I was born into the church, and my family history is that of the pioneers. I was spoon-fed these stories of the family faith from infancy. The cracks in my testimony appeared as a young child, as I watched all the small children line up to "bear their testimonies" during Fast and Testimony meetings. Even as a child I found it disingenuous that all these young children with barely any knowledge of life all lined up to blandly mimic the line "I'd like to bear my testimony, I know this church is true. I love my mom and dad and brothers and sisters...." each testimony given in the same bland, monotone cadence as the one before while proud parents beamed on from the pews. I was baptized at the age of 8, being deemed worthy at such a tender age to decide for myself what was true. What 8 year old is mentally or emotionally capable of making such a monumental decision completely independent of any outside interference? The Mormon guilt presented itself on my baptism day. I let a swear word slip, having overheard it from an adult and not understanding the meaning of the word, and having let it slip I was informed by siblings and cousins that my newly wiped-clean spiritual slate was now sullied by this word. I recall feeling ashamed as my mother explained to me that I was now being held accountable for all sins, great and small, that God was keeping a list and at Judgement day, the list would be read off and I would have to answer for why I, a child, would say such an awful word. I have journal entries from that day where my child self laments the sin, the deep shame of it, and how I loved the Lord and would do anything to remain forever strong in the church.

My family is one of divorce, Mom and Dad fell away from the church for a time when I was still very small, and faced excommunication if they did not return to the path and confess their sins. They ended up divorcing, with Mom dutifully returning to the church after a probationary period, and Dad leaving the church forever. We lived in a very small town, so naturally when Mom confessed all of her sins, wives of the Bishopric and Stake leaders spread her private business and painful struggles with anyone who would listen. I often wondered why these women, who would avoid us at the post office or in the grocery store, would show up with food if we missed a Sunday, always so fake with their warm smiles and baked goods when they knocked on the door. Mom said that this was a community of servants, called to serve one another, and that the only thing that got her through the divorce was the fellowship of the Mormon community.

In school, the cracks grew. I noticed that all the LDS teachers treated non-member kids differently, that those unfortunate children were ignored or more-severely reprimanded than the LDS kids. No one said or did anything about the blatant favoritism, even when these very kids who were spurned were the ones most in need of a community rallying for them. By the time I reached high school, I was already very seriously questioning the entire charade. Then I began to attend Seminary. I spent most of my time in seminary either fighting sleep from utter boredom or sitting paralyzed with anger at the horrible things the seminary teacher would spew at our impressionable minds, planting the seeds for a fresh crop of mindless drones, monotonously spouting off their testimonies even though I knew those same kids were going out partying on the weekends and generally treating non-members with contempt. I made quite a few non-member friends who listened to my struggles with a bipolar mother, authoritarian step-father, and absent father. For the first time in my life I had friends who were supportive, non-judgemental and less interested in appearances than they were interested in being real human beings. I was finally able to admit to a non-member friend that I had been molested at the age of 4 by a family member, that the said molestation was swept under the rug and ignored. I was taught that all sexual thoughts and acts were a sin outside of marriage, and a sin inside a marriage if the purpose of the acts were not specifically with the intent of making babies. So having dealt with a horrific event, I was then raised to believe that I was bad, that what had happened to me was my fault, and that even though I had been baptized, the mental images and memories of the event were evil, and I was evil if I did not go out of my way to remove those thoughts from my brain.

One day in seminary, the teacher taught a lesson on temple recommends. During the course of the lesson she posited that any member who associates with or sympathizes with non-members would not be welcomed into the temple. I raised my hand and asked if that included my dad, who had converted to Catholicism. She stuttered a few times and looked incredibly pained. I went on to ask why, if we were to be Christlike in all our actions, would we behave in such an exclusive, clique-ish manner, why would we turn our backs on some of God's children when Jesus himself said we should treat others as we wish to be treated. Again she stuttered and looked shaken. After the lesson, she asked me to stay behind and attempted to explain to me that staying away from non-members was for my own good, that non-members would be swayed by Satan to pull me away from the church. I realized that Mormons expect you to relinquish your mind totally to their teachings and way of life, and that I would be forever judged by my associations. I realized, at 14 years old having lived my life feeling as though I was some evil, damaged soul for things that had happened to me beyond my control, and that I would live a life of constant judgement and ridicule from the flock for any small misdeed. I decided at that moment that it would be my last year attending Seminary. When we enrolled in classes for the next school year, I did not sign up for seminary. That summer, the seminary leader called me repeatedly, asking me why I hadn't signed up and when did I plan on changing my classes to include seminary. I told him each time that I preferred to spend my elective hour as a teacher's aid. The teacher to whom I would serve as aid, who was also LDS, called me and said she would prefer I attend seminary, but that she could not force me, she was just concerned for my eternal soul. I told her I had made the decision and it was final. She was one Mormon out of so very many that proves there are still good people in the church, and she proved to be a source of strength and guidance for me in my teenage years. The stress I felt that summer, being constantly harassed by church leaders was unimaginable. Finally, my mom and stepdad sat me down to discuss why I wasn't going to attend seminary. I was given a very big speech on why I must attend, for my parents' salvation was dependent upon mine, that it was their moral duty to do everything in their power to keep me close to the church, and that their eternal salvation was doomed if I did not attend. I told them that while I lived in their house, I would attend all Sunday services and youth activities, but that based on the lies spread in seminary and the unconscionable harrassment I suffered from the seminary leaders, I would never again return to those classes. They could kick me out of the house if they were unhappy with me decision. God love them, my parents heard the kernels of truth in what I said and agreed to this arrangement. The day before I turned 18 was the last day I attended church services, other than for funerals, in an LDS church.

It has been nearly 10 years since the last time I attended church. This decision has caused my mother to dutifully notify my local ward each time I move, in hopes that the ward missionaries will bring me back to the fold, that somehow I will have a change of heart and come back. What brought me to this site was a search to find out how to remove my name from the church records after having the local ward representatives knock on my door for the fifth time this year with a manila folder containing my church records in their hands. I have told each of them to burn the record and leave me alone. They continue to appear at my door every now and again, and I am tired of the harassment. When my name is finally removed and I am not longer harassed by the stepford wives club, I will finally be free.

Let me also make something very clear: I love my family members who are still active LDS. I still have some friends from the church, but I can tell they fear my religious opinions and are afraid to be as close as we once were. There are very, very good people who are still under the control of the church doctrines. I fear they have been pulled away from true love of Jesus Christ and worship more their profit-Prophet than they do the Savior. I respect their wishes to stay in the church, as long as they respect my wishes to be done with anything Mormon-related.