50 Years in Polygamy: Big Secrets and Little White Lies Read online

  Back at the Salt Lake County Medical Clinic, I attempted to explain to my newly assigned therapist, Scott, the “who,” “why,” “when,” and “what” of my life. “Little Sophia and I, need to find the courage to live or the courage to die,” I told him.

  Between floods of rage and tears, I told Scott, along with Little Sophia’s horrendous pain and my adult tribulations, we were busy inciting dangerous situations that I wasn’t sure how to handle. If I couldn’t pull myself together, and keep Little Sophia safe from her pain, we’d both die.

  Scott reassured me. “Sophia, you are going to become clear again. As long as you stay in touch with life and with me, you’ll be running smoothly in no time.”

  I gave all of my kids who were home super-long, meaningful hugs, and cuddled two-year-old Keith on my lap. Every day, all day, I repeated my new affirmations. “I am a valuable asset to the adult me, little Sophia, my children, and the universe.”

  Scott was right! One gorgeous morning, after a few weeks of intense therapy, I awoke to gems dancing through the multifaceted prism dangling in my window. They sang of joyous days, weeks, and months ahead. The sunbeams of hope flickered across my pillow, danced around my room and across my face. I knew I would be able to pull my priorities together. I vowed to put Little Sophia first in every thought and action. Until she was well and happy, none of us would be. I told her I would honor her. Even though I was still a little afraid of the bullies on the outside and the inside of our lives, I would do everything in my power to protect her, me, and my children—and other children—from ever being disregarded, rejected, ignored, neglected, or abused.

  Deep inside, I knew the anger I’d directed at my mother for all her imperfections was really aimed at me. She was my scapegoat. Mom had already been way too harsh toward herself for her defects of character. I knew her absence in her children’s lives was the only way she knew how to deal with her own constant heartaches. Even though we didn’t ask her to, every day for years she had been doing her best to make up for those days gone by. She would continue to make amends for the rest of her life. In time, I understood she’d done her best with what she knew. As I forgave her for not being perfect, I was learning to forgive myself for not being perfect. And I too would continue to do the best I could do, even amid my own inadequacies.

  *****

  In June, our oldest son, Jake, ditched his miserable life with our family and moved in with his beautiful girlfriend. While I was happy for him to be away and in love, his moving felt like a confirmation of every inadequacy I ever felt. I was grateful I had already begun to establish a support group, and had Scott’s support in my life, while I beat myself up for my numerous flaws and mistakes.

  CHAPTER 34

  Reconciliation

  1989–1990

  When Michelle at last braved her convictions out loud—“If you will leave Mark and go with me, we will be happy ever after”—I knew our friendship, what she called “a friendship from God,” was in big trouble.

  “She is worse than the devil to me!” Mark shouted. “I hate her! I don’t want her in this house, around you or my kids, ever again. Michelle knows every twisted, conniving, deceitful thing there is to say to take you away from me, and she’s succeeding in doing it. This is worse than having a man after you, Sophia. If she were a man I could beat her up, or at least kick her clear across the parking lot!”

  Though I told Michelle she couldn’t come over to my house anymore, I was afraid of losing her friendship. I was like a child who wanted to dip her fingers into the pot of melting chocolate and keep tasting it, even knowing how hot it was getting. Although I regularly reminded Michelle I was not a lesbian, I sometimes ignored her illusions about “us.” If I pretended long and hard enough I could keep her friendship anyway, and everything would be okay.

  Mark and I continued to fight, to no avail. Each hoped the other would see what the real problems were in our marriage. And I wasn’t sure how to end my friendship with Michelle, which had lasted nearly eight years. She was yanking on one of my arms, while Mark pulled on the other. They were ripping me apart.

  I had terrible stomachaches. I fought with my loyalty to Michelle as her friend and tried to resist the sexual experiences she wanted us to try. She was determined to win my heart as her partner and lover. She’d beg and bribe. She tried with all she could muster to convince me she would love and care for me more than anyone ever could.

  Michelle’s whole world was rapidly falling apart. As directed by her therapist, she had tried to work things out with her mother. But her mother refused to help her or to take any responsibility for the sexual, physical, and verbal abuse she allowed Michelle and her siblings to suffer from their so-called perfect father.

  Six or seven year old Michelle remembered her mother was leaving for another man, again. She chased her mother down the street screaming, “Please Mommy, take me with you! Don’t leave me. I’ll be a good girl. Please don’t leave me, Mommy, please! I promise I’ll be good.”

  The rejection and agony of “coming out,” and the coldhearted responses she received from her family and relatives, was destroying Michelle. She’d been told there never was nor ever would be a place in God’s kingdom for gays and lesbians—especially not for those who had been taught the fulness of the gospel, accepted it, and then refused to live a life of celibacy, preferring to give in to their so-called evil desires.

  Michelle cried in frustration. “According to our priesthood doctrine, I can’t even have my children in this life or in the hereafter!”

  Just like my eldest brother’s first wife who divorced him, Michelle would also be considered an apostate. She too would be required by priesthood law to leave her children with her husband. Michelle would have to be forced into another realization. She couldn’t have me either—now or ever.

  At South Valley Mental Health, Michelle’s psychiatrist invited us to have a seat across from each other. I was sure Michelle’s stomach was as tangled in knots as mine.

  “Michelle,” Big Bear started, “Sophia has some things she has to tell you, and you need to hear her out.”

  Michelle already had a good idea what our meeting was about. To hide her pain she kept her head buried on top of her knees.

  “Go ahead, Sophia,” Big Bear said. “Remember you will need to be unequivocally honest with Michelle so she will hear you.”

  I started with, “Well, Michelle, Scott, my therapist, required—well more like demanded—I had to start being honest with myself first, and then I could be honest with you and others.”

  When Michelle’s eyes met mine I saw her anger. My voice began to quiver, and my heart pounded so hard I couldn’t speak. Big Bear moved his footstool next to me, put his bulky arm around my shoulders, and pulled me next to his chest. “I’m here, Sophia, go ahead.”

  I started again. “Michelle, I’ve been trying in my lousy, inadequate, stupid, codependent way to let you know my feelings and thoughts. I’ve tried in every way possible to—”

  She cut me off. “I know what you’re going to tell me, Sophia! Just spit it out!”

  “That’s just it! Your anger and pain scare me! It’s always been hard for me to express things you don’t want to hear. You always seethe in silence, flip out and barge off, or talk me into doing something different from what I really need or want to do. One way or another, you always win!”

  “Just say it! Spit it out, Sophia! I am a big girl! I can handle it!” Michelle shouted.

  I stammered on. “Well, I already knew—and so do you, if you will admit it—I am not a lesbian. I can’t be and never will be, no matter how much you want that. I won’t leave my kids ever, for anything or anyone. I won’t go with you, Michelle. My feelings will never change. No matter how much I love you and you love me, I will always be me—a heterosexual woman!”

  “I don’t believe you, Sophia! You enjoyed my affection and the messing around we did!”

  I waited to compose and express myself the right way. Afte
r a few minutes of silence, I tried again. “Most of that was a lie, Michelle. I didn’t like you to kiss me. I never did feel comfortable with your hugging or holding me close like I do with Mark.”

  Michelle leaned in toward me and exploded. “Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  “I did! Every time I tried, you would yell or try to convince me my feelings and thoughts weren’t real! You’d say, ‘Love and affection doesn’t have to come from a man, Sophia!’ You’d cry or freak out when I had an opinion different from yours. You wouldn’t hear anything I had to say unless it was what you wanted to hear. That’s why I had to ask Big Bear for help.”

  “Then why did you let me kiss and hug you, Sophia? If you hated it, why did you fucking go along with it?”

  “I just told you! You already know the answers! In every way possible I tried to avoid situations or places that might entice you. Everything about my life thus far has been about everyone else. What you, Mark, my kids, everyone else needs and wants—what I should and shouldn’t do to protect all of you. I thought I had to save you from your pain, from falling apart, from feeling rejected, devastated, and suicidal.”

  “You’re full of shit, Sophia! Even here in front of Big Bear you still haven’t got the balls to tell me the truth!”

  Big Bear asked. “What are you talking about, Michelle?”

  “She enjoyed the affection part—I know she did.”

  Big Bear looked at me and waited for me to respond.

  “There was only one time I was really turned on, Michelle. The time you touched my breasts and between my legs after we had a few too many drinks. The rest of the times when you tried to kiss or hold me, I pretended it was okay, or I pulled away. I was just too afraid of hurting you! I am so sorry, Michelle. I hated being dishonest with me and with you. It made me feel sick, inside and out. I didn’t know how to get you to hear me. Remember about eight months ago when you and I first talked to Dad about touching each other? He told us to ‘repent and sin no more.’ I felt a relief beyond measure because I thought you would stick with it. I counted on you to respect his advice as well. But you started in again, pressuring me to test myself, to see if I was really gay or not when I already knew I wasn’t! I have no choice but to end “us.” That’s why we are here today.”

  “You know what, Sophia?” Michelle jumped up in front of me and glared daggers. “I fucking hate you! I’ll never trust you ever again! And I never want to see you again!” She stormed out of Big Bear’s office.

  I sobbed. “No matter how much relief I feel in telling her all of that, I still feel responsible for her pain and feelings of rejection,” I told Big Bear.

  He put his large hand over mine. “Scott will be proud of you! I sure am! And Michelle will be all right, Sophia. She’ll get through this. It took a lot of courage for you to be honest with her. Let her go. Stop feeling responsible for her feelings, her dysfunction and hostility toward you. Don’t let yourself buy it back! Keep honoring yourself, Sophia. I am proud of you.”

  *****

  After another of Mark’s raging, name-calling fits at seven-year-old Karleen and five-year-old Anne for childhood laughter and games he didn’t approve of, we ended up in yet another horrible fight. I called him the next morning at Diane’s and told him I needed him to move out of our house for a while.

  “Your kids have had more than enough abuse,” I told him. “I should have stopped your verbal attacks a long time ago! I don’t want to fight with you, Mark. I’ve had more than enough fighting, and it never does any good.”

  We were at a stalemate. During our separation our phone conversations were always the same old, same old. We’d banter back and forth before one of us would get frustrated and hang up.

  *****

  The phone rang at least ten times before I finally picked it up.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Jake asked urgently on the other end of the line. “I need your help!”

  “What’s going on, Jake?”

  “Jenna and I are on our way back from Montana. We got stranded here in Idaho Falls. Can you and Dad come get us, or help us get going again? Listen, Mom, I wouldn’t impose on you, but we don’t know who else to call.”

  “There’s nothing I’d love more than to get away! I want to help you and see you two again. I’m so happy you’re coming down. But I don’t have a car that will—”

  “Mom,” Jake interrupted, “we have to hurry! The guy here said we can leave our car for a couple of hours, and then we have to move it.”

  “I’ll figure it out, Jake. Give me ten minutes then call me back.”

  The last thing I wanted to happen was for Mark and Diane to go get my son. I could call a friend or one of my brothers to ask for a ride up there to rescue Jake. Then I realized this might be the chance I’d been hoping for—a way to open the doors of reconciliation with Mark, especially now that Michelle hadn’t been in the picture for months.

  Her absence from my life was another exchange process in my recovery. Her consistent loyalty had wrapped me in blind security, giving me false self-esteem as I saw myself through her opinions. Her friendship kept me from opening my heart and soul to a higher power outside of the absent and wrathful God I grew up with. I allowed Michelle’s well-meant, intellectual, and biased opinions to be my higher power. Her disappearance tossed me back into the lonely vulnerability of the unknown. I had no choice other than to figure out how to get back up on my own.

  As my OA program recommended, I’d began giving my will over to a higher power I could trust. I still wasn’t sure who or what form that was. But I begged my deity to pour out some unequivocal wisdom about my past “self-will run riot.” I began to give up believing everything was Mark’s fault and not mine. I asked my invented Creator what I should have done differently. What was the best thing I could do from here on out, every day in my future?

  That nearly three-month-long separation from Mark and Michelle offered the opportunity for soul searching. In what part of our lives had I been wrong? I’d been so busy blaming him for countless wrongdoings. I’d blamed his failures for the shambles of our marriage, when both of us were responsible. I hoped Jake’s rescue would be ours, too. This might be the opportunity for some one-on-one time with Mark to make amends. If we were supposed to be together again, it would work out. If not, I would have at least made an effort amid a critical transition period in my life.

  Mark agreed to borrow Diane’s new car. He and I headed toward Pocatello, Idaho, with hopes of a grand reconciliation. We knew it would take both of us to break down years of barriers, as well as our own stubbornness. The silence in the miles already gone by was excruciating. My heart wouldn’t stop its nervous, disconcerting rhythm. Even after twenty years of marriage, my stomach convulsed at the thought of talking with Mark about our problems.

  “I might as well go for it,” I finally said in a lighthearted tone. “It can’t be any worse than it’s ever been.”

  “Yeah, go for it.” Mark smiled at me.

  “Before you came to get me, I wrote all this down so I wouldn’t chicken out or say things I hadn’t thought through.” I opened the envelope. “I’d like you to listen to me read all of this, without interrupting me. Then when I’m all done, I’ll listen to you without jumping in. Okay?”

  As I started to read my letter, the pale blue stationery shook in my hands along with my voice, but I kept going anyway.

  Dear Mark,

  When we first separated, I felt a lot of pain and sorrow for both of us. Neither of us understood or accepted each other’s stand. This short but quality time without you or Michelle in my life has been a gift to me.

  You blamed our troubles on Michelle’s presence, and I blamed it on too many years of non-communication, with our major contention being religion and child-rearing differences.

  I’m sure you know as well as I do we are both right and both wrong. Michelle came into my life during another crisis in our marriage. She tried and did in many ways
fill many of the empty and missing pieces in my life. And even though I felt an “unhealthy sense of being” in that friendship, it was better, I believed, than no relationship at all. She loved and validated me as a mother, woman, and friend. She believed in my intellect and potential enough to pull me out of the depths of my hell. She rescued me from my desired death, and nurtured my ego and soul with love and adoration. Many times, when we were without food, and our phone, heat, and power, was about to be or had been shut off for non-payment, she came through there as well. She was there for me in many ways when you weren’t.

  But, as you’ve said so many times before, and as I have realized—hopefully not too late—Michelle is so smart, she knowingly or unconsciously persuaded, manipulated, and controlled me in contrary directions, away from you, and away from finding me.

  I know you despised her. I can’t blame you; but I will always love her for the good she’s brought into my life during, before, and after all the hours, days, and months and years you weren’t there for us.

  But most of all, Mark, I dearly love you! You’ve given a huge chunk of your life to our children and me. You have made many sacrifices for us. And even in the midst of your frustration and anger you cared and loved us every day of our lives. I love you because you love me. In between our conflicts, you are tender, caring, and giving. You are the man I made covenants with. You are the man I want a deep friendship with—the one I need and want for the rest of my life.

  By the time I’d read most of the letter, tears filled Mark’s eyes. He pulled off the freeway, wrapped his arms around his head, and rested them against the steering wheel.

  I slid closer and caressed his back with my fingernails. “How can I tell you and show you how much I love you? I wish I could reach into your heart and fuse the broken and missing pieces of your life back together, so you’ll feel whole and strong again.”