I have a Saturday's Warrior complex.
Every day, Todd draws a picture of a man who's noble, strong, and makes all the right choices. It's the man he wants to be. A paper dream. But every day, he says to himself that it would be foolish to try to be that man because he'd most likely fail. Every day, Todd beats himself up for not being someone else.
Todd is a masochist, and so am I.
Somewhere in life, I was introduced to the idea that hell was a place you went to be tortured with the constant reminder of who you could have been if you'd only made different choices. Now, the upside to this is for Mormons, hell isn't a permanent place. Permanent hell, or "Outer Darkness," is only for those who've basically come face to face with Jesus, know with certainty the things that most of us have to take on faith, and then decide to turn against Him anyway. Mormon hell, or "Spirit Prison," is the place where unrepentant liars, whores, and other spiritual malcontents like me go to wait until they are resurrected, judged by God, and assigned to be servants of the Celestial pretty people. That doesn't make it any less painful while it lasts, but at least it doesn't last forever.
For the last two days, I've been in hell.
And I have a guy named Josh Weed to thank. In many ways, he is my living, breathing paper dream. I fully expect to have a Times Square-sized poster of Mr. Weed, and his pretty friend, Ty Mansfield, plastered to the wall of my cell in hell. Curious readers can peruse Mr. Weed's words here:
http://www.joshweed.com/2012/06/club-unicorn-in-which-i-come-out-of.html?m=1&fb_source=message
As I read about Mr. Weed's journey, events in my own life kept flashing in front of me, taunting me with what could have been if I had made different choices. I could have been him! I could have had that family, that joy, those children! It didn't matter that our circumstances were markedly different. I should have been more faithful! I should have had more courage! Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth pretty much sums up what went on, so the prophet who described the pains of hell in those terms got it right. My knee-jerk reaction was to resolve then and there that I'd find the courage to do what needed to be done to reclaim what I'd lost. But just as suddenly, I realized I wouldn't be the only one in pain from all this. I have a boyfriend. This would affect him, too.
So I was in hell squared.
Last night, I went to visit my parents and my brother, who is in town from lands down south, to share The Weed with them and talk to them about it. Instead, I spent most of the time playing with my nieces. It was a much better use of my time. I began to feel some peace.
When I arrived home, my boyfriend had left me a note. In essence, it repeated what he'd told me when I showed him around my pit of despair. It said he loved me, and was thinking of me, and wanted what is best for the both of us.
This morning, I put my promise ring back on my finger and let my paper dream fade away. It's only hell while you hold on, and love really is about having the faith to let go.
