Two years ago, my little boy was splashing around in a hotel pool with my grown-up daughter and her two young children. I turned my back for a few minutes to call my husband from the pool phone. When I turned around, there was a splashing going on and I couldn’t see my son. My daughter was a good ten feet away and had her own children in her arms. I hung up the phone and ran to the side of the pool. He was on his back, his face under water, kicking and flailing. I jumped in the pool, walked over to him, and picked him up. I carried him to the side of the pool where a hotel guest lifted him out and laid him on his side. My son was conscious. His lips were blue. He coughed and spluttered and water came out. People kept handing me towels.
Within a few minutes he was fine. I took him back to our hotel room to get him dressed and dried off, then my husband took him down to my daughter’s room, because he wanted to play video games. I had functioned fine while The Kid was around, but after he left, I broke down. I sobbed for a half hour. For days (months?) afterwards, I would close my eyes and see it again - my beautiful boy, thrashing around in the water. Even now, two years later, I get teary thinking about it.
When terrible things happen, sometimes they come back to us unbidden.
When I lost my faith I went into a serious depression. I would wake up in the morning and think, “Damn,” because I wanted so much to just go to sleep and never wake up. I tried to think of ways I could kill myself that would not affect my family negatively, because I simply knew (I knew) that they would be better off if I was dead. It took me the better part of two years to completely climb out of it, and I still have occasional relapses.
The Thursday evening Sunstone session, “Faith and Doubt”: A Never-Before-Seen Act from The Mormons, brought that awful time back full force. It was horrifying. Two stories grabbed me by the throat. Both were accounts by long-time members who had lost their faith. Both described how they saw taking their lives as a solution to their problems. One talked about driving up to Snowbird and thinking about driving down the canyon road, but neglecting to steer. The other overdosed on sleeping pills. Listening to their stories was like looking into a deep abyss and seeing myself at the bottom, trying to claw my way up.
There was a wonderful positive segment by Terryl Givens at the end, but it was too little, too late. I was very glad when the session was over. The next session I attended was “Using Humor to Negotiate Mormon Culture and Faith.” Cartoons, comics, and Robert Kirby. It was a huge relief.
Many of the people I had lunch with on Friday were quite surprised by my characterization of the “Faith and Doubt” Act as “awful.” But I’ve been there. The stories echoed a terrible time in my life. And I never, ever, want to go back.
Recent Comments