Tony’s Story (Unworthy Series)

I am a 3 year exmormon (intellectually) and a 1 year exmormon (activity).

I was all-in in the Church. I was willing and working to go as far as I could spiritually in this life. I read my scriptures every day for 4 years straight while I was a teenager before my mission. I woke up every single day on my mission at 6:30 except for 2 times when my alarm didn’t go off. I believed in following the letter of the law, and then going beyond the letter in following the spirit of the law.

I was crushed by guilt during the decade surrounding my mission. As a teenager, I found myself unable to avoid masturbating. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with my hand down my pants. My dad, and then bishop, told me, “If you have to duct tape your hands to the bedposts, do it! I’ve excommunicated people for these types of sins. If you don’t stop, you’re going to have to tell your mother.” I seriously considered cutting off my penis after reading Jesus say “if thy eye offend thee, cut it out, that it doesn’t pollute the whole body”. Luckily I didn’t, but at the time I thought that God had told me what I was supposed to do to be rid of the sin, but I was too weak and had too little faith to follow through. This made me feel more guilt.

On my mission, I strove to make my eye single to the glory of God. Every day, every minute, every thought I would check to see if what I was doing or thinking was helping to lead others to come closer to Christ. If I were ever in a situation where I couldn’t help others come unto Christ (3 other missionaries watching Resident Evil with a guy and I can’t leave because then I’d be leaving my comp), I would make sure that I was feeling guilt over breaking the rule. If I was forced to break a rule, maybe God would have mercy on me if I didn’t enjoy it.

I knew that God was perfect and that he would not abandon me if I held up my side of the bargain. When no one cared about my message, when no one felt anything special when I shared it, and when I didn’t feel any power when I shared it, I felt abandoned and could only conclude that I was not doing something good enough. I felt deep guilt at my incompetence, weakness, and unworthiness. I wanted to kill myself but I knew that that would only make me more unworthy in the afterlife, so I hated myself instead.

Guilt is probably the best word to summarize my adolescent and adult experience in the LDS Church.

Where I am now–I don’t believe in any anthropomorphic god. I stopped believing in God before I stopped believing in Mormonism (yes, that was a bit of cognitive dissonance to deal with), and it basically boiled down to 1) acknowledging that there was no way to source my spiritual experiences outside of my own head and 2) the world making more sense without an anthropomorphic god.

I’m generally pretty happy, but can face depression and anxiety. My cognitive dissonance is very much improved, but now I’m working out a new ethical structure for my life. While “don’t be a dick” and the golden rule is a great start, I’m still faced with some moral uncertainty. I used hypothetical reasoning (yes I just made that term up) to get my mind out of Mormonism, and I feel like it is probably a good tool to break through other delusions I have.

When I use it, I come to some really hard conclusions. I think I probably shouldn’t use oil, shouldn’t eat meat, shouldn’t use more than a small percentage of my income on myself.
I have a hard time coming to peace with the world. Often I think of this world as extremely hellish. This existential rant is the dark side of my thoughts.

The bright side of my thoughts is built on hope through humanity. Yes, the world is still disgusting and horrible in many ways, but it’s better for humanity in general. We’re working to give women rights, minority races rights, and gay people rights. War and disease are diminishing. It’s a slow improvement, but I hope we’ll get to a beautiful future.

(This is part of a series on shame and unworthiness.  Read more people’s experiences here)

Judy’s Story (Unworthy Series)

When I was in my early teens I decided it was time for me to gain my own testimony. I buckled down and started reading my scriptures daily, praying fervently, and making an effort to be more kind, reverent, patient, meek, etc. When I got to the end of the BoM, and knelt down to fulfill my part in Moroni’s Promise, the response I got was…. nothing. Not a single thing. I still couldn’t look myself in the mirror and say, “I know the church is true.” I had a hard time even saying I believed in God, because I just didn’t know.

Over the next decade or so I fell into a cycle. I would make an effort to finally gain the testimony I so desperately wanted, lunging fully into all-out Molly Mormon mode (starting each cycle with an act designed to get me focused on the gospel, as benign as covering an entire bedroom wall with scriptures and quotes from prophets/apostles I liked, or as insane as transferring across the country to attend a church school). After months of reading my scriptures for hours a day and praying long into the night, I would come away with that big pile of nothing. I would then become severely depressed, because I knew I was doing all the things I was supposed to do, and God still wasn’t answering my prayers. I thought that must mean that I wasn’t being what I was supposed to be, that I was so inherently flawed that the Holy Ghost had abandoned me long ago. Between the ages of 14-20 I attempted suicide three times because I felt so absolutely worthless that I thought if I could just die and go to the Telestial Kingdom then at least the self-loathing and guilt would go away.

Here’s the thing – during this decade of vicious self-hatred and guilt I never once broke the Word of Wisdom. I never even got so far as a french kiss with a boy. I always dressed modestly. I didn’t swear. I paid my tithing. I went years at a time without missing a single day reading my scriptures. I was president of all of my YW groups, president of my seminary class, and on the Institute council. I went to church every week, and to all my activities. I wasn’t doing a damn thing wrong, even by Mormon standards.

But every time I told someone – a family member, a friend, a church leader – that I was feeling depressed, they told me it was because I wasn’t close enough to God. They told me that if I just put a little more effort in to Choosing The Right then I would feel the comfort of the Savior. Their first question when I said how I felt was always, “Well, are you reading your scriptures? Are you saying your prayers?” It was reinforced again and again that the fault was my own. However hard I thought I was working, I should be working harder. “Jesus is knocking on a door without a handle,” they’d remind me. “It’s up to you to let him in.”

Finally one Sunday afternoon, in my mid-20s, I was sitting on my bed looking over all the notes I had taken in Sacrament meeting and Sunday School that day (as I did every week), writing into my journal yet another idea about how I could finally gain a testimony this time. A thought popped into my head. I don’t know how it got there, exactly. It was just a simple idea – four tiny words – that changed my life forever.

“I’m a good person.”

I had never, EVER thought that about myself before. I was suddenly flooded with warmth. My breath caught in my throat. I let myself think it again. “I’m a good person.” The next thought in my head was likewise unexpected. “I bet if there’s a Heaven, I would get to go. If God is who the Mormon church says he is, I want nothing to do with him.”

I immediately grabbed my Bible. I decided right then and there that I was going to shift the direction of my spiritual studies. I was going to learn all about God – who he was, what he wanted from me, how I could know him – and I wanted to start at the beginning. I opened up Genesis, Chapter 1, and started reading.

I made it 27 verses before shutting the book and saying aloud, “This is all bullshit. I don’t believe in any of it.”

Two minutes. After more than 10 years of torturing myself trying to be better, better, better, all the time, it took less than two minutes for me to abandon religion completely. That tiny spark of self worth – “I’m a good person” – was hot enough and intense enough and bright enough to burn down my entire belief structure, and the thing that rose from the ashes like a phoenix was a new way to look at life. “I’m a good person. That’s what my religion is. To be good. To be nice. To basically not be a dick to people – and especially not to be a dick to myself. To love myself, warts and all, and know that my desire to be kind to others is worth more than any empty promise a God could give me.

(This is part of a series on shame and unworthiness.  Read more people’s experiences here)

Unworthy – a Story Series

The day after I posted the “Unworthy” article was one of the happiest of my life.  I spent all of Friday morning reading people’s comments and replying to them – everyone was saying they understood, or they had gone through the same thing, or “I didn’t know others went through this.” 

As I drove into the Walmart parking lot and a driver almost cut me off, I nodded to them and thought, “We all do it.”  While shopping, I whistled the entire time and genuinely enjoyed thinking about the lives of the people I passed–the little girl who let out a five-second scream as loudly as she could and the father who desperately tried to stop it–and when I drove home I got a hit of euphoria as I hit the gas peddle to get on the freeway.  I was enjoying every moment.

I had been worried about posting the article, worried about how others would respond, worried because of some of my past experiences with writing online, thinking that my inner thoughts would be ridiculed or criticized.  Instead, I was welcomed into the hidden world of the Unworthy and told I belonged, I was asked if others belonged there too, and I felt accepted with all the parts of me I had been afraid of expressing.

Expressing those inner thoughts was therapeutic for myself and for others.

That’s why it wouldn’t be enough for me to just post my own story and move on.  Others sent me their stories in response to mine, and they were potent.

Today, I bring two stories – one from Judy and one from Tony.  If you’d like to submit your own for consideration (whether you’re active LDS or not), please send me an email.

Unworthy – a Story Series:

Shame and Vulnerability – Brené Brown TEDx

The response to yesterday’s article was . . . unexpected.  I wrote the first part to this article about a month and a half ago, slowly working on the wording and the way I presented my story, with a consistent struggle to stay real and not try to be strong.  I kept thinking of different ways people would be able to poke at me through my words to show how my decisions were based on a weakness or misunderstanding or something else, and I had to fight consistently to not include preemptive defenses to things people might say.  I wanted to stay honest, and just express myself, and that was difficult.  I’m so glad I did!

Doing so seems to have resonated with a lot of people, which makes me so sincerely happy.  In spite of my fears, I have not, as of yet, received one negative comment (though I’m fully expecting it, still.  I guess I’m a little jaded).

I’d like to talk about this topic a little more – shame and vulnerability.  One commenter on Reddit asked if I had read any Brené Brown, who has done years of research into shame and vulnerability, and apparently has some amazing things to say about it.

Wow, I’m so glad he or she did so.  Here’s a 20-minute TEDx video that you need to watch.

 

Early next week, I’ll be posting other people’s stories about feeling shame, guilt, and unworthiness within the LDS Church.  I’m hoping for stories from both ex-Mormons and Mormons – what it was like, what led up to it, and how things got better (if they did.  Maybe they didn’t, which is fine as well).  I’ll also be posting something I wrote a few weeks ago, which I didn’t think I’d share for quite a long time . . . as part of an effort to become more vulnerable and genuine.

If you’d like to do share your experience, click here to send me an email.  If I post your story, I can do so anonymously or with your name, whichever you’d prefer.

Happy vulnerability, friends!