Losing Albuquerque

* I always had a feeling there was more to life. More meaning, more beauty, more details to be seen. But was there a purpose in the meaning? Some grander objective that I, along with everyone else, spent countless time pondering. Was there an answer to everything the world pleads to know on a daily basis? Yes, there was.

An answer that fixed life's complexities like a bandaid. An answer that satisfied the need to be fulfilled and purposeful. An answer that inevitably failed me. The answer?

Being raised in an organized religion that had everything laid out for you. Laid out like a library. Search for a book that represented one of life's big questions and there. You read it. You read it again. And that's that. The book is put back on the shelf waiting for the next sorrowful soul to pick it up. Or you don't wait for them to pick it up, you bring it to them. By knocking on their door, leaving it under their doormat, approaching them uncomfortably in a Starbucks. That's how I was raised, to approach strangers and preach to them that I had life's answers at the impressive age of 10. And if they turned us away, refused the word of Jehovah.. well at least we tried and He loves us for it. We are gaining favor with Him.

At the meetings, where Witnesses gather for their worship, it is preached how every age group has their own territory to conquer. For children and teenagers it is expected that even though they aren't able to go door to door preaching every day, school is their place for ministry.

When I was in elementary school the biggest thing I feared was giving into the temptation of eating the birthday donut. The donut, the cupcake, the cookie. If I were to give into eating one of these things that a student had brought in for their birthday, I was just as guilty for celebrating a pagan holiday and beheading John the Baptist myself. Although, it wasn't King Herod's birthday. There were no beheadings, no evil spirits summoned, but yet I couldn't have the donut. But I did have it. Sometimes.

I would start feeling guilt and shame from kindergarten up until high school. It was hard to understand and I felt separated. I felt this immediate wall being built as soon as a student proudly announced it was their birthday. I felt an immediate hole in my stomach when I went to school on a Holiday. Knowing I'd have to sit outside in the hallway by myself while the Christmas or Valentines Day Party was happening inside. Every now and then however I would be sent to my guidance counselors office, Ms. Frank. I had been a regular of hers throughout elementary school because my parents were concerned their divorce would effect my behavior. My mother was worried that I hated the color pink, that I spoke loudly, that I wanted to wear clothes too big for me. And I will always thank Mrs. frank for simply replying to my mother "Maybe that's just who Cheyanne is." And it is who I was. I was loud, I had opinions, I confidently chased boys from one side of the playground to the other, I stood up for myself. And as time went on, things shifted. As time went on, I started to see this deeper barrier between me and the other kids. Their parents were having each other over for play dates, they were trying out different sports, and I. I was going home after school to watch Judge Judy and Reba on CW4 in a little dark bedroom in the back of my grandmothers house. Isolated for a few hours before my parents got off work to take me home where we would watch 4 more hours of TV before it was time for bed. That was my life 5 days a week, for years. TV became one of my closest allies. It was there for me when I needed friends, when I wanted to laugh, when I wanted to cry.

I felt very alone for the most part of my childhood, I felt disconnected from everyone besides my sister. When my parents got divorced I was at the age of 3 and that's when we started going back and forth between mom and dad. I have very few photos of them together and no memory of it at all. I've never once in my life said the phrase "mom and dad" In a sentence. Mom was shunned for a few iyears after the divorce, while dad was allowed to remain in the organization. I had really never given much thought as to why or how they got divorced, that's just how it was and I couldn't imagine them together anyways. But later on l learned that even though she was the one that got disfellowshipped, dad is the one who cheated on her first and she cheated in return. The elders found him more repentant. I knew none of this until I was fifteen. I look back and wish I had been able to feel more empathy for my mom, she was alone and isolated after a failed marriage at a young age with two children. However, because she became so depressed it was hard to be around her even as a child. Our interactions were rarely intimate.