a religious person.

I attend church every week because it makes me feel good.

My husband and I have a roommate. Contrary to what all of my Mormon friends say, it's not weird. It actually rocks.

I'm not secretly hoping you become Mormon.

I don't have a problem being who I am and staying a strong part of my religion.

No one has to apologize to other people for who they are. I'm a backwards Mormon and I'm not sorry about it.