Why I Sleep In

Otherwise titled "If the World Could Stop Shitting on Me Any Time, That Would be Great".

I'll be honest, I'm a  bit of a night owl, so I've been sleeping in after late nights for most of my life anyway.  But I've noticed a general downward spiral about the events of my life that despite my best efforts to reverse it continues with gale force speeds. So if you were looking for a cute self help topic, I'm sorry but this isn't it. I'm about to air out some shit and throw it at the walls in frustration. 

Sometimes I sleep in, because sleeping is when I'm happiest. Or maybe not happiest. But I think sleeping is the closest to not-existing I get sometimes.  It can be a disappointment when I wake up and realize I have to go on existing. 

And I'll admit I know I'm living with chronic depression.  It's a thing. But it's also not a big huge affliction, I don't let myself use it as an excuse because I've been living with it forever, and at this point I don't have insurance or money to pay for treatment so I just keep logs of the symptoms and try to live my life anyway.  It could probably be fixed at some point but I have tried my hardest not to let it slow me down up till now so I can wait until I'm financially stable to do something about it. It's sort of like needing to fix my feet and posture. I know it could be better helped by a chiropractor and some expensive insoles but for now I'll just deal with the aches and pains because it's easier to ignore them than face the fact that my feet are flat. It's not killing me so I guess it can stay.

Want to know what my life has been like this year? I'm done with worrying what the people in my life think about me so lets talk details. And to be fair, there are years ahead of this that contribute to my dissatisfaction with life and humanity as a whole and this isn't even a comprehensive breakdown it's just the highlights. 

Last Christmas: It was pretty all-right but I think my lack of a boyfriend was getting to my Mother. despite trying to redirect conversations toward what I was doing in school, (and getting blank stares as per usual), somehow Mom kept redirecting even the most innocuous conversations back toward babies, and my Sister and I's apparent lack of babies. Christmas is only for kids apparently. Beyond that though when I tried to confide to my mother that I'm afraid of pregnancy and have been memorably at least since I was five, she didn't seem to see why that was an issue and doubled down on telling me for two weeks why having kids is so great. Truthfully in a lower dose this would have been innocuous, but in context of the rest of this year my Mom's lack of empathy makes a lot more sense, because that's what it is. Also I know that Mormon's put a lot of emphasis on having families, but it was weird to have my worth reduced to the number of children I have (which is 0). It seemed at points my Mother would have been happier if I got knocked up by anybody pre-maritally than admit that I didn't have a boyfriend. It was weird. 

My last semester at BYU: honestly it's hard to remember.  I get seasonal depression pretty badly in February and it usually impacts my ability to recall stuff from winter semesters. My best friend from college moved away early in the semester with her husband, the film was pretty far along in production, and I can't remember which classes I took. Things that were memorable: fighting with my Mother over 'unrighteous dominion' aka her receiving revelation on my behalf that often had to do with what choices I should make and who to date. President Monson passing away, and President Uchtdorf being replaced in the first presidency.  The strange press conference they held that was kind of misogynistic and revealed again President Oaks' contempt for LGBT people. I remember feeling the night I read Monson had died that so had the church I grew up in. It would never be the same for me again. 

At some point in April I had decided the metaphorical dance my Mom and I were doing was stupid and it was time to come out to my parents. I had no intention of telling them that I was also going to step away from the church.  I'd learned from my sister leaving Mormonism on my mission (and the paranoiac suspicion directed at me the last couple years whenever I said anything remotely liberal) that that would be a devastating revelation on it's own. A double coming out would have probably given my Mom a heart attack. And I am not joking in the slightest. 

Because here's what did happen as recorded in my journal: 

My mom didn't sleep I think for at least the two days she was visiting. This I think contributed to her hysteria and denial which manifested itself powerfully.

• This morning She told me “I Wasn’t Born Gay” and proceeded to go through both my and her brother’s history and try and pinpoint the things that made us gay, including reticence and failed relationships
• We had a pretty big disagreement on what the word Gay actually means so I had to throw my identity fiercely on the conservative side of things just to talk her down from imagining me having oral sex with a woman on the weekends (which by the way, should be nobodies fucking business)
• We the watched conference which was fine but she of course used things later to try and convince me I was just going through a phase basically and that we would “climb this mountain together” while we actually climbed the Y
• We Had an excruciating long conversation in the car that she started about “How can you even have sex with a woman” which I was offended that she asked and wanted to throw something flippant back like 'maybe if you can’t imagine it your sex life is not that great' but I restrained myself only to be told that sex with a man was the best thing ever which despite the fact that I now know the female body can absorb testosterone from cum (thanks MOM???!??!) I don’t find it appealing STILL
• We got down to the deeps about what her issue is with Mark (my uncle who committed suicide a few years ago and who is also gay, whom she also prevented us from visiting for most of my lifetime), which was that in their interactions together he was too guilty to stay sober according to her, and said a lot of shitty things and did a lot of shitty things 
• She told me over and over again that a) How could I know maybe I haven’t met the right man yet b) She was so sad for all the things with a husband and family that I would miss out on (‘specially the sex)
• That it was the worst day ever for her
• That I could not take her back to her hotel room because I had to witness the pain that I had caused her viscerally
• That she was fine with gay people as long as they aren’t her children (to which I pointed out means I have to choose being gay or her child how is that fair)
• But closer to the end she admitted that she believed either God doesn’t put people on this earth gay or being gay is not a sin so… Progress????

I was pretty wrong about the progress hope. Not only did she pull the classic not-remembering-ever-saying-anything-mean but she surely has lost that train of thought because it causes too much cognitive dissonance. In any case, that night I was woken up in the dark murder hours of the morning by a tapping on my window and my mom hysterically calling my name. I let my parents inside to hug them (mom was crying) and then they left. No explanation. I'm still not even sure that it happened, my other two roommates weren't home to corroborate the story. 

here's more from my journal about the following day: 

"The next day was more typical of my family where we mostly ignored the elephant in the room.  If you don’t talk about things then they’re not happening and it’s okay to be civil but you can’t talk about things and also ask to pass the butter. They’re separate activities. Between the sessions on Sunday we walked up to campus and they sat down with me to talk.  My parents started by trying to convince me to come home because I didn’t have a job or a plan after college and it would be easier to save money if I was living at home. My issue was that I need to be here to work with my professors to try and get hired somewhere or I won’t get a job in animation. And also, with the following conversation of severe gas lighting became convinced that if I had to live under the same roof with my parents I would never have mental stability again probably.

Because they believe counseling turned me gay. They think because I go to a group therapy session with other gay BYU students their experiences are something I adopted mentally by association. Which is frustrating because my first group wasn’t even a queer group, and that’s where I first came out to anybody. So that’s already proven wrong.

When I asked them if they would see any of my counselors they declined because “they know me best, they know me from childhood” and that though maybe they mean well, psychologists study priestcraft and are being led away to hell by Satan. It was WILD.

They kept telling me that I wasn’t gay because they knew I wasn’t based upon watching me grow up. And they know my feelings better than I do. It was super invalidating and brain hurting. It is hard to explain.

Because it’s gas lighting. I’d figured out, Fire is hot, and they spent all their effort and debating skills to convince me that that was just shock of the moment because fire is actually cold. That’s the level of rewiring reality we’re talking about. For 24 hours thinking HURT. I felt like nothing I’d felt or thought about myself could be trusted, because I love them and I trust them, and I have to listen to them. And if I really listen to them I have to consider the points they’re raising. And some of them are manipulative and hurtful and invalidating, even though they’re saying it fervently and in their soft loving voices.

It sucked. It’s damaged my relationship with them in some ways, beyond repair. I don’t trust them anymore. I resent them some days. I hate them others. I’m not sure If I can stick around and love them like I used to. It’s not something I’m going to be able to let go easily.

And unfortunately remembering what it was like sucks too, because I had to at some point decide whether they were right, or I was right. And solely based upon my mental state of absolute chaos and pain, I decided I couldn’t follow a path of thinking that led me to feel that way and chose to trust that I’m right. And based upon their argument, I COULD STILL BE WRONG! BECAUSE I CHOSE TO PUT ASIDE THEIR ARGUMENTS CONCIOUSLY! AND IT SUCKS! It fucking sucks. It’s a box of absolute chaos that I keep in a dark place because it only makes me feel terrified and like killing myself. "

They went home and over the following weeks my parents tried continually to receive revelation on my behalf, to convince me that I shouldn't go to counseling anymore and I wasn't gay. When I pushed back against that, they became the victims, and I became the Satan following villain.  

And then I graduated. I don't really have much to say about it, it happened just three weeks after all of that during conference. My extended family was visiting, so the sweep-anything-contentious-under-the-rug rule was in full effect.  To my benefit in some ways.  Despite only expressing desire for a fund for a new computer, I got from my parents a reminder locket with a saying about following the plan of salvation (passive aggressive) and a book full of "open when..." letters that was, get this, completely blank (passive? aggressive?) . I'm still not sure what that means. 

The following weeks I decided to stay in Provo at least until my housing contract was up. My job at school ended when I graduated, and I started burning through savings. Overall last summer was pretty good, living alone was peaceful and I was very productive in terms of personal projects.  I did however:

• Have my mom fly in unannounced to stay with me in my apartment, unannounced, to fix our relationship, again, unannounced and uninvited. I only had a couple hours warning because she texted me while boarding the plane. I ended up sleeping over at a friends' house and locking her out because again, she invited herself. I'm the bad guy for that in her narrative too
• Have my mom call the cops on me to do a wellness check (a routine you're supposed to do if you suspect someone is in danger of violence, or in danger of committing suicide) for forgetting to respond to text messages for a day. I had been listening to an audio book, and the cops wouldn't leave until I called my Mom
• Have a couple joint therapy sessions with my mother that I set up and she finally agreed to, because she wouldn't leave me alone
• learn in those therapy sessions that my mother didn't believe in empathy as it is defined to share someone's feelings or experiences from their point of view rather than your own. she insisted that instead of validating that someone's feelings as being real it is better and more caring to tell them why they are wrong
• Have my mother visit when invited to help her pick up a new car she bought only to fight again, and have her tell me I use up all her money with her volvo sitting in my driveway
• Have my mother seek out therapeutic advice on my behalf without permission from a relative who's Gay and in a mixed orientation marriage, in hopes to show me that my feelings for women are just symptoms of other trauma
• Try in vain to keep a positive outlook because every two weeks my Mom would be back in force to try and fix our relationship, or try and move in together, or try and set me up with her cat sitter, or try and get me to take un-prescribed drugs for my depression

 It was exhausting.

So when it came time for my housing contract to be up and I still didn't have an income despite applying and searching all summer for something in the valley, I decided that instead of moving home I would live with my sister in Colorado, who had invited me if things didn't work out. When I told my Mother this she flipped out over the phone.  I had to hang up on her because she was being to extreme in interpreting what I said, which at this point has become the norm.

Anyway she emailed me and did the routine 'I'm sorry if I said anything rude but I don't know what it was if I did, and if you spell it out I'll pretend like it didn't happen' thing and offered her help to move to Colorado. I was grateful because I would be driving my car, and a moving truck with the accumulation of bed/collage junk I've gotten over the years. 

Everything would have been fine. Except I got in an accident that totaled my car. 

I was able to drive it the rest of the way to Colorado Springs, but it was trashed. Not only did I have to set aside my own emotions to comfort my mother immediately after pulling over, but she decided that it was a sign I was supposed to move home all along. Over the next couple of days she came to resent me and my decision more and more, telling me that I was an ungrateful daughter and a waste of her money, which I was apparently blowing out my ass like a fire-hose. Her words. 

So she went home and I began the three month effort again to find a job.  Anything at all.  Anything would be great. Something to dig myself out of the financial hole that keeps getting deeper, and the familial guilt that comes with it.

Along the way I had to take my cat to the vet because he randomly started dying (vomiting, diahrea, dehydration related spasms, lethargy), and wound up with a 700 dollar vet bill.  He bounced back after being given fluids overnight and I still don't know what happened. It seemed completely unprovoked, and because of that could happen again at any moment.

The same two days that was happening my housing over summer sent me a closing statement wherein not only were they keeping the deposit, but they were unjustly, and illegally in one charge, charging me an extra 400 dollars. It has been the cause of the most frustrating phone calls ever and is still at this point, unresolved.

A week ago I came out on Facebook, which went generally well, but what I didn't say is that my family yet again sent a talk (the one Oaks gave where he called trans and non binary people 'distortions of gender' and reaffirmed that queer people don't have a place in his church), with another call to repentance. A couple of days before that my mother had also sent a document suggesting that my same sex attraction was a symptom of bad relationships and other mental disorders and not a sexual orientation. At this point I have no relationship with my mother, so, I decided to take a break from our relationship. I sent a last email before changing my address, blocking her on social media, and changing my phone number. It's been a week and I still feel justified. I still stand by the idea that if things change between us we can have a relationship, but as they are now I can't. I can't do it anymore. 

As a result I am guessing that my mother called my brother in Michigan and cried? a lot? because he texted us in the morning saying that my Sister and I needed to apologize to Mom and make things right or that he wouldn't talk to us anymore to show his support for her. When I tried to explain the situation he told me that "newsflash he's known I'm gay for a long time and it doesn't affect his argument" which was that Mom's done nothing wrong and it's my job to fix things immediately. which also means, that since I didn't tell him I was gay my mother probably did back in April behind my back. Super cool. Building lots of trust in our family.

Then, despite all of that, I was feeling better. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  It was like I could finally breathe because I was living authentically, and without someone telling me I'm satanic every two weeks.  I got an interview for a job, and an offer. Things were looking up.

Only to find out I was victim of a hiring scam and was now cheated out of another 300 dollars. 

I just. Can't. Anymore. I try not to subscribe to the Mormon idea that good things happen to good people but sometimes I wonder what. did. I. do? What did I do wrong? I accept I'm not a perfect person but I try really hard to be kind and to trust and enforce healthy boundaries in relationships so pardon my language but what the fuck? 

So yeah. I wish I could sleep all the time.  I wish I could go to sleep, and not wake up. ever. I've just accepted at this point that good things don't happen to me. In fact, during the short period two days ago I thought I had a job I told someone good things don't happen to me. And I was right. The last few years have made me so cynical it's hard to start over. Again. And again. I would rather if I didn't have to, if this time it could be the last lashing from life, if this time I could quit. I want to quit. I want out. 

I wish there were a "and so this is what I learned" happy ending but I'm finding that sometimes there isn't one. Sometimes you're made to choose between yourself and your family. Sometimes really shitty people take advantage of how much you want a job. And that's it.