Trauma and abuse in the Mormon Church

Disclaimer - This is from my previous blog but I wanted to share it again because it still holds true that people are impacted by abused suffered within religious institutions. This blog is from my personal journal.

Trauma and abuse in the Mormon Church is real and too many people turned their eyes to it when I was a child. I want to bring this forward because I feel called to. This is one of the more vulnerable things that I have ever shared about my childhood.

I hated being Mormon! I was raised in the Latter Day Saints Church and I hated every moment of it. I hated that I could never question anything, I hated that no one could explain to me why “popcorn popping on an apricot tree” made any fucking sense, I hated being biracial and being told to act white when in the presence of the lord, and I hated that when my brothers and I truly needed help that no one was there to help us. (To be honest, this is all over the place. I have wanted to write about my experience for years and instead of doing what I normally would and proof this to death I’m just posting it.)

Playing the good Mormon Family

In church, we got to play the roles of well behaved and well-adapted children, however, I lived with two hyper-violent addict adults who controlled, manipulated, and abused my brothers and me on a daily basis. My mother cut off my finger and step-father once beat me so badly that I ended up in the hospital from an asthma attack due to hyperventilation from the non-stop crying. 

Our day to day lives were a constant nightmare, though somehow we still managed to make it to church 2-3 times a week. My mother would get so wasted on drives to and from church that she would swerve on the road and threaten to drive the car into the lake. She once told my brothers and me that she would be fine if we were dead. Our stepfather would beat us before and after church, belittle us, and threaten more violence if we cried, laughed, were sick, were upset, or tried to have our own personality. But at church, we were a "family" that smiled, pretended everything was all right and played the roles assigned under duress.

Getting baptized in the Mormon Church

I was baptized against my will at 9 years old. I remember that day so vividly. I remember when Elder (name redacted) asked me if I was ready to give myself to God and allow the Holy Ghost to enter me. I said no. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be a part of something that felt wrong to me. How could God stand by ambivalent to the cries of children who feared to go to sleep in their own beds at night? All of the crusty wheat bread and well water sacrament in the world didn't bring me safety, nor did being doused in bath water in a hot tub while some dude reads ancient scripts. I knew that nothing was going to protect me from the things that were happening in my own home. 

Child Abuse in the Mormon Church

[caption id="attachment_2006" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Dressed in our Sunday Best[/caption]

My mother was masterful at “being too sick to take care of her kids” which typically involved her strung out somewhere no one could contact her. As she and my stepfather began to separate after their continued abuse of each other; my brothers and I found ourselves in total chaos lost somewhere between homeless and in the system. The amazing thing about the Mormon Church is that there is a powerful and kind community of parishioners in it... for the most part. When things at home were there absolute worse the church was there for us. We would often stay with members from the church when our mom was in rehab and our step-father was on the road. Some of these people were amazing. I would find myself on the couches, floors, and beds of families from our ward.  This was a welcome respite from our roach covered concrete floor beds.

I think being misled by what happens at church and what happens in real life is one of the biggest shams perpetrated by the Mormon church. Everyone expects Mormons to be these amazing people who care and give but the reality is that during my time at other families homes I saw violence and hatred in the same way that I did in my own. I saw other children getting beat, sent to bed without food, or worse, much worse. I stayed with 30+ families as a kid and to be completely honest half of them were as bad as mine. As bad as it sounds I found some peace in seeing both sides of the coin as I was shuffled from family to family over the years. Sometimes I was with my brothers but most of the time we were separated, that was the hardest part. 

Molestation in the Mormon Church

This is the part that I don't like to talk about. Even as I sit and write this I can feel my heart pulsating, my breath getting shallow, my hands sweating, and my brain wanting to flee out of my body. I believe that by facing the dark parts of myself I come out a better person.   The really hard truth is that maybe I would have been molested despite being a member of the church but the reality is that it happened when I was.

When I was six years old there was a period that my mother was sick and that my brothers and I lived with families from the church. It was during this stint that during the late evening the mother of the family we were staying with came into my room and touched me. I remember it so vividly because each time she touched me or put her mouth to my body she looked up at me smiling asking "isn't this so fun?" This happened for days. I told my mother and she told me that I made it up.  You just don't ruffle feathers in the Mormon church, this concept was literally beaten into me anytime I pushed back. You do not break the status quo.

I am still brought back to this moment in my darkest times.

The generosity of the Mormon Church

We were a part of the church because of my mother, but for the wrong reasons. To this day I don't know if she was actually religious or had just found another way to scam people. She was the master of getting what she wanted. I trait that I inherited that I am still working on erasing. She knew how to manipulate the people around her to her own benefit. She would get money from tithes to cover our rent, electricity, and water but most of the time she would find a way to get cash instead of checks and spend that money on drugs and alcohol. There were countless times that I remember sticking my hand down the manhole cover in front of our house to turn the water spigot to a slow drip so that we could fill a bucket to drink and bathe from when she and my stepfather used the funds to get wasted. 

There were many times that we would only eat from the church pantry. This I am so thankful for. I look back and think about how lucky we were to have powdered milk and flavorless cereal along with grade D cheese and beef from who knows where. That food tasted worst than shit but I was so thankful. Some children don’t even get shit food. On some occasions, I was lucky enough to sleep, though sleep was nearly impossible since I frequently wet the bed and was so terrified of the beatings that would come along with it the next morning.

Healing Prayers in the Mormon Church

Sometimes I can’t help but feel like I’m in some twisted Truman Show. There are stories that I remember that are truly commercial in the worst way. You could take my story and interchange religions and it wouldn’t be that farfetched. However, when you add anointment's, 7 dudes, a dying kid, and prayer you get true comedy gold. I was frequently sick as a child as many children who grow up in a trauma environment are. I recall that during the winter when I was 10 I had caught a fever from one of the infants at the babysitter's house. I was desperately sick and I had a 103-degree fever. I was so sick that I started going in and out of consciousness.

In all of her drugged up crazy wisdom, my mother decided the best thing to do was to call the local missionaries and assemble a group of Elders and neighborhood spiritual healers. They came and anointed me with oil, and prayed over me for 20 minutes. I had been sick for days at this point and what I needed a real doctor and the hospital. After I bid up the strength to get to the kitchen and call my grandma she showed up later that night and took me to the hospital as my mother laid passed out on the couch. God works in mysterious ways.

Being a Mormon Boy Scout

I was a Mormon Boy Scout in our ward for most of my childhood but I only participated in day time events. On a rare occasion, I would attend sleepovers but the crippling fear that came along with abuse induced bedwetting was too much for me to handle. I would either stay awake all night or wake up before everyone to change clothes and pray (ironically) that I wouldn’t get figured out. The embarrassment as a preteen was just too much. I did learn a lot in the scouts and I’m thankful for the time that I had as a member.

I learned the things that my father and stepfather should have taught me. Those men should have stepped up and showed me how to do things like how to help people, to build a fire, and to “be a man”. This was the one redeeming thing for me about being a Mormon. The connection that I got from our Den leader was impactful in ways that I still carry. Even when the other boys picked on me or didn't include me in games he would give me the space to just sit and talk. That was more important than anything else. I still love to camp, hike, and adventure.

In 2018 the church ending its intertwining with the Boy Scouts of America.

Being Black In The Mormon Church

[caption id="attachment_2009" align="alignright" width="148"] Around the time I discovered the truth[/caption]

I found myself frequently confused by what was happening in the real world and what was happening in my church world. I just couldn’t understand how in the mornings I could be getting beaten and tormented and in the afternoons be a church pitch-in drinking stupid fucking root beer in the gym with all of these families that looked so amazingly happy and full of love. This was my existence until I was 12 years old.

Around then I started to research more about the church and finding truths behind the shady practices of this twisted cult. I felt like I had been lied to nonstop from the beginning and when I discovered the Curse of Cain and that I could never hold the priesthood because of biracial skin I was done. But that wasn't all. 

Brigham Young used the curse to bar blacks from the priesthood, ban interracial marriages, and oppose black suffrage]He stated that the curse would one day be lifted and that black people would be able to receive the priesthood post-mortally. Young once taught that the devil was black.... Well, fuck me.

Racism in The Mormon Church

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45CBF0oEP8k[/embedyt]

The Book of Mormon laid out in plain(ish) English everything that I needed to know:

2 Nephi 5: 20 Wherefore, the word of the Lord was fulfilled which he spake unto me, saying that: Inasmuch as they will not hearken unto thy words they shall be cut off from the presence of the Lord. And behold, they were cut off from his presence.

21 And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them.

22 And thus saith the Lord God: I will cause that they shall be loathsome unto thy people, save they shall repent of their iniquities.

23 And cursed shall be the seed of him that mixeth with their seed; for they shall be cursed even with the same cursing. And the Lord spake it, and it was done.  

This passage was the nail in the coffin for me. I was officially cursed.e

24 And because of their cursing which was upon them they did become an idle people, full of mischief and subtlety, and did seek in the wilderness for beasts of prey.

25 And the Lord God said unto me: They shall be a scourge unto thy seed, to stir them up in remembrance of me; and inasmuch as they will not remember me, and hearken unto my words, they shall scourge them even unto destruction.

Suicide in The Mormon Church

The first time I took a step towards suicide I was only 11 years old. I couldn’t understand how a God who so loved me would allow me to suffer such violence, live in homes of decrepitude and filth, and to so brutally beaten, molested, demoralized and abused. How could God do this? Children are only given what he(she) knows they can handle? Right? I say fuck that. Any God who allows children to die isn’t a God I want to know.

I laid with my back against the bathroom room and a handful of my mother's pills. I was ready to down them. I was ready to be done with all of the shit I had been going through and for some reason, at that moment I decided that I wasn't going to let them win. It hit me hard that if I killed myself that they (my parents, community, and the people who hurt me) would win. Something in me said that I was destined to do something greater and I couldn't achieve that from the grave.

Being Saved From The Mormon Church

I needed to be saved from both the church and the people in it. When I turned 12 my grandma adopted me, but the damage had already been done. I can’t explain how lucky I am that she did that but I was already deep into weed and rock and roll. I used drugs and alcohol almost every day for the next 16 years. I needed an escape from everything.  I stopped attending Mormon church completely and didn’t step foot back in one until I was 19. there was a cute girl that I liked and I thought hanging out with her at church would lead us to bed. A failed attempt to have sex with a girl. I know, poor reasoning.  

Being in that church that day almost 8 years later reminded me of all the reasons that I wanted out, to begin with. It felt like a farce to me. It felt wrong. I needed something that the church could never give me. I need trust, companionship, and real tangible faith.

How I think as an Ex-Mormon

The reality is that a lot of people need something to hold onto. I get that and if it makes you a better person I’ll never judge you. I might think you need your head examined. Is the idea of church and religion totally fucked up? Yes. I am still extremely spiritual and on a road to naming whatever that means in my life right now. I feel a pull of some kind. Maybe it's God or maybe it's the power in me that I have learned to harness to create the life that I have now. 

I am not upset at the past because there is nothing I can do about it and each time that I share my stories I take the shattered pieces of myself and glue them back together. This is about people needing to step up and say something. If you see a child being hurt please do something. Even if you don’t think it’s your place. I think about how many more smiling photos my brothers and I could have had if someone would have just done a little more.

The people who attended that church turned a blind eye to what was happening. How does an adult do nothing about children covered in bruises and reeking of pain and terror? It’s not that they didn’t help give us a place to stay or food to eat, but not one person asked us if we were safe or called the police when we were unsafe. That's what pisses me off and drives me today

This is only a drop in the bucket of my experiences as a Mormon. I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life trying to be “normal” to get away from suicidal thoughts, to find peace, to be happy, to have healthy and meaningful relationships, and more importantly to have self-confidence.  The things that happened to me aren't exclusive to the Mormon Church which I think at this point goes without saying and I don't want it to be misconstrued as such because that simply isn't the case.

We need to step up and if we use God, Church, or religion as a cloak and are afraid to break the status quo then more children will be hurt.

I challenge you to be the person that creates the change that the world needs.

You can check out my other blogs on trauma here: https://michaelunbroken.wpcomstaging.com/category/facing-trauma/

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