I'll be honest -- Back in the day, I served a 2-year mission in a Northern European country. The country was pretty cool (literally and figuratively) but being a missionary there was the shits. Every day, I could hardly wait for the "best two years of my life" to be over.

So, that begs the question...

Are most missionaries happy in the work? Or, are they miserable on their missions but simply playing the role that they are expected to play?

Come on dude, I went on a mission, you went on a mission, we all know the answer! They're just playing a role and counting down the days til their two-year prison sentence is over. I have a few fond memories from my mission but the overall day to day grind was miserable.

I served in Iowa and we had next to nobody to teach. If you don't have teaching appointments to tend to, all that leaves is tracting so that's about all we had to do. Going door to door bothering people to join some stupid cult that they probably know the absurdity of brings about as much joy as rubbing your nipples on a rusty cheese grater so you end up shirking your proselyting duties for whatever you can find to kill time with. But then you are stricken with guilt because you aren't serving the Lord and building the kingdom and the souls of all those who you didn't find because you were lazy will be condemning you on the other side (yes, I was seriously told this).

A lot of my companions and I couldn't wait to go home and we were open about it. Then of course there were a bunch of dorks who make a big show about what a joy it is to serve the Lord and chastise you for not relishing your opportunity so you just don't say anything about your desires to finish up and go home to these Peter Priesthood ducks.

I would guess that most are miserable. The beginning of my mission was, without a doubt, the worst time of my life...teaching BS doctrine, rejection, the sickness, the starvation, etc... By the end, I was happy to have lived in a different country and learned a new language, but I was anxious to get out of there. I couldn't understand the few elders/sisters that decided to extend...of course, some of them had much better living conditions on the mission than they had at home, so I wouldn't say it was always a love for the "work".

I also liked the country I was in--so much I have visited with my family, but the actual mission experience was pretty miserable.

The first 6 months or so were extremely miserable. The scripture "I will be on your right hand and on your left, ... and mine dangels round about you, to bear you up." played through my mind as I would tract into uninterested person after uninterested person. I didn't understand why people wouldn't recognize that we had the truth if God was there with his angels bearing me up--and it certainly didn't feel like he was there.

I never would have asked to get sent home, but I did occasionally wish I would die so it would all be over.

I did find fun activities to do on P-days and had some companions I had a lot of fun with, but I always felt a little guilty that I might be wasting important time.

I don't know how many TBM RMs will openly admit to how horrible the mission experience is, but I was aware of several missionaries with significant depression and a lot of missionaries whose happiness was no deeper than a facade. It's unfortunate that only exmos are willing to be honest about how miserable the experience is.

I was mostly happy but broke pretty much all the rules most of the time. I was most miserable in meetings...

I kept pretty much all the rules all the time, and I was most happy in meetings - mostly because I wasn't out tracting, which is what I did for pretty much all time that I wasn't in meetings, aside from eating and sleeping of course. God I couldn't wait until the next meeting - the only times I ever felt sane.

It was a two year nightmare, and when I got home it felt a lot like waking up and remembering that regular life isn't so bad.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/03/2014 01:55PM by kimball.

I followed the mission rules to a tee. Did everything I was supposed to do. Didn't listen to music, watch tv, go to the movies. I prayed, fasted and studied, blah, blah, blah...

Was I happy? Hell no. Worst two years of my life. In fact, about a year in my mom was hassling me because I didn't write a letter to the ward that they could post up on the bulletin board to read about how blessed I felt and how happy I was doing the Lords work. Finally I just had to reveal to her how miserable I was and how much I hated it.

The only thing that kept me on a mission was knowing that if I went home early, I'd be labeled a failure and a loser. Funny thing is that a few months ago I was talking to Mo who left his mission early and came home but stayed active his whole life. In his fifties he's still plagued with that failure label.

The day I got home was, at the point in my life, the most joyous day ever.

I was happy, but only partially. I enjoyed losing myself in the work, and time went quickly because I was constantly engaged. That is one of the most effect ways to brainwash someone, and I was happy, brainwashed and oblivious.

However, there were always cracks in that happiness that I never really understood them. I would have terrible stress-nightmares. I was constantly guilty and constantly self-hating (humility, right?).

It was happy in that I was oblivious, but there were serious issues going on.

My "mission" part of the mission was miserable--dealing with the MP, the APs, tracking, etc.

Luckily, most of my companions weren't into it either and for about 18 months of my mission we were able to screw around--watching movies, going to the ocean, hanging out with other missionaries, I even had a sister missionary girlfriend. So, that part was cool, but I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. Doing what I was supposed to be doing was personally miserable, depressing, and rude to other people.

I think it often depends entirely on the companion you are assigned to. And yes, I know you can't make others responsible for your happiness blah, blah, blah but companions are a different breed altogether. You don't get to choose them, you can't walk away from them, you can't even get away from them, other than to go to the bathroom. Twenty-four hours a day they are supposed to be within your sight, unless you can do swaps, which just put you under the surveillance and makes you responsible for someone not of your choosing.

If you get a happy, upbeat, laid back comp then you are happy and able to have fun. If you get someone psycho or emotionally stunted or trunky - a complainer or a rule-bound tight @ss, you are going to be unhappy. Simply because you can't get away from what is making you miserable. While I enjoyed my time with my nice companions, because great people can make the best of bad situations and find fun in anything, my time with my problem comps was a nightmare.

I would imagine some missions could be absolutely awesome if you had the right companions and you had the sense to know you weren't going to hell for breaking some stupid mission rules concocted by some stuffy old dudes to turn you into a robot. 2 year vacation to some semi-tropical environment with a bunch of girls who are crazy about an American white dude? Sign me up!

When I was in the Mission Home (yes, I am that old), we were specifically told to only write positive things in our letters home. We were specifically instructed to avoid mentioning anything negative, so that our families back home would assume that everything was going beautifully, and they could pass the cheery news on to the ward members. Even at the tender age of 19, I thought that such counsel was very Orwellian.

Anything to keep the myth alive!

Bishop Jackwagon's son was chased by a knife-wielding crazy on his mission and the son was specifically counseled not to tell his parents about it. Son told a cleaned up version to his mom, who told it to me. She also told me she got on her son's companion's mission blog and got the WHOLE story.

We were told it might discourage other kids from going on missions or other parents from sending their kids if we wrote bad things about our experience. We didn't want to hinder the missionary work by complaining, did we?

The happiest times on my mission is when I was breaking the asinine rules-- going to the beach, movies, swimming, volleyball, sightseeing, etc. Probably because I felt like I was getting my money's worth.

Likewise, I was unhappiest when I had a dickwad companion and had to follow all the rules.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/03/2014 01:54PM by hangar18.

I would characterize my mission experience as moments of happiness lightly sprinkled on a sea of boredom, depression, homesickness, and some anger. It sucked more often than not, but there were certainly some enjoyable parts here and there.

You can tell how the missionaries real feelings about it by listening to the way they talk to each other when they're just killing time, and there are no regular people around. At least in my experience, it goes something like this: "How long have you served?" "What are things like back at home?" "I've only got 4 months left 'till I go home." "You want to know the first thing I'm going to do when I get back?" They sound exactly like prisoners!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/03/2014 02:03PM by nickname.

By the posture, expressions, the way they walk and move

- I'd say they're ecstatic.

I was just going through my journal from my mission. Man I was very clearly depressed...

There were a few events that I am happy with, but overall it was just awfull. It delayed the rest of my life.

Post mission as a TBM when times got rough in my life and I felt depressed I would say to myself, "well at least I'm not on my mission still walking around getting rejected all day and yelled at by my leaders."

There was a part of it that I "lost myself in the work" where I would have said I was happy...but it wasn't lasting happiness, it was an illusion.

I greatly fretted about my salvation and obedience. I felt doomed much of my mission for all the souls that might be perishing because of my weaknesses. I felt held to a high level of accountability for every moment of it, and it's exhausting to never feel a break from the pressure, it's always there. Every hour of every day someone is out there perishing in unbelief that I'm supposed to save and it's my fault. If I'm not exactly obedient and don't do every last thing in my power, god will flush us both down the toilet.

I wonder if there's PTSD potential on a mission in itself, besides things that happen.

I think so because later in life I deployed overseas in the mil and the mental box felt similar. In these undemocratic authoritarian regimes (the military and the church), there's sometimes an expectation that you must sacrifice anything and everything for its own sake. And not just dying. The expectation is that you do superhuman things that are just unrealistic. If there are failures in the system it's the individual's fault. It's his/her job to apply more effort, more will, more genius.

Only the ones who actually do live in La-la Land.

Thanks for sharing. It's very therapeutic to read this.

One thing that sucked almost as much as having to do missionary junk all the time was coming home and feeling bad that I was so happy not to have to do it anymore, and not feeling like it was the "best two years." What was wrong with me? Why wasn't my heart in the right place?

Turns out, my heart was in the right place. My ass was in the wrong place.

No, I wasn't happy on my mission. OK, there were parts that I enjoyed, P-days where when I had a companion that would go exploring the country with me (I was in Korea), but the work was terrible.

I would write the "happy" letters to my parents and the truth to my sister (who later confided that she cried almost constantly when she ready my letters about what I was going through).

Almost every missionary I knew was thrilled to death when their time was up. I considered taking the "leave a month early, but still honorably" out, but figured I would stick it out for the full 2 years.

In my mission, most exit interviews lasted 15 - 20 mins. Mine lasted less than 5. I'm pretty sure he had a prepared speech, but when he said, right at the top, "Your sacrifice was worth it" or something to that effect, I broke down in tears can couldn't really respond, I just thought it was so "inspired" because I really felt like the last 2 years had been a terrible sacrifice and my wonderful leader told me it was worth it. He didn't know what to do, so he basically said, "Good job" and sent me on my way.

I tried to believe the delusion that these had been "great" years, but I just couldn't and I couldn't get anyone else to understand either, because all they knew was that missions were great and I got to go to an exotic exciting place.

Just glad it's all over and I don't have to go through it again.

I loved it. Hated every aspect of church attendance and rules growing up and since my mission. For some reason I enjoyed every bit of my mission.

Things I liked:

* Getting to walk around and see Japan, both downtown Tokyo and countryside, was neat.

* Going to the little festivals (matsuri) that happened periodically.

* Arriving home and getting to listen to my music (MP allowed movie soundtracks) as I was going to sleep.

* Getting to just hang out in the apt with my companion (I had pretty good companions with only 1 exception).

* The few dinner appointments we had, and the various activities (church or otherwise) and cultural events we were invited to.

* Riding my bike long distances.

* Doing actual service to help people. (side note: most of the "service" that we did consisted of hanging out with kids in daycare facilities of some sort - not actual service)

* Getting to meet all kinds of crazy people in English class.



Things I didn't care for:

* Going to church and other church meetings

* Planning meetings, District Meetings, Zone Meetings, etc. (with the exception of getting to see old buddies and eating at an all-you-can-eat place)

* Tracting or street contacting (because it NEVER worked)

* Basically almost anything I was *SUPPOSED* to be doing.


I wish I had done more of the former list, and less of the latter.

Sounds like my Japanese mission too. The less seriously you took it, the happier you were.

I was not happy on my mission. I felt like I was working myself to death trying to fill in a bottomless pit, or repeatedly rolling a stone up a mountain. No matter what I did, no matter how many people I baptized, lessons taught, people contacted... I always felt like I was failing the god I believed in for not doing more.

That said, there were moments I was happy. These usually involved good food and good company, not talking about church stuff, not tracting or teaching etc. I also liked learning the language, partially because at the time I was crazy about learning asian languages (I wanted to be a linguist).

When I first arrived in the mission field, my Sr. Companion became very ill. It turned out to be bronchial pneumonia. He used to cough up greenish-yellowish phlegm into a jar.

Because he was so sick, we stayed at home for the first few weeks of my mission. I had to do grocery shopping by myself -- I thought Satan would own me, for sure.

With about 2 weeks left in my companion's mission, we had a Zone Conference. The MP thought that my companion had faked his illness so that he didn't have to go out and work. During an interview, the MP told my companion that if he did not get better, the MP could not authorize him to go home. My companion just broke down and sobbed uncontrolably.

I never went on a mission, I didn't want to go and refused the pressure to go.Thankfully,my Father only asked me once if I wanted to go. I said "No.". He was satisfied and never asked again. Many years later we were working together on a remodeling project on my bathroom and he confided in me that his mission was very difficult and very lonely. He went in 1960 when missions were two and a half years. At the time all of western Canada west of Manitoba was one mission. My father spent almost two years in Victoria and Vancouver where he was very happy. The final year of his mission was spent in Edmonton,Alberta and finally a little village in northern Saskatchewan.

All I know for sure is that he was miserable after he left British Columbia and was depressed in this village in Saskatchewan. His companion had no money,they had no baptisms and felt cut off from the mission. When it was time to go home, he simply left. My grandfather drove to meet him half way from Salt Lake which was roughly around Regina and took him home...

He always defended my decision to not go to other ward members and while he gave few details he always said that missions are not easy or what they are cracked up to be.