(Feel free to write me at shyexmormon@live.com! I wouldn't mind some support, this has been very harsh...)

Pressure. It never helped anything. That, and the missionaries seemed so concerned, thoughtful, and caring. But that didn't stop me from NOT wanting to see them, to try and make up any excuse to NOT let them in. But it happened anyway, because a family member kept inviting them in to talk to me. To be honest, I didn't pay attention to half of what they said until the missionaries took it upon themselves to start quizzing me.

Before I knew it, I was pressured into the dreaded Baptismal Date. And suddenly, it was all planned out. I had the urge, on the day of my impending baptism, to just not show up. But then I knew the men in the fancy suits with their too-wide smiles would return and guilt trip me. I was dunked into the warm 'holy' water eight years ago.

During those eight years, I had my doubts. But fear kept me rooted in the Church, and made me shove my doubts away. I'd go to Hell if I continued to doubt and not participate in the 'One True Church'. I should be lucky, right? I was in the only true church in the world! I was a convert, and the looks I got from my fellow members were, more often than not, some kind of pity, and delight. And there was a hint of smugness. They had a young teenager snagged from the paths of wrong! Another soul had been SAVED! Not once did I feel like I 'belonged'--I felt like an outsider, what with me silently questioning the things I learned.

Why did this Joseph guy seem to be more worshiped than our Lord? Why this, why that? I once asked the current Bishop a few of my questions, and regretted it for the rest of my Mormonism. The look he gave me was almost stabbing, as if saying, 'why do you DARE question?!' But he answered them a second later, his expression transforming to that overly-sweet complexion I've come to recognize as a plastered-on fake emotion. The years went on, and I learned not to question. I learned to be a good little lamb in the fold. If they said "Talk!", I'd bleep like a good fuzzy four-legged creature of the Church.

In Seminary class, I hardly paid attention there. I was disgusted. These people in my class were two-faced, every single one of them! They'd be angels in church, only to completely transform during school and be a pain in the ass to the seminary teacher during that particular class. I felt sorry for the teacher, I really did. He was a nice guy, and for that I wanted to be a more devote student...but memorizing versus and having word-for-word quizzes on them did nothing to up my faith. It was a dull experience for me.

I was nice, respectful, shy. I tried to be as 'good' as these people who were born into the church. As a convert I was on a lower ground and was constantly reminded of it. My mother was an inactive member and hadn't been to church for many a year, but gave us kids the agency to choose whatever religion we wanted. My brothers were active. The way these people treated my mother for being inactive made me sick. I was an observer, and the more I opened my eyes, the more I began to see how members treated people who didn't want to be a part of the church. The members had a higher-than-thou complexion. Again, I felt sick.

More years went by. It wasn't uncommon for me to skip church and go to the library to sleep during the seminary class until I graduated out of high school. But during these years I was made( yes, MADE) to believe I had to except the fact my mother would go to Hell and would never see me get married in the temple. Wait...WHAT? I've been a member for a decent amount of time now, and this was the first time I truly grasped onto the concept.

My mother was unworthy to see me get married at the temple. Thus, the seed of doubt busted into full bloom once again. My mom had her problems, she wasn't perfect, but she was an amazing person. When I talked to a YW leader about the whole thing, she said that it was something I would have to accept and move on. The thought devastated me.

This is where the party really begins...





To make this not so novel like, I'll summarize from here. TWICE I was accused of being a lesbian, and was even accused of having a triangle-lesbian relationship by 'higher ups' of the Church. That got around fast during my senior high school year. The female members in my class started to avoid me. The accusation ate me alive for the longest time. After a month, I marched right up to those accusers (from the first lesbian accusation) and told them I forgave them. The rumors had destroyed my morale, but it wasn't doing me any good to be mad at these people. That knocked them down a few pegs, and they got all gushy on me and they started to babble about not knowing they had hurt me so badly--whatever. I was over it.

The next accusation was by a bishop. I stared at him, then did a face palm. Oh...my...WORD! He said he had HAD to ask, he was required to! So, did he have to ask every girl who dared smile or hug another female? Good gracious.

Even though I found nearly every member to be two-faced through my eight years of Mormonism, I didn't decide to leave the Church because of -them-. I left for many reasons, but here are some that stood out the most:

1.) I was dissuaded from learning more about the church other than what I got out of Seminary and the long Sundays at church.

2.) I refused to believe the LDS Church was the 'One and only' church. There is no one way to believe in our Heavenly Father.

3.) My mother WAS worthy of being at my wedding, no matter who I marry. I wasn't about to snub her like that. (Okay, not so much a reason)

4.) A dear family member said, "You got baptized into the -Church-, not onto -God-." That really got to me, and that opened the gate to let me make more wiggle room for expanding my freeing thoughts.


There are so many reasons! But most of all...I shouldn't have to feel caged, degraded, overlooked in a religion. In order to be forgiven of a sin of masturbation once in my second year of Mormonism, I had to humiliate myself by telling my bishop. The only way to be forgiven was to go through him so HE could speak to God to ask to forgive me. Balony. I know now that such things are drilled into the member's head so that proper CONTROL can take place.

I was controlled for so long. It may not seem that long to older ex-members, but to me, it was. I lived in fear of being damned if I wore sleeves too short, slipped up a little on my language, didn't attend church, didn't pay tithing, didn't bear my testimony...yadya. These words have not even managed to reach within me to put out there for any readers to understand what I've been through.

But that's the cool thing about this site...ex-mormons understand.



Only recently have I publicly announced my departure from the church and the beginnings to get my name officially removed from the LDS Records. of course, the experience has been painful. People I thought to be my friends have changed toward me drastically. It stings, it hurts, but yet, I can't feel hate or bitterness toward them. Being brainwashed to the Mormonism cult is a successful, tough thing.

There are VERY GOOD people who are LDS, don't get me wrong. But Mormonism is NOT for me...and people can't seem to except that. How can they when they see another person has chosen Hell over Heaven?

But this is My Life, and I refuse to live in fear any longer. I still believe in God, I'm still a good person.