Well…pour yourself a glass of wine, cut the markings from your hideous magic underwear, sit by the fire, and let’s talk. And when I say talk, I don’t mean your last-day-of-the-month visiting-teacher-style afternoon chat. I mean down and dirty, real, f**king honest talk.
But first, let me flashback three years when I was the obedient wife, loving mother, faithful LDS church member, and successful realtor who landed in the women’s shelter after initiating my escape plan from an abusive, temple-going, hoarding, friendless, suicidal, fucktard. (No, I’m not bitter *wink wink*) I was likely the first, and only, homeless realtor in history, selling four homes without technically having a place to live. But that’s a story for another time and lots more wine.
So where do I begin? For now, let’s just say I escaped an abusive marriage only to find that I also needed to escape a High Demand Group/Cult: Mormonism.
I was one of those devout, “born under the covenant,” Mormons. For those outside the faith, let me explain what this means. Depending on how much bullshit you, as a member, actually swallowed during your lifetime, it ultimately means you’re f**ked up—brainwashed—the moment you whoosh through your mother’s vagina to land on this side of pre-mortal life. Yes, you’re not technically a member of the LDS church until you’re baptized at the tender age of eight, but your baptism is just a formality. All “born under the covenant” active-member eight-year-olds don a white jumper and are dunked in a font within a month of their birth date. It means you ain’t got a fightin chance at a normal, healthy, critically-thinking, life because your parents, grandparents, superstitious great grandparents five f**king generations back who, in the 1800’s, listened to a f**king sociopathic, sexually deviant, convicted conman spout his mouth about putting his face in a hat full of rocks to translate a so-called ancient book written on golden plates. It means pay, pray, and obey your whole f**king life or your loves ones will be held for ransom in this life, and in the hereafter, and you’ll be shammed and shunned by your entire family, friends and community if you leave. (No, I’m not bitter. I’m angry as hell.)
In 2011, after my therapist at the women’s shelter taught me how abusers employ mind-twisting techniques on their victims, I compared the tactics used by my f**ktarded then-husband with those used by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and realized they were identical. I didn’t even need to look at the historical inaccuracies or theological problems to realize I’d been duped my whole f**king life—fifty f**king years irretrievably stolen!
But, Mormonism defined me. Leaving it isn’t something that you just walk away from all at once. It’s more of a journey than a one-time decision. For some, who didn’t swallow as much bullshit as I did, they can walk away from it more easily; but for me, it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. (That’s what she said—Sorry, couldn’t resist that one—That’s what she said…again.)
Now, ever since I started using my God-given brain, I’ve been evaluating my existence, my choices, my new path in life. Yea Yay, verily, I realize I don’t need a f**king religion to be a good person. Now I worship the Almighty Pink Vibrator–for lack of having a suitable partner at the present. Thus, the Church of the Pink Vibe of Latter Day Sex.
I’m not going to spout my mouth and say my new church is the “one and only true church.” I think Mormons have done a fine f**king blowjob of demonstrating “what not to do.” But I can say, with confidence, that I have the Full Breastedness of the Gospel. My religion is in its infancy and I still have a lot of decisions to make. Yea Yay, merrily, a flaming angel with the big rod cums to visit me from time to time with new revelations as needed. So stay tuned. I’’ll be sending good vibes out into the world for your enjoyment. At this stage, I’m not sure who’ll be allowed to hold the Vibronic Priestesshood but am thinking lesbians and little 14-year-old boys should hold it (Wasn’t Joe Smith fourteen years of age when he had his first vision? And wasn’t Helen Mar fourteen years old when he raped her? My my, such a magical age.) Behold, verily, I say unto thee, blacks will hold the Vibronic Priestesshood as often as possible. But, wo, unto old men for, surely, they’ll be given the Mick Hall’s a Dick Priestesshood, preparatory for their Erectile Dysfunctional Glory. Yea, Yea, Yea, Yay, Yay, Yay, all worthy men-bers will be given the Gift of Tongues preparatory for their Laying on of Hands.
But, hearken ye, thou white and delightsome men. As white and delightsome as thou art, thou shalt not be allowed to hold leadership positions—though I have all sorts of other positions you can hold. Yea, merrily, only women with big boobs can be in leadership. (But, women with little titties, fear not, for behold, tithes will be used to invest in real estate, corporations and to build large and spacious malls wherein suitable tits may be purchased.)
So what is this blog about? It’s about me—the old me, the new me, the future me. And it’s about you—the old you, the new you, the future you. I look forward to taking this journey into the unknown, but exciting future, together. Hope you do too. (Bow your head and say, “yes.”)
O, almost forgot…and this blog is about sex. Lots and lots of sex. I love sex. Af**kingmen!