“They can leave the church, but they can’t leave it alone.”

I hate hearing that. If you don’t know, the above saying is something former Mormons hear quite a bit. It’s so witty, right?

…

Anyway… 

The “they can’t leave it alone” thing is a common criticism. I do see it from a believing member’s perspective. After all, we’ve left the church, so why keep talking about it? Why keep reading books, listening to podcasts, and posting on reddit? If we hate it so much, why rehash it over and over again? Just go already and leave the faithful, believing members in peace! Gosh and seriously!

How I wish it were that simple. 

I don’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself. I can explain why I “can’t leave it alone.” After all, I haven’t believed in years and yet, here I am, writing a blog post about it.

Simply put, I can’t leave Mormonism alone because so much of my daily life brushes up against Mormonism. 

It’s not just the fact that my husband and children still attend church. Church, for us, isn’t just a two hour, weekly activity. It’s still very much a way of life—whether it’s a prayer, a lesson, a talk, an activity, or a friendship. 

Half my social circle are Mormons. The parties we attend, the activities my children take part in, the people I see when taking my kids to school, the double date with another couple—they’re all with Mormons who I care about. I know these people, I understand them. I can easily slip into their conversation because I know the culture, the vernacular, and the tone. I might “huff” at something, but I also know why they think the way they do.

There’s also my extended family. My parents are still very much Mormon, as well as some of my siblings. When I talk to them, our conversations always touch on the church—the callings they have, the lessons they teach, their friends and ward activities, temple attendance, and even family members currently serving missions. It’s a major part of their lives, so of course it’s something they talk about. Why wouldn’t they?

But even if you were to pluck me (plus my husband and children) out of our house, town, and country and relocate us to a place, like say…France (why not? I kinda, sorta like wine now), Mormonism would still be on my thoughts. 

That’s because, whether I like it or not, Mormonism is still a part of me. 

For a long time, Mormonism was closely intertwined with my identity. You couldn’t find the girl without Mormonism. It took up a large part of who I was and it formed me into who I am today. 

I can’t leave Mormonism alone because Mormonism won’t leave me alone. Who I am now constantly brushes up against who I was. In my mind, I’m constantly comparing what was with what is now. 

My daily cup of coffee still says, “I can’t believe this! Are we really doing this?” 

I still take a deep breath when putting on tank tops or wearing shorts. I remind myself that I’m beautiful and that if I meet someone from church, I’ll just smile and say “hi” because I’m not doing anything wrong. I do this every. single. time.

During times of great stress I still offer up payers. They’re different, now, because I don’t picture myself talking to a masculine “God.” Still, it’s a prayer to the Divine  and it brings me comfort, the same comfort I felt when I was a believing Mormon.

There’s also the way I carefully consider situations whenever I deal with other Mormons.

Like this morning, during the craziness of getting kids ready for school, I didn’t manage to drink my already warmed coffee, so I threw it in a travel mug and headed out the door.

While waiting in the kindergarten playground, I saw another mother from church. Her child is in the same class as mine and I’ve had a few, brief conversations with her over the last few years. We don’t really know each other. She hadn’t seen me yet and I didn’t know what to do. Should I go and say hi? I mean, I could smell my coffee, so she’d definitely smell it as well. Would striking up a conversation with this Mormon mom just bringing unwanted uncomfortableness? I could just hang back and act like I didn’t see her. We’d be two ships passing in the night, except I’d be a submarine diving deeper into the water, waiting for her to pass by. 

I almost did, then decided to go for it, coffee breath and all.

Or how about the weekend my kids and I would be spending with my parents? Yeah, they know I’m out, but it’s still a bit fresh for them. As I started forming a packing list, I noticed all my t-shirts were dirty. The only clean clothes left were tank tops. Do I say, “Screw it!” and let my parents deal with my uncovered shoulders? It’s my body, after all. 

I considered that option for a moment, then wrote down “Do Laundry” on my “to-do” list. 

Mormonism is even there when I got out with my non-Mormon friends for brunch. A whole list of “grown up” drinks is handed to me, which I stare at blankly. I absolutely want a drink, but the barrage of choices is almost paralyzing. I don’t know what I like, I don’t know what’s going to affect me. I was robbed of experimenting with alcohol in my early twenties. Now, as a woman in her thirties, what should be a two minute decision is a ten minute anxiety attack where my brain screams “I DON’T KNOW! PICK SOMETHING ALREADY!”

And that’s how I found out I’m not a fan of mimosas. 

In a lot of ways, I wish I could leave Mormonism alone. I wish it didn’t effect my life so much, that simple things like saying hello, what to wear, and what to drink didn’t take up so much of my decision making time. 

It does, though, and that’s not something that will easily resolve itself over a night, a week, a month, or even a year. My life right now is a constant balance between respecting the people who I hold dear and honoring myself. 

I also want to know what my Mormon family and friends are experiencing. When I call my parents after general conference, will there be a cold, sad silence because a general authority said those who leave the church are deceived by Satan? Will my children be upset when they return from a youth activity because their inactive mother is spiritually holding their family back?

Mormonism touches my life in so many different ways. I can’t leave it behind, because to do so would mean leaving so much of myself and my life behind.

My identity was formed by Mormonism, and even as I rebuild who I am, it still touches me. For better or for worse, there will always be a part of me that is Mormon. I can either hate it or embrace it. I can ignore it or explore it. 

Right now, I’ll settle for acknowledging the many ways it’s still there and tell the small, Mormon girl of yesteryear that I still love her.