Mourning the Loss of My Faith
I have sat down to tell my story so many times. I am surprised that my back space button even still has words on it.
My faith has been declining for some time. For years I read my scriptures and said my prayers every day. Most of my doubts were about the future. As an anxious person, playing the "what if" game is typically how I occupy my time. I would read my patriarchal blessing over and over, clinging to its words like I once did as kid with a magic 8 ball in my hand. No one can dismiss my doubts of the future with blanket statements, so for a long time I have put them on my shelf.
I had brushed off and willingly shelved my concerns about church history. Many had given me answers that were not good enough but at the time I thought the past should stay in the past. After all, I had been baptized; washed clean of previous sin. I didn't want anyone to hold my past over my head so perhaps the church felt the same way. Only now do I realize how silly this is.
I found out about the CES letter in a Facebook group. A woman's husband had read the letter and shortly after decided he did not want to be a member of the church. Unsure if she should read it or ignore it, she made a post seeking the advice of fellow LDS wives. Lots encouraged her to dismiss the letter and to avoid it at all costs. Some even encouraged her to leave her husband because surely, a good man in the church cannot be a good man once he leaves.
Out of desire to give sound advice (and perhaps a little rebellion), I read the letter.
Immediately I raised an eye brow at its contents. I had never heard the majority of this stuff before. At one point, I even remember thinking that I should stop reading it and delete the download from my phone. I felt confused and I have always been told that confusion was not from God but from Satan. Similar to how I felt as an investigator, something was pulling me in despite my surroundings being completely contradictory. The light at the end of a dark 5 year journey had just switched on.
Ive been waist deep in study since then and it feels like I know nothing about this church. It is as if I am leaning about Joseph Smith for the first time, because the man I use to revere couldn't possibly be the same man that married 14 year old girls or other men's wives. Never before had I recognized the sexism and racism spewing from the mouths of our leaders past and present. Although I saw red flags when it came to patriarchy and the lack of sexual health within the church, I was blissfully unaware that some of my greatest friends were being told that they needed to repent for being raped. I had no clue that sometimes this rape was at the hands of beloved bishops, stake presidents, and sometimes mission presidents. Missions all over the world were doing dirty and corrupt things to increase their baptisms. Women and their husbands are having their temple recommends taken away because of public breast feeding.
What is this church I belong to?
Initially I was shocked. I have spent a lot of time cross referencing sources and I couldn't believe that this has been here for me to find the whole time. Why didn't I spend more time researching before I was baptized?
For two weeks it seemed like all I did was cry. In the shower. In the car. It wouldn't take much to pull open the wound. Naturally, my "What If" questions ran rampant. What if our family shuns us? What if everyone I grew to love as a missionary turn their backs?
In between my bouts of crocodile tears, I feel anger. Real anger. I am mad about all the lies and partial truths I was told by the Elders who taught me. I am pissed that I lied to many, including my sweet mom, in attempt to get them to join the fold. I have been betrayed. The rug has been pulled from under my feet. Not to mention, thousands of people are hurt and even killing themselves because of the policies and doctrines this church claims come from God. I am mad because all of the shame, guilt, and thousands of dollars in tithing/fast offerings were for a brainwashing cult.
Initially I thought that I would keep this to myself. I had spent months going through the repentance process to be sealed to my husband, who prior to dating me, had no interest in coming back to the church. It was my fault I dragged him back and if I were to tell him about all I read in the CES letter, it might feel like I am forcing him to believe one way or another. Luckily, that fear quickly dissipated because my husband is my best friend and my biggest supporter. Together we decided that we would be willing to play the role while we searched things out. Put two intellectual and skeptical people in front of the google search engine and years worth of information will be shared between the two in a matter of days. It didn't take very long for both of us to reach the conclusion that we didn't want to be members of the church any more.
Its becoming increasingly difficult to remain quiet and I was kidding myself when I believed I would be able to maintain neutral ground. Post after post on social media in some way displays the anger and pain I feel. I've been called out on it too and I gave up on trying to pretend it isn't happening. The glass shatters over and over every time a TBM comments in combative ways, encouraging the gas-lighting by exclaiming their unwavering faith in a group of men who haven't done anything to earn their title as Prophets, Seers and Revalaters. The true fruits of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints have been strewn about my Facebook page, out of the mouths of those private messaging me, insisting they are helping me, not judging me. I was warned before my baptism that I would find myself facing much opposition because Satan didn't want me to be happy. He didn't want me to make this choice. To my surprise, I found little to no opposition. Family that weren't particularly supportive of the religion itself were still happy that I was happy. Some friends stopped talking to me, but when you participate in vastly different social circles that is only natural. To take it one step further, I was encouraged to hold to the rod and stay in the boat. Leaving would only rob me of joy and my eternal family.
Having been on both sides of the fence and back again, I can say that even as a missionary in the drunkest state in America, I was never met with this much opposition. How is that even possible?
I looked up the stages of grief today. This whole experience feels a lot like my first break up or the pain I felt over the loss of my brother back in November. I even had a moment where I was ready to run to the temple and stay there until they kicked me out. I did not want this to be my truth... but here we are. I am truly mourning the loss of my faith.
I never understood why people removed their records from the church. Now I not only understand but see it in my near future. How did I get here? I have cut the puppet strings but I am still dangerously entangled in this Mormon mess. I don't want to live a double life, yet I am wearing garments to family functions. Within the walls of our home we have changed the principles we will raise our children on, yet when we leave we are to happily smile and tuck the truth away. How do I make the transition without simultaneously throwing myself under the bus and breaking hearts?
Navigating through the twists and turns of a faith crisis is exhausting. Is God there? Is he even real? I have questioned every spiritual experience I have ever had. What was once chalked up to be the Spirit testifying of the Church's divinity has been realized to only be intense emotion correlating with my desire to fit in with a group of people that promised to never abandon me. I don't know where I came from, where I am going, or what the fuck I am doing here, in Salt lake City. What once made me feel whole has left me feeling distance from my own soul. The tired missionary and burnt out convert in me seek refuge and peace; a sweet release from the death grip they have on a made up book. I can't even look at a picture of the Savior without feeling my blood boil. My relationship with Him came through the Mormon lens. I now have no idea who this man really is or what He truly teaches.
It kind of feels like a grease fire in your kitchen. You turn your back for one second and the frying pan catches on fire. It spreads to the curtains. Which fire do you put out first? I always thought this felt like a pretty impossible question to answer. How do you organize chaos?
Now, I have found an alternative answer that seems like the better option: Let the whole damn house burn to the ground. You can rebuild. The world is full of opportunity and goodness when you are no longer in a religious choke hold. Embrace the flame so you get to decide what foundation you stand on.
I am seeing why its been so difficult to tell my story. Truth is, its still being written. Day after day I am finding parts of myself that had been buried in the depths of that baptismal font. There was a time I thought my self-discovery had been completed; no rock left un-turned. The CES letter was like a tap on the shoulder, making me turn around to see all of the truth I have yet to discover.
So, Cheers to the fire, forcing me to live without apology. I wonder where my truth-seeking heart will bring me next.
My faith has been declining for some time. For years I read my scriptures and said my prayers every day. Most of my doubts were about the future. As an anxious person, playing the "what if" game is typically how I occupy my time. I would read my patriarchal blessing over and over, clinging to its words like I once did as kid with a magic 8 ball in my hand. No one can dismiss my doubts of the future with blanket statements, so for a long time I have put them on my shelf.
I had brushed off and willingly shelved my concerns about church history. Many had given me answers that were not good enough but at the time I thought the past should stay in the past. After all, I had been baptized; washed clean of previous sin. I didn't want anyone to hold my past over my head so perhaps the church felt the same way. Only now do I realize how silly this is.
I found out about the CES letter in a Facebook group. A woman's husband had read the letter and shortly after decided he did not want to be a member of the church. Unsure if she should read it or ignore it, she made a post seeking the advice of fellow LDS wives. Lots encouraged her to dismiss the letter and to avoid it at all costs. Some even encouraged her to leave her husband because surely, a good man in the church cannot be a good man once he leaves.
Out of desire to give sound advice (and perhaps a little rebellion), I read the letter.
Immediately I raised an eye brow at its contents. I had never heard the majority of this stuff before. At one point, I even remember thinking that I should stop reading it and delete the download from my phone. I felt confused and I have always been told that confusion was not from God but from Satan. Similar to how I felt as an investigator, something was pulling me in despite my surroundings being completely contradictory. The light at the end of a dark 5 year journey had just switched on.
Ive been waist deep in study since then and it feels like I know nothing about this church. It is as if I am leaning about Joseph Smith for the first time, because the man I use to revere couldn't possibly be the same man that married 14 year old girls or other men's wives. Never before had I recognized the sexism and racism spewing from the mouths of our leaders past and present. Although I saw red flags when it came to patriarchy and the lack of sexual health within the church, I was blissfully unaware that some of my greatest friends were being told that they needed to repent for being raped. I had no clue that sometimes this rape was at the hands of beloved bishops, stake presidents, and sometimes mission presidents. Missions all over the world were doing dirty and corrupt things to increase their baptisms. Women and their husbands are having their temple recommends taken away because of public breast feeding.
What is this church I belong to?
Initially I was shocked. I have spent a lot of time cross referencing sources and I couldn't believe that this has been here for me to find the whole time. Why didn't I spend more time researching before I was baptized?
For two weeks it seemed like all I did was cry. In the shower. In the car. It wouldn't take much to pull open the wound. Naturally, my "What If" questions ran rampant. What if our family shuns us? What if everyone I grew to love as a missionary turn their backs?
In between my bouts of crocodile tears, I feel anger. Real anger. I am mad about all the lies and partial truths I was told by the Elders who taught me. I am pissed that I lied to many, including my sweet mom, in attempt to get them to join the fold. I have been betrayed. The rug has been pulled from under my feet. Not to mention, thousands of people are hurt and even killing themselves because of the policies and doctrines this church claims come from God. I am mad because all of the shame, guilt, and thousands of dollars in tithing/fast offerings were for a brainwashing cult.
Initially I thought that I would keep this to myself. I had spent months going through the repentance process to be sealed to my husband, who prior to dating me, had no interest in coming back to the church. It was my fault I dragged him back and if I were to tell him about all I read in the CES letter, it might feel like I am forcing him to believe one way or another. Luckily, that fear quickly dissipated because my husband is my best friend and my biggest supporter. Together we decided that we would be willing to play the role while we searched things out. Put two intellectual and skeptical people in front of the google search engine and years worth of information will be shared between the two in a matter of days. It didn't take very long for both of us to reach the conclusion that we didn't want to be members of the church any more.
Its becoming increasingly difficult to remain quiet and I was kidding myself when I believed I would be able to maintain neutral ground. Post after post on social media in some way displays the anger and pain I feel. I've been called out on it too and I gave up on trying to pretend it isn't happening. The glass shatters over and over every time a TBM comments in combative ways, encouraging the gas-lighting by exclaiming their unwavering faith in a group of men who haven't done anything to earn their title as Prophets, Seers and Revalaters. The true fruits of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints have been strewn about my Facebook page, out of the mouths of those private messaging me, insisting they are helping me, not judging me. I was warned before my baptism that I would find myself facing much opposition because Satan didn't want me to be happy. He didn't want me to make this choice. To my surprise, I found little to no opposition. Family that weren't particularly supportive of the religion itself were still happy that I was happy. Some friends stopped talking to me, but when you participate in vastly different social circles that is only natural. To take it one step further, I was encouraged to hold to the rod and stay in the boat. Leaving would only rob me of joy and my eternal family.
Having been on both sides of the fence and back again, I can say that even as a missionary in the drunkest state in America, I was never met with this much opposition. How is that even possible?
I looked up the stages of grief today. This whole experience feels a lot like my first break up or the pain I felt over the loss of my brother back in November. I even had a moment where I was ready to run to the temple and stay there until they kicked me out. I did not want this to be my truth... but here we are. I am truly mourning the loss of my faith.
I never understood why people removed their records from the church. Now I not only understand but see it in my near future. How did I get here? I have cut the puppet strings but I am still dangerously entangled in this Mormon mess. I don't want to live a double life, yet I am wearing garments to family functions. Within the walls of our home we have changed the principles we will raise our children on, yet when we leave we are to happily smile and tuck the truth away. How do I make the transition without simultaneously throwing myself under the bus and breaking hearts?
Navigating through the twists and turns of a faith crisis is exhausting. Is God there? Is he even real? I have questioned every spiritual experience I have ever had. What was once chalked up to be the Spirit testifying of the Church's divinity has been realized to only be intense emotion correlating with my desire to fit in with a group of people that promised to never abandon me. I don't know where I came from, where I am going, or what the fuck I am doing here, in Salt lake City. What once made me feel whole has left me feeling distance from my own soul. The tired missionary and burnt out convert in me seek refuge and peace; a sweet release from the death grip they have on a made up book. I can't even look at a picture of the Savior without feeling my blood boil. My relationship with Him came through the Mormon lens. I now have no idea who this man really is or what He truly teaches.
It kind of feels like a grease fire in your kitchen. You turn your back for one second and the frying pan catches on fire. It spreads to the curtains. Which fire do you put out first? I always thought this felt like a pretty impossible question to answer. How do you organize chaos?
Now, I have found an alternative answer that seems like the better option: Let the whole damn house burn to the ground. You can rebuild. The world is full of opportunity and goodness when you are no longer in a religious choke hold. Embrace the flame so you get to decide what foundation you stand on.
I am seeing why its been so difficult to tell my story. Truth is, its still being written. Day after day I am finding parts of myself that had been buried in the depths of that baptismal font. There was a time I thought my self-discovery had been completed; no rock left un-turned. The CES letter was like a tap on the shoulder, making me turn around to see all of the truth I have yet to discover.
So, Cheers to the fire, forcing me to live without apology. I wonder where my truth-seeking heart will bring me next.
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