In my previous post, I tried to describe how Mormonism provided an outlet for my martial instincts, and a source of meaning, through its teaching that at the heart of existence was a Manichean struggle of light against darkness, good against evil, and that I (and all my Mormon comrades) were warriors in that cosmic struggle. We had fought in the pre-existence; we also fought here on earth, by trying to live lives of purity in a world awash in sin, and trying to further good causes.

Losing the conviction that

(A) there *was* a transcendent or supernatural source of good and evil;

(B) good and evil were being furthered by intelligent agents in the midst of a cosmic battle with eternal ramifications;

and that

(C) I, and my family, had an important role to play in that battle;

in a word, sucked.

What sucked even more was that in the moment we realized that Mormonism was not what it claimed to be, it wasn't just the martial part of the narrative that vanished; it was the *entire context for our existence*. In that excruciating moment, we ceased to exist: we didn't know who we were, or what we were doing on the planet, or whether anything we were doing was important beyond satisfying basic physiological needs, where we had come from, where we were going, or how to behave. In a moment, we not only had no faith, but no idea of where to even begin in trying to have faith in anything anymore; and even more, felt *afraid* to have faith in anything, since it had been so painful to discover that we had both been wrong about everything most important to us in life. And I might as well mention also that in that moment, we lost all ability to remain in our tribe (our local congregation, and the global "tribe" of Mormonism).

This is a long-winded way of saying that in that moment, *meaning* - in all its rich, life-giving layers - evaporated, and we had absolutely no clue how to feel, what to think, how to conceive of ourselves, or what to do next.

Yes, we sought out professional help - psychiatrists, psychologists, and just plain old counselors; but, as most people here will be able to imagine, none of them had any frame of reference for grasping the intensity of what we were experiencing; and while they tried to varying degrees to understand and help out, the truth is that none of them was able to do very much.

For various reasons, I recovered my bearings more quickly than my now-estranged wife, and now, almost ten years on, I rarely think about the fact that I was once the most flamethrowing Mormon I think I ever could have been. Days go by without Joseph Smith's church ever even entering my mind.

But what does continue to haunt me is not so much confusion or disorientation, as the inability to satisfy pressing, basic primal needs - for tribal affiliation; for communal ritual and belief and song; for intense friendships and intense rivalries; for a narrative context for my existence; for building a shared life with a loyal and devoted woman; for shared joy, but also shared sacrifice; for opportunies for heroism; and a hundred other things. I can find approximations; but, maybe because of an abnormally intense personality, they seem never quite enough.

And the thought that unendingly pulses all through me, in a way I can never stop, is:

"You are not living the life you are supposed to live".

I am - we all are - the culmination of thousands of years of evolution: psychological and emotional, as well as physical. And for most of those thousands of years, our ancestors lived in much the same way. Even agriculture is quite a recent invention. Prior to that, for vast millenia, we lived in fairly small hunter-gatherer bands, where we shared common kinship, common religious beliefs and outlooks, common traditions, common stories and songs and language...and despite all its dangers, we presumably evolved, psychologically, to thrive best in that setting. But that is just the setting which now, it is maddeningly difficult to re-create.

The rugby club was a good start - if any group on this planet nowadays is rooted in life's most primal instincts and rhythms, it's a rugby club (along with maybe a bowhunting group or military squadron). But...the rugby club could only go so far. For one thing, there were hardly any women around (and no matter how objectively awesome what you're doing is, it for some reason, as James Brown says in his old song "It's a Man's World" [the lyrics of which were written by a woman, by the way] it never seems to mean much of anything in the end without special women around). For another, we weren't all living together in a clan; we met together three times a week for fitness and drilling and scrimmages, and then played a game on the weekend. I mean, it was as intense as I could find...but - maybe it's just me - in some ways, it just wasn't intense enough.

To digress for a moment, thinking about the woman part of that last paragraph, I just had a flash recollection of my visit to the doctor's last spring...

Two things had happened from rugby, both bad. The first was, my left foot had coincidentally gotten stomped on in the same place several times over the course of a few games (right on my second toe joint). As a result of trauma to the area, bone and tissue in the area were not getting blood, meaning that that area was turning "necrotic" - it was dying. "Creeping bone death" was the phrase, I think. It sounded like a cool old Alice Cooper song; but the nightmares about having to get my foot amputated weren't quite as cool. In addition, the cartilage around the socket had been torn up, causing sharp pain.

The other thing was, in a game the week before, I had gotten a pass - and like Paul H. Dunn running gloriously across the battlefield (at least in his imaginary World War II career) - I hit full speed hoping to evade my would-be tacklers.

But not having a play to make to my outside, I did what I'd done a hundred times before - simply carry the ball into contact (which meant, in this case, running full speed into two large psychos. There was a pile on top of me after the tackle, and when I stood up, the whole world was shaking from side to side, and I could barely manage to walk off the field. I had been badly concussed).

So, a few days later, I went in to see the doctor. Maybe because of the concussion (terrible headaches, and it seems to affect your mood), I was feeling pretty morose.

"What can I help you with?", he said.

"I need a referral to a neurologist. I got a concussion. Plus, uh, my foot's dying", I said.

"Okay...let me just first have a look through your file", he said. (I was at a walk-in clinic, where six doctors rotate shifts).

I sat on the table, feeling low, staring at the floor, as he began to flip through my chart.

"Hm...Torn meniscus......Wrenched tendon ripped bone segment out of finger........Hospitalized for emergency X-rays and possible pelvis fracture......Whiplash.....Rotator cuff damaged......Stitches to hand......Walking cast.....Broken finger...".

He stopped reading. I didn't say anything. In a way, for some reason, I remember feeling like bursting into tears, but I didn't even know why.

Finally, he said, "Honestly...most of the stuff in this file is from rugby".

"Yeah", I said.

There was another long pause. He seemed to be trying to think of how to say something, but couldn't. More seconds passed, but he still said nothing.

I breathed deeply, and finally said, "...maybe I just need a girl".

"Yeah...", he said quietly. "Maybe you do".

Trouble was, the only woman I really wanted - the mother of my eight children - was still, as she had been for years, "unavailable".

I'll have to get back on track with Part III. Thanks for listening.

T.

You're welcome. Anytime. :)

When I have had concussions, and a contusion, I eventually end up in the ER, and they almost always do a CAT scan.

journey will put to music and lyrics and that you will also share this with us.

Think of how much human energy is all about finding love, being in love and crying about love lost. You are in the thick of this.

I don't know how old you are but I realized that the aging process all by itself reduces risk taking, thus minimizing continued damage to one's body and psyche.

This short video is the best example of how a young man discovered the meaning of life head first while taking a risk.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KF214wDC4L8



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/07/2013 08:09AM by cricket.

Thanks for writing this up - there's a lot I can relate to a lot of it.

Mostly I relate to that phase of "why does anything matter?" after realizing I was a complete atheist. I've described it as the feeling of jumping into cold water - it's uncomfortable at first, but you soon get used to it.

However, after getting used to it and thinking through things and decided what I do believe about life and it's meaning, I've found it to be the most comfortable belief system I've ever had. I've found that the meaning, etc. falsely attributed to religion is still there and the strength and even inspiration that I attributed to God and the Spirit is still there within me and I can still tap into it within myself.

I think that there is something about we as human's evolutionarily being bred to fight. Maybe not in a full scale war, but certainly to compete for resources with other "tribes" and on a more basic level to compete with prey and predators. Finding an outlet for that can be a challenge in today's world and Mormonism does create and answer for that.

I think that the fear of loosing these things - the core one's whole identity has a lot to do with why Mormons have just a hard time reconsidering Mormonism (which is also true of other religion belief systems) is much of what makes it so scary and difficult for most people to even be willing to look at the facts.

You are a better story teller than your dad, I'd say. He seems to have come through the battle successfully with the right person at his side.

Whatever happens, I will always find your expressions very interesting. I know you want to do right by your children, and I think that you are.

You seem like a great Dad. I enjoy your insights. I look forward to part III.

Just curious. Have you read the "Red Badge of Courage"? The author never served, but he wrote the emotions of his battle scenes based in large on the emotions he had from leather head football matches. At the time he admitted he thought it was a poor substitute, but a lot of Civil War veterans credit him with being the first guy to give a realistic emotional portrait of war.

You have a great way of writing. Sorry you're going through so much crap right now. I'm also sorry that this next comment will come at your expense but I'm anxiously waiting for part three. Hang in there.

So--I'll be here watching and waiting for your posts.

Tal,

Thanks again for sharing such a personal story and it's so sad that you can't have what you want: your estranged wife and that tribe again. There's hope, though. There really is.

I hated leaving my mormon tribe, and then my ex-mo tribe of friends when I got divorced. I cried for months, and still do sometimes when I see a few of them getting together and posting their activities on FB (and we’ve been divorced over ten years). The social aspect of that group's relationship was engaging, rewarding, fulfilling, and just plain fun. Our tribe: all married, all ex-mos debated, discussed, swore, learned how to drink (aperitifs, wine, and digestifs), held the best parties with amazingly great food and music, and were raising our kids together in a nevermo world.

On the outside, our marriage was looking great. On the inside, we were a nightmare. It was easier for me to transition out of Mormonism because I had a life as a no-mo until I was 21. For my then-husband, leaving was like a train-wreck: his parents hated our decision, he felt guilty about everything, he also drank too much and couldn’t see that his drinking was actually an issue because the majority of our group drank to excess. I was the designated driver. We saw counselors, together and separately. After five years, we imploded. We were done with each other. As spouses, we didn't even closely resemble any aspects of our previous life together or the reasons for marrying (which were all mo-related).

When we told our ex-mo tribe that we were divorcing, they were understandably in shock and denial, and begged us to stay together. It was then that I realized I would have to give up the tribe in order for my then-husband to feel a sense of belonging because it would be easier for me to find my own path separately from them. That decision was excruciatingly painful.

Then little by little, the group started falling apart until the last remaining couple (the glue that seemed to keep us together) finally divorced. When my former husband told me about that couple’s divorce, I cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t take another break up of that original, fabulous, marvelous, endearing, but somewhat dysfunctional group. I pine for those years. Still.

Over the past decade, I’ve found a closeness with individuals and couples. I trust my friends implicitly and although we don’t meet as regularly as my ex-mo tribe did, I have friends with which to share the good and the bad.

For you, I say go for the individuals to begin with. Find close friends and cherish them. There’s no way you don’t have them around you; you’re too dynamic of an individual. Yet the “unavailable” estranged wife is gone; you need to see this reality and let go. But don't kill yourself physically on the rugby battlefield in order to feel again. You do need someone. We all do. A guy I dated several years back was "perfect" in every way. Absolutely perfect. We had the most spontaneous, original, awesome, romantic, fun, joyous dates I've ever had. We both commented on the ease of our relationship. And then one day, out of the blue, he wanted to date others and I was heartbroken. I realized then that our relationship couldn't be perfect if I was the only one seeing it that way. Is that how you see Tracy, still? Perfect? You guys aren't. You're divorced, right? That's OK. Somehow you'll survive and hopefully we can help.

We're your cyber tribe, Tal. Your writing is powerful and you are able to easily rally troops on this site (and others). If there are any like me on here, when you post on RfM now, I recall the times you were so actively engaged on this board and how fun it was to read your insights and then I jump on YouTube and watch some of your music videos just to smile and think to myself, "I somewhat know this dude on a cyber basis. Cool." You'll always find a home here. And support. We all need it and most of us give it. Hang for a bit, if you can. And go have a nice time with one of your friends this weekend.

toto

Thank you, Toto. Your post moved me. Lots to ponder.

Thanks to the other posters, too.

Talk to you all soon

Tal

Tal, I read your post this morning before I went to work and my heart ached for you. I met you at the exmo conference a few years ago when your youngest was just an infant and enjoyed your story and singing very much.

Just as I was pulling into my parking place at work, "She's so high" came on the radio. You have a gift, darlin'

So sorry you are going through so much sadness. I hope you get to see your kids a lot.

Tal Bachman Wrote:

> What sucked even more was that in the moment we
> realized that Mormonism was not what it claimed to
> be, it wasn't just the martial part of the
> narrative that vanished; it was the *entire
> context for our existence*. In that excruciating
> moment, we ceased to exist: we didn't know who we
> were, or what we were doing on the planet, or
> whether anything we were doing was important
> beyond satisfying basic physiological needs, where
> we had come from, where we were going, or how to
> behave. In a moment, we not only had no faith, but
> no idea of where to even begin in trying to have
> faith in anything anymore; and even more, felt
> *afraid* to have faith in anything, since it had
> been so painful to discover that we had both been
> wrong about everything most important to us in
> life. And I might as well mention also that in
> that moment, we lost all ability to remain in our
> tribe (our local congregation, and the global
> "tribe" of Mormonism).
>
> This is a long-winded way of saying that in that
> moment, *meaning* - in all its rich, life-giving
> layers - evaporated, and we had absolutely no clue
> how to feel, what to think, how to conceive of
> ourselves, or what to do next.


This was an incredible source of depression for me. Usually
one absorbs one's worldview from their tribe. It's absorbed
uncritically from an early age. Mormonism gives you a
worldview but attaches it to a supernatural underpinning
which. among other things, gives its worldview divergences
from normal morality. We were told not to be "of the world."
Often this meant to be "bold" in going against the normal
etiquette of the world because our position was so cosmically
important. "Be a bold missionary," they said.

So suddenly we find ourselves starting over from scratch to
create our worldview and having to do it. not only alone (i.e.
without a "tribe") but at an advanced, educated age--an age
where we constantly exercise a critical facility. This makes
acquiring a solidly established, supportive worldview very
difficult.

This makes us not only strangers in a strange land, but
strangers in our selves.

Your experience epitomizes ex-Mormonism for me. I hope your writing is cathartic for you. It's certainly very interesting.

Thanks for sharing! : )

In a word: chaos. My narrative is that I live in a mad world with lots of people driven by heroic sounding, fictional narratives, and nobody really knows what's really going on.

This clash of narratives unfolds on a daily basis. I find comfort in this strangely.

Mr. Bachman: If the L.D.S. leaders were to engage in the same introspection that you have endured, they would cause far less hurt and harm. Thank you for your leadership.