"Confession"

I have not been an active member of The Church in three years. I know how disappointing this will be for some of the friends in my life. Please don’t judge too harshly. I still believe what I once believed. I still love my scriptures and prayer but my participation in church activities has dwindled and currently, I am not seeking to return.

I debate with myself on how much I want to share here.

I confess that I feel that the church has turned its back on me and my family in times we needed them – or thought we needed them most. We were faithful members and as faithful members, we were trusting of the leaders of our ward and stake and we turned to the church during times of trial and found ourselves alone all too often.

My grandfather was/is a pedophile (the fact is: you can’t “recover” from pedophilia). He was a bishop in his ward, served a mission with my grandmother, asserted himself as the head of the family…and he was a pedophile. When I was to be baptized, my grandfather told me that I would be forgiven of my sins. I spent a chunk of my life moving past that one statement. I personally turned him in on three separate occasions: to my own bishop, seminary teacher and stake president. Each time, the information was taken and then, there was nothing more. No other mention, except to send me to counseling.

My father was physically and mentally abusive from the time I was six (I still remember that first beating or “pow wow” as he called them) until he had no choice but to stop because we were old enough, and could hurt him more than he could hurt us. I remember, as a child, going to school, church and family events, with bruises on my face and arms from some random beating I had endured. I was never once asked about what happened; not by any one at church and not by teachers. As an adult, I find it unthinkable.

I went to my junior-high school principal when I was 14 years old after a weekend beat-down had been turned on one of my sisters. I was terrified that my dad would find out what I had done and I would get the “spanking” of my life (that was another of his words for what were really beatings). A few days after this, I was called back into the principal’s office and was met by the principal and a state case worker. I was told that my dad was in court at that very moment to face these charges. Not once was I asked to appear or testify, and that evening my dad returned home in a most cheerful mood. There was never any mention of it. I lived in fear that he would discover the truth and turn on me or my siblings.

My last beating came when I was 17! (in front of two friends) I hated him. I hated my mom for letting it happen and never doing anything to prevent it. I hated myself for being afraid and weak. I hated that I had nowhere to turn...not my church, not my family, not my neighbors.

I realized that I must be at fault…somehow I was mistaking these “spankings.” Clearly, no one else perceived that it was abuse – so it must not be. My dad never left the home and we were never removed from the home. By all appearances, all was well in our household. I remember the feeling of despair and guilt and self loathing that followed me afterwards.

I had made my peace and was moving on in my life, when the final shoe from the past fell down with a loud, reverberating thud. My dad had multiple affairs through my teenage years (that we have since confirmed). He had one that lasted ten years and he had a daughter as an outcome. A daughter who is twenty years old. A daughter who knew of us. A daughter, my sister, whom I have never met.

After years of inaction, my mom turned to the church for guidance. She ultimately decided my dad’s betrayal was too much to overlook and she decided to divorce my dad a couple of years ago -- a decision we are so proud she made. My dad faced the church in a court where he was judged on one of the affairs, by other men and faced no accusers. He was given a light “sentence” of one year of disfellowship. One leader later advised my mom to forgive my dad because he, this man, had also had an “indiscretion” in his life and his wife had forgiven him. Indiscretion? Is that what it’s called? No, friend. It’s a betrayal and it's adultery, not an indiscretion.

My dad is now preparing to go to the temple. My dad, who made fun of me for my desire to attend my church meetings when I was a teenager; My dad who told me I was ugly when I was eleven years old and going through the ugly stage that all little girls go through; My dad who called me a slut simply because I was a cheerleader (but I didn’t have my first kiss until I met my husband); My dad who told me, in front of my entire English class my senior year, that I was too dumb to take an advanced English class; My dad who beat us all for the most ridiculous reasons (like eating a life saver, or not doing our homework, or drinking some diet coke, or feeding a stray cat), because he was too guilty to face his own sins, so we paid the price; My dad who we allowed in our adult lives, despite the past, never once listened to our pleas to come to church and be in the temple with us on our wedding days; My dad who now acts like he has no sin, no history of sin, and shudders at a swear word, like his spirit has been so deeply offended; My dad who truly offended my spirit and caused years of pain, self doubt and self loathing……….THIS man has been forgiven by the church I love, where I have found refuge as an adult…he has the mistaken idea that because they will allow him back to church, to participate in the activities of the church, that we must blindly do so as well. And truthfully, I can’t imagine one true bishop or stake president who would say that, but that’s the impression my dad has.

These are the reasons I find that when I attend my meetings, I am filled with anger and pain. I know that I cannot hold all of this against the church…but the truth is this: I no longer find solace there. That is a sad statement in my heart.

This is my confession: I have been inactive as a member of my LDS faith, and I’m not sure I can or will be able to attend with the regularity and faithfulness I once did, or if I can follow the teaching so completely again. I know it’s not The Church’s fault that my dad treated us the way he did, or that my Grandfather was/is who he is, but they are the ones we turned to for help and didn’t receive it.

This is my confession: I want to reach a point of apathy for my dad. I don’t want him in my life; at least for now. I want my distance from him so I can make my peace. I want to move on in my life without that ugly past weighing me down.
The truth be told, I know where to find the peace I seek, but I’m not ready for that step. He doesn’t deserve any of my love, compassion or empathy. Not mine.

This is my confession: We did have good days. I do have great family memories. I am close to my siblings. However, I will not pretend the big pink elephant doesn’t exist...it does exist…it’s ugly…it needs to be purged from my life.

This is my confession.