Repentance

I only really repented once in all my 22 years in the church. I mean, I had gone in for the yearly interviews, recited off all the expected answers (yes I believe that christ died for our sins and joseph smith was a prophet and the church is lead by god thru a modern prophet in our day. Yes I obey the law of chastity, the word of wisdom, the law of tithing). I once told a bishop, before I got my patriarchal blessing, that I had had some problems with masturbation in the past, but that was all behind me now (and it was. I stopped masturbating for--well, mostly-- for the better part of two years. I thought that I was being guided to get married in the temple and become a wife and mother in zion).

But then I reconnected with an ex boyfriend. An exboyfriend who I had loved since I was 15, who was my best friend for years, who saved me from killing myself several times over. He is a good guy, he is just not my good guy. Anyway, during this reunion, there was oral sex. I hated it (I thought I hated it. Maybe it was the guilt or the insecurities or the guy... whatever it was, I soon came to truly appreciate how great oral sex can be).

The emotional aftermath was awful. I thought god hated me, that I had lost my right to forgiveness, to blessings. There had been a fireside in church where there was a line graph of progress... it showed how little sins like lying set us back, and how bigger sins like sex were impossible to recover from. And especially in singles wards, chastity is focused on. You don't kiss, you don't make out, you don't sit with your date in dark places, you shouldn't be alone, satan will tempt you. There is a famous mormon book that asserts that it is far better to be dead than unchaste.

I cried. I broke up with the boy (for more than that, but it was a catalyst). I fasted for 2 days, and made an appointment with the bishop. I confessed.

During the interview he asked me how long I had been with the boy, how many times it happened, who when down on who, what was the duration, did I enjoy it, was I going to do it again, what did I think about it. I was horrified. It went on and on, and I couldn't even look up. I felt soiled.

Afterwards, I went back to my relief society class. I sat in the back and read my scriptures. I was there for ten or fifteen minutes before I couldn't take it any more and I walked out. I went home. At the time I thought it was because I was evil, that god was making me uncomfortable because I shouldn't be around the normal "righteous" members of the ward. I thought that it was a part of the repentance process, that I had to suffer.

I was put on probation. I couldn't take the sacrament until the bishop was convinced I had repented fully of my sins. Everyone takes the sacrament in a mormon church, and when they don't, everyone knows it's because of sin. And in a singles ward, the favorite sin of 21 year old virgins is pretty obvious. You aren't even allowed to masturbate or make out or touch a boob. Physical intimacy is apparently a threat to the church (married couples must put on the sacred underwear -- shorts and a tshirt-- after sex and before you fall asleep. If you fall asleep naked in the arms of your spouse, you are disobeying the word of god and allowing satan to have power over you).

I remember going the next week to sacrament. I sat alone: I didn't have any friends in the ward. I sat alone and read my scriptures and refused the sacrament. The next week I came; I walked in, then I turned around and walked back out.

I was so confused. I felt like god was punishing me, making me uncomfortable in his one true church. I wasn't worthy to be there. I was worthless and weak and sexual and had no self control.

A month later, I let another guy suck on my breast. I was so upset with myself. Why couldn't I obey god? Why did I put myself in situations where I would kiss boys? If I could have surgically removed my sexuality at that point, I would have.

I dreamed about how much better, holier, I would be without my sexuality, without any desire to be held, to be touched and kissed and loved. It would be so much better to be able to return to god... if I didn't have my rebellious body....

My favorite song became "Come thou fount of every blessing." The song says that the singers are prone to wander from god, so they want god to take their hearts and seal them up in heaven. How I longed for god to take my heart and seal it in his courts above. I fervently, frantically wished it, prayed for it, fasted for it. I visualized my sexuality tortured, beaten, bound and killed (I really didn't appreciate the sexualized nature of my imagery of getting rid of my sexuality).

I wanted to give up all my free will. My free will was getting me into trouble, keeping me from god. My free will was going to send me right to hell.

I didn't repent about the boob, and I didn't repent about all of the oral that came after. I thought that I was just giving into the inevitable take over of satan, that this was all a result of me not repenting fully the first time. I sinned, so god took his spirit away from me so I couldn't tell good from evil. So I sinned, so the spirit withdrew so I sinned so the spirit went further away. The scriptures talk about being past feeling, where you can't tell what is good and what is evil. You are past feeling, hard hearted, stiff necked.

I felt like I was two different people. I was being pulled apart, being split in two. I felt like I was going crazy, like I couldn't make myself a coherent individual.

For the next year, I decided to enjoy what I had. My roommate told me that having sex didn't make me a bad person, that sex in a relationship wasn't always bad. She told me that if this was the first time in my life that I hadn't hated (loathed) myself, that I should continue, that I should do what made me happy. But maybe I was just avoiding church because I didn't want to go through the repentance process again, didn't want to have that horrifying confession. I couldn't imagine going into that small office with my middle aged bishop, asking me probing questions about whether or not I liked it, about if I wanted to do it again.

I couldn't repent because I couldn't say that I hated it, that I felt awful, that I would never do it again. I would have to lie, and that was something I had never done outright to god or my priesthood authorities.