Earlier this week I was sipping my coffee, looking over my children’s daily lesson plans, and writing out my never ending to-do list when my phone buzzed. I quickly noticed my friend texting me. That’s not an unusual occurrence right now as sheltering in as made me fastidious texter—much more than I was before.  

This particular text was different. So much so that I let out a long sigh and rubbed my forehead as my thoughts centered somewhere between “ugh” and “Welp, there goes the morning.”

The text was from my very devout Mormon friend and it was…strange. More strange than the usual “spiritually uplifting” texts Mormons like to send. Anyone who has left the church recently (or not so recently) knows what I’m talking about. They know the feeling I’m trying to explain when a text comes in full of scriptures and Mormonisms. It’s the type that instantly makes your stomach tighten and heat form in your chest. 

The text started out as a “check-in” that quickly went from a Book-of-Mormon-scripture-share to an overly positive “Look how good I’m doing. I just LOVE all this extra family time” then ended with excitement over General Conference. I had to read it a few times because the whiplash was so bad and I was trying to figure out what, exactly, was the point of this text? Although, I could very well guess.

It’s text likes these that makes me reevaluate my friendships with my Mormon friends. I’m sure this friend had genuine concern over how my family is faring, but I also very clearly saw how she’s mixing that concern as a “missionary moment.” She might’ve thought it was subtle, but I assure you it wasn’t. Just because I left the church doesn’t mean my memory went with it. I remember the ploys, tactics, and anecdotes that were shared over the pulpit and in lessons. Those tips and tricks were passed around frequently with eager nods as if sending a spiritual text or inviting someone to participate in a church activity would be just the thing to bring people (back) to the fold.

Between printing out homeschool worksheets and pressing play on YouTube lessons, I sat down to write out a response. It took most of the morning because I wanted to respond well. My complete text was devoid of snark, but I assure you it wasn’t far away. I somehow decided early on in my exit journey to be loving, kind, and patient for the sake of friendship and building bridges. Unfortunately, my Mormon friends make that very hard and are not making it any easier.

I don’t think my believing friends understand just how much work goes into respecting their beliefs. There is so much hurt and emotion that gets pushed down and away when it comes to interacting with my Mormon community. You would think it would be easy as I’m easily able to show respect to my Catholic, Muslim, and Jewish friends, but there’s not the same emotions connected with those religions as there is with Mormonism. When it comes to that community, it’s as if I get more still, more focused. I have to maintain a smile and good nature so they don’t think I’m a bitter ex-Mormon hell bend on destroying the church. Whatever anger I have inside me must remain there as I remind myself that I value connections over beliefs. I’ve had to slowly work up to setting boundaries and some are more receptive than others.

 Because the truth about all those texts that have scriptures, quotes, and invitations is this: We know those things are important to you, that they fill you with comfort and peace, but they do the exact opposite for those who live in the post-Mormon world. 

We know you’re excited about General Conference. We know that during this stressful, chaotic time that the thought of a higher power guiding and leading is calming to you. We even know you passing around scriptures and quotes is a way to spread the steadiness and peace you crave. We know because there was a time we lived and breathed it. We haven’t forgotten that time of our lives, I promise you.

The problem is that these texts and messages don’t serve as lovely reminders or comfort. Instead, it feels dismissive over the emotional journey we’ve experienced and the healing work we’ve done. Those messages don’t serve as a way to connect because most of the time the ones sending us those messages are the same ones who’ve refused to ask any questions about our exit.

If my friend had asked me why I left the church, she would’ve known that the Book of Mormon and General Conference fill me with sadness, hurt, and frustration. She would’ve known I highly value authenticity over positivity, that I’ve become a firm realist and prefer to acknowledge that it’s okay to not be okay. 

But, she hadn’t asked, even though I’ve sent the invitation and left the door wide open. She won’t ask, which makes this whole situation all the more frustrating. It makes me wonder, is she being my friend because she genuinely enjoy my company or is it because she’s more concerned with my status as a Mormon? Am I just a project to her? I hope not, but I fear it’s so.

I would’ve liked to have a real conversation with my friend. I would’ve liked to hear about her accomplishments and struggles, to talk about how she’s balancing all these new expectations, and what she’s doing to remain sane. I would’ve liked to hear about her exhaustion and how she’s taking care of herself during all this stress. How is she managing her children’s worries? How is she taking it one day at a time? Is she also going to the bathroom just to cry when it all becomes too much? Is she taking deep breaths and then moving on to the next expected task? What movies and shows is she watching as a way to decompress? What home projects is she working on? Or maybe, what home projects has she shoved off in favor of ice cream and tv?

I got none of that. Instead, I got a woman trying to hide all her worry and hair pulling moments with positivity and a sprinkling of Mormon theology. It doesn’t make me want to connect. Actually, makes me want to distance myself even more. How can they expect anyone to connect on a human level if they cannot be open and honest about their fears, worries, and struggles?

So, please, my dear Mormon friends, these messages don’t help. I don’t feel uplifted, loved, or accepted. I don’t feel that you are seeing the person I’ve become and how much joy I’ve experienced in finding and developing this person. Instead, I feel that you are trying to minimize and dismiss everything I went through, what I experienced, and how I struggled. That you don’t see the work and effort I put in to stay, and then gracefully leave. You don’t see it, not because I wasn’t willing to share, but because you refused to look and ask. I don’t need you to leave the church to be my friend, I just need you to be real with me.

After I sent my response to my friend, I realized how much I don’t want to deal with these types of texts anymore. With all that’s going on I just don’t have time or  the energy. If you can’t reach out with real love, concern, and friendship—without also having a secondary motivation to get me back to church—then I will leave you on read. Because, I see what you’re doing. You’re reaching out so you can pat yourself on the back and feel good about yourself. I am no longer interested in being the “feel good” project for you. Connect with me as a real friend, or don’t connect with me at all.