Not so much in hypocritical sense, but more of a how-did-I-pick-up-on-so-many-things-but-also-be-COMPLETELY-clueless-about-so-many-other-things kind of way.

I grew up in a liberal city where I was a minority in my faith and exposed to a variety of beliefs and idealogies. In many aspects I was much more open-minded than most members, especially those who had only ever lived in predominantly Mormon or conservative areas. I was nuanced and compassionate in many ways, but very naive or judgmental in others.

From time to time I randomly remember things from growing up…and even into my adulthood…that feel either humorously bizarre or embarrassingly disconnected from reality (no doubt an outcome of trying to “live in the world but not of the world”).

None of these memories are to prove a point or to say that others growing up in the church had the same experience. Just 12 random things from my own past growing up as a millenial mormon girl.

1. I overheard my high school band teacher use the word “hell” as a curse word while he was talking to a coworker

I was a freshman and hadn’t heard a teacher swear before. He was a really good person, so I was shocked he would do that so casually (and without fear of what his coworker would think of him).

2. At a sleepover as a kid, I once saw a pack of RC Cola in my friend’s fridge

My family drank soda occasionally (AKA pop, because we were in the Midwest) but I had never seen RC Cola before and, despite the name being pretty obvious what it was, I assumed it was a type of beer. I didn’t say anything to my friend, but it made me extremely uncomfortable seeing “alcohol” in someone’s home for the first time. I imagined how I could use it in a talk during primary (the program for children) about the importance of following the Word of Wisdom and how I felt the Spirit leave when I saw the “alcohol” in the fridge.

3. One of my favorite songs in elementary school was O-Town’s Liquid Dreams

I listened to on repeat (after I got the CD of it, since, you know…2000s). This is embarrassing to admit, but it wasn’t until I was in college that I realized what this song was talking about. I learned what sex was as a young kid before most of my friends and often picked up on innuendos growing up that many of my peers appeared oblivious to. At the same time, I completely missed other things that I honestly have no clue how I missed and, apparently, wet dreams was one of them.

Don’t worry, though, the song’s still a banger (with killer dance moves in the music video).

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This individual shared with me that they are struggling to understand their conflicting feelings and worries about the church, and asked me some questions about the process I went through as I transitioned out of the church.

I know that there are still many gaps in my story and experiences in what I have shared so far on my Substack. I have wanted to keep what I write here real and raw. Logistically, in order to do that, I tend to share what is on my mind and what I am feeling in the moment, which I recognize is not chronological and leaves many unanswered questions for you as a reader.

Since I began sharing my story with the church, I have had others reach out with similar messages to what I received yesterday. Although it will be very condensed and nowhere close to the full context for everything I have experienced or felt, I want to share my response to the email here to hopefully add a little more insight and understanding about the basics of my journey for you. Some details of my response will be left out that for privacy of the individual who sent the message, but the overall message will remain the same.

As I have explained previously, my goal is never to convince anyone they need to follow my path or agree with me about everything. I respect individuals’ choices and discernment for what is best in their particular situations.

But honestly, I feel that the main thing people who reach out to me crave is simply being understood. Seen. Validated. Feeling like they aren’t alone.

When concerns about the church in particular arise, helping people feel less isolated in them will create a healthier and stronger dynamic for members and former members. So, if you have found yourself in a similar situation, this message goes out to you, too. (And if not, I hope that some of this can help to add a little more context to my story until I am able to gradually explain things in more depth. Thank you for wanting to understand. xoxo)

I hope this can help someone to feel seen, validated, and less alone.

TW: Mental Health, Suicidal Ideations

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That’s not the point here. And it’s honestly not the point of any of my articles or social media content that I have shared about modesty. I’m not here to tell anyone how to—or how not to—dress. I have been on both ends of the spectrum, and can empathize with getting judged for dressing too modestly (covering up my stomach, shoulders, back, cleavage, thighs, etc.) and for dressing too immodestly.

I respect how others choose to dress, including their choices with modesty and with the temple garments. My primary concerns and biggest pet peeves have always been about how modesty is taught, enforced, and judged, as well as honesty and acknowledgment about what has been taught by the church in the past.

But today I want to share some personal reasons for why I choose to dress “immodestly”…and why it’s been good for me.

Not everyone will relate. Not everyone has to feel the same. I am not speaking for all women who have been in the church.

This is simply about me.

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My relationship with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon Church, is no different. There are things I love, things I am angry about, things that I miss. It’s a mixed bag.

But, because I have been vocal about unhealthy practices in the Mormon church (and elsewhere), a common—but incorrect—assumption others have made about me is that the driving emotion behind my words and actions is hatred for the church and its members.

Let me be really clear…There are things within the church that I hate, but it’s not the members or even the church itself. And, ironically, the hatred I do feel stems from love.

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I compiled 13 lyrics from various songs she wrote that have hit home for me in one way or another since leaving Mormonism. Obviously there are many more lyrics I have related to than what I have included in this article because that girl is a master of eloquently capturing raw emotions in what she writes, but we’ll start with these.

Psychologists explain that after significant loss in someone’s life, people experience the following stages of emotion collectively called the grief cycle: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance. These stages are non-linear, meaning that they do not occur sequentially in a way you can simply check-off one stage and move to the next. It’s messy. These emotions can overlap and resurface over time—often years.

Throughout my life I have seen members of the Mormon church both intentionally and unitentionally use these stages of grief against those who leave or as proof to themselves that those who leave are on the wrong path. Even if walking away from something is the right (or needed) thing, that does not erase the reality of these stages.

The occurance of the grief cycle in former Mormons is not proof that the church is true, but rather proof that the church was an important part of their lives.

The following lyrics show a range in these various stages of emotion as I have experienced them in my post Mormon journey.

1. (from Happiness)

This concept is so simple, but so true.

As I have shared previously in social media posts and Substack articles, there are many things about being raised in the Mormon church that I am grateful for—especially the people. I wouldn’t trade the family, friends, or village that collectively helped to raise me for anything (minus a few bad eggs that I wouldn’t mind trading…haha).

The majority of my memories at church and church-sponsored activities, especially growing up, are positive. I grew up with really good people. I went to college (at a church-owned university) with really good people. I was born into a family of amazing people. I am grateful for so many experiences and opportunities that I had through my religion.

Simply put, there was happiness in my life because of the church.

There is also happiness in my life from leaving the church.

Both of those things can be true.

2. (from Babe)

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I had a LOT of misconceptions about being gay, to say the least.

Definitely more than three, but we’ll start with just these. I’m sure more will come out over time. (See what I did there?)

I can’t say that all of the misconceptions I had are from the church, because society has changed considerably since I was little as well. If I had grown up now, even in the church, with so much more dialogue about LGBTQIA+ issues, and representation from the community in general, I would have a much different and broader understanding.

AKA…I’d probably have realized earlier on that I am part of that community.

But that just wasn’t my reality.

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We’ll just start with that.

I’ll also start with this cool note I found recently at the end of an entry in one of my junior high journals.

Along with most other teenage Mormon girls at the time, I planned on getting married in the “normal” timeframe—ideally before I was 21. Definitely before I finished my college degree. If I even finished my college degree before having kids.

Getting married and becoming a mom were always at the top of my priority list.

Plus, I wanted sex, and I knew that I never wanted to break God’s commandments that I was taught, and fully believed, about staying pure until marriage. So, obviously I didn’t want to be one of those really old brides. (You know, the girls who don’t get married until they are 24, 25, or—God forbid—26 years old…)

That would be such a trial.

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I was almost done with an article I intended to send out over the weekend, but emotionally and logistically I wasn’t able to get it done on time. So, this post is technically for last week and I will still send out another one to you guys later this week.

♡ Thank you for being patient with me ♡

Some of you may have seen this video I posted on my social media accounts a few days ago.

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(What she said…)

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(Some bigger than others—but all tying in to my experiences with purity culture, sex, and the church)

1. The first time I had sex

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And, honestly, my brain is literally always scattered, so it makes sense and is probably more true-to-life that way anyways ;)

Although my original plan was to continue sharing more about my mental health growing up a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints / Mormon church this week, I had a flood of thoughts come to me the past few days that I want to record.

Because this article encompasses such a foundational part of what my Substack is for, and something I hope others from similar experiences can relate to, I am going to remove the paywall for this specific article—a letter to purity culture—so both my free and paid subscribers can have full access.

Dear Purity Culture:

It feels weird to address you directly. I’m not sure why, though; you’ve been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.

You have varied in your level of influence on me throughout my life, but even as a child you were very present. You have never not been there.

You were difficult to make sense of as a child, but I knew that you were connected to my worthiness with God.

I knew that not having you in my life would be bad. Really bad. I also knew that you were complex and had way more rules than just “no sex until marriage.” You dictated when I could date, how I should date, how I should dress, how I shouldn’t dress, how I should act, what I should think, what I shouldn’t think, how I should view my own body, who could see my body, and who could touch my body. You affected me so much that you became a defining part of me.

Above all, I understood, even as a child, that Heavenly Father and Jesus cared more about my relationship with you than almost anything else. Being loyal to you was the way to be good. And disobeying you? I was taught that only murder was worse.

Honestly, I’ve been in a relationship with you far longer than any human I’ve ever been in a relationship with.

I think we both know, though, that our time is over—we just haven’t made it “official” yet. Because you’ve been with me for decades, I want to acknowledge the good first…because there was good.

It’s difficult to pick apart what I can attribute to you, my religion, or my family, etc. because it is all so intertwined. I do know, however, that you and I shared all those moments.

Every. One.

You were with me through it all: through the innocence, the curiosity, the butterflies, all the exciting “firsts.” The highs, the lows, the dating, the not-dating. You were there through everything.

I knew that God wanted you and me to be together. Loyalty to you meant loyalty to Him. Always.

Do you remember in high school how we would listen to the song, “Beautiful to Him” on repeat every single day while I got ready for school, as a reminder for myself that I loved God and wanted to follow Him more than I wanted to ever act or dress “worldly?”

Remember how I loved that song because it reminded me of everything I had been taught from prophets, apostles, church leaders, parents, and the scriptures: that God saw the real beauty in me?

Purity Culture (…can I call you PC?), you taught me that real beauty was found in following a higher law of purity and virtue, which proved my love to Him (as well as to my future husband).

I was reminded in almost every lesson that Heavenly Father loved and valued my modesty and my purity. It was an essential part of being a valiant daughter of God.

But, of course you remember everything, PC. You weren’t only there, you were influencing and guiding all of it—my actions, my thoughts, my words, my dress, my opinions, my everything. There was no me without you.

I remember you were there when I worried about being “immodest” as a teenager in the temple after doing baptisms for the dead. I had just taken a shower and had a towel wrapped around me while I waited for my locker stall (in an all girls locker room) to be available.

Although I knew logically that it wasn’t “bad” because it was appropriate for the setting, something in me still felt dirty and uncomfortable to have so much of my shoulders and my thighs exposed in the temple. And I hated feeling guilty and immodest in the temple, where I wanted to feel pure.

In many ways, I know you protected me, and I am grateful for that.

As you know, I have extremely pale skin. The modesty rules you had me follow probably saved me from a lot of awful sunburns.

In junior high and high school, I gravitated towards friends who were also close to you—some who were Mormon like me, but many were dedicated to other religions. Those similar standards and shared values led me to become friends with amazing people who I maybe wouldn’t have gotten close to or met otherwise.

Following you and your rules led to a lot of genuinely good, positive, happy memories (mostly with the group of friends mentioned above). There was a playfulness in our dynamic and energy that I think partially came from our innocence.

There are many hobbies and activities in general I may not have been involved in if it weren’t for you.

You might have also helped me avoid some negative relationships and sexual experiences. I avoided STDs while you and I were together.

Through your influence, I developed an intense level of self control. Those sacrifices, along with the accompanying loneliness, longing, and guilt I experienced increased my compassion and empathy for others.

The entire dynamic of being unmarried for “so long” (in the Mormon context) and not being sexually active at all in my teens and twenties helped me to develop character traits and independence in ways I otherwise probably wouldn’t have.

Often, the more difficult it is to attain something, the more you appreciate it. Because I followed you, I appreciate healthy relationships and healthy sexuality in ways that many people could not relate to.

PC, there are undeniable benefits that you brought to my life. Thank you.

I also want to acknowledge younger me, who trusted you and loved you so much.

I was taught that you were essential to my worthiness in God’s eyes. I wanted to be worthy. I wanted to be good. Following you was the foundational key to being “good.” Younger me would have sacrificed anything for you. In fact, she did sacrifice everything for you. She trusted you and she trusted the men who said they spoke for God—the men who introduced us to each other.

I respect younger me and love her. She was so good. She did everything she was capable of to try to be good and to do good within the framework and context she had for life.

I am proud of her. I am SO proud of her.

I am proud of the strength and commitment younger me had. I am proud of the integrity she demonstrated to live her beliefs, even when no one was watching. She fought so hard to be true to you.

It’s because of her and her dedication to you that I thank you for the part you played in my life. She loved you. So much. So, thank you one final time for all the good.

But, PC, I am done being nice. And I am done with you.

Even though there was good, we need to talk about everything else you do: the harm, the manipulation, the stealing of innocence in the very name of innocence.

You market yourself as pure, Godly, virtuous, righteous, and wise. And you know what? You’re good at what you do. Really good. You are a good marketer, because at the surface (and sometimes even some of the layers beneath it), you are all those things.

You’ve tied yourself to God so well and so effectively. For me, the lessons I learned about you, and the lessons I learned about God, were so deeply intertwined that it sometimes felt growing up like you two were synonomous. And you love that, don’t you? It’s always fun to play God.

But you have lied. A lot.

You have convinced so many that if people don’t support you, they don’t support any morals or boundaries.

But you were wrong. You don’t own morals. You don’t own family values. You don’t own boundaries. And, you no longer own me.

You have people so convinced that you are the only way, the best way. That all other ways are sinful, dirty, and harmful. When, in reality, that’s what you are at your core. On the outside, you look beautiful, pristine, innocent, and full of God’s promise. But when you look closer, you aren’t everything you claim to be. I’ve seen the harm you have done to so many.

Yes, you have brought some good to some people’s lives. But you have also led to so much unnecessary shame, so much misinformation, and so much hurt.

If everything you say is true, and if you are truly the best way, why is there consistently so much more addiction, so much more abuse of children, so much more harm for women, and so much more deception everywhere you show up?

You promise to protect women, children, and families…yet, the facts and anecdotal evidence of what you do say otherwise.

You make promises you can’t keep and you put vulnerable people in vulnerable positions. Yes, it “works out” in the best case scenarios…but even then, you like to leave marks on people, don’t you? Like all the most effective abusers and manipulators, you’ve convinced your victims of your goodness so well that they defend you.

You and I know each other well, PC, so you know you can’t pretend or hide when I talk to you. You know you can’t defend yourself when I say you aren’t what you say you are.

I have seen too much over the years. I know too much. I am done with your lies and your deceit. You make a lot of pretty promises. But you don’t seem to be too big on keeping those promises.

You have ruled so many of our lives, making us think that you were the only way to God. You have brought so much more damage than protection.

I don’t think I have ever been over something the way I am over you.

Just like I wanted to take a moment in this letter to acknowledge and honor my younger self, I also need to take a moment to stand up to you and defend her.

You made promises to her (and millions of others) you knew you couldn’t keep.

F*ck you.

You raised her in a hypersexualized culture, where she learned that her body could be sexualized before she even learned to read.

F*ck you.

You taught her to trust men more than her own instincts and inner voice.

F*ck you.

You made her feel guilty getting ready for school as a teenager—in her bathroom, alone—in just her layering tanktop that she wore underneath all her shirts. It was comfortable and she wanted to just wear that while she got ready, but had been taught to be modest at “all times, and in all things, and in all places.” She stopped doing that to err on the side of modesty.

F*ck you.

You taught her that showing too much of her body made her p*rnography. Do you understand how damaging that is, especially to teenage girls? You’ve seen the damage and redirect the blame back on us.

F*ck you.

You wrote a script for her life and her body without taking her into consideration—her thoughts, feelings, personality, needs, or biology. And then you signed that script in God’s name.

F*ck you.

You taught younger me at a young age that her body was not her own; she needed to keep her body pure for God and her future husband. You taught her that even dressing immodestly was being disloyal to her future husband.

F*ck you.

You put her in countless positions that were infinitely more dangerous than consensual, premarital sex, while simultaneously claiming to protect her.

F*ck you.

You rolled the dice with her safety.

F*ck you.

You taught her that modesty was essential to have God’s Spirit with her and that good boys would not be interested in dating or marrying her if she dressed immodestly.

F*ck you.

You took away her autonomy in so many ways. She learned to dissociate from her own body in unhealthy, traumatizing ways in order to follow you.

F*ck you.

You teach people how to follow rules, but they are always YOUR rules. You taught younger me how to say “no,” but only in the ways that benefitted you. You tell us what is safe or what isn’t, and we must align with that, whether it actually is safe or not.

F*ck you.

What sucks is that women and children are the ones who get hurt the most because of you.

F*CK YOU.

And I’m over it.

Yes, you bring some good…but the good doesn’t justify the harm you do and, frankly, there are other ways to have good, as well. You lead to so much dysfunction and abuse. You don’t mind that, though, do you? That’s what gives you life.

I don’t need to explain everything to you, PC. You know exactly what I am talking about.

It has been weird distancing from you the last few years. You taught me that people who don’t have you in their life lose focus of all morals, standards, and ethics. That they have no boundaries. They have no family values. They have no self control.

You were wrong. So wrong.

That’s really all there is to it.

I don’t want to live in anger and I am not an overall angry person. But you have consistently caused so much harm and trauma, so it needs to be said:

Fuck you for hurting so many people. So many families. Couples. Women. Men. Gays. Everyone. But especially kids. And especially in God’s name.

I am breaking up with you and every negative, harmful, shameful, unhealthy ideology you embody. I know I’ll see you around, but I no longer accept your teachings about me or my body. I know you are clingy and don’t handle breakups well, but I won’t be responding to your messages from now on.

There is goodness outside of you. There are morals outside of you. And (spoil alert), it can actually be more ethical, more honest, and more effective than anything you could ever offer.

Okay, it’s been real, PC. Too real. And we’re done for real. (Get some help, okay?)

Goodbye, Purity Culture. I won’t miss you.

-Madison

(PS…but seriously: f*ck you)

Hiiiii.

I shared some…what, as a teacher, I call “big feelings”…last week that I know without context probably seem really radical and unreasonable. I appreciate all of you who listen and are trying to understand, even when some of my claims probably feel extremely far-fetched. Especially for those of you who are believing members of the church who could easily dismiss me.

I feel strongly that as more honest conversations take place surrounding difficult topics within Mormon culture and the church itself, the more healthy everyone will be—members and former members alike.

And, although it might seem unfair, I do think that a good portion of that involves former or nuanced members sharing their experiences.

Obviously, no one can know exactly what anyone else is feeling or has experienced, but those of us who were extremely devout to the church can relate to what it is like to genuinely share testimony and try to bring people back to the church. In general, we are familiar with the emotions that arise when individuals we love leave the church. We understand the doctrine and what we “should” be doing instead.

Honestly, it would be fairly easy for me to write an entire book from a faith-based LDS perspective on why everything I am doing and saying is flawed. I could quote scripture, conference talks, and other teachings to “correct” my current views and prove that the church is true. Most of us who purposefully left the church are well-versed in defending the church and trying to help others who are struggling with their own testimonies.

The majority of members, however, cannot relate to the social, mental, spiritual, and emotional complexities that exist on this side.

Because of that, I think it is especially important for those of us who did leave to have safe spaces to genuinely share our experience, without being automatically categorized as “just another angry, bitter, ex-mormon.” Not to prove we are right or to necessarily convince others to follow our paths. But to increase awareness and understanding, which I think naturally often leads to greater compassion and healing.

The narratives and mindsets the church pushes about anyone who leaves or even pushes back at all are extremely skewed, inaccurate and unhealthy for everyone involved, no matter where our beliefs lie. I honestly believe that there is a deep danger to those narratives, and the more I come across them in my social media posts about the church, the more strongly I feel that they need to be pushed back on and addressed.

Listening to new perspectives can feel threatening, especially when we are taught from such a young age to fear and dismiss those exact things. While I recognize that it is different for every person, I don’t think it has to be as threatening as we are taught.

For those of you who are here and listening: thank you.

Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for wanting to understand. Thank you for seeing my heart, or at least allowing yourself the space and curiousity to want to see my heart. Thank you for wanting to hear my story. Thank you for simply listening.

I think that’s the core of what means the most to me. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me or even like some of what I say. But I appreciate you being here and listening.

Articles in the future will start to paint a better picture for context surrounding the distrust I referred to last week that I have with some of the highest leaders in the church. Honestly, though, I feel like everything is so complex that it’s going to keep taking a lot of layers to get there. …Like, a lot.

I also want to emphasize again that while I do share frustrations I have about common behaviors and tendencies among some members of the church, I strongly believe the vast majority of members (including those who do or say frustrating things…just like we all do) are extremely good people doing their best to navigate the worldviews, beliefs, and ideations the church teaches them.

Those are still my people.

As much as I value raw conversation about harmful issues in the church (which I honestly think Jesus would welcome since He was never about sweeping pain, hypocrisy or abuse under the rug), I always want to be clear that I believe there is a lot of goodness within most of the members and local leaders. It’s the system and those running it at its core that I have issues about.

…Essentially all I am trying to say with all of this is thank you for helping to create a safe space for me to share raw, complex, messy, and probably confusing thoughts. It means more to me than I can ever say.

Today, I want to start to share some background about my mental health, which provides foundational pieces to what led to (part of the reason) why I initially walked away.

I won’t be able to come close to giving a whole picture within this one article, but we’ll start. As I do so, I want to be clear that not everything I struggled with surrounding my mental health in relation to the church was because of the church.

Any critics or skeptics could easily pick apart my experience and tell me how wrong I am to have felt some of the things I did and how I just didn’t understand the doctrine, teachings, or Atonement of Jesus Christ.

While there are other unhealthy things that I will firmly stand by that the church did instill and teach its members, I am owning that a lot of the complications I had with mental health in the church were not all because of church teachings.

As an adult, I regularly (multiple times a day for years) listened to devotionals and conference talks which included comforting teachings and healing messages that combatted what I struggled with and messages that provided guidance and reassurance surrounding mental health.

I kept a file of on my phone in my lds.org app of quotes I had highlighted from church leaders to remind me that I was enough, that Heavenly Father didn’t expect perfection, and that Jesus Christ would always be there for me.

I was never looking to find fault with the church and never blamed the church for what I struggled with.

In fact, the Gospel was my greatest source of comfort.

I read from my scripures daily and went to the temple regularly (weekly, for most of my adult life). I was a temple ordinance worker in multiple temples. I was as obedient as I knew how to be and trusted my Heavenly Father and His prophets.

Everything in me believed that the Gospel I knew and loved so much was the most complete path to God, with modern day revelation to guide us with inspired messages through God’s servants.

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Like, it felt a little cringey at the time, but I was still trying to make sense of it and take it to heart, so I didn’t realize just how bad it was.

What’s worse is this advice, which I heard from multiple professors at my Mormon university, was also being given to some of my friends and roommates by other professors and church leaders on campus at BYU-Idaho.

I had never heard it until then, and all I can say is thank God I didn’t get married soon after that.

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But first, a quick trigger warning…the first section of this post will probably feel especially disrespectful to some (I mean, I know my whole account is seen as disrespectful to many people, but still…).

At the end of my last post, Wicked (Madison’s Version) Part I, I shared the following:

In order to more candidly illustrate some of the bias ingrained into members, I’ve included an example of one of the lenses that we are taught to look through. To skip this section, feel free to scroll ahead to the picture of the Eiffel Tower :)

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I didn’t tell most people right away—not out of deceit, but because it was such a major life decision that I wanted (and frankly needed) time to process everything without too much outside noise or opinions.

One of the biggest reasons I initially stepped away was for my mental health, but something in me felt it would become more than that.

Thankfully, a number of things fell into place which allowed me that space to process without the opinions of others. (And honestly, after spending my life dedicated to this religion and immersed in its culture, those opinions were pretty predictable because they were all I had ever known. I had either felt, seen, or heard those opinions—often labeled as invitations, testimonies, promptings, rebukes, and warnings).

I had always tried to follow God in my life, and this was no different. During my process of leaving the church, I prayed a lot. A lot. I didn’t take that decision lightly, and asked God over and over to stop me if I was making the wrong decision. If I had felt that God was telling me not to, I wouldn’t have left.

But, the weird thing, what I had a difficult time making sense of, was that I felt like God was the one leading me in a new direction.

Everything I was taught at church said that that was impossible—God would never tell me anything contrary to the prophets and apostles, and He would never guide me away from His church.

And yet…He was.

At least, it was the same spirit who had led me to other good things in my life. I felt like I had a close relationship to God and I knew what His peace felt like. And this was it.

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Since leaving my faith four years ago, I have experienced a frustrating, but very real pattern.

If it were isolated to just my own life or just something only I experienced and others didn’t, I wouldn’t generalize it to more than just a “me problem” or feel so strongly about bringing this up. But it’s not. Although this isn’t something that everyone in the church plays a part in, I think it is prevalent enough to say it’s a problem within both the Mormon culture and the church itself.

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Like…a lot. For anyone who has left the Mormon church, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

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Because Mormonism is the entire backbone of my story (and the reason for me becoming a 30-year-old virgin in the first place!), I wanted to add a quick summary of beliefs for anyone who is less familiar with the church.

But…as I started writing a “quick summary,” I was reminded how complex church doctrine is. I have done my best to keep it simple and easy to understand while still providing enough basic doctrine and context for my story. Links to the church’s official website are included throughout the article for anyone who would like additional information.

I plan to add similar posts like this in the future to help in understanding the standards, customs, and culture of the church. If specific questions arise about terms that I use or beliefs I refer to, feel free to ask!!

TL;DR:

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (often called the Mormon church or LDS church) teaches that God is our loving Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ is our Savior. The purpose of this life is to grow, learn, and eventually return to live with Them through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, if we can prove our obedience to their commandments.

Church doctrine teaches that the truths Jesus taught became corrupt after His death. God restored the pure gospel through Joseph Smith after his First Vision, when he said he saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the early 1800s. Members believe God continues to guide the Church through modern prophets, and that following Jesus, making covenants, and staying faithful to the Gospel’s teachings help us return to Him.

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I am so grateful (and a litttttle nervous if I’m being totally honest) to have so many people, including faithful members of the church, already show support with my Substack. I appreciate you more than you know! I thought I would be writing into the abyss for awhile, so it means everything to me that you want to hear my story and understand my point of view, even (especially) if you don’t agree with me.

That said, if you are a believing member of the church and this ever gets to be too much or isn’t your cup of (herbal) tea, I respect that, too, and thank you so much for being here and wanting to understand. Because I have a number of new subscribers this week, I just want to emphasize that my purpose is not to convince people to live or believe a certain way. Everyone has their own path and journey; I’m just sharing mine!

While working on a different article I intended to post this week (which will still be shared soon!), I kept thinking of things which I think provide important context for understanding me and my worldview. Obviously, humans are complicated, so various layers of my life and perspective will gradually add context over time as I share more and more stories and details about my life. But for today, I want to share…

6 Things You Should Probably Know About Me:

1) I’ve always been a bit of a hippie

Not so much in my head (it’s more of a mix between perfectionism and chaos up there) or in terms of how I interpreted or lived the doctrine and standards for myself. But a hippie at heart, who believed we needed to focus more on loving people, and let God take care of the rest.

As a believing member, even though it wasn’t the perspective I was “supposed” to have, I was never overly worried about salvation for people who left the church or those who were not interested in becoming a member.

I wanted people to have the same blessings of the Gospel that I did and regularly shared my beliefs with others who were not members of the church. But, at the same time, I also believed that God and Jesus Christ knew people’s hearts and unique situations beyond what we could, and would guide them in their individual circumstances and needs. In fact, I even believed that there were many people God actually needed outside of the church in order to do good in other settings.

While working with kids with autism throughout most of my 20s, I also frequently thought about how well God knows each of us individually. I “knew” my church was true, but also felt that if an imperfect person like me could adapt teachings, strategies, and educational environments for a child’s unique needs, that a God who is perfect and all-knowing, could do the same for us and guide us in the ways we each need.

Growing up in the Midwest, where I was in a religious minority, also had a profound impact on how I saw the world.

Although I genuinely believed that my church did have the “fulness of truth” and direct authority from God, I also saw the very real and genuine relationships so many people outside of my faith had with God. As I got older, I frequently pushed back on rhetoric I heard at church (usually in predominantly Mormon areas) implying that we had more of a monopoly to Jesus, as well as remarks about people of other faiths using grossly negative stereotypes. Seeing the good that so many of my friends and neighbors growing up did in their own churches and lives created a foundation of understanding and belief for me at a young age that God is so much bigger than the Mormon church.

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“Merry Christmas! Today has been a total blast! I don’t know what to say except I’m so grateful for all of my material and spiritual blessings. I feel so fortunate to have everything that I have. I have the best family in the world. I love them so much! Lately (after I listened to my new John Bytheway talk on CD)

I’ve been thinking of my future husband. I’m not living my life worthily for just me.

It’s also for my husband, kids, and family. I love them. The gospel is true.”

Entry From My Personal Diary (Christmas Day, 12 Years Old)

Since leaving the Mormon church, I think about my younger self frequently.

I think of her deep, intrinsic desire to simply be “good.” That 12-year-old girl in the picture loves God. She loves her family and her friends. She just genuinely wants to do the right thing—to choose the right and to make Heavenly Father and Jesus happy.

I can see it in her eyes when I look at pictures. I can feel it in her journal entries. That girl is still part of me in so many ways—in almost every way, in fact. Even now, I feel that same desire to be good. (My perception of what that looks like is much more nuanced now, but my heart feels the same.)

I often wonder how heartbroken she would be to know she eventually walks away from the one thing that means the most to her: the church. I think of the sheer terror she would feel at the thought of betraying God, losing her salvation, and not being with her family in the next life (all consequences that the church has taught her will happen if she is not obedient or ever leaves).

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