B4B: Between

(By way of explanation, this is my Blogging For Books entry for the month and not an attempt to slap the face of the people I love most in my life. I'm very sorry for not making that more clear when I hit "post" on Tuesday. Those of you 'keeping score' will be glad to know I spent the last two days eating crow and saying "I'm sorry's" as well I should have been. I'm leaving my entry up because I don't think I'm 'allowed' a re-write AND if it provoked such a strong reaction, it just might be good writing after all.)

For me, the feeling of being "between" is best summed up by these Neil Diamond lyrics:

"LA's fine, but it ain't home,
New York's home, but it ain't mine no more..."

I've loved that song since I was a little girl, but I didn't really come to understand it until I was twenty. As I've mentioned many times, I'm a Latter-Day Saint. A Mormon, if you must, but I'd prefer you didn't. What you may not know is that I didn't grow up as one. Instead, I spent most of my young adult life on a spiritual quest that, for whatever reason, only Mormonism can satisfy. So, at the age of twenty, I was baptized. I've lived in two worlds ever since.

In one world, I'm Melessa. The oldest daughter of Jim and Linda who raised me to read, to question, and to value intellect above all else. As a result, I was a good student who ultimately earned her degree in Classics/Latin. Because they both believed themselves to be well-educated free thinking people, I was raised with very few rules. No curfews, no groundings, and temper-tantrums that were frequently met with "Well Honey, if that's how you need to express your feelings, go right ahead." Our family gatherings on my mother's side were always a little Bohemian as were my relatives, but I loved it. Unlike my Dad's staid, religious family ours went to church on holidays and on occasion. We debated a lot of grown-up issues and looked down on religious people as blind followers even when I secretly longed for something bigger than myself to believe in, like my paternal grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins had. But they never would have guessed that in my younger years. Without that same structure, I grew up fairly undisciplined. My mother's family saw me as the next-generation embodiment of everything they believed (or didn't) and valued. Needless to say, they were devastated by my baptism.

To my friends, I was the girl who never had to worry what time she was home, whose parents didn't care what she did, the first one to become sexually active (not that I was completely on board with that-but that's a whole 'nother series of posts), and the one who could get drunk on two wine coolers and kiss every guy at the party. As we grew older, I became the overachieving good student with a bit of a wild side. I think they saw my baptism as hypocritical somehow, as if I was trying to fool someone with my new life or one-up them somehow of my sudden "goodness." They didn't understand my newfound devotion or my 'call to serve,' not realizing it wasn't sudden at all and something I had desired and searched for diligently. Not to mention all the lovely anti-Mormon sentiment they are no doubt exposed to here in the Bible Belt. (Speaking of uneducated, blind followers...) I think my return to graduate school is the first move I've made that my friends have really celebrated in several years because they knew how miserable I was at home with nothing but the kids. What they don't know is how much I regret my past, how empty I felt before I joined the church, and how guilty I feel that I'm unfulfilled in the calling my church places above all others. Even when I'm doing something the rest of the world would encourage me to do. While we all still have each other, we have never been as close as we were before my baptism and I hate that.

In my other world, I'm Sister G, a strong, young adult convert who has often been held up as an example. I've served in several church leadership positions, given effective talks on important gospel principles, and even served a full-time mission to Italy to share my experiences and my beliefs with others. As a college student and new member, I was often looked up to and praised for my new life and the decisions I made to obtain it. I was very uncomfortable with that, but so grateful to be part of the LDS fellowship that I didn't dare argue. I knew that eventually I would fall short of my "hype" and when I married Dave outside the temple just six months after we started dating, I did. While it was absolutely the right decision for us, I felt for years like we were trying to live it down. It ain't all love, harmony, and verses of "I Am a Child of God" when you're a Latter Day Saint. It's dedicated and demanding faith that requires an all-or-nothing type commitment. I think marrying someone who wasn't even a member until just 6 weeks before the wedding called my commitment into question for many of my church acquaintances. Moving to a new branch in a new town has, at least, helped with that situation quite a bit. But in this new place, I'm now a leader to the young girls in my church and supposedly an example to them of what a successful Latter-Day Saint woman is: sealed in the temple and staying home to raise my young family. What they don't know is how imperfect my past was and how much I struggle with the roles life has handed me now. I'm so afraid to disappoint or fail them, and yet I long to be myself in their company.

I am frankly more comfortable in that first world. I could live without the 'Mormon' teasing, but I know it's all in good fun. With my old friends, I can still joke about my past with them and remember the good times I had at those wild parties. They weren't guilt-free for me, but that doesn't mean I don't have some fond memories. I can almost be myself, as long as my spiritual side doesn't come into play. My friends love me, but the fact that I no longer drank and partied with them put a wedge between us that I fear will be there from now on. Thirteen years later, I'm still the 'bad girl trying to be good' in their eyes and yet I am often left behind for many of the girls' night out escapades because I don't drink and obviously wouldn't have fun. Either I'm "still me" or I'm not, which one is it? I once thought that there would eventually be friends in that second church world to pick up the slack; but, there really haven't been and I think I know why.

In my second world, I am more guarded. I watch my mouth, afraid to swear, laugh inappropriately, or reveal too much about myself. For a Latter-Day Saint, I'm sure I yell too much at my kids, sleep in too late when there's no school, and have no problem with the fact that I'm a terrible housekeeper and cook. As a family, we don't read scriptures or pray together nearly as much as I know we should. I can't really let anyone at church get too close to me because I fear looking bad in their eyes. It's not that I try to be lax, but praying morning, noon, and night, and studying the scriptures were never habits of mine growing up and they're hard to establish now. Although I did well with them as a single missionary, it's harder to manage these things as a mother of four with a large house to keep up with and a lot of other obligations that keep me from doing enough of that. Still, I fear being judged harshly and since I struggled and searched for my faith for a long time, I would hate to have to give it up because the members decide not to like me anymore. On the other hand, I bear my testimony, study the scriptures, and have moments where I truly feel God's love shining down on me, telling me that I'm in the right place. While they don't really fit together, I need both these worlds to feel complete. I just wish I didn't feel so divided between them. I'd like to find a happy medium.

As I've grown older, I've tried to do that. I've invited friends and family to church activities like baby blessings and baptisms. All my family attended the Open House at the Oklahoma City temple and feel that we had a good experience. I hold get-togethers with both my old friends and women from church so they can get to know each other and I try to make sure it's a group of women that will 'click' and enjoy each other's company. Most importantly, I don't freak out when people I love say critical things about my faith. (OK, my mother can still push my buttons-but she really works at it.) I try to keep a sense of humor, an open mind, and a some perspective when discussing all things religious. I mean, the past did happen whether I'm proud of all of it or not; and frankly, I still find lots of it very funny even when it's dreadfully inappropriate. It was my life, if I can't laugh about it, what's the point? I think what has helped the most in the last year has been working with those teenage girls. They can spot a phony a mile away, and just by working with them, I've found a lot more of myself coming through on Sundays. They don't need to know the details of every mistake I've ever made, but they do need to know the real me. And now that I have all these stories about being a young adult advisor to share with my friends (all of whom I met as teens in a girls' club), there is some common ground between the church and our past.

Over time, I have also come to accept that the "real" me will always exist somewhere between these two worlds, but I do believe I can make that balance more comfortable as long as I can love my family, friends, church members, and myself in all three places. If I can just manage that, I can reconcile spending my life being stuck in between them. When I'm honest with myself, I realize that I don't long for my late nights and wild parties, and I'm coming to realize that I don't have to be the perfect Latter-Day Saint housewife to really make a difference in the lives of the girls I teach at church. It will always be a bit of a balancing act, but being myself more and more in both places has really made it a lot easier. All in all, it's a good life and I'll keep it. Maybe Neil should have found a third home in the Midwest. It's pretty sweet here.