I was wondering if some of you would share your stories of returning home from your mission early. What was the reason? How were you treated when you got home?

I was blessed with appendicitis with about 2 months to go. My mission offered to send me home month early. My TBM Dad was not amused by the idea, and delivered this admonition to his #2 son (yes, I am my parents' number two):

"Don't shortchange the Lord."

Being the compliant TBM child, I served out my full term. No probation for me.

(Argentina South '69-'71)

PS - I was in Argentina when Pope Francis was ordained a priest in Buenos Aires. Makes me feel special somehow ... not sure why.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 06:08PM by beyondashadow.

What did you do about the appendicitis? Ignore it, or treat while on your mission? Or wait the two months until you went home?

I don't presume it cured itself, or did it by some miraculous healing?

I did a 1-1/2 hour bus ride by myself to the British Hospital in Buenos Aires for an appendectomy. Every time the bus hit a bump in the road, I felt it (even though it was a nice bus with cushy suspension).

Seems odd that I would be instructed to travel alone with appendicitis, but I made it to the hospital OK and the surgery was routine. I was diagnosed by an Argentine doctor, who graciously offered to perform the surgery. I was pleased the Mission sent me to the British Hospital instead.

I recovered from surgery in the Mission Home for a couple weeks.

(For anyone who knows Argentina, the bus ride was from San Nicolas to B.A.)



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 07:07PM by beyondashadow.

Your father is a self righteous, delusional asshole for putting his LARD in front of your health.

RB



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 07:40PM by Lethbridge Reprobate.

I recall that I healed OK from the surgery and that the opportunity to go home early was not health related.

Nonetheless, you are correct that my Dad was self-righteous, delusional asshole for putting his LARD and The Brethren (and endless get-rich-quick schemes) in front of ... his wife and young kids for the rest of his pathetic life.

His self-righteousness mercifully came to an end a year and a half ago. His level of self-delusion crossed the line into mental illness, imo ... supported by Mormon Cult-ure. It's easy and convenient to tell yourself you're OK if you can hold a TR. Never mind if you've abandoned your family and forced your young daughter to worry that she might have to go get a job if she wants to eat and survive ... with a crazy, clueless TBM mother in charge, while abandoned by Dad to live in a friend's backyard shop building with no plumbing.

None of the above matters as long as The Church Is Twoo.

During the Vietnam War, the church was quite proactive in keeping its young men from being drafted. They initiated 'mid-semester' enrollment for just this reason. Had I gone 24 months in the mission field (back then the two year mission didn't start until you got to your mission) I would have been 'exposed' to the draft for over two months. I was totally clueless about all this.

I don't recall the exact mechanics of it, but I was told that I was being released a month early in order to take best advantage of these 'avoid the draft' machinations. They flew me to LAX, then on to SLC, where I was picked up by a BYU van and driven to Provo where I enrolled. Then later that night I was driven back to SLC where I took a plane to Las Vegas and was picked up by my mom. I was released the next day by my SP, whose discernment did not tell him that my MP's estimation of my character was completely in error.

Then, as a poor civilian, I took a Greyhound to Provo...

Not the kind of 'going home early' story you were looking for, but it does squeak into the category. And of course it shows the attention to detail the church pays to secular daily life.

C'mon!! Mid-semester enrollment?!! Only having to answer questions on the final from the last half of the semester!!

RMs killed in Nam don't generate no future tithe payers, not to mention they stop paying tithing themselves on account of being dead.

BTW, this is the first I've personally heard about early mission releases motivated by draft avoidance. Makes sense The Brethren would want to protect their 'investments'.

The fact that otherwise nonexistent mid-semester enrollment is intrinsically dishonest (unfair to honest draftees) certainly mattereth not to an institution founded upon enduring principles of lies and deceptions.

Does anyone remember if the Church requested missionary Draft Numbers? Mine was 256, so I was in the clear. I do recall getting a ministerial deferral ... 4H? Anyone remember?



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 06:51PM by beyondashadow.

The only 'draft numbers' I remember were the ones issued by the various 'draft lotteries.'

I'd had a medial meniscectomy my junior year in high school (thus cutting short a blossoming career in car theft) so when I got my draft notice while at the Y, I wondered if it could help me avoid service. At that time I was married and we were expecting a baby.

I mentioned these two items, the draft notice and the knee surgery, to my bishop and others. Someone recommended a certain orthopedic surgeon, who helped guys get their draft status changed from 1A to 1Y. So I went to him and he had to tell me that my knee was fine, but that he'd determined that I had spina bifida oculta. I didn't know diddly squat about it, but just sat there and listened to him and took the letter he gave me. He said to give the letter to the head guy at the draft physical, and that he was certain that his word would be accepted at the SLC draft center.

But I had to go to LA... And the head doctor blew his nose with the letter, wadded it up and tossed it in the trash and I was declared 1A; start packing...

But along came the first draft lottery and while I was at the chapel playing church B-ball, my BYU bride watched the proceedings on TV and when I got home, told me that my number was 365.

No one ever interviewed me...

let me say this about your deal: that is the most that I have ever heard of about LD$ inc ever giving a care about the welfare of run of the mill missionaries or RMs. The sons of MORmON royalty and MORmON elite excepted, OF COURSE!

I've written extensively about it.

Came out to my mission president, he told me I was a disgrace and a distraction and should seek psychiatric help the second I got home.

So of course I developed severe depression over the next two months. The MP blamed this on me being gay rather than the abusive and caustic culture of his mission.

I was placed with zoneleaders so they could keep constant watch on me, very stifling.
Turned to self abuse coupled with masturbation as it was the only readily available outlets for such extreme emotions.

Finally with all this it was decided I should go home (couldnt keep the scars a secret)

I missed my flight home because the MP delayed taking me because he wanted to yell (have an impromptu meeting) with another elder before we left.

He paid for my transfer flight after making it seem inconvienient to him

I came home and it was announced on sunday that I had a"medical release" but would be returning shortly. My ward never asked about my mission, I gave no homecoming talks, didnt report to the high council.

The MP had called my bishop and family ahead of time to out me to all of them.

Funnily enough as soon as I was home and began building my own life all thoughts of depression vanished, was totally done with the church about 8 months after being home, around the time I started posting here.

2012



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 08:24PM by nonsequiter.

Serious Health Problem.
Was finally advised by my doctor to get myself back to the US.
My Family, my girlfriend and her family, and my bishop were very supportive. My stake president was an asshole and told me I would be a quitter and never amount to anything, that I as going to hell and lots of other funs stuff (got this from the mission president too.) I had lots of non-member friends and didn't attend BYU, and never attended my home ward after coming back so did not get a lot of bad treatment. Got the stink eye from lots of TBMs when they learned I came home early, but was not treated too badly by people who knew me because I was obviously sick and had lost a a lot of weight and I was a skinny kid to begin with. I had serious doubts about the Church that got reinforced by study on my mission. The actions of priesthood leaders, apostles etc I met on my mission convinced me it was a fraud. In the middle of all that I got very sick, sort of a perfect storm. I got locked in the mission home with the hopes I would recover if I didn't do anything but sleep but it did not work and convinced me the MP was an uninspired moron.

The important thing is that a mission is a huge waste of two years of your life dedicated to a fraud. If someone knows it is a fraud, they will regret trying to live a lie the rest of their lives, unless they are like most mormons with no real sense of innate morality.

A young woman from my ward in Idaho went on her mission to Spain. Within six months she was sent home, from suffering some kind of a nervous breakdown while overseas.

Her family acted like it was the most shameful thing, which only compounded her problems.

She was very sweet and shy. Sending her away like that after growing up in a mostly protective bubble was more than she was prepared for at her young age.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/05/2015 10:27PM by amyjo.

I came down with Lymes Disease about 6 months in, but it wasn't diagnosed for another year. I got progressively sicker, with breathing difficulties, horrendous headaches, muscle and joint pain and other problems I won't detail. At about 9 months I was barely functional, could barely walk from the car (yes, we had a car), to the door of wherever we were going. I was in pain all the time, couldn't keep food down and frequently passed out, as in falling on the floor unconscious. The MP (a man I detest with all of my heart and soul), told me my problem was because I didn't have enough faith and I obviously wasn't being obedient to mission rules. I was. If nothing else, how the hell was I supposed to have the energy to be apostate?!

When I'd been out for about 14 months, I threw up and then passed out after dinner at a member's home, and she insisted on taking me to the ER, even though when called the MP's office told her not to. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me (that didn't happen until I returned home and had been examined by experts for several months), but were very concerned by my blood tests and said I needed more care than they could give. The member called my parents and insisted they tell the MP I needed to go home. I did.

I actually remember almost nothing for about 8 months. I remember getting sick at the member's house and arriving at the hospital, and I remember being at another hospital once I was home, but other than that, pretty much about 8 months is a complete blank. I have no memory of actually flying home, seeing my parents or anything else. All I remember for a very long time is just hurting and looking up and seeing the window in my bedroom. Nothing else, for months. But it was just because I didnt' have enought faith, I wasn't really sick, according to my MP.

I still have serious medical problems, including a heart defect, lung function issues and rheumatoid arthritis, stemming from the Lymes disease going un-diagnosed and untreated for so long, and no, the Morg is not covering my medical bills. After all, it was all because I wasn't faithful enough, right

I've gotten over a lot of thing, but yes, this still totally pisses me off.

How did this all sit with your parents?

Did any TBMs ever, as they say, 'cut you any slack'?

Spwdone, So sorry to hear about your Lyme disease. I'm sure it is difficult for you. I have a very good friend whose spouse had it but they didn't know about it for years. It was passed on to my friend and all but one of their children. My friend is much worse off than his spouse. As far as I know their children are not showing symptoms. I was amazed that my friend still had a sense of humor when I last visited. My friend has been through a lot.

All the best to you.

That sounds awful what you've been through.

Have you noticed on the home page of RfM the link asking for missionaries who suffered a serious health ailment while in the field?

Here's the link if you haven't already checked it out:

http://utahinjury.com/missionaryinjurylawyers/

My parents were full of platitudes and lots of talk about how "the church is true, even though people make mistakes, blah,blah,blah." Interestingly enough, they divorced a few years after I came home and while both of them are still active, my Dad has become much less, let's say, willing to drink the cool-aid. He doesn't actively oppose anything church related, but, he has also become accepting of people who don't meet TSC standards. He's actually become a person, which has been nice. My mom, well, she lives in her own world, so.....

I've had contact with a few people from my mission in the last few years (I've been back over 15 years), and it's been interesting. Seems like everyone knew I was really sick but everyone was afraid to say anything or else they would be the ones who lacked faith. Nothing says "cult" more strongly, in my opinion.

It was an experience, and I definitely learned from it. Learned that the TSC was a bunch of crap, for one thing. : )

I've shared my story before. Here it is one more time -

Although I was born in the church, was a model LDS youth leader, 99.8% early morning seminary attendance, etc., I never had a burning desire to serve a mission. To me it was just something you did when you turned 19 years old whether you wanted to or not.

The year prior I attended BYU and had a girlfriend whose dear mother had told her all of the things you DON'T do with a boy. So once she got away from home, she could hardly wait to try everything out. It was a great time.

When I got home after school I confessed to my Bishop and Stake Prez. An appointment was set up for me to meet with a General Authority about a month later. During the time before meeting with the G.A. my BYU girlfriend surprised me by flying into town for my birthday. We banged like a screen door in a hurricane.

Two weeks later I met with the G.A. His name was Henry D. Taylor, an older nice guy. There were about 5 or 6 of us waiting in the foyer of the Stake Center to meet with him. Hehehehehehe. He was pretty cool. I told him about what I had done during my time at BYU but I couldn't bring myself to tell him about what I had done just two weeks earlier. I feared his "Spirit of Discernment" would out me, but not so (my first indication that there is NO "Spirit of Discernment"). When we parted he told me to "Be careful out there. There are a lot of gals who would love to jump a missionary's bones".

A month or two later I got my mission call. When I reported to the MTC the brainwashing began immediately - - "If there is anything in your past that you haven't confessed to, now is the time. You won't have the spirit on your mission, won't learn the language, blah, blah, blah." I blew them off.

Then about a month into my stay I started struggling with the language, my memorization, I wasn't feeling well, etc. After hearing nearly everyday "If there is anything you haven't confessed to....", I began to feel a major guilt trip. So, I went in and spoke to my MTC Bishop. He kicked me upstairs to speak with the MTC Prez.

After meeting with the MTC Prez, he told me to write three letters explaining what I had done. One letter to my home Stake Prez, one to my home Bishop, and one to my father. I told him that my parents had not spent one dime on my mission yet, I felt no obligation whatsoever to share my private affairs with my father, and that I would not do it under any circumstance. The MTC Prez sat for a moment and said, 'O.K., write to your Stake Prez and Bishop". The next day I brought him two letters to be mailed out.

Nearly two weeks passed and I was called back into his office after a devotional. A G.A. (Carlos Asay) had spoken to all of us Elders at the MTC and he too was in the office with the MTC Prez. The MTC Prez told me that my Stake Prez was on the phone for me to talk with. My Stake Prez was great. He told me that he had spoken with my Bishop and they both felt strongly that I should remain on my mission. He gave me some words of encouragement and wished me luck. After hanging up the phone, the MTC Prez said "We spoke with your father and he feels that you should stay on your mission as well." I said "Excuse me?? You did what??" He replied, "We told your father and he feels it would be best if you stayed on your mission as well."

Under my breath but loud enough for them to hear I whispered "You sons of bitches...I told you my father was not to be told." They were shocked by my reaction and stammered that he had said it was O.K. with him that I stayed. I was furious and said "Oh yeah, well guess what...it's not O.K. with me." We had a nice little "discussion" (heated from my side) in which I told them that not only could I never trust my leaders in the mission field, I had lost any shred of desire to serve. I asked politely if they would arrange for my travel home or if it was something I should take care of. They were REALLY in shock now and told me they would make the arrangements. They told me to go back to my classroom with my district and they would get back to me with the details.

They must have called my instructor because he was standing outside of the classroom waiting for me. He did his best to convince me to stay but I told him that the damage was beyond repair. He gave up trying and we went inside the classroom where I told my district members that I was leaving.

I was informed that a flight home from SLC would be leaving at 9:00pm. I had a tearful dinner with the members of my district who I had grown to love like brothers and sisters. They stayed with me up until it was time to get into the van for the drive to the airport. Everyone was in tears and gave me huge hugs. The Sister missionaries squeezed me extra tight and cried on my shoulders. It was tough.

I didn't know what would face me when I landed in Los Angeles. As I got off the plane and walked up the tunnel to the gate I could see my father standing by the door. When I approached he stuck his hand out to shake mine. No hug. His greeting to me - "You look good...I can't say I am glad to see you." For the 30-minute ride home he chewed my ass up one side and down the other. He made it very clear that I was a disgrace to the family. Having no money and nowhere else to go, I just had to sit there and take it. Things were no better once I got home. My own mother couldn't face me for three days. My older sister in tears told me she couldn't believe what I had done to the family.

I faced a living HELL at home. I had no job, no wheels, and little cash. I was totally dependent on my family and their goal was to ride me until I hit rock bottom. Once they were convinced I wasn't going to return to my mission, my father turned the screws up on me even tighter. I remember him approaching me while I was sitting alone at the kitchen table and saying "I think it would be best for the family if you were to leave." I asked him to give me two weeks and he agreed. I had no idea what I would do or where I would go. I had a job but it didn't pay enough to support myself. I was also trying to figure out a way to get back to school. I was a mess. I think my mother finally came to her senses and recognized my situation and that if I were to leave, I would NEVER return. I think she put her foot down with my father when she approached me and said "You are not going anywhere. End of story."

I stayed for a year...saving enough money to move out and get back into school. It will be 39 years ago next month. Still no regrets.

Mr. Happy Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------

> the G.A. my BYU girlfriend surprised me by flying
> into town for my birthday. We banged like a screen
> door in a hurricane.

(What a sweet thing. Remind me again of why you wanted to go on a mission....)

> the phone, the MTC Prez said "We spoke with your
> father and he feels that you should stay on your
> mission as well." I said "Excuse me?? You did
> what??" He replied, "We told your father and he
> feels it would be best if you stayed on your
> mission as well."
>
> Under my breath but loud enough for them to hear I
> whispered "You sons of bitches...I told you my
> father was not to be told." They were shocked by
> my reaction and stammered that he had said it was
> O.K. with him that I stayed. I was furious and
> said "Oh yeah, well guess what...it's not O.K.
> with me." We had a nice little "discussion"
> (heated from my side) in which I told them that
> not only could I never trust my leaders in the
> mission field, I had lost any shred of desire to
> serve. I asked politely if they would arrange for
> my travel home or if it was something I should
> take care of.

> I was informed that a flight home from SLC would
> be leaving at 9:00pm.

YOU, sir, are my hero!!!

Mr. Happy, I am so sorry. Although it's been 39 years and you did the right thing, I have no doubt it still hurts. I know quite a few people who also had to break all ties to their family. It is so, incredibly, disgustingly wrong.

How an organization that claims to be Christ based can behave in such incredibly un-Christlike ways (and I am not even sure that I am still a Christian, I waver a lot), is mind-boggling.

I also know, that this portion of your story is just the tip of the iceberg, as it is with all of us. I hope that things are going well with you and that you have been able to find peace.

There is something about being raised inside the TSC, brainwashed from birth, that really screws up the rest of your life. Decades later you suddenly realize that your perspective has been skewed in yet another weird way you didn't realize before. It sucks. However, those of us who have escaped are continually revamping our stories! I, for one, will not let them win!

It could be worse, we could be 94, and dying when we realized we had spent our entire lives in the service of a scam religion!

Technically, I returned three days early, as did the other four missionaries in my group. The MP had to go to some big meeting in SLC and would be away on our official end date, so we got set free early. A nice little surprise.

I came home 6 weeks early, after a severe extended illness that finally caused me to be hospitalized, thankfully, before I died.
I was hospitalized due to the care and insistence of a dear member lady who probably saved my life. Its an absolute certainty that the ultra arrogant fucking assholes who were running the mission did not care about my well being at all, because it was under their self infatuated watch that I so precipitously declined before being hospitalized. *THANKS* ! you fucking pricks!!!

I was resistant to going home at first. I had been totally brain screwed that it was better to die trying than to give up "my" sacred responsibility to preach THE gospel. My own MORmON parents were stiff enough about that. I think they were actually disappointed that I did not die on my mission because it precluded them from getting the epic attendant attention and sympathy from other MORmON members that would have come their way. Yes, my MORmON parents really are that cold. The notion of die trying before giving up was then specifically reinforced by Ricks (NOT much of a) College Missionary Approach Professor Melvin Hammond, who used his own such experience to preach to young prospective missionaries the concept of die trying before giving up. So, I was all set up to do exactly that. The attending physician told me to quit, to eliminate any further concern over missionary efforts. He was surprised when I showed some resistance to that.

I had been in the hospital for a week. That totally freaked out the mission president, NOT because he had any concern about my welfare but because THE ( FUCKING MORmON) Church was obligated to pay for my medical care. Arrangements were made to transfer me to the (Lavish) residence of an older member doctor in the area, so I could remain under a physician's care and most importantly (to THE church) so THE Church could save on medical expenses until they could be rid of me as a missionary.

I had a lot of time to think. It was becoming more clear to me that I should quit, that it was time to give up being a missionary in spite of my indoctrination. That was a huge turn around for me because of earlier indoctrination, but just as much I was still holding onto the idea that Jesus existed as a compassionate God. Would not 22 months be an acceptable offering to a compassionate god who would have to know that I poured my heart and soul into the endeavor, including leaving behind a (really manipulative) girl friend that I (so foolishly) had been stupid crazy in love with, pounding through a brutal pre mission manual labor work routine to earn the money to pay for the (FUCKING) ordeal, and managing to baptize almost a dozen people along the way. I knew that I had made huge personal sacrifices to be there, even IF other fucking asshole MORmONS did not care and or were oblivious to that fact ( like my MP who was so obsessed with becoming GA that he could not think about anything else including actually running his fucking mission), it should matter to a Jesus who was supposed to be concerned.

I could tell what was coming for me next from the MORmON pipeline of dirty abusive manipulative tactics, which I had learned about very well from being on a mission, which then allowed me to make a break from my (absurd) sense of commitment to being a missionary. I knew that it would be suggested by mission administration that my health had failed because I was not faithful ( faithFOOL) enough to the MORmON cause to merit being sustained by (the MORmON version of) Jesus (who is a total fucking asshole just like so many his MORmON leaders), which was so far from reality because I had been a total idiot in being emotionally vested in THE work. I had not expected a thing in return (especially not a phony mission leadership calling which was really just an excuse for getting OUT of doing missionary work by lording over (crapping on) others) except for being able to keep doing THE work that was supposed to be so critical, but apparently OBVIOUSLY that had not worked regardless of what I really wanted to do however foolishly. For whatever reason Jesus did not see fit to keep me up and running as a missionary, that was his deal, NOT mine, because I knew that I had been totally committed to THE work. IF I could not keep my legs under me to do THE work then that was Jesus' doing, NOT mine. I was not going to hang around to hear about BS concocted MORmON fables that were quite disconnected from reality and intended to manipulate and motivate other missionaries at my expense. It is too bad that mission leaders did not have the audacity to suggest that I was faking it or overplaying the deal because even though that would have really ticked me off, it also would have severed my already strained relationship and emotional ties with the pricks of mission administration even more rapidly and in turn damaged my already strained relationship with THE (MORmON) church even more. I already understood that I was grossly inferior in their eyes. Even so, It would be intolerable for me to be called a phony by a group of people who were consummate phonies. As things were, I ended up convalescing at the doctor's home for several weeks before I made the decision to go home. I was there for several more weeks before returning home.

Getting home should have been a relief. It was a relief to not be obligated to go out and harass the public in the interest of selling LD$ inc's Book of MORmON scam, but completing a mission does not mean that other MORmON'S MORmON expectations and demands on a young member have ended. In fact, a lot of MORmON members simply view a full time mission as MORmON boot camp, as preparatory training and conditioning for beginning a life time of grinding a life away in earnest on the MORmON tread mill to keep THE (MORmON) church fat and happy. Those people can have exasperating levels of demand and expectations for a return missionary. I had already had a gut full of abject concentrated consummate full time commitment to THE cause of MORmONISM. As a "reward" for my efforts on behalf of THE MORmON cause I was so sick that I felt a lot more like dying or an old man than a vibrant enthusiastic 21 year old. And I will never be able to forgive the selfish thieving vipers at LD$ Inc that succeeded in robbing me of that precious aspect of my life that should have been there at that time and that ended up being taken away from me because they just had to further the interests of their grand MORmON criminal empire/ kingDUMB at any expense including my health, so they could do stupid crap like knocking down a perfectly good very elegant mall to build an obscenely extravagant mall with a convertible roof in its place while I was scraping along and largely doing with out.

My parents allowed for a couple of weeks of me being down due to my illness, but after that they expected me to explode into the giant ball of sunshine and exuberance that is supposed to exemplify a brand new RM. When that did not happen, for them, they were more than a little perturbed. They are so selfish and self consumed that they could ONLY think of themselves and how they had been slighted and they could not spare one second thinking about how I might be a little disappointed in how things had turned out so badly.

There were several middle aged busy body women in the ward who felt it was their special duty to pile a lot of churchin' demands on me including seeing that several callings were extended to me that I just simply ignored. My solution to dealing with them was to NOT attend church rather than tell them to ESAD which is what I was on the verge of doing myself, a course of action that seemed so fitting to recommend to them since how it was essentially what had just happened to me as I was conned into going on a full time mission. My not attending church set my parents on edge, so one sunday I attended, it was a big reminder of why I had not been going. One thing happened that I do regret. when I attended that sunday, one of my classmates from high school, actually since day one in elementary school, asked me to bless her baby the next weekend on fast sunday since her husband was away on military assignment. I was happy to do it for her and agreed to do it. However, I was so damn sick that as soon as I left the church that day, I completely forgot about it and I did not feel up to attending the next Sunday, so she was stood up on that deal by me, which I felt bad about, but don't worry because there were plenty of priestDUD holders who did make it to church to see that the baby was "blessed" into MORmONISM. This incident was also a huge (HUGE) reminder that I really was NOT up to par mentally or physically.

After several months my good friend and convert came to visit me. For reasons that I still have not figured out, besides the fact that my MORmON male parent is a total asshole, my MORmON male parent decided to be rude to my convert. That weekend turned out to be one of the Worst in my life. We went to Ricks college to visit. My convert wanted to attend the temple in IF because as a good MORmON he wanted to score as many various temples as possible. I had purposely left my temple recommend at home, because I NEVER wanted to go in the Hell house MORmON temple again, Yah, one dose of threat to have my throat cut was More than I wanted, and IF is where I had been endowed, much to my horror, just a few years earlier. Against my better judgement, I found myself turning the car around after we had passed the temple, because my convert had begged me to be able to go to the temple due to my convert's desperate pleas.
we had to call my stake pres to verify that I was a valid recommend holder. after the session, I was called into the temple president's (Devere Harris, I hope you are burning in Hell of some sort) office, NOT to be congratulated for being able to attend the temple with my convert but to be reamed out for wearing a very nice brand new pair of jeans and a polo shirt ( it wasn't a suit and tie as per MORmON standards) into his ass holy fucking MORmON Temple. It was one of the most disparaging and abusive things that I have ever been through, much like going through a Mock throat slashing temple ceremony.
Keep in mind that I was the kind of straight arrow super obedient MORmON youth that did not even have to change my hair cut when I went on a mission, and now I was being subjected to this kind of abuse simply to gratify some cankered old MORmON POS who felt the need to throw his over the hill weight around.
I tried to tell him that I really had not planned on attending THE temple that day, but he could not have cared any less (recognize that MORmON pattern????) and this was THE *reward* that I was getting for STUPIDLY putting THE (FUCKING) church first again. I hope that fucking ass hole Devere Harris and the other MORmON leaders are happy now because neither I or my convert will be defiling any MORmON temples by wearing Jeans into them because neither of us still attend the Hell House MORmON temple because both of us have quit the foul offensive MORmON religion.

When I got home, my brother had blown the engine in my car. It was not the first time that it had happened either. When I had the nerve to complain about it to my MORmON male parent, he went ape shit ballistic( as real nice follow up to being rude to my convert a few days earlier and the ream session that I had just experienced at the IF HELL HOUSE temple) and told me that he wished that he had drowned me in a ditch (killed me), a retro active abortion, when I was a baby. There is a sweet thought for you. With family like MORmON family and a church like the MORmON church who needs enemies or a Satan.

I can't speak to feeling humiliated or embarrassed about coming home early, other than to say I think I can see how incredibly HORRIBLE that would be. I never felt embarrassed or humiliated over the 6 weeks of a mission that I failed to complete because I knew that I had made a veritable personal sacrifice to help out THE Church by going on a mission, and I knew that I had made a veritable contribution (FAR FAR MORE than they deserved) to THE MORmON cause. (After all, just a few months later my younger brother would be officially let off the hook with only serving an 18 month mission), so I never felt embarrassed or really humiliated, even when the temple president chewed me out it only pissed me off, but not enough, because I should have quit the damn MORmON church right then, just like I should have right after being endowed a few years earlier.

Did that (my) post mission deal suck enough to merit your consideration??????? There really were not many bright spots in those very dark days. I can not think of a single one of those days that I would want to live again, In fact, I would rather die than go through some/many of them again, unless I could do some things differently like dumping that foul asshole TP's desk over into his lap.

This has been one of the more shocking things I've found out since coming to this board, all the horrible stories about missions.

I guess I technically came home about three weeks early. At around 13-15 months into my mission I heard a rumor that had originated from my MTC companion that if you had to go home for some reason after serving 18 months you would still get an honorable release. The rumor was that my old companion was just going to ask to go home at his 18 month mark. (My old companion was hardcore and the DL in the MTC and I was the lackluster elder, but I guess he changed on his mission. Through the grape vine I heard that he was always "sick" on his mission and it turns out that he did go home for medical reasons at around the 18 month mark).

Anyway, once I heard the rumor about getting released at 18 months, in my subsequent weekly letter to my mission president I asked if I could go home "a few months early" so I could work to earn money for college. When I saw the MP at zone conference he was nice about it but he said that he only had discretion to release a missionary a month early or a month later. He then said he had had several requests for missionaries to stay LONGER on their mission but he couldn't let them stay longer than a month. (My MP was a good guy but I kind of had to roll my eyes at that).

So in the end I went home in the transfer cycle that was three weeks before my two year mark instead of the transfer cycle that was about two weeks after my two year mark.

So I got out of a transfer cycle worth of missionary work! Not an insignificant amount of time. I did miss not going home with the missionaries who I had originally come out with. It would have been interesting to see who had made it the entire two years and get the gossip on who didn't. (As far as I know only my MTC companion went home early) But I used my time at home that month much more productively! I just wish I had enlisted in the armed forces for two years. It would have been much more worthwhile!



Edited 8 time(s). Last edit at 12/06/2015 11:23AM by zero.

First off - huge kudos to those who had the backbone to leave early! Very courageous and certainly took more courage than I had 35 years ago.

I spent much of my mission wanting to go home, starting after about a month in the MTC. I even took a three-day hiatus at the six-month point, to another country w/o my companion (which was great -- and a much-needed break) thinking that would get me sent home.

Looking back, I didn't have the balls (courage and wasn't totally sure the church was a fraud yet) to make the decision myself, so wanted the MP to make the decision for me. I also didn't want to be sent home for "sinning" and realized that travelling wouldn't be taken that seriously by my non-Mormon -- or even Mormon -- friends. I grew up in Western Canada so the pressure on me wouldn't have been as bad as those in the morridor (my parents and family would have given me the gears though)

My MP was quite liberal, and actually a very decent man and, after my return, just transferred me to another city with a new, more liberal companion.

Towards the end of my mission, I wanted to go home a couple of months early just to make a point -- kind of an FU -- but was told by a colleague who had worked at the mission home that I'd have to pay my way own home. For the sake of eight weeks, I stayed because the $800-900 flight was a huge sum of money to me back then.

Again, huge kudos to those with the courage to actually leave! I love how everyone rallies around those who did and, especially, the current missionaries in crisis who post here. I feel sick for them, knowing what they're going though, but they are actually luckier than in my time. We had no internet, so were mostly on our own.

Please bare with this post -- I tend to relive things and this thread pulled me back into that loop.

Short Version:
People didn't really treat me poorly because I came home early, but being mentally ill post-mission is a social death sentence.

Details:
I came home early 18 years ago. Firstly, I had faith in God that the depression that I had experienced for years before I'd left and was magnified in the MTC would be subdued. I walked in to the mission field with faith. I remember being a productive, obedient missionary who followed the white bible to a "T" who really believed the whitewashed, correlated, propagandized version of the LDS gospel. Then after about 18 months of 6 AM to 10 PM workdays 7 days a week with no real breaks (P-days were busy just catching up -- no rest) and no fun except for one trip to downtown it all blew up. I remember that missionary fire (cue "Called To Serve") just instantly vanished, replaced with horrible, violent and other bothersome thoughts. We would be sitting there teaching discussions when my mind for some reason kept conjuring up violent fantasies of pounding in someone's face with my brawny fists. Then my mind started replaying a certain song over and over and over and over and over and over for several months nonstop. That spirit-o'-god-bullshit was replaced with severe depression, rapid weight loss, insomnia. Wasn't God supposed to protect the missionaries? Why was he allowing this? I vaguely remember my companion phoning the Mission President, a plane ride home, seeing my parents at the end of the exit with no fanfare, feeling like I let down God and all those people we were supposed to save, feeling like I embarrassed my family, shame. Seems I gave a talk, was honorably released, was put on medication...counseling (with a useless Mormon counselor of course)...things are cloudy after that for about a year... Nobody walked up to my face and told me that I'd let God & everyone down -- my own mental illness took on that responsibility. The YSA's were polite and everything, but I could never tell them my experience for fear of the truth of my enormous failure coming out and being rejected. I could never interact with people the way I could before the mission -- I went from being a social butterfly to a total undesirable. I carried that feeling of failure and guilt for years and it didn't really stop until I found out about all of the history the fscking Mormon cult hid from me. Once I discovered the DNA problem, the complete lack of real evidence for entire civilizations, the obvious lies, the Book of Abraham problem, the obvious evolution of the religion over time and that little family tidbit about my married 5th(?) great grandmother and a married and philandering Joseph Smith producing my 4th(?) great grandmother Josephine...well, I became mightily pissed off. Actually I'm permanently pissed off. All that guilt turned into anger. The Mormon cult intentionally sent me out there with misinformation to make money and cult-members for them which ruined my brain, my life and turned me into this horrible, scarred, permanently broken thing that nobody can relate to and nobody wants. I look in the mirror and see portions of Joseph staring back, mocking me. I still have fantasies but they're more along the lines of installing ransomeware on LDS Inc.'s network and only releasing it if they admit publicly that they've lied to us our entire lives and that the whole thing is a big scam. If there ever really was a real me it died somewhere and never came home.

BF left early 2 years ago now.
He was out for nearly 18 months and simply had no testimony, no power, no intention to waste another half year for this church.The first time he mentioned that he likes to quit was after a year. He was never the one who wanted to serve a mission, he went when he was already 21, because of family pressure he gaves finally in.
It was actually me, who tried to make him stay and to endure. Because of all the following issues that may cause from an early return.
However he suffered in "the field" every day became a torture and he was unable to fake it any further day. We talked alot about his options and decided that he will quit his mission. I picked him up in California, we had a short vacation before he returned home, was shunned by his father "broke his mothers heart", resigned from the church and started everything to prepare for his immigration to Germany.Another month later he left Colorado.
Started to study and work, We had hard times, because he had a hard time to readjust to "normal life" in the beginning, his parents were sometimes mean and annoying, then this awful bish-issue, becoming accidentally pregnant ...
But now we became a tiny family and we are more than happy how everything turned out for us. We have a good life. Not perfect but our own. We love each other and he has really become my "best friend"(still dont like that term).
We are going to marry next Summer because we want to be married, with the persons we want to have there, in clothes we want to wear, on a location we want to say 'I do', because we really love the other person and not because we just want to have sex.

A few days ago we talked about how it would have been if he were brainwashed successfully on his mission. He said: I think I would have a child #2 in the making, married to a woman I actually don't know and call my best friend, I would have married het because I confused love and being horny, because it is expected. I would probably work at Chipotle or selling mobile phone contracts instead of studying psychology and working in a psychiatric hospital. I will hate it, hate my job, my life and finally myself and find these 2 options: committing suicide or get sucked into mormonism more and more just to have an anchor, to have a hope that someday everything will be as the church promised. And I would fake it and lie to myself until I finally believe it. I may feel like a living failure, who is never enough. Who will never succeed. - Thanks for saving my life."

I was allowed to leave my mission one month early so that I would be able to enroll immeidately at my university for the spring quarter. This happend during the Vietnam War period and meant that I would not become eligible to be drafted at that time.

No mission here, TG! To avoid going [to do something I wasn't buying or believing in], I almost said "I like drinking beer and I'm quite qu33r", but I thought it'd be easier to just say "I touch myself here and there, and here...". They said 'try to straighten up'! I said I yam! It actually wasn't until later that I learned what {real-good} beer was, or what missions are like. I just couldn't testify under oath that Joseph Smith - and the church - was all life was... or all that it is saying it is (or I could stand for it to be). I knew something {else} was out there - like LIFE(?)! That year (.87) in Provo, at 18-19, shall have proved critical (enlightenment). I might accidentally would have gone were it 18 then. Yikes!

My mission in life is to make it through it without becoming a Mormon! Too late, I know... but making an 8 year old sign an invisible (except "tithing" - LDS's black) illegal, immoral, dispiriting, incomprehensible - and rather unChristlike - partisan contract, without showing them the contract, the User Agreement, the privacy policy and the rest of the fine print, the dangers and threats, if the member "breaks" one of these so called preferences, superstitions, whims, enactments, or "agreements", forced-volunteerism/ expectations ("callings", home-visiting teaching, 'missionary-"work"'...), "payment plans"/ [tithes](perpetual taxations) and separation policies, etc., isn't binding, is preposterous and doesn't count toward any worthwhile goal.

Isn't it ironic you have to "stray"/ wander (wonder)/ grow, drop, climb, or claw away from the one false 'church' (OFC) to get to REAL "eternal" happiness... right now, involvolves being present right now. 'Eternity' doesn't start at death but is actually a part of your everyday waking life. So... (if you are Mormon), the mission never ends, [It is redundant and only serves to perpetuate itself]. To "leave the mission early" is to find happiness or reality (or the truth) sooner.

Someone who thinks they are a saint (lds) but doesn't recognize (and treat) someone else for their saintliness - (EQUALITY-fairness) brotherhood-sisterhood/ COG (child of God) 'status' (instead putting them in a box [] NONMORMON-'formon') or recognize another saint, regardless of religion, creed, policy, thought, persuasion or anything - doesn't understand what "the Church of Jesus Christ..." means.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/06/2015 05:56PM by moremany.

Why missionaries leave the mission early graph -

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/64/70/5b/64705b969664f4745fa013454e558381.jpg

Stray Mutt - "good time" reward

I saw numerous missionaries last night (lds event) and couldn't help myself while I turned a few on to reggae music ('Smile Jamaica' - 4-7PM,MST)and African/ world music (following), and even told a sister from Salt Lake City that it was live, KRCL, in Salt Lake City, 90.9 fm - she was almost dancing, if only it weren't for the girl across the foyer, probably her companion. I told another missionary what kalamata olives, and smoked salmon and dried whole fruit-bananas are like. He was a cool missionary and seems to have hope.

I read somewhere that about 200 missionaries leave early each average day - or maybe it's each week - or month. It seems like per week. Any firm data or confirmation on that?