The Shame of Leaving and Owning My Story

For a long time, I believed my religion was enough; it was all I needed in life. If all else failed, I had God. I had this organization I so devoutly believed in and followed. What I didn't realize was that the day would come I would feel this wasn't enough for me, that I was feeling isolated, resentful, and overall unhappy with where I was, and religion played a rather large part in that. And though I am much happier with where I am now, happy to be leading my life as an openly bisexual woman, leaving wasn't necessarily an easy choice.

My therapist pointed out that I spent my entire life within this organization, and have only spent less than a year out of it. That meant my thinking wouldn't change over night, and it would take time. I expressed to her the guilt I often felt when I did the things I was always taught not to do-date women, for one, get tattoos, pierce my ears more than once, drink coffee, and a lot of other things, a lot of which are relatively small in the grand scheme of things. In the moment, I would feel liberated, like I was finally living my life, but somewhere along the way, shame would come creeping in. 

My reality is this:

I was happy in my religion. Happy when I pretended my sexuality didn't exist, happy when I ignored other things I personally "struggled" with. I served the Lord faithfully and gave everything I had and then some. Like a missionary does, I woke up at 6:30am when I didn't always want to, talked to strangers even though it was hard at times, wore some ugly outfits that made me feel like a true sister missionary, and cherished the name I wore on my chest for nearly 19 months. I came home and was devastated. I couldn't cope for a while, crying myself to sleep, regretting ever going because then I had to come home, and if I had never gone, I would've never known. But I pressed forward. I was faithful. But somewhere, deep down, I knew I couldn't hide forever, couldn't keep limiting myself the way I was, that I needed to leave.

I prayed long and hard on several occasions. I prayed in the temple, I prayed walking to class, I prayed while talking on the phone to my mom. At every second of the day I was asking God where the Christ-centered person I was had gone, and why He made me the way I am, if it was all even worth it to stay, and what would happen to me in the end. Could I leave and still receive salvation?

I believe I've shared this before as part of a previous post, but I remember there being a distinct moment when I knew I had to walk away. In that moment, a sense of peace washed over me, and I began to cry (mores o than I already was). God was telling me it was okay, that I didn't have to keep going any longer. I had done what I could, gave every last piece of me, and now it was time to go. I was in a toxic place, and though I know this, I also recognize it will take a while longer to realize that my life is my own, and I am not a bad person, that judgement of others and myself is just a waste of time, and God loves me just the same as He did when I wore Christ's name on my chest every single day. I made this decision with Him, and even if I didn't, I shouldn't have to feel bad about it.

Today courage is sharing more of my journey with you, a part of my life regarding religion I often keep inside out of fear of what others will say, or fear of offending people. It often feels shameful (there's that word again), because it's like I have to hide what I do because I don't want people to know. I deserve to be able to live my life, though, just like anyone else.

Since my last post about leaving the church, I have continued to grow into my own thoughts, my own belief system, and live my life based on different morals. It's been an interesting spot to be in, but I've seen a lot of growth in who I am as a person. My identity is expanding. And though that guilt still gets to me every so often (21 years vs. 10 months is a big difference), I've never been happier. I look in the mirror and feel a sense of belonging, and I'm no longer worried I'll never make it back. At the end of the day, I know who watches over me, and that is all that matters for me. 

I want to share this with you; it's a poem I wrote as I had just started living in Salt Lake and decided I was no longer going to church.

Many times, I have wondered where I stand;

Would salvation come?

The only way 

To find hope was to leave

The toxicity of everything I knew.

Salvation will come.

There is a lot of healing I must do, and this is a part of that-owning my story and sharing it. Healing is admitting I might (and most likely will not) ever "return" to my previous organization. And that's okay. I hear people say to me that they hope I come back, which, in all honesty, makes me feel as though my decision is invalid, a wrong one, and one I will come to regret. But when I look in the mirror I see the person I've always wanted to be. This is my journey. We all must take our own paths. I respect those who stay, who have great faith, and recognize that is perfectly fine for them, and I would never try to dissuade. Like I said, this is just for me to heal. It is not meant to bash my religion, as without it, and without having served a mission, I wouldn't be where I am today. 

I'll leave with this quote, a special reminder to me that I am not less than now than I was before, and there is so much in store for me. The same goes for you, in whatever stage of life you are in, and in whatever your journey is.

As always, thanks for reading and coming to understand more.

---Maggie