“If you leave, you’ll lose everything”

If i’m being completely honest.. I think this has been a long time coming. I know that there are so many of my distant friends and acquaintances who have been very curious about my path, my decisions, and where I currently stand. It’s been really difficult for me to make the time, Ok that’s not true, when I want to write, I’ve always found the time… the truth is, is that I’m really scared of being misunderstood. Or having my words used against me. Or having people take what I’ve written and misconstrue it to what they need it to be.

But I think it’s time.

This may be choppy, it may not have the perfect flow right from the beginning because I’m going to write this as my own thoughts, my own experience. Not a perfectly polished paper for a daunting professor, not a calculated strategic article that is written with the only intent to convince you that I KNOW what the secret to _____ is. Just me with my words.

So here we go! If this topic is just too personal, and too protected for you, I want to kindly encourage you to stop reading right now. I value our relationship, I value your own experiences. I am in no way wanting to challenge what your life experience has been. But I do want to write out what mine has been, and I want to express how my decision to leave the church was not a quick, in-the-moment, sort of decision.

Growing up in the LDS church was not a hard or difficult thing for me. My parents were fantastic parents who did all the things they were asked or encouraged to. We had FHE (on sundays because ballet:)), we read scriptures every morning before school (I fell asleep when it wasn’t my turn to read), I was not supposed to date until I was 16 (Sorry for sneaking on a date with Tyson Hirschi, mom, but he was REALLY cute), we attended church every Sunday (sorry for sleeping through sunday school most of the time), just all the things! I did not resent the church in fact, I didn’t really think very much of it. It was just what we did, because ya know.. it’s what everyone around us did as well. I liked to play the part of a “rebellious teenager” mostly because I love(d) seeing how people respond to that behavior. If they were upset and thrown off by my behavior, I knew that I probably wouldn’t get along very well with them, and if they could laugh and be more relaxed about things, I knew we’d get along great! It was kind of a simple tactic that helped me weed out people really quickly. I also found that by being the “rebellious” one, there was slightly less pressure placed on you to be perfectly upright all the time. There was just a little more space to push back or make mistakes, which was something that I needed.

So I didn’t take the church very seriously in my youth. It was great, it was pretty lighthearted, I didn’t pay very much attention to what was being said. I was just simply there to have a good time and for the most part, I did! The one thing that I was taking pretty seriously during this time in my life was ballet. My parents were insanely supportive and paid for all the lessons, summer intensives, and more. Every day after school I was at ballet. High School dances, sports, events, I missed the vast majority of these things because I was becoming a ballerina. I loved the unique flair that it gave me, most people do not study ballet that intensely.

As I stepped into adulthood, I started coming into conflict with a lot of the church culture. This was all very new and difficult for me to come to terms with. Being on my own at college, I started to have a lot more independence in the way that I dressed. I loved showing off my legs. My legs were nice. They were strong, muscular, they never let me down, those good dependable legs. I’d take them anywhere and everywhere! While I was in a single’s ward, the bishop’s wife, did not share the same appreciation that I had for my legs. One Sunday I was at some activity at the bishop’s house. I was in the kitchen filling up a large jug of water and when I turned around the bishop’s wife was looking me up and down in shock and disgust. I was wearing a cute, little black dress. Showing off my legs, of course. But I was really taken aback at the look that she was giving me from across the kitchen. Just complete disgust all over her face. A few weeks later, I was in the bishop’s office repenting of my sins. (Which by the way.. why does the church do this? In hindsight, it truly is the weirdest thing as a young adult woman to go into an office, alone, with an older gentlemen and talk about, in detail, all the ways you were making out with some guy. And it’s even weirder to shame the girl into thinking that something is desperately wrong with her, when we all know good and well that when she gets married all of that has to go out the window!? As a woman being raised in the church, it’s like all growing up you better not act, suggest, or even think in a sexual manner… but man as soon as that ring is on your finger and you’ve said your “I do’s” that sexual switch better flip the other way… It’s wrong and causes so much harm/confusion in LDS marriages) So there I am trying to repent of my sins (and in this particular case the “sin” was that my boyfriend had sexually assaulted me and I felt very confused and hurt) when the bishop responds with “Well maybe if you didn’t wear such revealing clothing, things like this wouldn’t happen to you.” My jaw could have broken through the floor. He then continues by asking me “I’ve wondered if you may be addicted to masturbating” My face was on fire and tears were streaming down my face. I didn’t even know what masturbating was, but man did it sound like basically the worst thing I could have been accused of. I cried and cried, and cried all the way home. It was a horrible experience, one that left me with a lot of reservations towards local leaders.

I somehow decided to serve a mission. Ok that’s not entirely true, it actually felt very inspired and very spiritual for me to serve a mission. I was getting vvveeeerrrryy good at ballet. I most likely would have started dancing on a professional company within a year or two during this time. I was one of the best dancer’s at UVU and was having the time of my life, when suddenly Tommy Monson was telling everyone that the Lord had inspired him to drop the age requirement for missionaries. 18 year old boys and 19 year old girls could put in their papers and go. The response was NUTS! It felt like suddenly everyone around you was dropping everything and going on a mission. My parents suddenly hoped that I would get a spiritual prompting to serve. It blindsided me, I had never thought for a second that I would serve a mission. I figured I’d be married WAY before 21, and also, weird girls serve missions and I wasn’t a weirdo. I got quite a few real thoughts and feelings that I needed to go on a mission. So after months of trying to ignore them, I caved. I decided to put all my hard work on the line and dedicate myself entirely to God and the church. I put in my papers and within 6 weeks I was sitting at the MTC. It was shocking, and unexpected, and I seriously don’t know what the heck I was even thinking. I cried a lot during those first days at the MTC. I went from dancing 10 hours a day to sitting in a hard, sweaty chair studying my scriptures. The contrast was intense and emotional for me. One of the first days I was reading through the rule book when I came across a rule that basically said “Missionaries can’t hold babies for any reason” The f….?! I’m going to hold babies. Another rule, “Do not flirt with anyone” or “Do not use slang, refer to each other as Elder or Sister”… The rules just kept coming and coming and I felt sooo suffocated. How can I even remotely be myself in this type of situation? I also am a flirt. Just through and through without even thinking, I flirt like it’s breathing. So during my time at the MTC and my entire mission, I was seen as a problematic sister. I was called a temptress, a siren and a distraction frequently throughout my mission. Whenever an Elder was seen talking to me, others would pass by saying “Lock you heart!” a reference from a talk given specifically to the boys so that they would remain focused on their one reason for serving. It was honestly quite painful, and I felt like my behavior was often misinterpreted by the masses. I wasn’t there to seduce anyone, I wanted to be viewed as valiant and inspiring. I had just given up my BIG thing to be there. I wanted that to mean something.

When I entered the MTC, it was the first time I had every really studied church doctrine. You would have thought that more information would have stuck throughout my upbringing but I’m gonna be honest… I really didn’t know a lot of the doctrine, the things that separated it from other churches, very key details, nope, nada. Seriously, so embarrassing. As I was sitting in those terrible, hard chairs, trying to study my guts out, I came across something that really shocked me. “We believe The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a restoration of the original Church established by Jesus Christ, which was built “upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone.” It is not a breakoff from any other church.” Waiiiittttt… we think that we are like THE church of Jesus Christ.. like we think that this is literally Christ’s church?! I then turned to the other missionaries in my classroom and asked them, “Wait did you guys know this?” And yes, they all looked at me like I was thee dumbest rock on the planet. They all knew, agreed with, and were adamant that it was true. But I didn’t.. I really, really didn’t know that. I felt that that was an incredibly bold statement and honestly, how do we really even know that? Like, is there some manual or script that Jesus himself left behind? Because to me, if you’re going to make that bold of a statement you better be dang sure that it is 1000000% accurate. It really weighed on me a lot from that point forward.

I got really wrapped up in some cultural/doctrinal ways of thinking because of my mission. And these mentalities ended up really hurting me and those around me once I came home. I’m gonna dive into a few of them so you can start to see what I’m trying to get at….

While growing up, I did not spend a lot of time dreaming up my future with my children and husband. I know, that that is what a lot of my friends were doing and I did think about boys A LOT. But I didn’t really think about motherhood or being a spouse. I was under the impression that of course I would have a family, I don’t think that people dream up being alone… but I first and foremost wanted to be a cool independent woman with a dance career and my own apartment. I know it doesn’t sound too dreamy, but it really was something that I had looked forward to for a long time. My mission flipped my own thinking and life goals right on its head. I became submerged in this idea that motherhood reigned supreme and that nothing else could ever lead to me a happy and fulfilled life in the same way that children could. It came from talks and lessons like this, “Numerous divorces can be traced directly to the day when the wife left the home and went out into the world into employment. Two incomes raise the standard of living beyond its norm. Two spouses working prevent the complete and proper home life, break into the family prayers, create an independence which is not cooperative, causes distortion, limits the family, and frustrates the children already born” “I beg of you, you who could and should be bearing and rearing a family: wives, come home from the typewriter, the laundry, the nursing, come home from the factory, the café. No career approaches in importance that of wife, homemaker, mother — cooking meals, washing dishes, making beds for one’s precious husband and children. Come home, wives, to your husbands. Make home a heaven for them. Come home, wives, to your children, born and unborn. Wrap the motherly cloak about you and, unembarrassed, help in a major role to create the bodies for the immortal souls who anxiously await.” Where does the church want women? Home. Not having ambitions, not pursuing their God given talents, the church wants them home. And while “times have changed” and “not everyone agrees with this type of thinking” The cultural aspect of it is still very alive and well. There is a lot of pressure on women within the church to be stay at home mothers even if that isn’t what they of themselves want. There is unspoken pressure to display that you are righteous woman and that you have given up so much of yourself on behalf of your husband and children. Why? Why is that a requirement? If God created me and knows me perfectly he also knows that that is not going to work for me. I know that this is not what God had in mind for me. But motherhood has been placed on the highest pedestal for women, and you always feel like you are at odds with God if you aren’t chasing after it, or completely embodying the righteous-mother-act.

A principle that the church really focuses on and especially when you are a missionary is service. Now don’t get me wrong here, I love service, and I love serving those around me. BUT, service is not always the answer. It really isn’t. But as a missionary you are very much taught that serving will always fix things. You don’t like your companion? Serve them. You are having a hard time trying to find people to teach? Serve them. You are having a difficult time getting the ward to engage with missionary work? Serve them. No matter what the issue may be, it seemed that serving people was always the answer. Where I got into trouble with this however, is that it taught me to expect a certain outcome every time I served someone. There was no serving just for the sake of it, no, it really felt like a lot of the service was to be used as quid pro quo. We serve you, and then you come to church with us. It worked rather well as a missionary and I really took to this idea that if you just serve people, they’ll come around, they’ll start participating, they’ll start behaving as you would like them to. Can you see how I really took this in a weird direction? It also helps to know that Acts of Service is one of my love languages. So of course, I would take to this idea that you demonstrate your love for others by doing things for them.

Well then, I married into a really good family, at a really horrible time. I wouldn’t wish the death of a parent or a spouse on anyone, because I have seen firsthand how it fundamentally changes everything. Things were very hard when Damon and I first got married, and I often took my in-laws grief as personal rejection. From the principle I had learned from my mission, I knew that serving them would be the best way to heal my hurt feelings. If I just served them, and tried to just “fix” things, they would all move past their grief, be nice to me, and then we could all move on as a happy family. *face palm* In a variety of ways and over a few years, I served. I kept trying over and over again, to see if maybe this was the time that my father-in-law would simply snap out of it and be happy again. Ya know, cuz that’s all it takes when dealing with grief. After really putting myself out and being completely overwhelmed by the fact that things did not seem to be improving, I burned myself out. And because of the fact that after all my service, I had to sit there and recognize that my effort had made little to no difference, I fell into a really dark place mentally and emotionally. Therapy saved my life. I learned so much about mental health, not taking other people’s problems on as my own, relationships, and boundaries. All of these things were completely foreign to me, but it was a like taking that first big breath of air after you’ve been underwater for a long time. I’ll never forget the day the therapist told me “You are not responsible for their healing” How had that never occurred to me before? So I don’t believe that service just fixes things and softens peoples hearts and cures incurable situations. I think that grief is very real and after a deep loss it is something that you have to learn to live with.

I feel like I left one of the absolute greatest things about me behind when I decided to serve a mission. Ballet. During some of my most impressionable years I was always referred to as “the ballerina”. It got very intertwined with who I was and the value that I brought to the table. I didn’t know what was going to happen with ballet once I decided to serve a mission. I hoped that God would bless me for my willingness to serve and give me the opportunity to dance again. And for a time it felt like that was happening. I received multiple blessings on my mission that reassured me that I’d get to dance again and that as long as “I gave my all” the Lord would bless me. I got home and fate would have it, that one of my previous ballet teachers was teaching at BYU. She got me in, and I was ecstatic that I was going to get to just jump back in and do what I love. “Jumping back in”, however, was very hard on my body. When your body goes from dancing 10 ish hours a day, to a pretty sedentary lifestyle, to then jumping aggressively back in to it, it can struggle to keep up. My leg had been hurting pretty badly for awhile, but in ballet you learn to push through your pain. During a class I went into a big leap and I felt an intense ripping and pulling sensation in my left hamstring. I knew it was bad. This was the second time that something like this had happened. I went to a doctor and he confirmed that yes I had torn my hamstring, but the problem was that he also felt a lot of scar tissue where it connected to my groin. He told me that at that point, I would need to stop dancing because I was going to just keep tearing it over and over again and it would lead to chronic pain for the rest of my life. My heart was crushed. I couldn’t understand why this was happening and I cried in bed for days. It felt like I had put everything on the line for God and in some strange, cruel way he was not going to be reciprocating or “blessing” me in the way that I had hoped for. I feel like this is why I wish that members of the church would be very careful with what they call “blessings”. When someone says “oh my boy is just so blessed, he made the baseball team” I don’t think they understand that what is being implied or heard by others is that “I must not be blessed because I didn’t make the team, or I didn’t get the job, or my special person didn’t get healed”. So there left to think… well where are my blessings? It can send a person spiraling trying to figure out why the heck God doesn’t love them nearly as much as all the people they are surrounded by. Like Hey man, I thought we were friends here, I mean I’ve really been trying to be close to you but I’m getting nothing coming back this way…

All of these intense experiences happened within the same 3-ish year space and it was during this time that I found myself asking often “Where is God?” no but really, like where is he? Why haven’t I felt him in so long… I’m doing everything I should be. And I was, I was praying, I was reading, I was attending church and fulfilling my callings. I was IN IT man!! And yet, the swelling feelings of my heart and the assurance that I had felt so so often throughout my life was no longer there. It had been brought to my attention while on my mission and then after, that there were some “weird” things about Joseph Smith, our beloved prophet. I had always been too scared to dabble into things that were considered “anti-doctrine” for my life, and still held those same fears. There was a lot of talk about our church’s history happening in quiet whispered conversations, and the church soon published the first Saints book. I was so relieved that I could still turn to the church as my source of truth. I looked forward to finally getting some answers and putting the church’s history and polygamy to rest, because I had been reassured time and time again that it was “of the Lord”. The Saints book however, only confirmed some of my deepest concerns. Emma did not want to participate in polygamy. In fact, there were many conversations where Joseph was intentionally lying and then formulating a plan to coerce her into it. My raging, somewhat feminist heart could not believe it. Our prophet…. would lie to his own wife for years? How could such a stand up man of God do this? It broke my heart, and it broke my confidence in knowing what is “true”. From here I started listening to the Year of Polygamy podcast and it turned out that when I had only been trying to crack open a door.. it ended up getting ripped off its hinges and sent flying into the abyss. I was very, very distraught and heartbroken. As I would sit in church every Sunday I would sit and think, “Do they know? Does everyone around me know and are ok with it?” It just didn’t make sense to me. All these women… ok with our church’s history.. like it still wasn’t impacting their lives?! (Like I said.. my raging somewhat feminist heart really could not take it) Every Sunday became torturous as I felt like I could not bear to sit through another lesson that was intentionally skewed. The internal conflict that I was feeling inside sent me home in tears weekly until I finally had enough. It was becoming toxic for me and I had to step away. I remember telling Damon and even though I think he knew this was coming, I don’t think he was quite ready to walk away as quickly as I was.

And here’s the thing that I think a lot of people actually don’t know.. Damon had been struggling with the church loooooong before me and all my drama showed up. But his part is his to tell, and I will leave it at that. At first I was very worried that I would be seen as the seductive redhead that brought my husband down with me. But it turned out, that he was struggling all along, just in true Damon fashion, a lot more quietly than me. :)

For now, I just want to say that the church or any church for that matter, can not grant you access to living a happy life. They don’t have exclusive rights to happiness and even though I know they have really, really driven the idea that they do.. guess what. After leaving the church I have found that my happiness is entirely up to me. It’s up to my choices, it’s up to my priorities, it’s all still very accessible and very real. I stepped out into the unknown and it turned out to be one of the greatest decisions I could have made for myself. I am grateful for those active friends and family that have held space for me, and still known that I have continued to be the best parts of myself. And i am also grateful for the many others, who when finding that they were also at a spiritual crossroads, felt that they could confide in me.

All my heart.