The True Battle
Things went well for a long while, and for that at least I’m thankful. I was never one for dating really; I found that there were very few people in this world that I felt a connection to. It was nothing personal; I was just picky about the company I kept. I had to feel as though I was meant to be around them, to allow myself to be.
However one night, during the summer, around the time of my tenth grade year, fate would introduce me to my next phase of spiritual conflict.
She was a friend of a friend, and someone up until that point was only somebody I knew of from pictures. Her first impressions were goofy, and witty. She laughed and smiled a lot, and for some reason was obsessed with playing with fire. I always told her she was a pyromaniac, and she often conceded.
We hit it off at once, and we both felt the need to confide in one another. She told me about her past, and her family, her likes and dislikes, and in return I did the same. It was your typical beginnings of a relationship.
She came from a Mormon family, as were I had been raised a southern Baptist. If you know about the two, then you know that most people don’t really consider them to closely related. Now it’s important for anyone reading this to understand that I am a very open minded individual. People’s beliefs are part what makes them who they are, and I think it is a very personal relationship you find with God.
I did not judge her harshly for her beliefs; on the contrary I found them interesting. It was an infinite leap from the world I had grown up in, and it was intriguing. Keep in mind that religion and church didn’t play a huge role in the beginnings of our relationship, but it is what I feel to be the most relevant.
As things got more serious and as the months went by, discussion was made about marriage and engagements. After a long chain of events, some bad and some good, it was made clear that she would require me to become a Mormon if I was to ever be with her.
Now, as I mentioned previously, I am a very open minded person. The idea of trying this out was fine for me, ultimately they prayed to the same God that I did, and after praying about it, I made my mind up. With that I began going to church with her, from time to time.
It was different from what I was used to to say the least. Everyone was very welcoming though, and I must admit that some of the things about it I liked more than my previous church. Life was still nice.
Then, one day out of the blue I began having very odd zoned out issues. We also were having problems in the relationship. Nothing beyond repair, but it sadly was at a point in my life where trust was hard to come by, thus I was a bit controlling. It only became worse once she informed me of choices she had made that she knew I may have problems with.
I began questioning her going out with her friends, and our world slowly became a very small one. The transformation was having deeper and more profound consequences that I was realizing though. The zoned out moments were increasing, in both length and in occurrence. I could feel something wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t figure it out.
In time she asked me about it. She noticed that I often seemed to be elsewhere, both in church and most other social gatherings. I didn’t know what to tell her, for I didn’t know the answers myself. I could only say what I felt, and that feeling was an odd emptiness growing inside.
I still prayed, and I still went to church, and I still read my bible, so I’m not really sure where it came from, or why. Yet it was there, so it slowly became a normal thing.
Then, one day I came over to her house. I believe she was in the kitchen, and I walked on into her room for something. On her desk near her bed I saw a book, a book I never would have thought to see in her possession. It was a Wicca book.
My natural response was very upsetting, and I quickly questioned her about it. I was raised on the idea that pagan beliefs, no matter their name are bad. We argued about it for a time, but in time she convinced me that she was just reading about it as curiosity, nothing else. Well, curiosity killed the cat, but who was I to say that the same would happen here. From everything I witnessed she spoke the truth, it was all just an educational thing for her.
I guess I grew ok with it, because ultimately I see power of any sort only as good or bad as the person welding it. From what I could tell, she was still a good person.
Time goes by and my struggle with the zoning intensifies, as does the conflict with her. In time it gets to the point that I cry on a daily basis due to the apparent lack of judgment in her day to day decisions. If there is one thing I can say on her behalf, it’s that she was upfront and honest with me, which is what I always say I preferred.
She told me about activities throughout her days, often involving dumb things with guys that seemed to serve no other purpose than to stab me with an emotional dagger. The pain intensified beyond measure, and when I thought I couldn’t bare it any longer, an oddly familiar voice whispered from the void within.
However one night, during the summer, around the time of my tenth grade year, fate would introduce me to my next phase of spiritual conflict.
She was a friend of a friend, and someone up until that point was only somebody I knew of from pictures. Her first impressions were goofy, and witty. She laughed and smiled a lot, and for some reason was obsessed with playing with fire. I always told her she was a pyromaniac, and she often conceded.
We hit it off at once, and we both felt the need to confide in one another. She told me about her past, and her family, her likes and dislikes, and in return I did the same. It was your typical beginnings of a relationship.
She came from a Mormon family, as were I had been raised a southern Baptist. If you know about the two, then you know that most people don’t really consider them to closely related. Now it’s important for anyone reading this to understand that I am a very open minded individual. People’s beliefs are part what makes them who they are, and I think it is a very personal relationship you find with God.
I did not judge her harshly for her beliefs; on the contrary I found them interesting. It was an infinite leap from the world I had grown up in, and it was intriguing. Keep in mind that religion and church didn’t play a huge role in the beginnings of our relationship, but it is what I feel to be the most relevant.
As things got more serious and as the months went by, discussion was made about marriage and engagements. After a long chain of events, some bad and some good, it was made clear that she would require me to become a Mormon if I was to ever be with her.
Now, as I mentioned previously, I am a very open minded person. The idea of trying this out was fine for me, ultimately they prayed to the same God that I did, and after praying about it, I made my mind up. With that I began going to church with her, from time to time.
It was different from what I was used to to say the least. Everyone was very welcoming though, and I must admit that some of the things about it I liked more than my previous church. Life was still nice.
Then, one day out of the blue I began having very odd zoned out issues. We also were having problems in the relationship. Nothing beyond repair, but it sadly was at a point in my life where trust was hard to come by, thus I was a bit controlling. It only became worse once she informed me of choices she had made that she knew I may have problems with.
I began questioning her going out with her friends, and our world slowly became a very small one. The transformation was having deeper and more profound consequences that I was realizing though. The zoned out moments were increasing, in both length and in occurrence. I could feel something wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t figure it out.
In time she asked me about it. She noticed that I often seemed to be elsewhere, both in church and most other social gatherings. I didn’t know what to tell her, for I didn’t know the answers myself. I could only say what I felt, and that feeling was an odd emptiness growing inside.
I still prayed, and I still went to church, and I still read my bible, so I’m not really sure where it came from, or why. Yet it was there, so it slowly became a normal thing.
Then, one day I came over to her house. I believe she was in the kitchen, and I walked on into her room for something. On her desk near her bed I saw a book, a book I never would have thought to see in her possession. It was a Wicca book.
My natural response was very upsetting, and I quickly questioned her about it. I was raised on the idea that pagan beliefs, no matter their name are bad. We argued about it for a time, but in time she convinced me that she was just reading about it as curiosity, nothing else. Well, curiosity killed the cat, but who was I to say that the same would happen here. From everything I witnessed she spoke the truth, it was all just an educational thing for her.
I guess I grew ok with it, because ultimately I see power of any sort only as good or bad as the person welding it. From what I could tell, she was still a good person.
Time goes by and my struggle with the zoning intensifies, as does the conflict with her. In time it gets to the point that I cry on a daily basis due to the apparent lack of judgment in her day to day decisions. If there is one thing I can say on her behalf, it’s that she was upfront and honest with me, which is what I always say I preferred.
She told me about activities throughout her days, often involving dumb things with guys that seemed to serve no other purpose than to stab me with an emotional dagger. The pain intensified beyond measure, and when I thought I couldn’t bare it any longer, an oddly familiar voice whispered from the void within.
