Posted by:
Breeze
(
)
Date: August 13, 2017 03:12PM
Not a dumb question at all. Mormons make you feel "dumb" for asking any intelligent question.
The posters are right--the temple preparation class tells you NOTHING. It is just more sales hype and emotional manipulation, to get you in there.
Here's what happened to me: In the temple for the first time, when the voice over the microphone gave us the option of leaving, I wanted to run! I was already sensing evil in there. Nothing prepared me for seeing my parents and people I knew and respected, all dressed up in ridiculous costumes. The tight baker's hat was making a red mark on my fiancee's bloated, sweaty face.
The very first thing I saw, upon entering the inner sanctum of the temple was a cash register! I immediately thought of Christ and the money-changers. We paid money to rent the ugly flour-sack robes and long underwear. I did not like being touched on my private parts, naked, under a skimpy sheet. I could hear hushed mumbling in the booths next to mine, and the rustling of robes, as others were being dressed, too. It was the creepiest experience of my life! I felt robbed of my individuality, and shuffled along an assembly line. We had to lock our clothes in lockers, to avoid theft. Yes--there was evil in that place!
The temple workers find out if it is your first time in the temple, and they make sure you are not by yourself. If you have no one of the same gender to sit with, the workers assign you a "helper" or two, to sit on either side of you, and help you with the clothing. Actually, it is to keep you from running away!
--During the session, I thought, "This is creepy and evil--I'm running out of here!" Then, I thought about my mother on one side of me, and my SIL on the other side of me, and embarrassment kept me in my seat. I thought, "Well, they do this all the time, so it must be all right. I'm the one who's being being weird about this. Relax."
--Still, I kept wanting to leave. I thought about the 300 people planning on attending my reception that evening! I felt guilty about all the time and trouble and expense my parents went through. There was the pre-paid, destination honeymoon. That's a lot of pressure heaped onto a little bride who was lied to! The pantomimed death oaths were too grotesque. I forced myself to consecrate my life to a cult, and to vow to obey my husband--a man I barely knew. I could not breathe with the veil over my face. I had to leave twice, to go be sick in the bathroom--and the matrons did not take kindly to this! I asked if I could sit in the back, nearer the bathroom, and they hissed at me, like angry cats, "You have to sit in your original seat!"
It was the worst day of my life. Afterwards, instead of going to the nice luncheon my mother had prepared for everyone, my new husband drove me to a motel and raped me. I didn't know a husband could rape a wife, in those days, but I was begging him not to take my virginity, until I had a chance to walk down the aisle with my father, in my white dress, at the reception, and greet all my friends and family. (There's no walking down the aisle at the temple, and my loved ones weren't allowed in the temple to see my wedding.) I had been pure all my life, in anticipation of this. I was still sick to my stomach. I begged, struggled, tried to get out of the room, and he forced himself on me, quoting the D&C 132, and saying that I belonged to him now, as his property, and he could do anything he wanted to me. I could barely walk into the reception, and I was bleeding badly, and all I could think of was how nice and supportive and happy everyone was. I thought, "Please, God, get me through this without throwing up." My Atheist soul-mate was there, and he kissed the bride. My parents wouldn't allow me to marry him, because he was an Atheist. Very sad.
Why didn't I leave? Brainwashing! I tried--through severe beatings and false promises to stop beating me--to make that marriage work, because it was for time and all eternity. I still bear the physical scars, the PTSD, and the fear of Mormons and their cult. Hence, RFM.
Well, you asked....