Growing up as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) shaped me and consequently provided the lens through which I looked at life. By it teaching me what to believe, who to be, and what to do, I couldn’t help but look at the world with those things in mind. The things that I was taught made me feel good, complete, hopeful, and special, so I liked living that way and seeing things that way. 

I remember as a child that one thing I was taught was that it was extremely important to always go to church. I had the idea placed in my head that even just deciding to not go once could lead to breaking the pattern all together – it was a slippery slope. I watched as some children around me fought going to church and didn’t like it. I wondered for myself what I should think. It was supposed to be important, right? It would help keep me on the right path and I wanted that, right? I don’t remember how old I was, but I distinctly remember making the decision one day that I liked going to church. After all, it allowed me to feel good, close to God, who I was taught loved me, and kept me focused. That choice was mine and one that shaped me even more. 

Going to church wasn’t always perfect for me. My parents divorced when I was young and so I often switched between their homes every other weekend, which meant switching between two different wards (church buildings). This led me and my siblings to struggle to make friends at church since we couldn’t be at the same place every Sunday and I often felt alienated by my peers, who had their own cliques. This hurt, sometimes a lot. But, I didn’t go to church for them. I had long ago made the decision that I liked church and from that moment on, focused on what I was taught. I valued listening, participating, and being the ideal student. I could be good at that, no matter what ward I was at. I sometimes figured that friends could have just been a distraction from that anyway. Focusing on learning and participating helped me to not feel so alone since it took my attention away from having friends. I also had my twin who cared about being a good student too, so we could support each other in that goal. 

I think one of the most painful times for me with church was when the leaders showed concern for me and my sisters because we didn’t go to their activities besides occasionally. They seemed to think we were not as active as we should be and I guess in danger of not gaining a strong enough testimony. I don’t really know the details. I remember wondering: couldn’t they see how much more my twin and I participated in classes? How we always went to seminary (a very early morning class for high school students), memorized the scripture mastery, and showed more love for the gospel than I could see the other, much more social, girls doing? Maybe if they really knew me, they wouldn’t judge me so. I think a part of me also wondered, if they really were praying for us, wouldn’t God let them know where our hearts really were? Even through this trial, I didn’t learn to hate the church or any part of the Gospel. I still felt good reading scriptures and striving to be the best person that I could. 

As it came time to consider where to go for college I decided there was only one place for me – BYU Provo. My uncle was kind enough to take my twin and I to Utah to drop off my older cousin at that school. The trip solidified in my mind that that is where I wanted to go. So, I applied to there and, as a backup, BYU Idaho. I was devastated when I didn’t get into BYU Provo but just got into BYU Idaho. But, then a series of things happened in my life that led me to be grateful for it. One of those things was that I met my husband my first semester there. 

I loved going to BYU Idaho. I loved the spirit there, the major I took, and the people I met. My favorite classes I took were for my major, but I also loved the religious ones as well. I met so many good people there, some of which I’m still friends with. 

Going to church allowed my husband and I to make friends whenever we moved, which was a lot. I loved it for that. I loved the connection I could get with those at church through our shared beliefs. I had only ever known what it was like to live that way and be in that culture. In junior high school and high school I had friends who weren’t members and learned a little bit of what other lives could be like, but still I never actually lived it. My entire way of thought and how to be, still revolved around the church. I’d invested so much into it. Most of my friends were members, I paid tithing regularly, I helped the church through different callings (like teaching both children and adults at different points and helping plan activities), I studied the messages of church leaders, and obeyed all the commandments. I’d gotten married in the temple and faithfully kept the covenants I made there. 

So, what changed? Why don’t I believe it like I used to? 

That is a long story and one I’m not sure I want to share the details of yet. The main thing is my husband tried his hardest to believe and connect, but in the end started to find that things made less and less sense. Throughout our entire marriage we’ve worked very hard to listen to each other and understand. We both value our connection and so, when he brought up his doubts and that he didn’t really believe anymore, I couldn’t find it in me to just agree to disagree. I needed to understand. Listening and hearing what he found out hurt, a lot. After all, I loved the LDS church and all the good it had brought me. I wanted its teachings to be true. I wanted to live after death and be with my family forever. I was pregnant with our son and had expectations of how he would grow up. I’d shaped my life around the LDS church. My family are all members. The majority of my friends are members. If Haru had a chance of being right, then that meant giving up so much. It meant giving up security, connection, and chanced losing relationships. It meant facing the hardest thoughts I ever had before. But, I listened anyway. I went through feelings of loss, confusion, and depression. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. I felt so alone. Unlike some people who lose faith because they chose to look into things and learn for themselves, I felt like this was forced on me. The choice to me felt like understand or have my relationship with my husband turn into one of disconnect. 

My main point is that I didn’t shift beliefs lightly. It was a heart-wrenching process. I didn’t want to. I’m still learning to cope with the change. It didn’t feel like a choice. Once I thought about things, I couldn’t help but see my husbands points and how things didn’t make sense. I’ve come to the point where I just don’t know, but the faith I once had is gone. I can no longer see what I was taught in the same light. I realize that there are those who still can and do and they are happy. I wouldn’t wish my same painful journey on them. That’s what kept me from saying anything as I traversed it. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone feeling the same awful pain as me. I still don’t want that for someone. 

I still remember the good that the LDS church brought my life. I know how wonderful it can feel to believe. I still see the good in it. I appreciate everyone who is a part of it who has shown love and understanding. As I slowly opened up to some people about how I’ve been feeling and that my beliefs have changed my heart has been warmed by the kindness, love, and support of so many. I still see so much positivity in the world. I believe that the gap between those who believe in some kind of religion or the bible and those who don’t doesn’t have to be so big. The world I hope for is one where we live together and bring the good that we each have forward. I think that only through open, respectful discussion will we get any closer to really understanding the world around us. That’s why I’ve decided to give writing a chance. I want to present ideas and thoughts to start the discussion – a discussion that I hope can be respectful. 

As I said, I still remember the good I felt from being a member and I connect with everything someone can lose by losing faith in it. I hope that this can help me be empathetic and kind towards both sides. Perhaps I’ll even have a perspective worth considering.