I am a recovering Mormon. I am including my story for your site. My email is mmonnett@whidbey.com I am willing to help others. Thanks for your site!

Sincerely, Marjie

I was the youngest of five children. I grew up with an authoritarian father and a mother who catered to my father. My father was verbally abusive. He would call us idiots, imbeciles, dumb-heads, and nincompoops. He would not just reserve this for his children, he would also include his wife. My father had a hard time expressing affection--occasionally his endearments were difficult to separate from his chastisements--a personal Gordian knot.

I learned at an early age not to express anything to my father, unless I was willing to have it negated. I also learned this with my older brothers and sisters, as they picked up my father’s pattern. I grew up having no confidence in my ideas--my ideas were counterfeit, they belonged to others. I was shy and withdrawn--I kept to myself and read books to fill the void. I avoided the brunt of the abuse this way. I got good grades and teachers loved me--I was a teacher’s dream--quiet and did my work. It would have been better if I had challenged and questioned the content of our studies; if I had, I would have learned how to think, defend my viewpoints, and consequently built up my self-esteem.

I joined the Mormon church when I was 18, against my parent’s wishes. I was drawn to the warmth and friendliness I found there—which was in sharp contrast to my own family atmosphere. While the doctrine was strange to me, I got caught up in the catch 22 of "if you pray with a sincere heart and real intent, the truth will be made manifest to you by the power of the Holy Ghost." Others seemed to really know—and I didn’t have that much confidence in my own thinking, so relied on the words of others.

I married too early--getting away from my home situation. I went from an authoritarian father to a relationship and religion with heavy patriarchal influence. I still looked outside myself for answers and validation. The voices I heard were critical and my responses self deprecatory.

I was a "good Mormon". I had eight children, was Primary President twice, in the Relief Society Presidency, and held many other positions. I also had many opportunities to speak and could hold an audience. Disillusionment came slowly but surely, as I experienced the LDS way of life. I was concerned about the rampant depression among women in the church, the upgrading of experiences to qualify as "spiritual" ones for testimony meetings, the irony of having the priesthood lead the church when it was the women who really held things together, and could be relied on. Then there was tithing—hearing that if you had enough faith, and paid your tithing, the Lord would provide. So, how about the young family who pays tithing and isn’t making it financially—obviously they just don’t have enough faith! Think of the mental torture in that one! After 17 years of marriage I decided that it was time to stop being the "good wife" and start being a little more assertive. Before, I followed the admonition of the brethren—counsel with your husband when you are concerned about a decision, but the final determination is up to the head of the household—the priesthood bearer. My husband made several bad decisions that I could not support, but I simply stated how I felt and let it alone.

There is a time in life when you must honestly face yourself and make decisions. I decided to let go of others’ knowledge and only go by my experience. I prayed, read the Book of Mormon and the Bible. I then discarded everything that didn’t feel right, that didn’t seem true according to my experience. Mormonism fell, as did Christianity. I told my husband that I no longer believed and that I thought we needed to get a divorce. He wanted to stay married. He said that if I had studied as much as he had I’d know the church was true. He wanted to teach me (righteous condescension?!). This did not set well with me, and whatever misgivings I had were eliminated. My truth had to be my own. The misery I felt during this period was very real and immeasurable--I felt that I had blown the whole family apart.

In my guilt, I thought for a while that, since I was the one that changed, that I should give my husband custody of the kids. When you are going through a divorce and also dealing with issues of faith, you do not think clearly. It was a friend who intervened, that stopped me from taking this course--and I bless him to this day. He and his wife had been Mormons and had left the church for religious reasons. My friend told me that if I stayed with that decision he would jump right into the middle of this mess. Thank God I listened to him. I was suffering so much at the time, that reason was submerged beneath the pain.

I left my marriage and my church and moved forward. I became a disc jockey and went back to school full time. This time I didn’t sit quietly in class—I challenged things I didn’t agree with—it was wonderful. The dissolution of a marriage is never easy and I felt the misery. I tried to explain to my children what was happening—they couldn’t understand why we were getting a divorce, we never argued! In the next couple of years the changes in my life were enormous, and they felt awful. But growth does not always feel good--when you learn things, you often lose things. I lost and I found myself--the strength that I gained along the way is immense. It has stood me well. I would never have gained it if I had denied myself. In "losing the spirit" as the church calls it, I did not become a worldly and unkind individual. I am more empathetic than ever—and have a very definite set of ethics. My ethics are uniquely my own.

As far as the church goes, here is what I tell my children: "I will support you in anything you do, as long as you really believe it--not that someone else wants you to, or that someone smarter than you thinks it is truth." I want my children to think for themselves, I want them to question, and most importantly, I want them to be willing to pay the price for their actions. They know these by heart.

There is still pain—that will probably always be there, because three of my children have stayed in the church and must come to grips with my "lack of faith". The five children that are out of the church have a very distant relationship with their dad, who can’t seem to open up his arms and accept them for who they are—he only sees through the lens of the religion. My children want his love and acceptance—but he isn’t capable of giving it. So, as each of them tries to be real with their dad, they receive judgements, blame and condemnation. He says that he is a father first who looks at eternal consequences. How incredibly sad it is that he will never have an intimate relationship with his own children—how he will never know what nice individuals they are. Yes there is still pain, and it will not be going away anytime soon. That is the incredibly sad legacy of what the "only true church" does to families who don’t choose its truth. By their fruits ye shall know them—this alienation of families is mighty rotten fruit.