My parents love me, I know that. My neighbors want me to be happy, I know that too. The people who think I have lost my way feel that way because they feel like they have the only way, that's totally cool. My wife feels like all she was ever taught to be was a mother, that's not okay. When we lost our baby she thought that she would somehow no longer fit in, again, not okay. My wife and I feel like we were forced into roles that do not define us, not okay, so we left the church.

That's the end result, it wasn't easy but I hope that my story can help out others.

Rewind to highschool. I really enjoyed smoking pot and masturbating. They were enjoyable, I felt good, I felt like I was exploring life and different things. My religion told me that I was a sinner and needed to repent. I started to feel like I was being pulled in two different directions. I was doing things that I enjoyed but was told that those enjoyable things were evil, or satan was just fooling me into thinking they were enjoyable. Best stop that and spend my time playing it safe. CRAP.

Well a few years of drugs, rock and roll, and girlfriends later I found myself graduated and not progressing as a "normal" 18 year old Utahn. I was so self consious about not being in school or having grandious plans for myself so what did I do? I went on a mission. (there seems to be a lack of logic here).

The mission was horrible.... awful.
People wanting to fight over religion is just about the ugliest thing on earth. Anyway, I felt like I had made the biggest mistake of my short life and started to look for a "socially acceptable" way of going home. I tried hurting myself so I could break something bad enough to go home, I kid you not. That is a psychological disorder right there! I feel sad that I didn't just call up the mission president and take a stand and say, "this is all bull, I'm going home!" but I was scared. I wasn't working hard so I obviously hadn't given the mission a real chance.

I could go on about all of the messed up things about being a missionary but for the sake of brevity I will fast forward. I started getting headaches on my mission so I went to a doctor who gave me a prescription for like a billion codiene+tylenol+caffiene pills, SMART! I had no idea it was a narcotic and as soon as I started taking it I found that being a missionary was a lot easier with the aid of codiene. I started packing around like fifteen of these pills everyday and taking them when I felt like it. Well, this turned ugly and I eventually came home early. I told everyone that I was sick or some bullshit so they would leave me alone.

Looking back I guess the real genesis (for lack of a better term) was from a conversation I had with someone I can't even remember on my mission. It went something like this:

Me: I we're mormon missionaries, have you ever learned about us or the good message we share about Jesus Christ?
Them: Yeah, we know who you are.
Me: Did you ever get to know what our church teaches from someone ordained to spread the gospel?
Them: Uh, no. Have you ever learned about Judaism?
Me: Of course.
Them: Well, we're not interested, good bye.

Pretty simple conversation but as I analyzed the content I saw something that I didn't like. I went on a mission to help people and make a positive impact on the world. In my heart all I wanted to do was good. I realized from that conversation that I was asking people to do something I honestly wouldn't do for them.

I was asking someone with their own beliefs to listen to me and not look at what the critics of mormonism had to say about it. If I were home and a scientologist came to my door, I would send them away thinking they were bat-shit crazy because of their reputation. How could I ask others not to do that to me? To take the insiders guide to mormonism and not look into what isn't so great about it?

Anyway, that was the begining of the end. I just couldn't accept that I had the one true version of the whole story when I had only entertained the mormon idea and felt pretty good about it. What if I had been born buddhist? I probably would entertain that idea, see the good, and join up just as easily as any religion.

The ultimate tipping point was the question, What if I'm wrong? and my parents who I love, what if they're wrong too? What if the majority of the people I grew up around, what if they are also wrong? That's some tough stuff to deal with and it took it's time.

I work in mental health now and I can see everyday that people can believe anything they put effort into believing, the same is true about god.

So since there is so much confusion about the whole thing I just decided that the costs out weigh the ends for me. Sure believing that I will be with my family forever is nice, but I can't persecute homosexuals because of it. I can't continue to support a economic system that places men at the top and subjugates everyone else below it. I can't be part of the problem.

So we stopped going. It's not our thing. Here's the best part of the story: I have never been happier in my life. Not because I left but because I don't feel like a bad person. I have my own concept of morality and it works for me. I accept myself and my shortcomings. I love life. Wouldn't it be great to live with your family forever? yeah, of course it would. But if I was unhappy in life, why would I want to live with myself forever?

If you made it all the way through my abset-minded babbling thank you. I hope that you are happy and find truth in your own life!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/15/2011 05:10AM by dogboy.