For me, leaving the church was not as hard as the experiences of many. In fact, joining it was honestly more traumatic, but maybe that is the reason.

I wasn't born into the church, and none of my family were ever mormon.

In college, I was an experimenter like everyone else. I grew up in a very religious protestant family- my father ( my parents were split up) took me to church every sunday morning, sunday evening and wednesday night. That is how we do it here in the south after all.

Around 11, I was given the choice of whether or not to go to church. I chose not to. In high school I finally went to my own Baptist church because all my friends were part of a "cool" youth group there. By the end of high school though, I had stopped attending there as well.

Going into college, I 'recommitted" myself to God and joined an evangelical group on campus. I loved the ministry and I loved the people. For the first time in my life, I owned my faith and I was doing everything I could to learn more about God and to come closer to him.

So maybe that (in addition to my background knowledge and curiosity about the church from a religious studies class) is why when the missionaries approached me on campus, I did more than just politely listen to them, only to take their card and throw it away. Instead I kept the card and found myself at the local singles ward the next Sunday. Something about the idea of praying earnestly and listening to the "Holy Spirit" appealed to me. Soon I found myself secretly meeting with the missionaries, afraid to mention it to my closest friends. My friends were all in the student ministry on campus and subconcsiously I knew that if I talked to them about it, I would be talked out of it. And I didn't want to be.

You see, everyone was just so nice! And everything sounded so wonderful, as long as I allowed my educated and critical brain to gloss over the details. And I got such a good feeling when I walked into the ward or when I read the BOM and prayed earnestly. And honestly, I had felt my faith and spiritual growth stalling out- I thought the church was the answer- maybe I had gotten as close to God as I could and this was the next step.
So, in just a couple of weeks, I had decided to join the church, after just a few discusions, a couple of sundays and FHEs, and many hours reading the BOM, mormon.org and a few other investigator websites.

And then- well, the proverbial poo hit the fan. I told my campus minister- she was upset and shocked. My friends were hurt. There was a tearful intervention where the only friends that didn't avoid me for weeks afterward were the agnostic ones.

Still, I went ahead. I was baptized. Looking back, it wasn't as happy as I thought it was. It was stressful.

For the next 8 months, I was a good convert. I read scripture, did baptisms for the dead at the local temple, took on callings (that I wasn't qualified for), etc. I made good friends and repaired the relationships with my non-mormon friends.

Life was ok and I was happy. Sure, as a college student, I was bothered by needing to wear short sleeves and knee length everything. I missed coffee, and was a little (secretly) sad that my 21st birthday wouldn't include alcohol.

My family found out, but they survived. My dad nearly had a heart attack, but it was ok. I spent the summer in summer school and spent even more time in the singles ward building just off campus.

Honestly, I probably could have stayed in the church the rest of my life and been happy, if just a little wistful for how things could have been.

But then the fall semester rolled around, and something about the time of year made me miss my old ministry. The wistfulness for the way things used to be became a little bit of regret. So, I started hanging out with old friends again, going to group hang outs of my "other" christian friends. I felt that familiar pull on my "spirit" or heart or whatever it was. It was a longing for something more.

I started reading the bible instead of the BOM in my daily (ish) study. I even (a little guiltily) started going to my friend's protestant small group bible study and a few large group worship gatherings. I kept up my LDS church activities, but found reasons to go out of town on the weekends occasionally, just to take a break.

By spring semester I was finding excuses to skip FHE's and more Sundays. At the same time, I felt like God was speaking to me again, and I eventually started meeting up with my old pastor. I realized I had made a mistake and became inactive.

I wasn't ready to officially leave, but I had left in my heart. I became involved in my old ministry, where I was welcomed back with open arms, even going on a mission trip that spring. I sent my letter soon after- I received one reply that was an "are you sure?" kind of thing. I replied that I was.

The bishop kindly agreed to quickly have my name removed, and I received my notification just a month later. And like that, it was over.

I can honestly say I don't regret a lot of that year. Maybe because it was only a year. But, I had some good times with good people. I regret the drama I created for my friends and family and that is about it- except for having to explain my 'exploration' to my now fiancee. That was a little embarrassing- probably because I still don't understand why it happened. The one thing I do always tell everyone is that I don't think the LDS church is as crazy as everyone makes it out to be- its just a bunch of kind,friendly people who have been indoctrinated with ridiculousness that fulfills wishful thinking. There are only a few who truly are either crazy or twisted and I believe God will deal with them.

And yes, I do still believe in God, though after one more year in my campus ministry, I have become your average non-committed protestant Christian- I pray occasionally, love Jesus, but choose to enjoy my Sunday mornings outside of church. And I'm happy this way.