My sister is a liberal Mormon. She believes the core doctrine but thinks the brethren are wrong about some things. Most of her five adult children have left the church. She posted on Facebook that her youngest two have birthdays this month and that they "...are doing great things with their lives and are great human beings."

Yes. That's what people want to hear, not, "I'm so proud they're faithful in the church and are raising their families in the gospel blah blah blah." Not the conditional approval I yearned for.

They weren't always "supportive" or there for us, but they tried, but their support didn't center around the church. We weren't raised as disgusting TBMs as my parents weren't like that. My dad's whole family wasn't like that even with my uncle ending up being a SP. He got ridiculous when he got to be a SP, but he was "wild" up until his 50s. My aunt, who was always active mormon, always told me, "He was much more fun before he found religion."

Even my sister who still goes doesn't believe.

My parents loved us no matter what we chose to do. They talked about their issues with the church, and they listened when I left.

I read here and know how lucky I am. Half my siblings were out before I left. My daughter is the only active mormon of the grandchildren and great grandchildren. Now don't ask me how THAT happened.

They would have to have multiple frames of referencing good. Mormonism defines good so it is "more good" and therefor every other kind of good pales.

Mine said things like

Don't embarrass me

What would the ward think

What would heavenly father think

Does anyone remember the "remember who you are and what you stand for" line?

Their favorite: Yes you did great but you could have done better tied with you didn't do your best.

I can't think of them ever saying they were proud of me.

I hear you, and I know how you feel. I don't know at what age I started being bad. I know it was before four, because I remember being bad that year. I was always repulsed by the claim that invisible spirits exist.

I think I began being bad around 12 to 14 months. An older cousin told me that my first word was "NO!" (Not the usual "ma-ma" or "da-da," And as I recall, I used that word a LOT.

My mother took me once to see Santa, when I was maybe about four. I heard him asking various kids, "Have you been good this year?" So I anxiously asked my mother, "Am I good?" She replied, "Only when you're sleeping." Ouch.

I couldn't see any possible good coming out of an interview with Santa, and remarked to Mother that the line was pretty long, and could probably be doing some shopping or something else. The more she pushed me to talk with Santa, the more I resisted. I finally pulled my hand out of hers and began heading for the car.

She called to me several times, but I would not leave the car. She was very angry and told me, for the first (but hardly the last) time that I was "SO ungrateful."

I never went to see Santa again, and was relieved when I learned that he wasn't real. The guys in the red and white suits were just his "helpers." Whew!

I see this from the "other side of the fence": I am the seond son but my mother always made it clear (including to my poor elder brother and younger sister, unfortunately) that I was her favourite. As my mother was a bit of a monster, this was not the advantage it might have been, but that's not the point of my post. I recently learned from my brother that she had chosen me as her favourite at around 4 months old, before I could even talk. At the same time, she had already decided that my 2 1/2 year old brother was bad.

Beyond the question of the evils of favouritism, which I have made every effort to avoid with my own children, why do some parents do this, choosing to label their children before that label can be in any way objective?

I admit I don't understand it but I think it's very harmful.

Tom in Paris

When I contacted one of the Q12 about my records, my dad freaked out. He went straight to the embarrassment thing, stating that he knew the guy, and other things I don't really want to reveal here. I did not care either way. It is all typical narcissist behavior. The parents of the Baby Boomer generation only think about themselves.

What I heard from my mom when I told her I was not planning on a mission: "All those boys and no missionaries!"

Yup, that really cemented my feelings about her church.

I've never heard, "I love you." The best I got was a third party sibling telling me that they said, "He knows we love him."

Kinda I guess. It is a tenuous love with lots of strings. I'm not their puppet so it might be one string left - a double helix.

My parents were wise enough not to burn the bridge when my siblings chose to walk away from the church. They continued to love and support them. They had heard/seen/observed the more righteous families run off their wayward children. It was ugly, but that was the Mormon way of putting church ahead of family.

How did the church and their mind-fuck affect me?

I hated my parents for not being righteous enough. That's right, my family failed at every church directive in the home. No family prayers or scripture studying. FHE was a total disaster. My parents loafed around the house after church. During summer they were in the swimming pool within minutes. I secretly wanted to be adopted by one of those perfect mormon families. That's what the primary and sunday school lessons taught me.

Jealous. So jealous.

If nothing else, I was going to make sure that I kept my family together by being as perfect as possible as I worried about my family from a very young age. My dad drank coffee and I didn't know until I was older that he drank alcohol and chewed tobacco. (I didn't find out about chewing tobacco until a few years before his death.)

So I had a plan and I was the devout child. They never thought I'd leave the church, so when I left, they listened, but then they had watched my life fall apart in a drastic fashion. My sister said they used to argue about whose fault it was that I left the church!! My mother was fairly active and she used guilt, but she loved her kids TOO MUCH. Though she was never disgusting mormon like her sister's and brother's families are.

I was the usually the first kid called upon in primary class. Instead of some mundane question related to the lesson it was usually along the lines of my candid home life. "Messy, what sort of activities does your family do together?"

And I really couldn't think of a good church favored lie so I would tell them camping. Of course, the teacher wasn't satisfied with that and she would push me for more details.

"That's nice, but what do the Goops for fun?"

Then I would drop the bombshell. We have a good time playing cards.

"Oh my! No Messy. Very, very wrong. That's bad. The prophets have told us not to..."

Naturally, some of other boys and girls wanted to know WHICH card games I played. Some just wanted to come over to my house so I could TEACH them how to play. I was 8 or 9 years old at the time.

By the following Sunday, I was pulled out of primary by a member of the bishopric to be told how very wrong it was to use playing cards. I had to promise not to play with cards anymore. You know, I was making Jesus cry. Boo-hoo.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/10/2019 09:42AM by messygoop.

I never heard, "I'm proud of you," or "You are doing fine," from my TBM parents.

I never rebelled (until after my parents died), never disobeyed or broke the law or the codes of decency and politeness. I just made the normal amount of mistakes. What my parents resented the most about me, is that they thought I just "skated by" in life. They didn't like things to be so easy for me. They never knew how hard I really worked, how stressed out I was, and how much of a perfectionist I really was, and how badly I wanted to succeed--especially, to please THEM.

I should have complained more. My TBM brothers did--loudly and continuously--and I didn't like to be around that, or to be like that myself. My parents were goaded into making a huge fuss about every little thing they did--especially if it was church-connected. My brothers' SAHM TBM wives were the same. Since I didn't complain, my parents saw me having fun.

Mormonism is a cult of "adversity." They teach that adversity makes people stronger. They think that a task has to be difficult, for it to be worthwhile. Life is a test. God causes his "chosen ones" to be "tested" more than others; hence, to suffer more than others. Whoever suffers the most is the most "special." In their fake history, Mormons have written themselves to be perpetual sufferers of persecution. JS was martyred. My ancestors gave up everything for the cult. The Mormons were driven out of Illinois. The pioneers suffered unto death. Polygamous wives suffered. Mormon settlers in the desert, missionaries abroad--oh, woe unto This People. We owe it to the Mormon ancestors to suffer (and pay) just as much as they did!

My own mother told me she was jealous of me, because of all the joy I found in life, and the adventures and opportunities I had, and the amazing non-Mormon people I knew and loved, and that I was good at sports and school and music, and whatever. Like, God just GAVE me all that, and He withheld it all from her? She seemed to forget that she and my father allowed my older brother to abuse me physically and mentally, my whole life (until I initiated no contact, to protect my kids). She never knew the pain of a father's hand spanking her, for very minor mistakes. She couldn't imagine the horror of her own temple husband beating her, every day.

Why couldn't my Mormon parents see the reality of their own daughter's life? I guess, "All's well that ends well."

When my SIL was called to be RS president, my mother gave her my grandmother's valuable gold watch, and when she was released, my parents gave her a big, fancy "retirement" party. She had never worked (for a salary) one day in her life. Neither had my mother. I had to work, and be the sole support of my children, and sometimes I would cry, and fear that I might fail, and that we were all going to starve. Sometimes it would kill me to leave a sick child at home with a sitter, and go out there and work. All I got was criticism--I should be looking for another husband, instead of "trying to work"--I was too picky--maybe I wasn't praying hard enough.

In those days, Mormons frowned on women who worked outside the home. I was actually ashamed, that I had to work. Whenever I achieved success, or was promoted, or brought in a huge paycheck, no one cared. I worked hard in my career for 30 years, and never got a gold watch, or a party, or even a kind word. (But my job was sooo wonderfully worth it, and I was helping others, too!.) I didn't complain, because that would have been bad for my children. I ended up enjoying my career. My children thrived in their independence, had jobs of their own, graduated from the university, and are now doing well out in the real world. We are good, happy people.

I think the Mormon relatives are jealous of all this. At the same time, they listened to the words of David O. McKay: "No amount of success makes up for failure in the home." Since Mormons believe only what the prophets say, they think that if a woman has an outside job, that she will AUTOMATICALLY FAIL in the home.

Also, my children's kind of success in not the Mormons' definition of success. They are loving, kind, generous, independent, educated, went to college instead of on missions, got married later in life, have fewer than 4 children, put their family FIRST, love nature, have careers they enjoy, like to play on the weekends, are healthy, have INTEGRITY. Because we resigned from the cult, we are nothing.

Mormons are taught that the only kind of success that means anything is success within the cult. Monetary success means only that one is a big tithe-payer, and might get more blessings that way. A mother of 12 is a huge success, as is anyone who converts new members, because they help "grow the church." Some Mormons are successful leaders and organizers, others are successful worker-bees, and scrub the toilets and brainwash the children. All must be successful salespeople.

Don't get me wrong. These Mormon slaves NEED all the gold watches and parties and praise they can get! Nothing will ever make up for what has been taken from them.

If I told you how badly my TBM nieces and nephews turned out, you wouldn't believe me! Horror stories! Their parents always put the cult and themselves before their kids. They did not believe in unconditional Love!

Mormonism is NOT "a good way to raise children."

Absolutely spot on, Mother Who Knows! My parents were inactive and so was I until I turned 15, and my childhood neighbor friend wanted to get active. Her parents and my parents would take turns dropping us off to church, even though they were all inactive. My parents were kind to me, I was very lucky. When I turned 8, the bishopric kept bugging my parents for me to be baptized. My mom wrote a short note back to them stating that over her dead body, would I be baptized! She lived many years longer after that, although I'm sure the bishopric at the time thought differently. Friendlier people moved into the ward a few years after that, so that was the reason I got "activated". My parents loved me unconditionally, even though we had our share of troubles. But I also grew up with that teaching in TSCC of "don't work outside the home". You need to be a "domestic goddess". My parents encouraged me to get an education. Wished I had listened to them.In spite of my husband and I being TBM's later, our children grew up to be honest, hard working good citizens. My husband told our oldest daughter, who is still TBM that he was so sorry he raised her in the LDS church!

Mormons oft times seem to look through the binoculars backward.