Physically in Mentally Out

We have all been there. I’ve been "there" through every iteration and identity I’ve claimed, then disowned. As I’ve transitioned and identified myself with one thing, then to another. The pattern I’ve noticed is it always starts with something that is good for my mental health, a bandaid or a way to cope. Something that brings me maybe temporary relief or longer lasting feeling of safety. 

So it’s no wonder I’ve been afraid to commit. With what felt like a wayward heart that was ever changing upon finding new information that I felt more closely I related to.

I’ve woken up to normal days that have ended in earth shattering, life altering, new identifications slapped on me without my consent. My husband and wife relationship died slowly over years and then in an instant and forever, as a widow. I’ve had days that felt like years and looked back at years that felt like days. It seems as though “the only constant thing in life is change” became my walking billboard. 

Until it wasn’t. Until I realized the difference between mental health and conviction. I’ve known it for years but yesterday I finally found the word that matched this feeling. A writers best antidote. My brain took a temporary rest as a particular situation came to mind. This was a story I chose to take out of my memoir Dragon In You due to the fact that the book was already over 400 pages. So the story got cut. I’m grateful to now share it with you.

I had just given birth to my daughter and was living in Utah because my husband was stationed there. I had been in the Mormon church since birth, got baptized at 8 years old, met my husband at age 19, and around that time I became physically in, mentally out PIMO is the slang word for it. Although at the time I didn’t realize that’s what I was. All I knew was that I felt comfortable in the LDS building. I knew I grew up in a church where the members loved me (and still do). But I had this gnawing feeling that there was life beyond this religion for me. That still didn’t stop me from finding our local ward every time we moved (5 states, multiple cities in each! Hello military life!) 

In December 2018 I sat outside the Mormon/LDS bishop’s office. I was due for my yearly check in to see if I was following the standards of the church, paying tithing and honoring the temple requirements. This is called a Tithing Settlement. 

So here I was, with my newborn baby in my arms. The meeting began. He asked me how I was. I felt at ease as he went through the standard questions. I was in a church that I loved the people, it was so good for my mental health. They rallied when I gave birth. They showed up time and time again for me. And yet there was a big secret living in my home. My husband was an alcoholic and I was absolutely terrified of him. I was keeping the standards of the church but my husband wasn't. It made me feel like "fitting in" was impossible. Life half of my life was centered around God and the other half was hiding my husband at home. Allowing people to see him only briefly, when he was in a good mood and up for company. 

When it came time for him to ask me if I was keeping the Word of Wisdom, my heart sank. Thoughts swirled my head and excuses were numerous. I drink coffee, which is not approved of in the church. So I said no. I am not keeping it. And then while I began bouncing my baby girl to keep her asleep more ferociously and possibly due to the anxiety that was growing inside of me I blurted out: 

“I need my coffee. It is what I look forward to every morning. I am so tired. I never get enough sleep. I feel like I’m drowning and the coffee is what gives me hope and at least enough to get through until nap time.” 

I had just textbook failed my interview. I had left out the millions of other reasons on why I needed that cup. I failed to mention on purpose that it wasn’t my children keeping me up all night it was my husband who would wake me up when he was upset or couldn't sleep and did't want to be alone. I failed the interview and I deeply felt I failed life as a Mormon. Yet every morning the coffee pot went on, and every Sunday I sat in the pew.

I won’t ever know what that bishop thought. But I do know his response. He still signed my temple recommend. For whatever reason he understood that it was for my mental health. So here is what has been heavy on my heart the past few days. Why did he consider my mental health when I was doing something he had a conviction for that was not approved of God? Did he know I was physically in and mentally out? On a tightrope of loosing faith all together? Could he see past the very little sense of control I had in that morning brew and allowed me to hold onto that without shame? Could he not see that I was searching for peace in a place that literally and figuratively would turn into an empty cup? So then why? 

I would not understand this until I grew conviction for the God that I have found. The God that ripped me from the center of fiery Hell and showed me what conviction meant. Conviction in faith means seeing sin the way that God views it. In the LDS religion coffee is a sin. The bishop held conviction for that, and that’s how he chose to honor God (by abstaining from it). But there was a gap for me. I was doing something for my mental health. For some reason he was able to see that. See that my desire for God was strong. I wanted so bad for the LDS religion to be the church for me. I mean, all of my stock was in it. I felt safe there. But I do not look at coffee and see it as a sin. I still don’t. I don't see it as a way to honor God by abstaining from it.

Daily I feel that my views on life change, which makes me question thing that I don't have conviction for, if one day I will. I've already had changes of heart through conversations, interactions, and hey even a meme on the internet. But all of these things help bring my perspective together. They help me ground myself and bring me closer to "peace on earth good will towards men" that I want to bathe in. But when I gave my heart over to the God that saved me I gained perspective on mental health. I also felt a well that will never run dry. The well that saved my life. God’s love for me and others. 

I want to reemphasize my point. I may not associate with the LDS religion anymore or love the things I use to. I may identify as something one day, and onto another thing the next. But I have never had a wayward heart. I have always searched for love, light, and peace. I believe everyone is doing that. May we have compassion and be proud of those doing this in ways that are good for their mental health. God please surround us with and bring us to those convicted in the path that will reunite us with you. Let them light the way so we can turn around and do the same to all the children of God.

When my old bishop abstained from coffee, or an Orthodox Jewish man wears a kippah on their head, when a Jehovah witness knocks on your door. They all have conviction for God. That’s how they grow closer. We can turn this entire conversation into who’s right, who’s wrong, who’s wasting their time because God can’t hear you or doesn’t “care about that rule.” And absolutely there are religions that shame and say we are damned to hell. I’m not writing about the ways that humans interject fear as a way to ensure compliance. I’m looking for the posture of people’s hearts, see their convictions- like the bishop in that office saw that I was in a season of mental health with a desire for peace, just like others on their search for the well that will never empty.