Day 85: Now that I’m 30

It was silly, to be sure. I walked in and found them contemplating wedding rings, and I just lost it. I grabbed the catalogue from Nate’s hands and threw it across our apartment living room — a gesture I hoped would be comedic but wasn’t.

Never one to own my emotions particularly well, or to even recognize them really, this was the only option to express all the things I was feeling deep down somewhere — loss, fear, abandonment, even envy maybe.

For I knew what this meant. Nate would go on and leave us. BYU and the church and the whole goddamned notion of the nuclear family would separate him out, into married-people housing and married-people wards, and leave us to rot in our single-people housing and single-people wards, attending inane game nights and socials for the rest of our existence until we died or got married —

— or just turned 30.

(This is Day 85 of a 100-day project. For more about When I Was Mormon, read the introductory post. To access older posts, visit latest stories and scroll down.)