Just tell me what to do: A poem from post Mormon life

Just tell me what to do:
A poem from post Mormon life

Well, I guess I'm a Unitarian Universalist now.

Yeah, right now, that is kind of what I am trying to be. I think there is something there. Maybe not truth. But something to keep me a float and hopefully something to keep me moving.

Before this, I was nothing. I was in transition. A few churches but no title. Before that, I was Mormon. A true blue, pretty dedicated, sometimes concerned but mostly believing Latter Day Saint, following the prophet and turning a little numb and a little silent. And before that, oh yes, there was a before that. I was catholic. Bible classes on Mondays, questions about Jesus, confused by the eucrerist, excited for first communion, birthday cards from god parents. catholic. And before that. Before that I was me. A questioner, a seeker, a pleaser. No filter, no direction, no contentment. Sometimes no friends.

A confused adult in a pre-school body. I was 4 when I asked, "what is life?" I asked everyone.

Everyone that mattered.

I asked my soul. And I asked my mother. My mother said, "This is life." She pointed to me, and a he pointed to her heart. You and me. Our love. We are life. I was lying in bed. She was kissing me good night. I was grossly under impressed with her answer.

So I asked my soul. "What is life?" I saw a vision. I tried to comprehend. Did I come from somewhere? Will I go somewhere? What is life? Where will my thoughts go when I die? Do they ever end? I had no answers. And my anxiety grew.

Before I was A UU, before I was a mother, before I was a wife, before I was a Mormon, before I was a catholic, I was me, and I had questions and confusion, and I wanted peace, hope, and answers.

I guess I'm really just me again. Is that sad? Is it sad that I'm still just me? Same questions? That maybe I haven't grown since my 4 old self squeezed the wires on a chain link fence and watched my hands turn white from the grip and asked "what is life? What is this? What's going on?"

Is it sad that I wanted answers so badly that when someone was willing to give me big giant detailed answers, I thought, "perfect. Tell me what to do? What is life and what should I do with it? Tell me the whole story, and I will believe."

Maybe from the beginning, I was wired for religion. Maybe religion is for people like me. People who doubt, fear, and question at a painful level. People who never know. People who watch the rest of you all day and think, "how do you know? Why are you so confident?"

Maybe religion is a gift for people like me. People who love rituals, community, tradition, emotion, and tears. A gift. A savior from the stress and lonely pain.

But what happens when you lose the gift or hate the gift or doubt the gift -- what is left? What is life? Am I back on the playground? Back at the fence? How hard will I squeeze the chain links? Will the answers ever come? Will I ever feel peace? Will I ever find a peace that stays? Will i always be a post? A post catholic? a post mormon? A post Unitarian Universalist?

Does the peace ever come for people like me? Does it stay?

Just tell me what to do. Please. I can handle it. I like it. Just tell me what to do.

But don't wrong. I couldn't handle that again.