Kenny just revealed a part of his story to the world, so I suppose it's my turn: Kenny and I are no longer Mormon. I mean, I will always be partly Mormon- that was the culture of my youth, my parents and siblings are all still Mormon, and many of my favorite parts of me come out of Mormonism. But we have zero involvement with our ward, aside from occasional friendly missionary visits, and we no longer have any semblance of a testimony that the Mormon gospel is the one universal, eternal truth.
For those who aren't Mormon, you can probably stop reading here. It's hard to properly convey the significance of all this, and I'll probably seem overly dramatic. Mormonism isn't just a religion, it's a culture, it's a tribe, it's a way of life. I don't know of anything I can equate leaving it to. Plus, the nature of the religion is that one family member's beliefs can have deep effects on their family- we're a unit, all together, so it isn't as simple as everyone just finding what works best for them. While I don't think I can say this has been the hardest thing I've ever done, it has definitely been the scariest.
As I watched General Conference this last weekend, I realized that there really isn't much left for me in the Mormon gospel, or I'm not in the right place to receive it. Any attempts to go through the motions feel like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole, and leave me feeling exhausted and lonely. Even the general conference talks geared to those who struggle with doubts leave me wishing I could sit and talk with these men, who I truly do believe are well-intentioned, and explain to them how I arrived here, and see if any of them can tell me how to will myself to believe something if my heart thinks it is wrong.
Caturday: Try The COUCH, Mister
15 minutes ago