Category: Religion

exmormon, Religion

Mormons responding to Under the Banner of Heaven with gaslighting (of course)

Sara Elizabeth

Months before its release, the Mormon and ex-Mormon community were abuzz with the upcoming release of Hulu’s adaptation of “Under the Banner of Heaven”. I am in Utah and the Mormon community still surrounds me, so inevitably those discussing this docu-drama were and are all over my social feeds. I expected the usual comments when anything is released that doesn’t paint the Mormon Church in perfect light — people who were worried that it would influence investigators or lead people to think this is an example of what the Church is. I didn’t expect to read what I read on the Deseret News before the series even premiered. The article in question can be found here:  Under the Banner of Heaven on FX is bad for Latter-day Saints. Here’s why – Deseret News 

I wanted to write about this sooner, but between my health problems and other life struggles, it felt impossible to muster up the energy to discuss this topic in the way I wanted. After all, this is the Church that has caused a great deal of trauma in my life. Now, before you chime in saying, “but Sara, it’s the people, not the Church. People are imperfect but Church and its gospel are perfect”, save your breath. Gaslighting is not welcome here, okay? Even if you don’t see it now, even if you believe that phrase as much as you believe the gospel of Christ, even if you’re ignorantly repeating this quote that’s been fed to you you’re entire time in the Church — and for most of us converts, long before our baptism — those words are invalidating and gaslighting victims of abuse in the Church. I can write an entire blog about this — fuck, an entire novel even — but that is for another time. 

Anyway, back to the article: Under the Banner of Heaven on FX is bad for Latter-day Saints. Here’s why – Deseret News  Here’s the thing, that title was catchy and at first I thought it was going to dive into something a bit more groundbreaking, less judgemental. Perhaps how it is impacting those who were involved in this heartbreaking situation. I can’t even imagine working through that trauma and trying to live your life but seeing your life being made into a highly anticipated TV show. I know I felt broken listening to a podcast discussing my friend, Krystie Stuart, and her disappearance. As much as I wanted more and more people to talk about it, it felt strange reading strangers chime in with their opinions. But, I digress. This article did nothing of what I hoped it might. In fact, it went the complete opposite direction. 

So here is my response:

It’s hard not to grow bitter with members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Saints, aka the Mormon church, but it’s not for the reasons you think. 

During my time in the Mormon church, I learned that most of the Mormons I encountered love pointing out fallacies – especially when people would question policies, disagree with doctrine, or even ex-members who would call out the trauma the Church can cause. They are quick to point out generalizations while making their own assumption that ex-Mormons apply their perspective to all Mormons or members of the Church. It is so much like the self-righteous man who thinks he is doing the world a service by commenting on a woman’s story of sexual assault or even just a story-time of a bad but laughable tinder date – “NOT ALL MEN!” Yes, we know, Kevin. But goddamn if it isn’t the majority. We know it’s not all Mormons. It’s not all evangelicals. It’s not all Christians. But I would argue that in the case of high-demand religions such as Mormonism or Jehovah’s Witnesses, it is a significant amount. I can’ tell you how many comments I receive, both online and in my everyday life — shout out to my Uber driver for telling me “the Church is perfect but the people are not” on my way home from the ER after explaining why I didn’t want a patriarchal blessing (he offered) as I am no longer Mormon and then answering why I am no longer Mormon — and I guess I understand. I understand that it’s easier to tuck away anything uncomfortable, to chalk it up as an angry member who wasn’t really “in it” to begin with, someone that the Adversary has led astray. Because calling out language that generalizes or any other “fallacy” makes us feel superior and safe from the threat of questioning the foundations of our religion. If instead, we empathized with the hurt and the pain these institutions and their members are causing, we are forced to leave the comfort of our bubble. 

As you read the article you’ll notice the similar mocking tone that we heard from Elder Ballard, as they cite statistics showing just how safe and economically thriving Utah is, implying that somehow the producer of Under the Banner of Heaven’s depiction of this particular set of Mormons is completely invalid because 1) Black has been outspoken against the Church’s policies against marriage equality 2) This depiction of a specific set of Mormons from a horrible even in the past does not adequately represent the Church and its members today 

Um, sir, this is a true-crime docu-drama. This is not about you or members of the Church today. The mere fact that instead of empathizing with the horrific events that occurred you can only see how this doesn’t represent YOU and YOUR beliefs and YOUR experience in the Church is a reflection on your lack of emotional intelligence, critical thinking, and to be frank — your ability to be Christ-like. Of course, we’re not ready for that conversation now, are we?

And because this article glossed over some very real and disturbing statistics in Utah:

https://ibis.health.utah.gov/ibisph-view/indicator/complete_profile/Rape.html#:~:text=According%20to%20Federal%20Bureau%20of,to%2042.6%20per%20100%2C000%20adults. [According to Federal Bureau of Investigation, the rape rate in Utah has been consistently higher than the U.S. rate. In 2019, the reported rape rate in Utah was significantly higher than the U.S. rate at 56.8 per 100,000 adults, compared to 42.6 per 100,000 adults.]

https://ibis.health.utah.gov/ibisph-view/indicator/complete_profile/SuicDth.html#:~:text=From%202018%20to%202020%2C%20the,to%2017%20and%2018%2D24. [From 2018 to 2020, the age-adjusted suicide rate in Utah was 21.4 per 100,000 persons, with an average of 657 suicides per year. Utah had the 6th highest age-adjusted suicide rate in the U.S. in 2019. In 2020, suicide was the leading cause of death for Utahns ages 10 to 17 and 18-24. It is the second leading cause of death for ages 25 to 44 and the fifth leading cause of death for ages 45-64. Overall, suicide is the eighth leading cause of death for Utahns (age-adjusted rate).]

Religion

An Open Letter to Dr. Brad Wilcox

Sara Elizabeth

Dear Brad Wilcox, 

(and the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints who agree with the words he shared during his fireside)

I don’t anticipate you or those whose beliefs align harmoniously with yours to understand the grief and pain that comes with leaving the Church. I don’t expect those immersed in the faith to understand that this grief and pain is not a lack of the “Holy Ghost” or because of “turning our back on God”. I wish more than anything that we could all just take a step back from the judgment and assumptions as to why people leave the Church —- or even why people stay.

Before even being baptized, a phrase the missionaries repeated almost every time we met, “the Church is perfect but the people are not.” And so, when I was deeply hurt and abused by members within the Church, I repeated this like a mantra. When people questioned me if I ever even felt the Spirit because I was hesitant and scared to go through the temple and receive my endowments, I disconnected myself and replied calmly through my tears that yes, I have felt the spirit. “Are you sure?” a sister in my ward asked. “Why did you join the Church? Did you feel the Spirit before joining? You know, some women only join because they thought the missionaries teaching them were cute.” I can grasp that there are things that are sacred to Mormonism and other religions in the world, but I didn’t feel safe or comfortable when I wasn’t allowed to know what was going to happen until it happened. 

When I came out as bisexual, people who didn’t even bother to speak to me for years – even when I reached out, even when I experienced loss upon loss, and needed a friend … they suddenly had the “Spirit” tell them to reach out to me and let me know that “it’s okay if you are gay, but you can’t act on it”. Essential strangers telling me what I can and cannot do with my body. Strangers who I knew were guilty of ignoring a sister in the Church’s pleas to “stop”. Strangers who despite their sexual “transgressions” (or as I and the rest of the world calls it, rape) and their Bishop knew of these events, were still able to pass the sacrament and go to the temple because they were worthy. I’ve not had sex or kissed anyone in well over five years, I stopped drinking coffee, tea and alcohol, I tithed when I had no money to tithe, I attended Church even though the toxic environment made me so very suicidal – but I was never once worthy to go to the temple. I gave my entire life and sacrificed so much of myself to this Church, but it was never enough, at least not in my realm of the Bishop Roulette game. 

Why you ask? Because I, a female, engaged in masturbation (or as my bishops and LDS therapist said, ‘acted out sexually’) once every three months or so, without the use of porn or toys, etc. I had Bishops ask me gross questions about this. I had LDS therapists ignore my pleas to focus on my self-harm and mental health issues but instead they told me I was a sex addict and I was giving myself brain damage by touching myself, but boy did he seem to want to know all of the details and get off hearing it. I stopped going to therapy until I could afford a non-LDS therapist. I now have tattoos covering my self-harm scars from that time, I am no longer ashamed of my sexuality and have reclaimed that part of me in a way that the Church continues to condemn. 

When I say it hurts to leave the Church, it’s not because I’ve lost everything … it’s because people think that. It’s because people now think I am on my way to perdition when I die. I didn’t leave to go “sin” – I left much for the same reasons I’ve left any toxic and abusive situations … so I could be safe because no matter how calmly I expressed myself, asked questions, or tried so desperately to understand the racism and sexism in the Church, I was belittled. My voice didn’t matter, because yours and those like you were so much louder. Just as I have grieved the loss of my abusers by walking away from them and leaving them, I grieve the loss of the Church that spoke a “continuous atonement” and infinite love wrapped up in words that also told me I was not invited or welcomed in the house of the Lord. It took a long time to realize, I don’t want to be there. I am not bitter. I just love myself and who I am meant to be far more than I was ever allowed to. Not even God himself is allowed to hurt me, disrespect me, abuse me … because if that’s God, then as I’ve always said, I don’t want it.

I haven’t lost everything, Brad Wilcox. Joining the Church – that was when I lost so much of who I am.

I’ve gained everything by leaving. But simply by saying this, by sharing this … I’ll just be viewed as one of those bitter people declaring their resignation on social media. 

I do invite any who read this to listen to Bigger Man by Jay Oladokun & Marrin Morris, read the CES letter, research the BITE Model, research history both from Church sources and Non-Church sources (and no I don’t mean just go to FAIRLDS) and instead of conditioning your brain to tell you IF something is true, ask an open-ended such as “what is true”. Find your truth, even if that truth is the Mormon Church – but understand that I have already made my choice, even if the legal process is a bitch and my “name” is still there. To the Church, please consider this your invite to finally respond to my requests and remove me. I am more than happy to enter perdition. It’s okay. As Kesha said, “‘cause if there’s a Heaven, don’t care if we get in.”

Perhaps the reason we speak so “loudly” as ex-mormons, isn’t because we can’t leave the Church alone… it’s because they refuse to leave us alone. They think their point is more valid than ours because they are louder and holier. If I could simply leave in peace, if I didn’t have to watch my friends cry when their parents disown them for being gay or telling them that they are no longer going to be with them forever, if I didn’t have a toxic roommate tell me every chance she got that I wasn’t ever going to see my mom again but she was gonna see her dad forever in the Celestial Kingdom because she chooses to stay in the church and not “act out on same-sex attraction”, if I wasn’t walking away broken from years of trauma, then maybe I could do so quietly. Of course, any other churches I’ve stopped attending, I wasn’t so thoroughly traumatized by … and, I was able to leave without jumping through hoops to get my records removed so I can be left alone.

The Message version of the Bible (I know, I know…. The devil’s book – after all its writer came out supporting gay marriage now…) he translates a scripture you quoted in a way that has always resonated so deeply with my spirit. 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” –

Matthew 11:28-30

And I did “watch” Jesus in all those years of studying the New Testament long before I even thought of accepting an invitation to speak with the missionaries. I am brave enough to admit that I don’t know, but what I do now and I have said time and time again in my life – I know Love. I love the Jesus that I knew long before religion corrupted my view of him – whether or not he exists. And my Jesus, the one I was taught knows me so well – he knows why I walked away. He knows why I am okay with saying I do not have all of the answers – or any of the answers. My Jesus isn’t going to separate families if they leave the Church or aren’t worthy enough for the celestial kingdom.

One of my best friends and I, we talk a great deal about what that day will be like when we do die and how we imagine our pets and loved ones there to greet us, and Jesus wrapping us in the most healing hug ever and saying, “Wow, what hell even was that? That was so HARD – but you did it! What you went through? That wasn’t me. That was never me. And I am so sorry that the world made you believe it was – even just for a moment. You never deserved any of this. You were always worthy, always loved, you were always more than enough.”

I want to speak with grace and love while writing this letter, but I am human and I am hurting and so I know there will be moments when my anger is clear and sharp. But after listening to that fireside – my threat appraisal with members of the Church and everything related to it is a bit high. 

Faithfully,

An ex-Mormon who is hurting and confused by the teachings of the Church and the words spoken at this fireside

View Dr. Brad Wilcox’s fireside HERE! Don’t forget to also take a peek at my TikTok where I share my spiritual journey as an ex-Mormon, reptile content, #booktok vibes, and so much more.

Mental Health, Personal Stories, Poetry, Religion

Poem: I Know What It’s Like

Sara Elizabeth

Before I share this poem with y’all, I wanna share a little bit about my what is happening in Utah and the Mormon community and how it is affecting the LGBTQIA+ community.

Mormonism is a pretty intense religion. Think evangelical or Jehovah’s Witness intense. So when our prophet or the apostles say something to its members, it’s a pretty big deal. One of the apostles recently spoke at Brigham Young University. (Here’s a link to his talk word-for-word, so you can read it and make up your own opinion. This is on the Church’s official website. I’m not trying to cherry pick his words, but I am human, and this was my favorite apostle – even since leaving the Church, I loved Elder Holland… and well, I’m hurting because of his words. So yes, I will be paying more attention to the ones that have caused so much pain.)

Basically, Elder Holland – an apostle who has brought so much comfort as I struggled with my mental health – spoke to faculty and staff at BYU declaring that the school cannot condone homosexual behavior and that members should not confuse love with support. You know, the whole hate the sin but love the sinner argument? He even went so far as to call out a BYU graduate and former valedictorian who “came out” during his graduation speech – a speech that was approved well in advance. A speech that I am sure has helped countless LGBTQ+ students at this Mormon university. But none of seemed to matter, as Holland said this student was commandeering the school and its graduation ceremony. An apostle of God publicly shamed a student who had gone through the proper BYU and Church channels to get his speech approved.

It doesn’t stop there. Just a week or two after a lesbian couple was murdered on their honeymoon in Utah, this so-called apostle a God who is defined as “Love” encouraged members to take up (metaphorical) musketfire against the LGBTQ+ community. It feels so much like all of my heroes have become the villain. So many are grieving because of these painful words. And though I am sure he meant well, I am sure he didn’t want to cause harm, I am sure he believes this is the way to show love… that it’s how God would show love … sometimes there is nothing more harmful than a person who means well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEc6LCbWT3A&t=3s

And while there has been such a huge outpouring of love, there has also been an increase in hate. My neighbors have pride signs proudly displaying from what I am sure is BYU-contracted housing. People created beautiful chalk art supporting LGBTQ+ students at the school, but then people like those in the video above did what they likely thought was that metaphorical musketfire Elder Holland mentioned.

Just the other day, as I was decked out in pride-themed makeup and clothing, I had two men in a car follow me, slowly, revving their engine while I was walking. This isn’t common behavior in Provo. I had several Lyft drivers look at me in disgust upon seeing my pride attire I’ve been adamant about wearing these days. Things are tense. People are hurting. My friends are hurting. I am hurting.

And with that, I leave you my poem:

I know what it is like 

To be so in love with Jesus and being born again

His Spirit all around me as I sit on my friend’s front porch

Butterfly clips sparking in the sun like Christ’s pure love

I know what it is like 

To feel the wrath of God crushing my heart

As I open the pages of forbidden scripture

My own Song of Solomon, a piece that didn’t belong

I know what it is like

To sit in a closet crying with a pink-covered book about kids with cancer

The doctors told my mom that I have a growth in my brain

And verily, verily I say unto me – God is punishing us for what we’ve done 

I know what it is like

To have a crush on a girl that works at the local small town diner

She said my Hot Topic earrings were cute and I thought about her for weeks

But the religious books say its just a phrase, my hormones are confused, I am confused

I know what it is like

As my sweet friend Mary Jo tells me that she thinks shes gay, my heart stopping

And even though I thought I was gay too, I was so scared for her salvation

I prayed and said words I thought were inspired 

 “I love you no matter what, but I can’t hear about that.” 

I know what it is like

To be bullied by the girls at youth group being called “gay, a dyke, a les”

Before I even acknowledged these pieces to myself

I was condemned and sent straight to a self-loathing hell

I know what it is like

The internalized homophobia turning me into the monsters I hated

“I’m not gay! I like dick!” As people continued to label me when I was confused

So much justifying and hatred in the name of love, because even when I said gay isn’t a sin

Even when I said I accept you, I know Christ would let you in – I refused to see myself 

I know what it is like

To be on each and every side of this so-called argument that infringes upon human rights

But I never claimed to speak for God. I didn’t hold the power that this man does

Words. And the word is God. Word is God. God is Love.

Shouldn’t your words be love? Apostle, sir, can you tell me how metaphorical gunfire is love?

I know what it is like

To see my friends share stories with tear-filled eyes and stories of suicide 

In less than 48 hours these words have indeed shot so many in the heart

But I will walk in rainbows and declare safety here because I am not ashamed of me

I am ashamed of you. 

In the name of Jesus Christ, 

Amen.

Mental Health, Religion

If Nothing Else, I Choose Love – Leaving the Mormon Church and Taking a Spiritual Break

Sara Elizabeth

It’s interesting how Mormon culture shames those who leave because the doubts, the lies, and the pain became too much. You are taught that God will love you unconditionally, but if you turn your back, if you deny the things you “know” are true, you will forsake the Celestial Kingdom. (And from my understanding, any other kingdom? I had been told on multiple occasions the only way to hell aka Perdition is by denying God after knowing all these wonderful truths.) It’s a similar train of thought in other Christian religions I’ve studied with – if you lose that mustard seed of faith, if you don’t have God anymore, your life is empty and meaningless. You might as well book a one-way ticket to Hell, unless you change your ways, of course. But God’s all-knowing, right? If that’s the case, wouldn’t he understand how hard it is to believe? To suffer the abuse from your so-called brothers and sisters in Christ? Wouldn’t he know that sometimes the religious trauma impacts your mental health so deeply, you just need to do what’s best for you to be safe…even if that means taking a break from it all?

I’ve struggled with religious OCD and anxiety symptoms since I was just a little girl. I’ve always feared death and doubted the existence of Heaven or an after-life. In fact, that’s my biggest fears, y’all. It’s not so much the dying, it’s the not being in control and potentially ceasing to exist that freaks me the fuck out. When I was 11 years old, I had just finished reading Mourning Song by Lurlene McDaniel. If you’ve read any of Lurlene’s books, you know they deal with death and dying a lot. This particular book is part of the One Last Wish series and the main character had a brain tumor. She was dying. I had just finished reading the book when my mother called me from my room to let me know that my MRI results had come back. I was having headaches and petit mal seizures (though I didn’t know that’s what they were at the time!). I had a growth in my brain, she said, tears in her eyes. I asked her if I had cancer and she said no, but we’ll find out more at the doctors. My first thought? “God is punishing me for masturbating.” Well, kind of, cause I didn’t know it was called masturbation. I thought only guys masturbated, but I knew what I was doing was related to sex and sex was bad and God hated me and this was his punishment. I just knew I was going to go blind like the girl in the book. And more importantly, I was going to die. I cried so hard, having what I now know is a panic attack, shaking and crying and praying fervently that God forgive me and I won’t ever do it again and please don’t let me die.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t die. I also didn’t stop masturbating, but each time I was filled with so much anxiety and fear of being punished. 

Fast forward, I’m 16 and this cute boy that worked at the market took me out on a date. Well, he said it was a date. He was in his 20s but I didn’t care, cause you know, I was a CHILD. Anyway, I was wearing a pink tinkerbell shirt and jeans. I was on my period and I had a pad on, because I didn’t even know how to use a tampon at that point. We drove to the middle of nowhere and he asked if I touched myself. I refused to answer. He proceeded to tell me to close my eyes and touched me, working his way down, and I flushed with embarrassment as he poked where my pad was, eyes flying open, and grabbing his hand to push it away. I was shaking. I was scared I was going to be raped. He reluctantly took me home. A few days later and I put on that same pink shirt and later had a spell of facial drooping and numbness. (We now think those are mini strokes, but that’s a story for another time!) As always, I tied the symptoms of my physical health to my disobedience to the Lord. I was being punished. I was going to die. And this fear slowly morphed into me not wearing certain clothes, things having to feel right if I did them or wore it, and basically just your average day in OCD. But I couldn’t even pray to God for help, because I was afraid the devil would intercept my prayers. 

After some self-prescribed exposure therapy and a deeper understanding of a loving God, I started letting go of these fears. When I read Melody Carlson’s “The Other Side of Darkness”, I found such peace and comfort. The book dealt with a character who has a religious OCD and I felt so validated and I knew that those dark thoughts didn’t come from God.

And we as Christians always say that. I mean, except for the fear-preaching ones… But we say that God will not give us a spirit of fear when quoting the Bible. And we use this to distinguish what is from God and what is not. But this all just gets so blurred and all-consuming when you have an anxiety disorder. And all that hard work I put into recovering from my religious anxiety, it’s all slipping away. The experiences of being in the Church, of living through terrible trauma and being told it is God’s plan for me to suffer so I can learn and grow or whatever, having my grief compared to losing a pet by my bishop at the time, shamed for the clothes I wore, the tattoos I had, the color of my hair, my piercings, and oh yeah… back to the masturbating? I was never temple worthy because of that. No matter what Bishop I saw. I was never good enough to go to the temple. Eventually I gave up on that idea and just went back to drinking coffee and tea, cause what the hell, right?

And before anyone says “that’s just the Mormons”… it happens in other denominations all the time. Remember, I wasn’t Mormon all my life. Or even most of my life. I was Christian. I had attended Baptist, Pentecostal, Jehovah’s Witnesses, non-denominational, and many other denominations. 

The point is… I need a break. From religion. From spirituality. If I practice meditation and manifesting good vibes or whatever, I start to panic that its of the devil. Or if I read about a non-Christian religion or spiritualist ideas, I get scared that I’m doing something wrong. If I don’t pray, I feel scared. If I do pray, I feel scared. And finally, after all of these events, my heart shattered when I was listening to my favorite worship and Christian songs and not only did I not feel the spirit. I just felt so anxious and sick and afraid. What if God doesn’t exist and I die and there’s nothing? Or what if God does exist and he’s done with me now?

And so I’m taking a break and I’m focusing on my safety and my peace. I do intend to continue meditating and manifesting, because it does bring me joy and helps me, and I personally see nothing wrong in it, but I’ve had so many voices from the past, or presently online, and whatnot condemning anything and everything and its too much. So for now: I choose Love. I choose what’s good. I choose to accept that I don’t know everything and that maybe I may take the wrong path and stumble and fall, but I also know that I choose to believe that whatever happens, this Love that I choose, is not going to condemn me for making a mistake or losing my way, when Love has been so patiently silent on the matter, and maybe that’s because Love is everywhere. There are so many ideas and beliefs about Love but because people are not Love and everyone connects to Love differently, I haven’t found my place yet. But I will. I know that much is true. 

(….In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen? 😅 )

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Mental Health, Religion

Things I Wish Utah Understood

Sara Elizabeth
  • Not everyone was born in the church.

This might come as as shock to a group of religious people who emphasize missionary work, but not everyone (even in Utah) was raised in the church. Crazy, right? I mean, I’m a convert. And a recent convert at that! If you observed people’s interactions with me upon hearing this, you’d think I had three legs, was low-key famous, or living in a 50 billion dollar mansion. See, I was baptized back in 2011. I was raised Christian, and my mom (and a few others) did have experiences with the church, but none were practicing Mormons.  I was married at the time I was baptized, but upon getting a divorce, I moved to Utah in May of 2014. Back at my tiny ward in an isolated desert town in California, people were always there to make sure I understood things being taught in Sunday School and Relief Society. There’s still a thousand terms, stories, histories, and such that I do not understand or even know about. While I understand most people in Utah were born in the church, it’s this assumption that has left me feeling inadequate to even participate in discussions. In fact, I avoid anything beyond sacrament, because of both this issue and my current state of anxiety.

See, my heart stops when a teacher starts off with, “We all know the story of X and Y doing Z in the scriptures. So let’s discuss how it applies to us. Go ahead and discuss this with the people next to you.” I have no idea what they are even talking about, and the assumption that I do leaves me feeling, well to be honest, a bit dumb. I feel like I shouldn’t even be there, because I don’t know what they’re talking about. But it’s too late to run out now – and I’m left panicking, wondering why I even decided to attend anyway? I knew this was going to happen. At this point, while I’m drowning in fear, the person next to me introduces themselves, thinking I’m new to the ward, because I avoid these situations like the plague. No one knows who I am, and if they do, I’m the random inactive girl that hides in the halls.

Of course they ask what my thoughts are. I grow red and confess that I do not know the story that well, because I am a convert. You’d think this would open up a discussion for me to learn said story. Not always. It usually leads to fascination that I am a convert: “How did you discover the church? Do you have any family at all in the church? How long since you were baptized? Do you like it?” – Well, Susan, I’d like it a lot better if I could start learning more of what it is I am supposed to believe in and understand and know. Okay, so that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how I feel. Instead, I just answer their questions and stay silent when the Sunday School teacher asks our thoughts.

  • Nor do I have a huge nuclear family

Sorry, but I don’t have 10 siblings and 50,000 cousins that I Skype with over the weekends, though I do call my mom almost daily. And whenever you asked how my family is doing or how my parents are doing, I kindly answer that they’re fine, but then you pry – and I have to state that my mother is fine, and I don’t speak to my sister all too much. “Oh, where’s your Dad?” “Don’t you have any other siblings?” “Are you going home for Christmas?” No. No. No. Just stop asking uncomfortable questions. Not everyone has the life you do. This leads me to my next point.

  • Financial stability isn’t a given

I know this is something people in Utah realize, but the particular area I live in struggles with this idea. I swear, if one more person asks me why I can’t just up and leave to go visit my mom for the week, I think I might lose it. Let me break this down for you:

1) I don’t have the money to just go wherever whenever I want.

2) I have a job that I can’t just leave for a week, because it’s a job I am intending to keep for a few years. Not just a job that I work for a semester. I struggle a lot, because I have to support myself and my medical needs, which are frighteningly increasing. So no, I can’t just up and leave for the holidays. I have to work. Maybe in the future I’ll be stable enough to do so, but it’s OK that I can’t now. There’s no need to look at me like an alien for the life I have to lead.

3) Despite all of that, I’ll be just fine. Promise!

  • No, I don’t go to BYU. Actually, I’m barely in school right now.

Thought I’m still technically a student at UVU – I have been taking a very, very long break because of reason #3. I simply cannot afford it, and my health comes first. So, until I can pay off my student debt and go back to school and still afford my medications and such, it’s not happening. That doesn’t make me stupid. Or less. I understand the importance of an education and I actually miss school, but the fact remains, I can’t go right now. I don’t have other people paying for my education, so please, understand that it’s not by choice that I don’t have my degree yet. Also, another fun fact, this doesn’t make me a poor marital choice. The looks I get on dates when I say I am taking a break from school, you’d think I had said I decided to drop out and experience life with just me, 20 cats, and a guitar in a van while I traveled the world. Which, after dating in Provo, actually sounds appealing.

 

  • I’m not a standard Mormon. And that’s OK.

First, everyone talks about this, but no one really seems to get it. Well, I mean a few people do. Seriously, everyone complains about how Utah County is, yet almost everyone acts just like the people they complain about. They pretend to be perfect and assume everyone else is. Guess what? None of us are. Some are on a different level than others, but we all have our struggles. We all have our differences.

I’m divorced, which is a surprisingly common theme in Utah – just most don’t talk about it. In fact, I’ve noticed a lot of my divorced friends are a bit inactive, so maybe that’s why no one at church discusses it. Or maybe its because when we do, we’re looked at like ‘oh,  poor thing!’

I don’t need your pity – I assure you, I am much better off. Then there’s the fact that I color my hair pink, blue, red, green, purple – you name it! I also watch scary movies and I listen to heavy rock and rap music sometimes. I swear. I can be mean sometimes, and I can turn into a massive mess with my mental health. I’m not saying these things are “good” – but they are me, and they don’t make me a bad person. Maybe some of these interests will change as I grow more in the gospel. Maybe they won’t. I’m not a bad person, though. In fact, I can promise you there are so many non-Mormons (and even Mormons) in this world with tattoos and piercings, that drink coffee and alcohol, have differing interests, beliefs, and sexual orientations – that are AMAZING people.  I shouldn’t have to be Mormon enough for you to be my friend, or at the very least, to not judge me.

 

What I want people to understand is that all these things, and more, push me away. It pushes others away, too. I’m not saying you have to condone, say, my use of the curse words, but understand that I am trying. I have come so far from the person I was. I know my Heavenly Father sees this and loves me just the same as he did back then and will continue to love me as I grow and develop in the gospel. But it’s so hard for me to remember that church is for learning and growing closer to God, when Utah focuses on the social aspect so much, especially being in a YSA ward. This culture and my mental health do not coincide very well. In fact, this culture is quite toxic for me.

 

Most of all, I wish that “Utah Mormons” understood that not everyone has the life they do. Not even close. And that’s OK. I am OK, and so is everyone else, despite their life experiences and current state. Though I may not be Mormon enough for some, I know that God doesn’t have this Mormon Meter attached to me, waiting for me to reach 80% or higher to be loved. He loves me as is.  I am so grateful for that. I am grateful for the people in my life who love me regardless of how “good” I am, and who stick around even when I falter and stumble, because they are the people that I see my Heavenly Father’s love through. These people change from time to time, but they are always there. Just like our Heavenly Father, who loves each and everyone of us, and though we always say this – I think we ought to start truly believing it in a way that shows in our behaviors. Even me. Even I need to be careful not to judge those who judge me, who make assumptions, and unknowingly cause discomfort … because I know that ultimately, they mean well.

Utah just doesn’t understand people like me.

Mental Health, Religion

Personal Entry: The Fear of Letting Go

Sara Elizabeth

I’ve decided to start writing about the things that I can’t even talk about – at least not without cracking some lame joke and making it seem like yeah, it’s a thing, but I don’t care too much – because there’s no way I am going to let go, grow, or figure out how to deal with these things.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been terrified of death. As a young child – well before my father passed away, I wanted to know when I was going to die. I was stressed about it. As a teenager, when my anxiety decided to torture my mind, I’d lie in bed crying over the possibility of death. I used to console myself with the thought that maybe I won’t have to die. I had just finished the Left Behind series and started studying with the Jehovah’s Witnesses – while looking into other religions. Maybe, I would tell myself, Jesus would come back before I get too old and die. Somehow, that thought brought me comfort. When that thought didn’t completely alleviate my fears, I told myself that my death wouldn’t matter too much once I had children.  Though the fear has lingered in the back of mind, I haven’t freaked out too much over it. That is, until the last few weeks. I just realized how old I am – how much closer to death, and I’m still here. Not to mention how fast the last 15 years have gone by. Jesus didn’t come to hang out and stop this whole death thing. I don’t have kids, and I may never have children. How can I let go of this fear? I used to feel safe, almost immortal, around those I was in love with – but they’re gone, too. I’m left to myself and my own thoughts … and I’m forced to face this – either develop a faith strong enough or be okay with the unknown.

But I am not okay with the unknown. Very much like Gus in TFiOS, I fear oblivion. I’m pretty sure this is a universal fear – it just manifests itself in different ways. My psychology professor once said most people aren’t so much scared of death, but they’re scared of the way they’ll die. I am scared of death under any circumstances, because what if that’s it? I know I sound like I have absolutely no faith, and granted my faith is lacking, but what if? What if I cease to exist and all that I’ve known, my memories and experiences, everything I care about – it has no meaning. I start to take a C.S. Lewis-like approach to this thought – asking myself why does this bother me so much? Because I am me. I cannot cease to exist. I am more than this body. Maybe the reason I feel this way, the reason why the mere idea of ceasing to exist troubles me so, it’s something that is so contrary to what my soul knows to be true. Perhaps my soul knows things that my mind cannot understand. That’s why I say, “I want to go home” when I am already home. A part of me I am unaware of knows the truths my mind won’t recognize.

… And though that thought brings comfort, here I am wishing that I could have some sort of miracle. Some sort of sign – angels appearing in my room, telling me that everything is going to be okay … But let’s be real, even if that did happen, I’d probably go to the ER and have myself admitted into a psych unit. Instead I fell asleep last night with the light on, praying that I could escape these thoughts and know. The rational part of my mind says none of us will know anything until it happens.

Yet, I managed to stop worrying. I managed to calm down, and actually get sleep – which I haven’t been able to do in weeks.

… And maybe that is sign enough – because even with all my doubt, I somehow found comfort in the very thing I am struggling to have faith in.