Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Iron barred doors.

So here's a add to the "reasons I'm fucked up."

When I was twelve, the chick who decided that I was her best friend, told me I needed to go to the Bishop's office.  To tell him things.  To get help.  Because that was right, and it would help.
She saw a very narrow window of how bad things were in my "home", but it was enormous to her.

So I did.
She went with me for "support".
I only said vague and sort of.  Nothing really revealing.
But at twelve...I already had a reputation.
And my dad's reputation totally trumped my lousy one.
Rich, multiple business owner, full tithe payer, elder quorum pres. etc.  Plus having a penis is all you really need, plus a white face, in the Moron religion.

The Bishop dude was silent the entire time.
In the moment I felt a little better for "doing the right thing" and spewing some of the screwed up-ness.
At the end, after the silence....he said one thing:
2 Nephi 1:34.
I didn't know what it meant or what it said.
But SURELY it was acceptance! and answers! and help!
Because I, "did the right thing!"
And then I went home with a little hope island.
And looked it up.

2 Nephi 1:34:, Wo unto the liar, for he shall be thrust down to hell.

And then life got so substantially worse.  Because I was so bad and wrong.
And Bishops are only ir-regular dudes empowered by a fucked up cult.
White face?  Penis?  Have imaginary friends?  You can join! 
And my "dad" who was told.  Installed iron barred doors.  I got the message.  Loud and clear.

And then I stopped talking or feeling until...umm, about six months ago.



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