Stress from Mormon grandma

My family left the church a few years ago, I think the summer before I turned 15. My parents had been distancing us from it for a while, but it took them some time to realize that they could just leave. So they had a talk with my younger siblings and I to explain it. I was so upset at first. I’d been taught my whole life that this was the only way to get to heaven; what would happen to our souls now? But as I got a bit older, I did my own research and slowly came to the opinion that the church is BS.

My Grandma does not agree with this. From the moment she found out about my parents’ decision, she became very firmly convinced that we were going to hell. Specifically my mom (her daughter) and myself, because apparently I was old enough that I should have gone on my own. She didn’t tell me any of this to my face. But I received a lot of passive-aggressive texts about it to the point where my mom had to sit me down and tell me about Grandma calling and angrily yelling about how I’m going to hell because I won’t go to church out of teenage rebellion. Yes, she seriously said that by agreeing with my parents, I must be rebelling.

Grandma is in town this week, and she hung out with us for an afternoon. My mom wasn’t comfortable with it, but also isn’t quite at the point where she feels she can say no to stuff like this.

My two youngest siblings know that Grandma wishes we went to church, but that’s about the extent of it. My 15 year old sister is the only one who really knows the whole situation. I was wishing that something would happen and Grandma wouldn’t come, because I didn’t want something to happen that would make her snap in front of the younger ones. But come she did.

The feeling of having to censor what I say was so weird. I have very fortunate circumstances when it comes to my immediate family. If I disagree with my parents on a philosophical or political issue, we have a friendly discussion. My being bi? A non issue. But with Grandma, I was basically shoved into the closet. When she arrived, I was upstairs reading Last Night at the Telegraph Club, a very gay novel. I checked the cover. It had two girls, but they were in shadow and one of them was very butch. Should be fine. The issue is that odds were high she’d ask about the plot if I walked past her with it. My options were 1) Tell the truth and potentially cause a homophobic lecture to occur in front of my little sister who has confided in me that she may or may not like girls. 2) Lie or avoid the question. Problem is, my siblings can tell if I’m telling a bald-faced lie. This would also arouse suspicion. So, I went with option 3: give a summary that doesn’t make it sound too gay. I rehearsed it in the bathroom briefly and went downstairs where, sure enough, she asked about the plot of my book. “It’s a romance set in 1950’s Chinatown. A girl who wants to make airplanes falls in love with an aspiring pilot.”

If this sounds like a lot of work over two sentences, yeah, it is. But I didn’t know what else to do.

The rest of the visit went okay, I guess. Grandma went on a rant about the dangers of coffee and how it’s bad to drink even once. But once that was over, we got her to play a card game with us, so that was kind of enjoyable.

I feel guilty for being glad she’s leaving. I know she loves me and this is her way of expressing concern. I dunno what else to say…