Why he is bitter

This post is from my son. I think you will feel his pain as you read this account of why he is bitter.

Some people, who have never been members of the Mormon Church, have asked me why I am so bitter towards that church. They see the good that is in my life and say that the church hasn’t ruined my life. They point out that I wouldn’t have met my wife had I not been a member. They point out all the great youth activities, dances and sports that were provided for us. They point out that I was kept out of harm’s way in many cases because I didn’t use alcohol or drugs, at the church’s bidding. They ask me why I hate Mormons.

First of all, those who are asking these questions don’t understand what it is like to be completely taken in by a mind controlling cult. If you have belonged to a church, you may think that it is the same as having been a Mormon, but I assure you, it is not. Although it may not be a clear line, there is a distinction between your average Christian religion and Mormonism.

I do NOT hate Mormons. I love many of them. I hate their church. I hate their corporation. I hate what it does to them and has done to me and my family. I hate what it stands for and how they THINK that it stands for good when throughout so much of it’s history and preaching, it stands for pure evil: Racism, Misogyny, Polygamy, Dishonesty.

I do not, for one second, try to convince anyone that there is NOTHING good in the Mormon Church. But…what is the cost?

How many times did I contemplate taking my own life, because I masturbated and couldn’t live up to the level of perfection that was required? In the world outside Mormonism, it is laughable that someone would be so upset at this most human of behaviors, yet within the Mormon community, it is forbidden, dirty and sinful.

How many HAVE taken their own lives because they felt they couldn’t live up to “God’s” expectations? The answer here is: many.

How many hours have I anguished at the state of my sinning soul…as I was taught to do in Mormon (false) scripture?

How many hours have I poured over the man made, false scriptures of that church?

How many daily, early morning seminary classes did I sit through as a teenager?

How many hours have I spent in voluntary service, whether it was moving chairs, or cleaning the church and temple or the many other things we were expected to do?

Being a full tithe payer most of my life, how much of my hard earned money (10% of everything I ever earned) is lining the pockets of the church elite?

I spent two full years of my life in what I thought was the service of my God, but in reality, was the service of a corporate, money making machine. I was an unknowing dupe in this corporation’s lust for more paying minions, to further fund their nefarious cause. Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month of knocking on people’s doors, rain or shine, cold or hot, pushing on them our American brand of corporate religion. I hated it. I hated it. I did it only out of love of God and duty to my family. I missed my family badly. I wanted to go home every day. I remember wishing to get hit by a bus or have a bad fall on my bike, but not be hurt TOO seriously, so that I could go home “with honor” and be finished with the whole nasty business.

I missed love. I wasn’t allowed to look at women, much less love one.
I wasn’t allowed to watch movies, TV, listen to modern music, read anything that was not approved by the Mission President or the church.

We had a little rule book. We were to carry the rule book with us at all times…that was a rule. There were so many rules, they were hard to keep track of! Every facet of our lives was controlled and governed right from what time we were to wake up, to what time we were to sleep and what to do with all those waking hours.

We were not allowed to call home except Christmas and Mother’s day.

We were never to be alone except to go to the bathroom.

I remember looking forward to bedtime, because I could escape the hell I was in for a while. I would dream of being home…many times, wracked with guilt because I was supposed to be on my mission.

I made promises in the Mormon temple to give everything that I have or would ever have, to building up the church, whether it was my time, talents or money. I made blood oaths swearing to do this or have my throat slit open or my belly slit and my guts to fall upon the ground (I’m not making this up…I really did make these oaths!) Then I lived in fear of not being able to live up to these commitments…not that I thought I would really have my throat slit, because I still believed the church to be a benevolent organization, but in fear that my efforts on earth would not be good enough and therefore, I would be forever separated from my family. Talk about having a gun to your head!

When I was going through my painful separation from that church, my wife was panicked. From a young age, Mormons are taught to be defenders of the faith so this was a very strong instinct for her. Also, by leaving the church, I was essentially ending our ETERNAL marriage and our ETERNAL family. I no longer believed in this, so it wasn’t as difficult for me, but for my wife, it was tragic and very painful. She thought long and hard about divorcing me and keeping the children schooled in Mormonism...to keep her eternal family intact. This was a time of great emotional upheaval in both of our lives. Kerri went through such mental and emotional stress and anguish that when people tell us we took the easy road, I wish they could have seen her curled up in a fetal position on the bathroom floor, sobbing for four hours as I witnessed.

Extracting ourselves from that church/cult, was one of the most difficult and painful experiences of either of our lives, despite the fact that it had caused so much misery in our lives. I have heard it said that we left that Church so that we could drink beer. Well, there’s not enough beer in the world, to make what we went through, worthwhile.

OK…I never had to live through a war. I’ve never had to go without food for any extended period. I’ve pretty much always had a job. I haven’t had to live through a great economical depression, so I realize that comparatively speaking, many of these things may seem small on an individual basis, but when you add them all together, I think that it is no small thing. I also realize that I can never expect someone who has never been on “the inside” to really understand what being a Mormon really entails and how they control so much of every part of your life…even right into your bedroom and to the type of underwear you wear.

That church does it’s best to churn out cookie cutter Mormons. Good little Mormons don’t ask hard questions. They do what they are told. They never question authorities of the church. They live a dull, hopeless life in hopes of glory and happiness in the next life. There are many wonderful people in that church. I feel bad for them. They don’t realize how brainwashed they are. At this moment, those of you who are LDS who are reading this, are thinking how deceived I am…just as I would have in your spot when I was one of you. We have been lied to, over and over until it became the truth. When the truth needed to be changed, we were told the new truth and told that the old truth is no longer true. Then, we are lied to, over and over, until it too becomes true.

How can any healthy mind exist in the state that Mormonism inevitably traps you? It can’t. The mental gymnastics that are required to balance the reality of the world and science that is around us, with the mind controlling retardation of Mormonism is a recipe for personal disaster.

I think I can honestly say that many of the good things that have occurred in my life which appear to be because of that church are really incidental. They are not due to the teachings of the church or its puddle deep doctrines. If anything, the good things in my life have happened DESPITE that church.

I lived 39 years as a part of the LDS mind control cult that robbed me of many things in my life including my time, my happiness and personal freedom…both physical and intellectual. Thankfully, they could never quite rob me of my individuality or my ability to think critically and thus, I am writing this. I hate Mormonism…and yes, I’m bitter.

 

The Perpetual Education Fund

Do church members really think that their money was helping people all over the world? They need to think again. The potential recipients have to complete a workbook, about 12 hours of homework in a language not always their own. They have to take a 3 day course offered at the church, sometimes their own building but sometimes too far away for people who have no money and no vehicle. During this course they are told that this should be their very last resort as a way to finance post secondary education. Well duh!

Then the application can be filled out if they have a bishop and stake president who can or will take the time to take process it and to send it off. However, if they do get accepted they have to begin paying off the loan immediately. Not when they get a job, but right away, even just the smallest amount just to get them in the habit of paying.

Wouldn't you want your money to be loaned to them until they could start earning money? Can you imagine going to school on an empty stomach and then having the added stress of having to find a way of obtaining some money to pay back the loan that you received due to the the loving sacrifices of members of your church; some of whom live in luxury? This is an inspired system? NOT! It reminds me of the REAL Perpetual Immigration Fund of the early days of the church. It was supposed to secure passage and somewhere to live for all the converts. Many people who sent money for a home to come to found that they were homeless and there was no money. How do people think that Brigham Young got so very rich? He was loaded by the time he died.

More about South Africa

I had surgery to repair my collar bone towards the end of June 2002. There were office elders to take care of the duties there. I had to have a bone graft taken from my illiac crest and that burned for days. I was back at the office trying to make it look inviting and friendly for the new MP - I really hoped that he would be kind and caring! He arrived on July 3rd and the following day our son-in-law succumbed to the cancer. Once again I was in no real condition to travel with my right arm out of commission and my left wrist still very painful and also needing surgery.
I wanted to go home to support my daughter and grandchildren, but the words of the stake president kept repeating in my mind. "I counsel you, not to come home early from your mission, no matter what happens." I wanted so badly to be obedient. I wanted so badly not to have to make this choice. There was no choice; it had been made the minute he had uttered those words. Obedience is the first law of heaven; I will obey.

We went to a beach to say our own goodbyes to Mark. He had talked to our daughter about surfing out in the ocean during the nights when he was on pain meds, so it seemed like a fitting place to remember him. We sat on the sand with another missionary couple and discussed his wonderful qualities and the care and love that he had given to our daughter and grandchildren. It brought some measure of comfort to our aching hearts but I couldn't see her eyes; I couldn't hold her and let her feel my love and support. This is one of the things that I regret the most about being an obedient servant - obedient enough to abandon your own kids when they need you, and they, obedient enough to abandon that mother and grandmother later when she needs them. What kind of church has that kind of hold over its members?

About 6 weeks after surgery on my wrist, we were finally transferred from the office to Port Elizabeth.

The drive to Port Elizabeth was a wonderful break for us; something that we had needed months before. We went to the Cango Caves Zoo where I had the marvelous opportunity to pet a cheetah. Somehow I saw this as a healing moment; a touch of the surreal and new beginnings for us. We would be working with the people together as missionaries. I really looked forward to this new start and being away from the MP's gaze.

One week later the MP, on a flying visit announced to my husband and another male half of a couple, that they were to serve as branch presidents. My husband was to serve in a black township; places that we had been told previously to stay out of due to the dangers of armed robbery etc. I was totally shocked that the MP would do this to us. He knew what we had been through; knew how much pain I suffered especially in my back. The daily commute to the township took about 40+ minutes in the car. While my husband was busy being important (not something that he had asked for)there was no calling that had a name for me. I was just the branch president's wife. Most duties of a branch president require him to be alone with members of the ward and I didn't know what I would do while these meetings took place. I did what I should have been doing at home in Canada; I became a surrogate mother to all the young people in the branch. I plead for them to the higher up leaders to try to help them in sustainable ways. I emailed Jo'burg to try to get humanitarian farms or gardens going. I had no success at all. I sat for hours and waited for my husband to come out of meetings; all the while dreaming up jobs that I could do to feel that I was of some use.

One of the things that stands out in my mind is the sacrifices that the black people were/are required to make in order to be members of the church.

Next blog, the Perpetual Education Fund and other lies.