Two Roads Diverged In A Yellow Road...Which Do I Choose?

The next few posts are going to be very hard for me to talk about. I never thought my life could diverge onto one of the hardest roads I have ever walked. The previous post mentions the pain I experienced during my parents' divorce. Starting at age 11-12, my world was rocked, we know that already. The absence of my dad, the lack of affection coming from my mom were strong triggers to what started a very painful sexual addiction. If you don't wish to read some of these words, I completely understand. Not everybody understands an addiction like this. There are still some people even in the psychiatric community, who don't believe sexual addiction is indeed an addiction. I could go into the scientific facts as to how sex and acts involving sexual things affect the brain, but I'll spare you. I can't exactly pinpoint when it was that my experimenting happened, but I started masturbating late at night, even acting out with my stuffed animals, pretending they were people. I never looked at pornography until I was in college.

I would masturbate on a regular basis in high school and listen to music with sexual innuendos. But, my real pain started in 2009. I was 21, in the middle of college, I never had a boyfriend in high school, I was never popular, I hardly went on any dates. Fitting in has never been my forte. I was involved in choir and theater, always eating with the "drama geeks". In 2006, I graduated from high school, but the year before, I became acquainted with a guy my sister went to high school with and who, ironically, was the brother-in-law of my best friend's sister. John was charming; talented; handsome; affectionate. He performed with my A Cappella choir a couple of times, I went to family activities when he was there. I befriended him on Facebook. I talked to him on FB chat a time or two. Everything was going great. I even went to see him at Tuacahn, an amphitheatre in St George in a couple of shows. Everything changed in 2009 when my best friend told me he came out of the closet to his family. Even some of my family members who knew him questioned his sexuality. I've never had the best "gaydar". What really hurt me was, after emailing him over and over and over, he complained to his family, calling me a "stalker". I ripped up his CD he gave me, pictures I had of him and buried myself in the closet in tears. I would act out scenes in my head with him and I, often being romantic.

I started skipping school, coming home and barricading myself in my room. Being somewhat curious as to what would make a gay lifestyle so appealing, I went on YouTube and found myself looking at gay porn. Being an affectionate person already, I found the feeling of kissing, even if they were both the same gender, attractive. But, being frightened at the same time, I phoned my sister who tried to talk me out of looking at any more on the computer-it didn't work. I would look at the same images/videos. My mom, having owned my computer and had the ability to see the websites I looked at, soon learned of my struggle and arranged for me to go to therapy. I went to at least 3 therapists before going to one I stuck with for a number of years. I attended a Womens group, where women were in similar situations like mine. I learned about a website called Craigslist. You may think that website only contains job postings, people selling furniture, etc. But, there were also want ads for sex or sexual activities. Being so deep in the addiction, I decided to check it out. I soon found myself meeting guys from anywhere to a cemetery in my car, in a tent up in the mountains, in various guys' apts, my apt, parking lots, anywhere we could get privacy. I let guys explore my body, make me feel aroused for a number of hours; from the outside looking in, people would say I came so close to being killed. Raped. The scariest part? It didn't compare to the pain I'd experienced at the hands of my family. I almost didn't care.

This meeting with guys went on for at least 7 years, off and on. I attended church, but saw Bishop after Bishop after Bishop, wanting at times to repent. Nothing worked. Here I am, still looking at pornography, having a better idea of how empty it makes me feel. I'm still attending therapy, also using yoga as a way of coping. Addiction cannot be overcome. Only managed. I still feel alone, but have more of an understanding of how addiction affects me. This is not the road I want to take. Two roads diverged. Which do I choose? I still don't know. But, I definitely want to take myself out of the darkness.

I Can't Get No Damn Satisfaction

Imagine growing up in a place where everything is set for you. You get baptized at age 8, you can start dating and driving when you're 16, you're old enough to vote at 18, you serve a mission when you're 19 or 21, you need to get certain health tests done by at least 40. It seems like everything has an age. Well, I was baptized at age 8, got my license at 16, graduated high school at 18. Then, it seems like everything just sort of changed. That's what life contains; change. I graduated from college at age 24, have never been in a relationship and have lived with my mom for 7 years. I'm 31 years old now. Sad, right? Maybe not to other people; like my mom. The one who was pregnant with me for 9 months. The one that was responsible for me for 18 years. Well, her time is up. She doesn't think so. She's what I would call a "helicopter parent". She still sees and manages some of my finances, pays for my cell phone and computer, she FINALLY let me pitch in to help her pay for my car. I don't have a career, but I have a full-time job; a job where I sit for 8 hours, scanning papers. The papers represent my life, going in and out, in and out; monotonous, nothing interesting, repetitive. Where in the Parenting Manual does it say you have to coddle your children? My sister and I were never taught how to cook, sew, we were taught how to clean. We were never taught how to buy a car, a house; my mom taught me how to balance my checkbook, but it was more like a "do it my way or no way" sort of situation. Lovely, right?

How would I manage if my mom died tomorrow? I would die, too. We're not talking like she's still breastfeeding me, but the word "spoon-feeding" still comes to mind. She say she has faith in me. Do you see any evidence of that in the previous paragraph? What is she waiting for? What am I waiting for? I need a little help, a little guidance. NOT CONTROL. This is where kids who smoke, get tattoos, drop out of school; this is where they come from. Too much control. Worse is, she never tells me I'm pretty, intelligent, nothing positive. SHE'S the one who needs help. Do I wish I had different parents? You betcha. People who actually give a damn. Parents who check in with me, spend quality time with me, tell me they love me just because, brag about the wonderful children that they've raised, and not just talk about how "amazing" or "heroic" they are just because they're disabled and have "beaten the odds". Really? Are there no other qualities you love about me? Where do I go from here? I just wanna run and never look back. I wanna pack my bags, my parents come home, and I'm gone, without a trace. No phone calls, nothing.

Families Can Be Together Forever...just not on Earth

What is taught as the "normal" family? Mom, Dad, sister, brother, pet. We're taught that there can be all sorts of different families; single-parent, grandparents as parents, foster parents, aunts or uncles as parents, the list goes on and on. When you're born, do you get to choose them? No. My parents, Kurt and Melodie, were married Dec 27 1979 in Oakland, California. My dad was born in Waukesha, Wisconsin, while my mom was born in Chico, California. They met at Brigham Young University, the most popular and well-known school in Provo, Utah and met while touring together for the infamous music group, the Young Ambassadors. My mom played piano while my dad was asked to play trumpet. What was my mom's first impression of my dad? He was a complete flirt. Nice smile, good-looking hair, outgoing personality, intelligent, athletic, etc. What was my mom like? Over-achiever, confident, hard-working, intelligent and reserved.
I've never gotten a true answer as to what made them fall in love, but my mom, being raised LDS, was determined to marry an RM, or a returned missionary. My dad, raised Catholic, became a member at age 18. He was determined to win my mom's heart, so he served a 2-year mission to the former Yugoslovia for 2 years. They married when he returned, my mom having graduated and on to teach English while my dad was preparing for his music career. My mom didn't look physically like she does today. She struggled with her weight, but luckily, she had my dad, an avid swimmer, by her side to help her. Both of my parents come from 4 children families, both of them being the oldest. They come from high-achieving families, with my mom's family excelling in school while my dad's family excelled in pretty much everything. They moved to Orem when my dad was around 8. When my grandpa was a swimming coach at BYU, he quickly gained the notoriety he has today. Everywhere I go, I'm asked, "Are you related to...." and Bestor usually follows. I nicknamed them the "Kennedys of Orem".
We were the Bestors. Melodie, Kurt, Kristin and Erika. We were raised in a regular suburban neighborhood in the riverbottoms of Provo, with our beautiful house and a deck overlooking the Provo river. We were loved by everyone in our ward, my dad was quickly gaining popularity as a well-known composer, primarily in the LDS church. All of that changed in October 1999, when my dad came into our family room and started explaining why he had been gone so much. "Your mom and I have decided to divorce." Some of the worst words an 11 year old could hear. 11. Not 13, not 5, but 11. In the middle. Not a teenager yet. I wasn't even going through my worst years when I was going through one of the worst moments of my life. My sister, age 18, was almost in college at this point. She had gone through her teenage drama, with my parents by her side. What was left for me? Pretty soon, my dad was gone. Not out of the state, mind you, but out of the house; away from me. Visitations started happening, promises of making it to a lunch or dinner being broken. My dad still had a website with a comments board on it. Imagine what comments were written by the small amount of fans who knew. Infidelity, lies, secrets all started pouring out. Our "FHE" or Family Home Evenings soon consisted of "talking about Dad". This man I thought I knew, but was way off. But, things started making sense; his behavior when we read scriptures, which was, quite frankly, flippant and comical. His lack of attention to my mom. My vivid memory of a family vacation to Idaho Falls, sitting in our hotel room, hearing my mom crying in the other room. Trying to practice the piano, hearing the same arguing in my dad's den. It all pieced together.
My mom, Kristin and I moved to a smaller, one might say "ghetto" neighborhood in downtown Provo while my dad moved to Salt Lake. That was when I was introduced to the word "stepmom". You know Cinderella, right? Well, it wasn't THAT bad. Holli had 2 daughters from her first marriage. I got to be a big sister, albeit stepsister. I enjoyed being with little Hannah and Abbi. Little did I know what a horrible arrangement that marriage was. Only 7 months did it last; pretty soon, I was put into a "he said she said" war. Insults after insults started coming, mostly from her. A newspaper article in 2001 even came out, somewhat exposing my dad's inner demons. His parents, my former stepmom and even my mom were asked to comment. Who do you think was the nice one? The wife who just barely got left or the one he had spent 20 years and had 2 children with? Yep, you guessed it. My mom was amazing, raving about his talents, his infectious personality; not mentioning the years of pain he had subjected her to. It took overwhelming amounts of prayer and thought, mind you. But, she did it. Granted, the divorce could've been much worse. Money could've been involved, physical or sexual abuse could've taken place. That should make this all a good thing, right?
My dad went from living from loft to apt in Salt Lake City, pretty soon meeting his current wife. My second stepmom. I should be used to this routine now, right? But, the garments were off, an earring was placed, and a whole new Kurt Bestor emerged. Yes, I'm being over-dramatic; but who, do you ask, would work with someone who didn't believe in divorce, had the gift of the Holy Spirit, as we call it, in him, and yet did all of these things he was taught never to do? Nobody. Pretty soon, my dad was, shall we say, "abandoned" by some people who worked with and looked up to him. Why? Because of his religious beliefs, or lack thereof. How did I feel? His daughter? His flesh and blood? Torn. Devastated. Angry. I soon found out my current stepmother was not LDS at all. I wasn't 100%, as we say, "Molly Mormon", but I was pretty shocked. Little did I know they had actually met in the early 80's while Petrina was working for a man we all know as Robert Redford, she being from Kenya and being his cultural consultant for one of his films. Had they hooked up earlier, what would've happened, I wonder?
I had hoped that was the end of my pain and I could finally settle and accept my dad's life for what it was. But, in 2009, there was a surprise I didn't see coming. As I took a break from work, my cell phone rang and my dad asked me the following: "What is the craziest thing your dad could ever do?" Boy, was that a long list! Being taken back by this question, I immediately replied, "Get a tattoo?" Nope. I paused and said, "Petrina's pregnant?" What followed? Laughter. Was I humorously shocked? No. I was legitimately shocked. Memories flooded back to 6 years before, when they were engaged. "Dad, will you and Petrina ever have children?" "No," he replied. "Petrina has her cats (she had 3 at the time) and I have you and Kristin". Was I wearing earplugs when I heard that? Did I not hear him right? Pretty soon, I didn't have a stepsister. I had a half-sister. Half of my dad. She has one half and I have the other half. I immediately went into "little girl" mode. "I want to be his little girl. He called me Shmerika and squeezed my cheeks." The tears started coming and wouldn't stop. Do I love Ella? Sure. But, she didn't have herself. She didn't spend thousands of dollars to have herself through in vitro fertilization. Now, I'm faced with my dad going on family vacations-camping, Kenyan safaris-all without me. Yes, it's been 17 years since the divorce. Yes, my dad has been married to Petrina for 13 years now. Years don't make a difference. Time heals all wounds? Not in this case. Perhaps it would be different if my dad wasn't in the public eye. Perhaps it would be different if Petrina wasn't so highly praised by my dad in the public eye. Perhaps it would be different if my dad had a little bit more humble attitude and realized how I truly feel. Perhaps. Maybe not. Maybe never.

How do you live in reality when you're constantly exposed to things you read or see every day, but you're not actually there? You don't know the real story? Sure, you can form your own opinions, but some people are too trusting or too gullible. I've never liked the word "fan"; it suggests an unrealistic liking to something or someone that's only a commodity. I've never met him, talked to him, touched him or been in the same room with him, but I have taken an unrealistic liking to Johnny Depp.

It's too bad I'm not the only person who thinks the following things about him; he's sensitive, he's romantic, he's tender, he's sweet, he's friendly, he's funny, he doesn't care about people's backgrounds, like race, religion, economic status, looks, etc. He loves people for people. This quote has always been in my mind and has only added to my torture of not being with him.

"It's ok to be different; it's good to be different. We should question ourselves before we pass judgment on someone who looks different, talks, different, behaves different, is a different color." For those people who know me, this concept has been a passion of mine for a long time; treating people as people, not as outcasts. Yes, Johnny smokes. Yes, he's had drinking problems. But, he's a good man, I feel it so strongly! I can only think of him. There's no way to get in touch with him, talk to him, nothing. I only make stories up in my head of us together, not necessarily all sexual. I imagine us working together musically, I imagine us talking together about philosophy and culture. I also love his openness and somewhat rebellious nature in choosing what to do for yourself; don't listen to other people's opinions; he never has, not with his movie choices, how he dresses, how he lives his life, nothing. I SO envy that. If someone has a magic answer as to how to get rid of Johnny Depp in my life, I welcome it. Please don't judge me. This is hard enough, holding onto someone I don't even know, doesn't even know I exist. Why does reality have to suck so much?

This quote by Gandhi is extremely profound. This whole blog is dedicated to my personal thoughts; my personal struggles; my personal fears; my personal hell. I was raised LDS my whole life; Latter Day Saint. Mormon. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was taught to go to church every Sunday, to say my morning/evening prayers, to study the scriptures daily, to take the Sacrament, to keep the Sabbath day holy, to love one another, to watch and read appropriate materials, to wear appropriate clothing, to judge righteously, to not take the Lord's name in vain, to keep the 10 Commandments which include; Thou Shalt Not Kill, Thou Shalt not Covet, Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness, Thou Shalt Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself...

I was also taught that there is such a thing as free agency. I was taught that there's a Plan of Salvation. Jesus Christ and Satan were at war. Satan wanted a plan where everyone did what he wanted them to do. God and Jesus Christ wanted a plan where His children were given free agency to choose what they wanted to do. Something that has been one of the number one frustrations is choice. We all have choices. We all have consequences to those choices. Think of your parents. When you don't do what they want you to do, how do they react? They're sad. They're disappointed. Some are angry. Some are frustrated. Now, let's talk about unconditional love. The dictionary defines "unconditional" as "Not subject to any conditions". What are conditions? "a state of affairs that must exist or be brought about before something else is possible or permitted". 

Your parents would NEVER say, "In order for me to love you, you must meet the following conditions. Do parents have a right to believe in what they believe? Absolutely! Do their children? You bet. So, in order for my parents to love me, for example, my mom is a firm believer in the church. Always has been, always will be. That's her right. Does she have a right to choose whether she loves me or not? Yes. Just because your parents had you, doesn't mean they're obligated to love you, as horrible as that might sound. Does God have a right to love certain people? Yes. Does He have a right to choose who He wants to love? Yes. But, is He selective? NO! So-I ask you. Will God love you if you're a lesbian? Yes! Will God love you if you're a smoker? Yes! Will God love you if you choose to not believe in the church you were raised in? Yes! 

Now, some people might say, "Well, that's dangerous, because you're choosing not to live the consequences of your actions." Not in my case. I'm not burning crosses, I'm not leading a rally that is all for hating God and those who follow Him. I am simply choosing and exercising my right to live the way I want to live. I am not turning my back on the teachings I was raised with. I am simply exploring. I am being honest with myself. I'd rather do that than lie and sink deeper into lies and hurt those I love because of my secrets. I wouldn't say I've 100% given up on Church. I am trying to find out who I am. I am not just gonna go to church because my family wants me to, that's how I was raised so it's a habit, it'll make everyone around me happy. That is not what life is about!! Life is a journey. There is opposition. There's doubt that goes with faith. I am giving myself a voice. I just hope I have everyone's support from beginning to end. This is my journey.