Mormonism

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Dear Mormon Friends, your spiritual and overly positive texts aren’t helping

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. 

Why I Can’t Leave It Alone

“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.