The Breaking Point

Most of my week is spent living at my place of employment. There is a house there in which I live, and have made quite cozy. But on my days off, I return to my real home which I share with my roommate and her three grown children.

Most weekends when I get home, there are messes to clean up. Sometimes not, if my roomie has been cleaning up messes that aren't hers. But sometimes she's too busy or too tired to clean things up.

Tonight I returned home late from work. The house was empty. Roomie is at a conference, and the grown children, I presume, are with their dad. And (not surprising) there were messes to clean up. Nearly ever cup in the house was dirty and sitting on the counter. Cereal, cookies, popcorn and popcorn bag, plates, bowls, utensils. Kitty litter that needed to be emptied. A garbage that was full and stinking.

Some nights I can deal with all of this, and brush it off. Not tonight. I began to feel very frustrated and angry. Granted, I was already a bit stressed over some financial issues, that are slowly working themselves out, but have weakened my emotional resolve. So the frustration began to boil.

As I cleaned this, that, and the next thing, I felt myself getting grumpier and more and more frustrated, and tired of the constant maid-service I perform for adult children. Angrier at the fact that not much has changed in the past 9 1/2 years that we have all lived together despite constant and consistent requests that they clean up after themselves. Okay, I do have to admit that in some areas things have gotten better. One of the children, anyway, does a pretty good job of cleaning things up. But at this point, I wasn't offering much praise.

And then I remember that this weekend is Stake Conference. And sometimes hurtful, judgmental, critical things are said about homosexuality. Or even just very obvious statements about what is ordained of God. What the path is that one must take. And my already frustrated feelings brought the realization that if something like that is said tomorrow, I would break and quit attending church.

I've said many times in my life that I can't imagine anything that could pull me away from the church, or shake my testimony. And suddenly I find myself in a place, a situation in which I could absolutely see that happening. Its been building over time. And I finally feel like I'm at my breaking point.

This wasn't about my love and faith in the Savior and His atonement. That remains intact. Just the church and the all too often hurtful things said by its leaders. I've thought about leaving before, mostly in passing. But then I think about all I would lose, and the people who would hurt over it. That is usually enough for me to refocus.

Not tonight. As I thought of those things and those people, I absolutely did not care. My response to any questions about my departure would involve the time after time of hurtful, critical and judgmental things said about homosexuality, and that I finally just broke.

I was feeling so angry, all I could think of were negatives. The Church is and does so much good in so many ways. I just couldn't see any of that, or maybe I didn't care to look for it.

I guess I was a little afraid and concerned about the intensity of these feelings, because I knelt down and just began letting it out all in a very frustrated, honest and tearful prayer. As I did so, I had some thoughts and ideas on things that I might try to help get me back to a positive, optimistic place. Things I had been neglecting. Things that are important to me. And I committed to including those things in my life again on a regular basis. To give it an honest effort to regain my balance, hope, peace, patience and understanding.

That helped me calm down and feel a little better. 

Now I just hope tomorrow's Stake Conference is a positive one. Because I'm still not sure how well I can handle criticism and judgmental, hurtful, unhelpful comments. 

Tattered Cloth

I didn't realize it until very recently, this morning actually, how fragile and tattered my heart, soul and spirit had become. I don't really think of myself as a fragile person, but after attending the Temple this morning, and spending a lot of time in the Celestial Room, I was surprised to feel my soul and spirit gingerly, tentatively knitting itself back together. It was then that I realized how fragile I had become.

Over the last several weeks, many things have happened that have been pulling, stretching, tearing, fraying, cutting, thinning, twisting and otherwise wearing away at my heart, soul and spirit. As I began to experience the process of healing, I pictured myself as an old, worn and very fragile piece of cloth in which historians and curators, wearing gloves in temperature, humidity, and light controlled rooms carefully and gently attempt to restore it. Where there is an exciting vision of what it might once again become, but also very cautious of moving too quickly so as to avoid causing the tattered cloth to fall apart completely. Therefore great care, caution and patience must be taken.

As I walked from the Temple, that's how I felt. Surprised at how worn my soul had become, grateful that it had begun a healing, restorative process, but knowing full well there is still much to do before my soul, heart and spirit are fully made whole. So I remain hesitant, cautious, guarded. But optimistic, looking forward to more days spent in the Savior's healing embrace.

Stress

Stress apparently seems to cause my emotional resolve and steadiness to waver and crack. 

I'm feeling less sure of myself. Less sure of my ability to cope successfully with anything that involves more than thinking about what to have for lunch. Things that really shouldn't get to me, are getting to me.

I really don't like that. Because it has an affect on other people as well.

I'm tired. So very tired. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.