I
took a Women’s Studies class at BYU where we explored cycles of dysfunction.
Cycles of dysfunction are destructive behaviors that pass from generation to
generation and inhibit healthy familial relationships. As part of the class, we
each explored the cycles we were subject to through our female
progenitors. It wasn’t until I went through the process, that I realized
that I was caught up in a cycle of dysfunction. My mother, grandmother and
great-grandmother had all married men who could not, or would not, take them to
the temple. Now, its fine to not get married in the temple if one doesn’t
want that for themselves. But, there is evidence that each of these women
wanted a temple marriage. They went to church. They got all their children
baptized. They had problems in their marriages, in part, because of their
differing beliefs from their husbands. All the marriages ended in
divorce. For my mother, her divorce resulted in a psychotic break, from which
she never completely healed. To this day, she suffers from debilitating mental
illness. My mother has passed the greater part of her later-adult life as a
shut-in, just as her mother did. It was not necessarily the marrying a
non-Mormon that was dysfunctional, but the naive thinking that a religion that
meant so much to them and nothing to their husbands wouldn’t pose a problem.
So, for these believing women, not marrying a man who believed likewise, seemed
to be a factor in some of the profound struggles they faced.
While
writing up my findings for my class, it became clear to me that I was following
the pattern set by my matriarchal line. Of my mother’s two daughters, I
was the believer. I was seriously dating a guy who was not, a guy I’d loved
since high school. As I prayed about my situation, a clear answer came: I
needed to break things off with him if I wanted a different outcome than my
mother. Obviously, the Lord might direct others to do things differently. But
for my journey, the Lord made clear to me that I needed to sharply change
course.
The
night He answered my prayer, I got real with Heavenly Father. I bargained with
the Lord, something we are not supposed to do. But I felt like our relationship
was strong enough and that I could bare my soul. He’d seen me through a
lot. We had history. I told the Lord, “OK, I’ll do it. I’m not sure how,
but I’ll do it. But, Lord, thou knowest me and how much I need love. And here I
have someone who I love, who loves me back. And I’m going to give that up
for thee. But, please realize that if I don’t find love again soon, I might not
be able to make it. I want to do thy will. I want to do what’s right. I want
the Temple. And even if love doesn’t find me again soon, I’ll try. I’ll always
try. But it’s just I’m afraid that I won’t make it. Please help me.”
***
“But
I’ll take the missionary discussions,” he offered.
“It’s
just not going to work out,” I willed myself to say. Tears began to form in my
eyes. “Believe me, I wish with all of my heart it didn’t have to be this
way. I wish I didn’t believe, it would make things so much easier.” We
both cried. We exchanged I-love-you’s and gave one last hug good-bye.
In
saying good-bye to him, I laid my will on the altar of the Lord. And it was one
of the most difficult things I’d ever done.
As I
walked to my car I sobbed. I immediately regretted my decision. I wanted
to turn around and say, “Never mind, I take it all back. We can find a way to
make it work.” Every ounce of my intuition, screamed with horror.
Subconsciously, the collective psyches of my mother, grandmother, and
great-grandmother, weighed on me. That weight, an invisible but all consuming
force, compelled me to continue in their cycle of dysfunction: choose a man who
loved me, but who had little interest in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The gaping
hole I felt in my soul seemed almost too much to bare. The sheer
discomfort of it all made me want to vomit. “If I turn around now, I could
probably catch him,” I thought.
But
somehow, I didn’t go after him. A superior force came to my rescue and repeated
to me the clear revelation I’d heard before: “Break it off.” So, I drove
home.
Within
6 months, Jeremy literally came knocking at my door. I honestly believe he was
the reward for my sacrifice, but my happily-ever-after didn’t instantly
materialize.
When
Jeremy proposed, I only loved him 90%, but I said yes anyway. I couldn’t feel
that extra spark for him because I was wired and nurtured to feel excited about
someone who would display love the same way I saw it as a kid. But when Jeremy
came along, he was so different than anyone I’d ever dated or even met. I knew
the Lord was telling me, in essence, here is your chance to have what you want.
I knew in my soul that he was sent from Heavenly Father. I knew somehow we’d
figure it out.
Initially
in our marriage, I thought if Jeremy changed I could love him completely. If he
was just more gregarious and more out-going, I could love him all the way. But
a few years into our marriage, I had an epiphany that I needed to be concerned for Jeremy’s
feelings. I know, big revelation, right? For the first few years of marriage, I
was mostly concerned that he treated me right, with the respect I deserved.
At
some point in my life, I’d become afraid to love wholeheartedly. So, to
justify not loving fully, I found faults in Jeremy. When I realized that I was
the one who needed to change, and that the problem wasn’t Jeremy, it became
easy to love him completely. And when I loved him for who he was, a miraculous
thing happened. Between his job and callings at church, he grew and developed,
and he became really good at connecting with people. Not only that, I started
to notice his sense of humor more and more. I’m not sure if my loving him
unconditionally allowed him to grow or if my increased love permitted me to see
what had been there all along. Anyone marrying in their early 20’s
has a lot of growing up to do. I sure did. But, I’d always been introspective.
That ability to look inward led me to discover what I needed to change and
helped see us through the self-centered nature that I came to the marriage
with.
Looking
back now it's abundantly clear that it never would have worked out with my
boyfriend from high school. With years of perspective, I understand that what I
felt for him was the shallow exhilaration of being wanted, conflated with the
weight of dysfunction tethered to me. The pain that I felt in breaking it off
was a result of stepping out of the pattern I had learned, internalized and
felt comfort in repeating. Sure, some of the sadness came from letting go of
someone I cared about, but the soul gripping pain had nothing to do with him.
It was the pain of breaking with ingrained models and losing a relationship
that was comfortably following in the footsteps of my mother. It would have
been so easy to stay and avoid the pain, and say it was all for love. But that
would have been lying to myself, and I knew it. And deep down, I wanted
something more.
If
you know Jeremy, you understand that Heavenly Father blessed me a hundred-fold for
my sacrifice. I couldn’t have dealt with my deep-seated issues as
effectively being married to any other man. Besides being dedicated to the
gospel of Jesus Christ and his family, he is secure and confident without the
arrogance that sometimes accompanies those traits. An insecure man would have
made me feel bad when I gained weight, because an insecure man thinks of his
wife as an object whose looks and accomplishments reflect his worth. When I quit
diet pills for good, I knew
Jeremy would love me no matter what. His unconditional love made it easier for
me to name and face my irrational demons about my weight. A lesser Mormon
man would have shamed me for drinking caffeine, because he would have feared my
habits might cause others to question his worth or reflect badly on him. An
insecure man would have panicked when I struggled with church history and
policy. Instead, Jeremy listened and didn’t try to talk me out of my concerns.
He’d only offer his point of view when I asked. Through his support, I passed
through a period of deep questioning about the church and came out with a
stronger faith than when I began. And when periodic depression overwhelms me,
and I can’t stop being sad or do the things that for most people are easy, but
for me seem like monumental tasks, he loves me still. He doesn’t make me
feel that I need to be anything other than who I am.
What
I have now is a relationship that is mature, full, profound. It is one
where deep trust and complete love exist which has allowed me to blossom in
ways that I could never have imagined as a young woman.
Now,
lest I paint our relationship too rosily, let me assure you that there
are…things. Like he’s not handy around the house. His working from home this
past year and a half has proved a challenge, because we’ve had to define new
boundaries and expectations. I have to let him know when I want to have an
in-depth conversation and then, if he’s busy working or tired we have to
schedule it. This works fine when we are dealing with administrative stuff but
is maddening at other times. He can be disconnected or detached, because that’s
his coping mechanism. But we manage these challenges because we have a solid
foundation.
Some
patterns of dysfunction or “evil traditions” are less obvious than others. For
some families, there might be cycles of gossiping, fault-finding, shaming,
holding grudges, only including people who are “active” Mormons, judging those
who leave the faith, disrespecting women, differing expectations for sons and
daughters about mission and education, an emphasis on material possessions, an
emphasis on appearance, or any number of misguided traditions that were passed
down through family culture. Obviously, there are many ways to be dysfunctional
and we won’t ever have perfect families (the idea that such a thing exists here
on earth is dysfunctional). But its important to try and overcome the
dysfunction that gets in the way of the happiness we truly seek.
In
the end, our lives are really just the stories we tell ourselves. And in
the narrative I’ve told myself, the above story is pivotal. It is this story
that is the keystone of my faith. It is the experience that tells me that
when I trust the Lord, he delivers abundantly. When I sacrificed my entire
identity at 16 to come back to the church, he delivered. When I gave up who I
thought to be the love of my life, he delivered. When I couldn’t get pregnant,
and after almost two years of anguish, I told Heavenly Father it was fine and
I’d accept his will, I got pregnant with twins. He makes more out of my
life than I ever could alone.
Fashion, this is beautiful. Your writing is heartfelt and convincing...thank you for bearing a piece of your soul- it had me in tears. Such truth and convictions! Love you!
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