I have been a complete drag this week. I’m sorry about that, but it’s just the way that it is. I’m gonna duck out for today and tomorrow because they just suck. I’m giving warning because I post so much that when I miss a day, I get inquiries about whether I am dead or stuck in my box of Gain n’ stuff. I’ll probably still play around on my comments, though.

I want you to know that I love and appreciate the emails and the comments. I love them. I re-read them all the time. They help me when I’m sad and make me grin when I’m not.

It helps more than you know.

No one needs to feel obligated to help me. My friends and family have all been through so much, this is just self-indulgent of me to keep spewing on them and on you. I am so thankful for my husband, family and friends. You have given everything to me. You deserve better, I’m sorry it takes me so long.

I’m sorry, wherever you may be.

I’ll howl at the moon for awhile and be back. Won’t be long, I promise.

You might wonder how it is that I ended this evening at the hospital.

I was in Salt Lake and I got a phone call from my poor friend, Karen.
She cut off a huge amount of her finger using a rolling cutter! She had no one to drive her and was scared and embarrassed. I sped up to Logan as fast as my little car would take me and met her just as she was exiting the hospital.

I took her to IHOP to get some food in her and to commiserate. Karen is such a kind soul. I feel so bad that she is hurt, but I am honored and grateful that when the call was placed, it was to ME.

Someone asked in a comment why I went to Salt Lake today.

Oh, dear.

I traveled to Salt Lake to see my new step-nephew, Antonio, get baptized into the Mormon church.

There is so much to say, but I just can’t get into it too deeply. I have posted about it only once before. Why? Well, for one, I feel weirdly protective of Mormonism. I try to be as respectful as possible of it, even though I suck. I try to clarify at every turn that I am at the bottom of the dung-pile as what one should look at as an LDS person. However, I can’t ignore it. I was raised in this religion (Kinda). It impacts virtually everything I do to some extent.

Two, it is an extremely complex issue for me that has taken a lifetime to create and will most likely take another lifetime or longer to resolve, understand and to feel comfortable. I am not comfortable at church, I can’t say it brings me happiness, but stress, grief and I (repeat) I make myself feel miserable because I am not a person of faith and adhearance. Yet, I am not happy not going, or just hanging in the fringes. I feel guilt for me, my family and my loved ones. I seems like I am screwed in every direction. I don’t mind talking about it, but again…it makes me skittish, so be kind, please. I am just a fucked up girl trying to figure out her own piece of mind and I have been less than successful in this area.

I didn’t want to go today, if you want the truth. The amount of sheer, badgering, HELL I took to go to this thing was phenomenal. My mother doesn’t seem to care that certain situations are the equivalent of having my epidermis layer peeled off. It comes down to the fact that I am a bad sister if I don’t attend.

So, I went.

My twin and I were the only siblings there, along with my parents. I have no idea who the pioneer family on the right are. Your guess is as good as mine. And yes, that is just a weirdo fashion statement, even for Utah. Not the norm, but not all that surprising, either.

My brother’s wife is from Mexico, so the attend a hispanic ward (Congregation). The service was in Spanish. My sister in law leaned over after the hymn and whispered, “You speak good Spanish!”

I didn’t think she would comprehend that I speak no Spanish at all, but you pick up stuff after 4 years of diction for Romantic Languages. I am a quick study, it isn’t that different from Latin and Italian and I’m used to singing stuff that I have relatively no idea where it comes from.

Even though I didn’t understand 98% of the words in the service, somehow, not understanding the actual words being spoken gave me reason to concentrate on the feeling that was there.

The bishop (Minister) was a small, humble man in a suit two sizes too large, frayed at the cuffs and shiny in the knees. His hands were rough and his shoes were scuffed and falling apart and even though it sounds the epitome of cheese and triteness, the man was radiant with kidness and love.

Here is this person with very little materially, but he has EVERYTHING. You can just tell. I am not saying that people “Must” have religion to be happy, but I yearn to have that kind of…PEACE. That radience. To feel comfort and secure in the paths and choices you make. To not feel foreign wherever you go and whatever you do…Even in your own skin and mind.

I feel torn in a million pieces right now. My heart yearns for something, that is for sure. What, I don’t know. HOW, I REALLY don’t know.

My sister-in-law, Candy, was very sweet when she saw me. “You come back to church, Lo’Lee (She can’t say my name correctly)? You need to! IS good for familia.”

She went on for awhile. I started to explain, but she couldn’t comprehend what I was trying to say. I thought about just pointing at myself and saying, “Diablo“.

Don’t get me wrong. I have made a LOT of progress as far as some things are concerned. If you knew my screaming hatred of God that I used to have. Just about a year ago when I had lost EVERYTHING I had, it was easier to direct my anger, pain and frustration toward Him, than those I loved.

I have worked through a lot of that, but I still don’t know where I belong, where I fit.

Right now it feels like nowhere.

I know those who will say to talk to God mean the best, but it is not too far in the past that I called him a F**ktard in my head. I have always had difficulty relying on God and feeling comfort from Him and right now I’m pretty thrilled I don’t despise all that He is. Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I do little to improve the situation.

I am so blessed with the people around me, but I feel like there is not one person I can talk to that would understand this or me; My background, how I was raised, the different aspects of this particular religion and the poor choices I have made to worsen my own situation. I’m a complex soul and this is about as complex as it gets. Frankly, no one around me has made the magnitude of shitty choices that I have. I wouldn’t WANT anyone to know how this feels.

It’s the way it has to be, but I feel completely alone.

I needed a dress and shoes for a family function today. I suppose the good thing about having a mother who is sure that you have to attend no matter HOW uncomfortable you are is that she offers to buy you a new dress and shoes so that you don’t look like a heathan when you show up.

This is no small feet. Speaking of “No SMALL FEET”. Buying shoes also sucks. I have thick ankles and huge feet, but I love these shoes. They make my foot want to “Pop” like in the old black and white movies from the 40′s

I look suck-o-la in dresses that aren’t costumes. Really. I am just not a dress person. This was the best I could do:
Actually, I love it. It is swingy and full and shimmers slightly. I feel like June Cleaver, but what the hell? I am sure there are many men who were hot for June at one point, so maybe this look will work out for me.

I am not sure how it will work, but it’s the best I can do. Mom will have to suck it up and deal.

Thank you to Zac, who helped me endure the mall and for this chick, who is the best salesman at Dillards.