I'm usually not a person who feels the need to broadcast my personal life to those I don't know. However, when my thoughts turn to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints I feel compelled to share my story. With that said, I'll begin...

I was born into the LDS faith and grew up in Thatcher, AZ (it's claim to fame being an old house where a former prophet, Ezra Taft Benson I think, lived). My dad is a Catholic when it suits him (during baptisms, funerals, quinceanera's, and times of desperation) and my mother was a convert to the LDS Church during her early 20's. During my early years my mom saw to it that me and my older sister had exposure to other religions and we would "choose" which we felt best. For a short while we attended Methodist services before "deciding" on the Mormon Faith.

Growing up in the church I didn't think that any of it's beliefs or practices were bizarre. I mean, we didn't do anything like snake-handling, speak in tongues, or constantly preach of a burning hell waiting for us like I thought most other religions did. No; we were reverant, calm, focused on being good people, and knew ours' was the one true church. I remember that one of the topics constantly taught to us was that through "faith and obedience" we could become worthy and moral people. Faith and obedience... that was the path to finding truth and happiness.

Time went on and on my 8th birthday I was looking forward to being baptised. Of course, my dad wasn't a member so unlike the other boys I had to find someone else to baptise me. Regardless, I was baptised and I distinctly remember feeling nothing special as I was raised from the water other than a vague sense of completing something that everyone else had done. I shrugged it off and felt more compelled to believe in the Church. I continued to follow in the Church's teachings and reciting that testimony to myself that was ingrained: "I know this Church is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a True Prophet."

Before I continue, dear reader, let me clear something up: My dad was the archetype of an alcoholic who's sole existence hinges on coming home to beat the shit out of the family pets and his own children. It was hell. Absolute hell. My mother never did anything directly to stop it for a long time. Instead, she bided her time by getting a part time job to pay for her associates degree from Eastern Arizona College before divorcing his sorry ass to free us from him (to an extent) and become an independant woman.

To this day, my mother remains as the most patient, loving, and long-suffering woman I know.

Anyway, my parents divorced the same year that I receive the Aaronic Priesthood. Like my baptism, I'm the only boy in the entire Ward that doesn't have a father to bestow this upon him. I'm bothered by it but I commit myself more to the Church. "I won't let my own son's go through this.", "I believe in this Church. I believe in Heavenly Father." At the same time of these confirmations I'm starting to notice some discrepancies in Church Doctrine and it's members. You know, some things what the Church teaches don't make a lot sense... oh well, faith and obedience. Family's can be together forever... well, my dad's not a member and hurts me... how do I reconcile that? I need to have faith and that will make life better. I'm a Child of God. I need to trust in the Lord, follow his teachings, and then I'll be blessed.

My school life wasn't much better than my home life. I never really fit into the "mormon crowd". My family was poor, my dad was mexican, and I was mormon. To this day I don't really have words that can convey what that meant growing up in Mormonville/Thatcher, AZ other than isolation. The non-mormon crowd never really accepted me because of my firm religious beliefs (and white skin to a few persons). And the mormon's didn't accept me because of my father and/or the fact that I was poor. That coupled with the lack of self-esteem I had from my father's abuse contributed to me having a target painted on my forehead to both crowds... and I never fought back because I held to the Church's teachings of being patient and "turning the other cheek". I chose to not make a stand for myself to "Make a Stand"... foolish and naive, and I paid a price for that deluded thinking.

I elected to be with the misfits in that small school.

Time goes on with me redoubling my efforts in the Church, trying to be as faithful as possible to the Church as I can be despite having some questions in the back of my head. I wanted to be happy. After all, a lot of the Elder's in the Church showed more kindness to me than my father ever did so there had to be something to this Church, right? It was the one, true church. More than knowing that, I wanted to prove to the world that it was the one, true church.

I put all my energy into the Church. I studied the Scriptures and lessons. I did what was asked of me. I surrendered myself to faith and obedience to the Church.

At 14 years old, I remember meeting with the Bishop for a talk. I was depressed, having suicidal ideations, and feeling more lonely than I ever had. The abuse from school, home, and fellow church members had taken it's toll. I was self-mutilating myself (rare for straight males, I know, but I did it). I spilled my guts out to this Bishop. I poured my heart out. I told him how much I was hurting inside, how isolated I felt, and that I was doing my best to follow the teachings of the Church but I couldn't find happiness within myself. I felt imperfect.

I remember the first words he said to me after my "confession":

"You know it's a sin to hurt yourself? Your body is a temple, and you need to repent for what you've done."

I felt devastated. This was a man I grew up believing that would empathize or at least say, "It's ok, I understand you're hurting. I don't have all the answers but this will help you..." but instead I was told that I wasn't obeying the teachings of Christ even though I was fucking giving my all trying to be the best god-fucking-damn person I could be.

I wasn't good enough. I was sinning.

I trusted this man.

Looking back, this was truly the beginning of the end for me and the LDS church.

Now, you'd think I get the hint. In a sense I did, but I went the opposite direction of a non-believer: I became a die-hard apologist. A FARMS person in the making.

"The members aren't perfect, BUT THE CHURCH IS TRUE!!!"

I went through high school knowing the Church was false in my mind but still trying to hold onto it with my heart. It was one of the few things in my life I could call "stable". I attended Seminary all four years. My late teen years were conflicted. I felt too "sinful" for mormon girls, and broke a few non-mormon girl's hearts because I wanted to obey the Church. To those girls, I am truly sorry. I'm sorry.

I was a loner. I was Don Quixote.

While this religious confliction is going on, I'm also dealing with my inner demons from pop's abuse and his continued bullshit. Fuck...

I graduate from High School. I end up in college. I'm completely disenfrenchised with the LDS faith but I still hold onto it from conditioning. Why? I think what a lot of people don't realize about the LDS church is the social factor. Mormonism isn't just a simple religion, it's a lifestyle and culture. And when you grow up into it, that makes it all the harder to leave it.

After I left college, I completely left the Church. My heart accepted that it wasn't true. It was all a lie. It's a cult. I finally ignored what the believers and accepted what the sensible thought: It was bullshit. Unequivocal.

Looking back, I feel anger over the time I lost spent defending that fraudulent religion. I feel rage over supressing my own growth as a person because I wanted to "Choose the Right". I feel humiliated over suppressing my sense of logic and reason. I'm hurt over all the time I wasted trying to meet the Church's standards of perfection. I'm fucking pissed off that I pushed away true relationships I had with others.

Thought Crime, sex outside of marriage, what music I listen to, how I dress, how I interact with non-members... FUCK. I can't express the sense of loss I feel when I followed the church standards on these issues instead of choosing my own path.

I held back on my life, because I wanted to satisfy a delusion. I can't express how much this makes me seethe.

To this day, I've committed myself to not be a victim of this church. I never knew a sense of peace and happiness until the day I finally left the LDS Church. I finally decided to put my money where my mouth is and officially resign from the Church (after 10+ years of non-believing) and now I feel an odd sense that it's not over yet.

I despise the the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I know that there are many that compartementalize and get a sense of comfort from it (like my mom and my sisters), but I can't shake this feeling of absolute contempt and hatred for the LDS Church with it's omissions and lies that it spoon-feeds to it's members.

I want this Church to fall and burn, to have it's believers see the lies that have been exposed to the rest of the world and then abandon it. I know it isn't that simple, though. Like many religions, people can be exposed to the truth but will still cling to Mormonism because of the firm grasp it has on their lives.

At least I'm free of it now. Self-preservation, yeah?

The most I can do is educate people on the Church's false promises, and expose it for the great hypocrisy and fraud that it is.

I am not merely a non-believer or ex-mormon anymore. I am an enemy to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I say that with full conviction. I know this Church isn't true, and I know that Joseph Smith wasn't a true prophet.

That's my story with the LDS church. After I left it was a "live and let live" policy but recently I've felt extremely antagonistic towards it.

I'm dedicated to the fight against this Church.

That's my story. Make of it what you will.

I guess that's just part of the healing process.