the day

This is a significant day for the FTA family. We finally wrote, signed, notarized, and sent our resignation letter to Salt Lake (cc'ed to the local bishop), priority mail with delivery confirmation. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as we were signing those letters, and the notary public put all the official stamps and imprints on it.


I've been meaning to write a post about resignation, the debate about whether or not to bother, and why I hadn't done it yet--these two years as a non-believing, non-attender--but I'll save that for another post. I just want to bask in the satisfaction of having sealed the letter in the envelope and sent it to good ol' Mr. Dodge in Member Services.

If you want information or advice about resignation from the LDS church, see Mormon No More, and great resource put together by Kathy Worthington, may she rest in peace. I regret that I didn't do this earlier so I could thank her personally.

Main Street Plaza

If you haven't already, do head over to the Main Street Plaza, a nearly-started hub for all things post-Mormon. It strives to be a place comfortable for post-Mormons, alternative Mormons, and faithful Mormons who want to engage with the likes of us. They also have an amazing blogroll, including bloggernacle (mostly faithful Mormons) and outer blogness (mostly ex/former/post Mormons) blogs alike.

I have contributed one post so far, staking a claim.

I'm reproducing the post below, but to see the comments others posted, follow the link above.

Since moving away from the LDS church, I’ve explored how I feel about my new identity. Am I still Mormon? Do I want to identify as Mormon? Even if I deny that I am Mormon, am just lying to myself? Will I always be Mormon, somehow? It is, after all, not just my upbringing, but my heritage. I grew up in Utah county, daughter and granddaughter to many generations of Mormons.

People who are from other faith backgrounds still think of me as Mormon, just non-practicing. Some faithful Mormons still think of me as Mormon, just not active. Still others would say, “She’s most definitely not Mormon” because I believe and act so differently from the “ideal Mormon.”

There are many ways to describe me and people like me. Ex-Mormon, cultural Mormon, secular Mormon, non-believing Mormon, ethnic Mormon, former Mormon, post-Mormon. Notice I can’t get away from saying “Mormon”?

As much as I’d like to erase that part of me some days, I realize, too, that I am Mormon. Part of the spirit of this blog is, I think, to stake a claim in Mormon-dom for those of us on the fringes. We are Mormon, too.

As my spouse said cheekily, “Hey, there are 8 million of us. Only 4 million of them.” We count for something.

a tour of DAMU message boards

Two of my blogger friends recently discovered FLAK, one of them having no idea that such a message board even existed. I've had three boards linked on my blog since the beginning, but obviously just being a good example isn't enough proselytizing.* So I'm going to share with all my friends the importance of the Gospel of DAMU. I just can't go another day knowing that some of friends are left out of the joy and happiness I gain from the DAMU boards. I testify that they are true, and you should not go another day without converting and embracing the truth. ;)

But only if it's your thing, of course.

Oh, and it is your thing, they can be addicting as crack (I've heard). Consider yourself warned.

New Order Mormons aka NOM
"A forum for those who have chosen to remain connected with the LDS church for personal reasons and in spite of church history or present practices. Those who wish to support these decisions are welcome to participate. Please refrain from arguing, personal criticism and recrimination. This area is for stories and suggestions on adapting and coping as a politic unbeliever in church culture."

I rarely visit this board anymore, but it was important to me in the process leading up to my exit. It helped me see that I am not alone in my questioning of and discontent with the church. And the board's tone is quite civil about the church; it doesn't allow slams on the leaders, names that some would find insulting, etc. During that time when I was still negotiating if I wanted to remain a part of the church, this was the best place for me. It's more of a "let's figure this out" place than a "I need to rant" place. Eventually, I just didn't connect as well with the style, and I moved on to...

The View from the Foyer aka "The Foyer" or "The Old Foyer"
"This forum is for those who are at various stages in the process of exploring beyond the official dogma of Mormonism. It is for those who doubt some, much, or all of current Church doctrine, and those who recognize that there are problematic aspects of early Church history. ...The rules are simple. Be polite and respectful of others' opinions. No smoking, spitting, or sexual harassment (except of the Administrators). Follow the Board Guidelines posted elsewhere on this website. Proselyting and politics are not allowed. Bring a healthy sense of humor, and whatever muse afflicts you. Occasional bouts of tomfoolery are not only allowed, but also encouraged. There is no penalty for loud laughter and light-mindedness at The Foyer. We cannot guarantee, however, that the Strengthening the Membership Committee is not listening in, so you may not want to get too awfully rowdy. Above all, have some fun and enjoy your interactions with others here, in a non-prescribed and non-judgmental atmosphere. "

Most people here are non-believers, in various stages of their processes of questioning, leaving, picking up the pieces, and readjusting to life without the church. This board helped me immeasurably during the months before and after I stopped attending. I count many of their number among my good friends, and have met many of them in person. I visit often, but not highly regularly, mostly because it has a slow pace. Which is good if you don't want to be too addicted. It's slow pace is because a board war a few months ago (I wasn't around during that time, so I couldn't even hope to explain), during which a new board was formed...

Further Light and Knowledge
FLAK "is for general discussion of your issues and experiences with Mormonism. Whether your view is from the literal foyer inside your local LDS chapel, a larger foyer of the world beyond Mormonism, a deistic or naturalistic foyer surrounded by the beauty of Nature, or some other metaphysical foyer, you're welcome here." (Didn't they take that directly from the old foyer?)

This board is basically the same as the foyer as far as what audience it draws. But it allows politics (in the counter-cultural hall only!), and is currently more fast-paced. Most people from the old Foyer picked up and moved over to FLAK, and many still visit both boards, sometimes under two different names. This board also has Outer Lightness, a feed of ex-Mormon's blogs.

There is also Recovery from Mormonism message board, aka RfM, which I don't link because I don't visit. I've been over there a couple times, but the style isn't for me. It's very fast paced, the messages don't archive, most posts are very short, they have strange rules (such as you can't post a link to your own blog or to another message board), and the interface is ugly. But for many, many people, this is the place for ex-mos. They also have a great archive of exit stories and several other links to various issues, topics, etc.

If you haven't already checked them out, please do, and see which one or two suit you. If you're already a part of Outer Blogness, you'll find many familiar faces--uh, I mean, avatars--on the boards.

*Proselyte is a noun meaning a person who converted, a convert. Proselytize is the verb, to convert. Missionaries have been using it wrong all these years. I only learned that when I took the GRE.

"are you Mormon?"

I live outside Utah. Mormonism doesn’t come up in my regular daily interactions with people at work or I the neighborhood. But I’ve got a past that indicates my Mormonism with a great, blinking neon light. And if anyone politely asks me where I’m from, usually just to make light conversation, they are in for a little surprise.

Where are you from? Utah

Where’d you go to school? BYU

Several things can happen at that point.

-The questioner may get a knowing look in her eyes, perhaps a little nervous, perhaps a little amused or even disgusted, and looks away. End of conversation. Some are tactful enough to change the subject. Others can’t force anything out more than a trying-to-be-polite, “Oh,” and make every nonverbal indication that they’d not like to talk anymore. This makes me want to volunteer, “I’m not Mormon.”

-The questioner may say, “Oh, cool, do you know so-and-so?” Okay, that’s only happened once, and it really surprised me.

-The questioner may say, bravely, “Are you Mormon?” To which I answer, “I used to be,” or “I was raised Mormon.”

At this point, there are any of several reactions.

-Some are interested in pursuing the conversation because they have an overblown idea of what it means to be LDS and therefore what it takes to leave. They ask if my dad is a polygamist. They wonder if I still have contact with my family. In their imaginations my bondage and escape were physical and visible.

-Some aren’t interested in the conversation because they just don’t care. Maybe because they know very little about Mormonism, or maybe they care little about religion, being non-religious themselves.

Whatever their reaction, I’m embarrassed about my past. And I hate that I’m embarrassed.

I also hate that when I do get someone who wants to ask about it, the flood gates open and way too much information pours out. And they’re thinking, “I just wanted to make polite conversation…

But I'm getting better at controlling my reaction. I got asked four times in the past week about my past, and I just stated it matter-of-factly without only a tad of internal embarrassment.

(And, no, my dad is not a polygamist.)

cultural Mormons and identity

On another label, I disagree with CL Hanson’s definition of cultural Mormon. (See her post. ) She says that every type of Mormon, from active to Jack to convert to apostate to ex-Mormon, is cultural Mormon. I disagree, perhaps because of my definition of culture. I think of culture as shared and transmitted language, behaviors, beliefs, morals, and use of physical objects. (There’s a lot of different definitions of culture, but that’s the one that sits in my mind.)

I wouldn’t call myself a cultural Mormon, because I don’t act like a Mormon (I don’t go to church, the temple, have family home evening, or follow the word of wisdom), believe like a Mormon (I don’t believe in the Godhead, that Smith was a prophet, that the Book of Mormon holds the complete Gospel), I don’t hold the same morals (I don’t think the only true family is mom, dad, and lots of kids; obedience is the first law of heaven; or that fidelity to the church is more important than to family), nor do I have the same physical objects (I don’t have pictures of BoM characters, Jesus, or temples; framed copies of the Proclamation on the Family, scripture totes, family home evening lesson manuals; I don’t eat funeral potatoes).

I’d more readily identify as ethnic Mormon, because of my Utah heritage. But what about ex/former/post Mormons, etc who don’t have Utah heritage? “Secular Mormon” is one option, in the vein of secular Jews; they acknowledge the heritage, celebrate the holidays, but don’t believe or practice.

While I’m ex-Mormon, I’m also of Mormon heritage. Leaving the church doesn’t erase all Mormon-ness from me, after all. I’ve still got BYU on my resume, my son’s still got Utah on his birth certificate, and almost all my grandparents for generations were Mormon (though I’m sure there were some Jacks in there). It’s still my history. It shaped a large part of who I am today. And while I’m a bit embarrassed about that, I don’t want to be embarrassed about it. If “Mormon” were more like “Jewish,” where it could encompass everyone from atheists to Hasidim, I might like to just say I’m Mormon. But it doesn’t, so I don’t.

So I’m of Mormon heritage, but non-practicing, non-believing. But that’s too unwieldy. Identity is never simple, though, is it? No one can identify with only one word. Everyone has multiple identities.

I am woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt.

I am ex-Mormon, atheist, agnostic, secularist.

I am American, white, Caucasian.

I am student, employee, activist, writer, researcher.

I am black sheep, apostate, blasphemer.

I am explorer, thinker, blogger, journal-writer.

I am deconstructer, renovator, builder of my world views.

I am destroyed.

I am renewed.

I am emerging from the ashes.

more on ex-mo and post-mo

I’m not done talking about the label ex-Mormon. I’m uncomfortable with ex-Mormon, and I’m trying to figure out why. I already said that it defines me by who I’m not rather than who I am. That’s a problem. CL Hanson took issue with my quote comparing labeling oneself as ex-Mormon to labeling oneself ex-girlfriend, and I think she has a good point. Being an ex-Mormon is so much more than an ex-girlfriend. Does ex-wife work better? I don’t know. Only in the sense of it being a transitional identity: If I were an ex-wife, I wouldn’t want to be telling people for the rest of my life that I’m Mr. X’s ex-wife, would I? (Especially if there were bad feelings there.) But even if I didn’t tell people that, would I still think of myself as an ex-wife? Forever?

Or would I want to identify as something that defines me by me, and not in relation to someone else? But then we are never individuals in vacuums, are we? We are people always in relation to others and to things or ideas. But we usually define ourselves by who we are, not by who we once were. I don’t say, “I’m a BYU alum,” or “I’m an ex-resident of Utah,” or “I’m an ex-girl scout.” No, I say what I am now (which I won’t list for privacy sake).

But as far as my relationship to Mormonism goes, I’m an ex-Mormon. I imagine everyone uses it differently, even among those of us who self-identify as such. I’d just as easily say former Mormon. I don’t use post-Mormon, but I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe part of it is that some people who use it use it in opposition to ex-Mormon, and put post-Mormons in a better place than ex-Mormons. Like they are on a continuum, and a post-Mormon is a better-adjusted person. They’ve moved on with their lives. But have I not? Sure, I talk to death my experience with leaving, but only here and with a few fellow former Mormons. The rest of me and my life continues on well, and most people have no idea about my past.

I also feel like some people who claim a post-Mormon state do so a bit self-righteously or judgmentally. “I didn’t go through an angry phase, I didn’t rant and rave, I don’t think the church is a horrible institution. What’s these ex-mos problem?” I wonder if people who adjust easily do so because of their different circumstances, like no mission, no spouse still in, no hard-core TBM childhood, no significant hours put into the church, no strong commitment, no great emotional investment. I could be way off, I don’t know. Certainly there are people who self-identify as postmo who had invested a great deal in the church—but did any of them not go through an angry, emotional place? Is it fair to say that the more you invested the harder it was to recover? This could be any type of investment—money, time, service, emotions, callings, life changes. People who got baptized, came a few weeks, then quit—probably not much recovery time required. People who were born in, went on missions, converted others, etc.—harder recovery time. I think that’s safe to say. If that second person claims to have an easier recovery than the first, he’s deluding himself.

what does "ex-Mormon" mean, and what does that make me?

Following up from my post about the label "Mormon," I want to discuss the label "ex-Mormon."

Ex-Mormon

Someone who once was, but is not now, Mormon, usually by self-identification.

Someone who has been excommunicated from a Mormon church.

Someone who has resigned from a Mormon church.

I only fit into that first category. I haven't resigned. (Why? I'll save that for another post. But the short answer: Beats me.)

The major problem with the label ex-Mormon is that the person is defined by who she isn't, rather than by who she is. As someone of the old Foyer once said, (and I'm paraphrasing) "I don't think of myself as ex-Mormon any more than I think of myself as so-and-so's ex-girlfriend."

Some consider it a transitional label, somewhere between Mormon and post-Mormon. Post-Mormon being someone who was once Mormon, but is not now, and is okay with having once been Mormon. A well-adjusted, no-longer-angry ex-Mormon. (Or ex-Mormons who aren't angry because they didn't get screwed by the church, or they didn't have a difficult time leaving because they were less invested, or had "less" of a testimony in the first place, and can't really get why anyone would be angry. I'm thinking specifically of the guy who claims the invention of the term post-Mormon.)

I now label myself an ex-Mormon, because a significant portion of my time is spent thinking about leaving the church and the aftermath thereof. I'd like a better label, but for now, it fits. Not that I go around telling people, "I'm an ex-Mormon." No, I say, "I was raised Mormon" or "I used to be Mormon" or "My family is Mormon." The label ex-Mormon doesn't fit my normal day-to-day life. But it does fit this blog.

what does "Mormon" mean?

I posted previously saying "I'm not a Mormon," and generally on this blog, I refer to myself as "ex-Mormon." But I'd like to pick apart those labels a little. While I'd say that labels are never adequate to describe that complicated psyche inside each person, labels are useful, like shorthand, so I still use them.

Let's start with "Mormon."

It really depends on who you ask.

When I was a faithful, believing member of the LDS church, I considered the word Mormon to apply only to members of the LDS church, be they "active," or "inactive." I couldn't imagine that "inactives" were anything but believers who just had a few problems (with themselves) that were keeping them from coming to church. I didn't consider members of RLDS, FLDS, and any other iterations of Joseph Smith's church to be Mormon. I would venture to guess that many other LDS hold this same definition of Mormon.

As I adjusted my view of the church, I expanded the label Mormon to include any member of any church that places its origins with Joseph Smith. RLDS (now Community of Christ), FLDS, TLC, other polygamous churches, independent polygamists. All Mormon, though not LDS.

Some call Mormons, especially those with roots in Utah, an ethnic group. I didn't like that idea at first. You can't just invent an ethnic group, I thought. Ethnic groups just are. But the more I thought about it, and about the European history of (sometimes arbitrary) formation of ethnic groups in Africa, I realized that ethnic groups are by and large human made. So why not a Mormon one? What makes Mormons an ethnic group? The many generations of endogamy (marrying within the group), the distinct culture, the distinct religion, a geographic center, even a stereotype about what Mormons look like (see below).

If you ask an average American, Mormon means something particular. I never realized it until it was pointed out to me, but there is also a stereotype about what physical characteristics Mormons have. Light-haired, fair-skinned, northwestern European-looking. "Like Ken Jennings," someone told me. And while the expanding church includes people of all races and skin colors, the stereotype of Mormons as white, blond, and innocently sanguine persists. Of course, there are the stereotypes of polygamy, conservatism, innocence to the point of naivety, zealousness, wholesomeness, niceness. Like the creators of South Park said, "If we want to portray a really good, wholesome person, we make him a Mormon." (Quote from BYU NewsNet, but don't link the site from me.)

if I'm out, why do I keep talking about it?

Yesterday, I wrote that, with the church, I'm either in or out. (Link to post.) I half expected for someone (a TBM troll) to comment, "If you're out, why did you still post about it every day? Aren't you still entrenched in it?" I've already posted about why I don't just leave it alone (link to post, scroll down) and why I'm blogging (link to post), but I think I have something different to say.

I'm out of the church, so why am I not out of blogging about it? To answer, let me define that "it." "It," that broad subject that encompasses everything I write about, is not the "Mormon church," or the "LDS church," or even "Mormonism." Rather, the "it" I write about is "ex-Mormonism," "recovering from Mormonism," "post-Mormonism," "what it's like to be a former Mormon, "and "my experience in and impressions of the LDS church and Mormonism, looking back at it from the point of view of an ex-Mormon."

Subtle difference? Not to me.

An ex-Mormon writing about Mormonism and an ex-Mormon writing about ex-Mormonism are very different things. You can find ex-Mormons writing about Mormonism in pro-Mormon forums, such as By Common Consent, Times and Seasons, Feminist Mormon Housewives, Sunstone, etc. From what I've seen (and I haven't seen much), some ex-Mormons will generally write in such a way that faithful Mormons wouldn't be able to identify them, or at least wouldn't be too alarmed by what they say. (I could only identify them because I know them from other venues.) They'll discuss things that aren't discussed in church, to be sure, but they talk about doctrine and issues from within the Mormon paradigm, even while they actually operate outside of it. It's an amazing talent, and it takes a certain level of "I've gotten over it" post-Mormon-ness, rather than "I'm still angry" ex-Mormon-ness.

Some would say it takes a lot of equivocating, and maybe some dishonesty. But I don't think so. It's possible to talk about fictional characters as if they existed, for example, while knowing all the while they are fictional. In fact, I would list that as a indication of well-developed characters and setting. Kudos to the author. So why not talk about Nephi, Adam, Moroni, along with Harry, Aragorn, or Mrs. Dalloway? (Not to say Nephi is a well-developed character, but you get my point, right?)

But I'm not there yet. I can't talk from within the Mormon paradigm. But I hope to be able to someday. And though I doubt I'll ever get into the Bloggernacle, I would like to be able to discuss things religious with my family and not have every word I say scream, "I'm not Mormon anymore!" Because while I'm not Mormon anymore (I could write a whole 'nother post about whether or not I am), it's conducive to productive discussion with Mormons to speak from within the paradigm.

But for this blog, I'm not trying to speak from within the Mormon paradigm. I'm trying to look back at the Mormon paradigm from the outside, from a new paradigm, and analyze who I was then and who I am now, and how I became that way.

(And why do I spend so much time defending myself?)

in or out

I know that a lot of people operate effectively in a liminal state with the church for various reasons, but for me, my personality, I’m either in or out. The transition from in to out was quite short for me. Once I stopped believing, I only attended a couple times.

So when I was in, I was in. I had a temple recommend, I read the Book of Mormon, I attended church weekly, I followed the word of wisdom. I didn’t let that stuff go until I was a non-believer. Sure, some things decreased in the months before. I didn’t read scriptures every day; I only went to the temple for weddings; I watched rated-R movies that I thought were worth my time.

The things that most obviously and significantly mark a believer from a non-believer happen to be the most superficial, too. Garment-non-safe clothes, alcohol, coffee. Those are the things I only tried as a non-believer. I’m not trying to be self-righteous about it. I’m just saying it to show how utterly indoctrinated I was, and how completely warped the church’s priorities are. The mental block against questioning the authenticity of the church’s origin claims was weaker than the mental block against questioning “alcohol is evil.”

Hello?

why don't I stay and try to change the church?

The same friend who asked me why I don't leave church issues alone also asked me why I don't stay and try to positively change the church from within. My reply:

Any impact I could make would be very small, and only at the local level. Knowing we'll move around doesn't help us want to invest a lot into a ward only to leave it. I've never really been highly invested socially in any ward; I went because that was where I was supposed to go, not because I liked that particular community. And people don't listen. People don't go to the Mormon church to have doubts and questions thrown at them; they go for reassurance and easy answers.

To stay and work from within would require being a wolf in sheep's clothing. I'd have to make waves, but only small enough to hardly be felt so I don't get rooted out as a heretic. To have a bigger impact, I'd have to be in a leadership position (most of which are barred to me personally as a woman), but I'd really have to hide and pretend in order to achieve that position. I'd have to fake it really well, get a high position, then come out of my unbeliever's closet--causing me to loose the position, and compromise my integrity in the process. The hierarchy is set up so that changes are top-down. There are rare exceptions, i.e., when it was obvious lots of people were using birth control, the brethren cooled down about saying how evil it was; the policy change to let people have their names removed came after a lawsuit from a man who would not accept excommunication as his only way out. But mostly there is nothing I can do.

In the end of our “activity,” attendance actually made me physically ill. Nearly everything I heard make me think, “I can’t believe he/she just said that!…I don’t belong here….I don’t agree with that….That’s some serious compartmentalizing on his part.” I’d have to put up with a whole lot to stay.

Do you think people haven't tried changing the church, and have given up for many valid reasons? I desperately wanted to stay in order to help. I saw a "brain drain" where all the people actually educated about the church were leaving, so how could we ever improve it? For some people it's not worth the fight; there is just too much baggage and too much compromise of integrity and conscience to stay and support such an institution. The church just doesn't allow for a grassroots approach; it quashes "arc-steadiers," it excommunicates; it correlates.

Perhaps the very biggest reason was my child (and any future children). We just didn’t want him to be raised Mormon like we were. Getting out gives him a better chance at life. If we decide to take him to a Sunday school, it will be where he can learn love, friendship, justice, the marvels of the world, how to ask questions, how to make decisions for himself, how to define morality and make moral decisions, how to define and find his own spiritual (or non-spiritual) path, and how to help others.

We don’t want him learning obedience to authority is the first law of heaven; that people who ask questions and follow their own paths are bad; that Bible stories are literal despite major scientific and common sense knowledge to the contrary; that boys can be leaders and girls can’t; that his role in life is to bring in enough money to support his family, even if it means neglecting them; that there is a checklist for salvation; that some people (however good) are not “good enough” to see their children or siblings get married; that personal relationships are of secondary importance to church; that there is only one right way to worship; that everyone who doesn’t worship that way is wrong, misguided, or even bad; that helping others means bearing his testimony and bringing them cookies, etc. I could go on.

Being outside, I am more free to talk and say what’s on my mind, without fear of reprisal. I am free to be myself, and to find myself.

exit story 11: the last time

The final moment came when I finally visited another church. I had gone to the Mormon service, listened to one talk, but found myself migrating to the hallway to avoid the banal sacrament meeting. I found my husband out there too.

I thought, this is silly. He’s only coming, playing the NOM (faithful non-believing) role, just because I am coming, also as a NOM. A lot of NOMs remain NOM simply because their spouse is faithful. But both of us were non-believers. Why was I there?

I said, “We still have time to catch a UU meeting, it starts at 11:15.” So we went. It was really the first time I had ever been to another church’s worship services.

I was amazed. I actually agreed with things the pastor said. It was actually interesting. It was actually relevant. It was actually uplifting, enlightening, and real. I liked it.

How long had it been since I attended a church service I liked? Had I ever?

I thought, Why am I putting up with the Mormon church if there’s so much greater stuff out there?

And I’ve never been back.

exit story 10: switching paradigms

At that point, I was willing to try out other religions, but still try to evaluate the church at the same time. I had been missing church maybe 2 weeks out of 4 for the past few months, for various excuses.

In the month after I crossed my threshold, I felt liberated sometimes, and damned sometimes. I took off my garments, put them on again, and took them off again. I was panicked that I was making the wrong choice, thought I was definitely going to hell, then calm and at peace. At one moment I thought I hadn’t given the church a good chance, then I was ready to wash my hands of it and all its crap the next.

I concluded that no church was the True Church of God, that all were manmade (with a few women-made ones in there), and that that was okay. Religion wasn’t about being the True Word of God, but was about enlightenment, goodness, social change, worship, inspiration, devotion. I realized Truth was not the yard stick by which to measure religion, and feelings were not the unit by which to evaluate veracity. Even though I believed it was not true, I still had to go through a process of evaluating it on another yard stick—goodness.

All the issues that I had before—and the stuff I chalked up to be culture, or practice, or the imperfections of the members—came back. I disagreed with stances on women, on homosexuals, on race, on worship, on history. I disagreed with how they taught youth, on the demand for conformity, on the demand to deny all doubt, on the micromanaging of people’s lives, on the hours and money wasted on temple work.

If it's the True Church of God, why doesn't it help people in need with homeless shelters, soup kitchens, humanitarian aid that works, and changing society for the better? If Hinckley is really a prophet, why is the best he can come up with is build more temples to waste more of the members time on dead people's names, and to tell girls not to wear 4 earrings? If the church is teaching the Word of God, why does it seem so inane?

So I went to church, but felt physically ill while there. I disagreed with nearly everything said over the pulpit. I looked around at the members, and the only kinship I felt was with ones who were non-believers. Was this my community? Was this worth staying for?

exit story 9: to NOM or not to NOM

Finally I had come to a point where I didn't believe in the church's claims. But I still desperately wanted to believe. I spent a few weeks in an awful back-and-forth struggle trying to decide if I could be NOM--a faithful non-believer. Couldn't I still stay in the church, play the game, be dedicated to the community, keep my parents happy? Not divorce myself from my family and spiritual heritage? Couldn't I just rebuild the building that had crumbled around me, altered, but still Mormon?

I started to evaluate Mormonism from a non-believer's perspective, a religion like any other religion. It had its rituals, its doctrine, its rites of passage, its leadership, etc. Was is so bad to take part?

I went through a series of questions. One had to do with missions. At one point (perhaps it was before I stopped believing completely?) I asked my husband, "Would it be so bad if we continued on? Send our son on a mission, viewing it as a rite of passage, simply so he won't be shunned by the community?" I had never gone on a mission myself.

He answered, "Yes. It would be so bad. Do you have any idea what a mission does to a person? That is the worst possible rite of passage one could possibly go through. It's not worth putting him through that." I imagine he would have called his mission experience a mind rape.

And I knew he was right. I just couldn't put my son through a mission just for the sake of "keeping up appearances." More than that, I couldn't put him through a Mormon childhood at all. From nursery on, the church is indoctrinating children, crunching them into moulds, whether they fit or not. For a few youth, it works. For others, they bend, but their selves are destroyed in the process. Others simply rebel. I couldn't put my child through this. Some churches actually support individual spiritual growth; the Mormon one damages it.

exmo conference

Listening to the exmo conference right now--so much better than General Conference. I'm sad we're so far away that we can't come, but thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for mp3's.