My Religious Journey

This is going to be a really long post. One to beat out the best of Rainey's. I've been working on this for awhile and now I'm ready to share it:

I am not writing this to ask for help or advice. I am writing this for myself, and sharing it with you so you can understand. And I finally feel like I can wrap my head around it because I finally came across something that explains what I've been going through. This is the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrupulosity. It fit my life so perfect and helped me feel not so crazy, which helped me find my voice to talk about what I've been going through. So here it is.

I've always been a bit obsessive. If I'm tapping my fingers I need to tap all of them an equal number of times. When I get into something (a book, tetris, a tv show) I really get into it and it's almost all I think of. If a thought comes into my head (like that bees may come in through the dryer vent at night when the dryer was unhooked) I act on it obsessively, to the point that I don't sleep hardly at all (because I'm checking to see if bees are coming through the vent). I grew up in a very religious home that deeply relied on the spirit and personal revelation. When I made decisions that were big, I would pray a lot about them. It started out pretty normal (maybe, I don't know) but then it spread to EVERY area of my life. Including what apartment to live in, who to live with, what classes to take, who to date and even the most meaningless decisions, such as which way to drive home.

I remember one memory especially vividly that illustrates what my life is like in the church. I ran into my cousin Amy on BYU campus one day. We had been doing it quite frequently that semester and would stop and talk for awhile before going to our separate classes. This one day she was telling me about this experience she had. I will probably totally get the details wrong, but it was the impression I took away, not the details, that mattered to me in a spiritual regard anyway. She told me she was dating someone who went away to England. She was really distraught about whether or not she should be with him or not. Then in the midst of making her decision she was on campus and saw a boy wearing a t-shirt with the flag of England across it. She said she saw that t-shirt and knew without a doubt she needed to follow the person she was dating to England and be with him.

This is how I interpreted her experience: God used the boy in the t-shirt to communicate with Amy to help her with her decision. Thus, God could be depending on me to send these kind of messages to others without me even knowing about it. So in addition to everything else, I now needed to dress with the spirit. I would go through outfit after outfit silently praying in my mind to find out what I needed to wear that day in order to be God's messenger. My daily act of getting dressed turned into a half hour ordeal, just like driving home sometimes would because I had to “follow the spirit” to know exactly what turns to make and now what t-shirt, pants, shorts, dress, shoes to wear.

One especially hainus area of this was my patriarchial blessing. It said that I would meet my husband in my “future schooling”. I was certain that meant in college. So when I met the most perfect boy I have ever met in high school I proceeded to make our lives living hells. I fell in love with him. I wanted to marry him. I couldn't imagine being without him. But because my patriachial blessing said so, I had to break it off. Thus ensued a series of getting together and breaking up. It was pretty awful. I dated people in college and no one compared to the connection I had with him.

I went on my mission and almost immediately started feeling extra crazy. I had an insanely mean companion. She lied incessantly (or at least I'm assuming she did) about everything from being a Somoan princess to having cancer and a hole in her heart and that she just tricked the doctor so she could go on a mission. In public she was the sweetest girl, no one could get enough of how kind and generous she was. In private she wouldn't talk to me and made me feel very hated. I felt really alone at the time when I really needed support cause my depression and anxiety started increasing to the point that I couldn't handle it myself. I was crying all the time and felt that if I did one thing wrong (like not loving my companion, or being exactly on time to class, staying awake the entire day, studying nonstop) that not only was I going to hell, but I was ruining the future of whoever I was supposed to save on my mission. The pressure was more than ever before. I started seeing a therapist in the MTC. He told me he had one other patient just like me and that he did get better. How? I asked. He answered this: he left the church. I was appalled at the answer and luckily never had to see that therapist again.

The loneliness of the MTC was only amplified in the mission field and the craziness intensified. I had companions who spent most of their time being lost in the city and others who went on dates with members claiming the mission president told her to. I felt like every mis-step of my own or my companion was taking away from the mission I was there to do and every wrong decision was leading me closer to hell. I was overwhelmed. I remember having a thought that maybe Nephi just killed Laban and wasn't led by God at all, and then freaking out because those kind of thoughts just had no place.

I finally asked for help and saw a therapist and a psychiatrist on my mission. I was put onto antidepressants and antipsychotics. I finally felt myself calm down. I was finally able to handle others' mistakes, a lot of my own, and feel okay in a very imperfect environment. And I finally decided and felt good about marrying the boy from high school in spite of what my blessing had said.

I married Kyle and things changed a bit. I was still depressed and anxious some, but nowhere near what I experienced on my mission. Religiously, I no longer had my parents seeing if I went to church every week. I had a husband who didn't mind missing a week here and there (especially since our church was at 8am). So we didn't. He did a lot of things different than my family. Sometimes he shopped on Sunday (especially when the Wiis were restocked at Kmart on Sundays), his family went out to dinner on Sundays for special occasions. So I went with his flow and I liked it.

Realizing I wasn't making any of my own decisions and that I never let myself question the church, because I couldn't decide anything except that it was true, because my schooling rode on that decision. I had to believe it and act the part in order to keep my ecclesiastical endorsement and reduced tuition. So I just kept going with it and kept doubting thoughts out with anti-anxiety medication.

I finally graduated BYU and nothing was riding on my beliefs. I had a job at a public school, I wasn't in school and I was going to attend the U, where it didn't matter, and I was married to Kyle who talked about doubts with me.

Then along came Prop 8 in California. I was completely against Prop 8. After working with same sex couples and having them be some of the very best parents I worked with at Wasatch, I could not imagine denying them the right to marry. No one should not be able to be with the person they love. I felt really strongly about this and then the church got involved. They were pushing Prop 8. I felt that was a terrible misuse of power. The leaders of the church may be politcally against Prop 8, but when they began to speak out on it they made it a spiritual issue and no good member could ignore what the prophet was telling them about this political issue. The whole thing got me really wound up. The topic could not even be discussed at family dinner I would get so angry. Then one of my brothers sent around an email that said if it did not pass then the church would be obligated to marry same sex couples in their temples [which was horribly untrue, but I didn't know this at the time]. I thought, oh, I guess that makes sense why they got involved. I read it at work, then I was walking around the halls of work thinking about it and feeling disappointed. I couldn't understand why I was disappointed when I finally had an explanation. Then it dawned on me, I didn't want an explanation that put the church in the right. I wanted a reason to be mad. I wanted a reason to walk away.

And this was what started the ball really rolling. I started to think about every part of the church and I found a lot of things that I just didn't believe. I found that my beliefs did not align with the church and that what I wanted was to walk away. And that scared the shit out of me. I had my decision in my heart, but I could not fathom what would happen if I acted on it. I was certain all my piano students and therapy clients would find someone else to work with if they knew, I knew my parents would be disappointed, I was worried my siblings would no longer allow their kids to be around me, I was certain all my neighbors would hate me, and worst of all, I was terrified that Kyle would leave me.

I called Keri one night. I knew what I had to do if I wanted any peace in my life, but I could not talk to Kyle. True, he was the one who started all these conversations originally, but as I grew more disinterested in the church his interest seemed to increase. I had no idea where he was at and I wasn't sure I could bear to find out. I poured all this out on Keri between my fearful sobs. She assured me that Kyle was such an open loving person that there was no way it wouldn't work out between us, regardless of how he felt about the church.

With Keri's words giving me courage I went up to our apartment. Kyle asked me what was wrong the second I walked in the door (I have a cry face that's not easy to hide). I told him all the things I'd been thinking and that I might want to leave the church and that I was terrified he wouldn't want to be with me anymore. I don't remember how he responded, but I remember he hugged me for a really long time and told me that it didn't matter to him what I wanted to do, that he would support me in whatever I wanted to do.

With Kyle's support I had the peace of mind to be able to make a sure decision. I wasn't really going to church, but the organist kept calling me to sub for him during sacrament meeting. I went one week and played. Incidentally, I had to listen to the speakers in between playing the organ. A high priest got up and began talking about families and while he spoke I decided I just did not agree and I no longer wanted to be part of a church with beliefs that were so different from mine. I don't know if it was that week or the next, but I spoke to the bishop. I told him my decision and asked to be released from my calling. I know he felt like a failure, but he wasn't. He was such a sweet supportive man and I appreciate how much love he showed me that day.

I felt really strange with each step I took away from the church, everything from stopping going to taking off my garments. I was certain I was going to be barraged with a front of hostility and thus defended myself with my own hostility toward all things Mormon. It took me time and my mom's honesty with me to put away the defenses and stop feeling hateful toward the church I had grown up with and accept the wisdom of my sister, Shauna, that the LDS church is right for some people and brings them a lot of happiness. It just doesn't do that for me.

After I officially declared that I wasn't a part of the church to my bishop and those closest to me, I still struggled to know it was right. I miscarried two months after I left. I was certain it was God's punishment. I was certain that because I wasn't a part of the church God would not allow me to have a child. I was not on medication (since I had gone off for the pregnancy) and the only thing keeping me afloat was the busyness of school and my internship. However, when those ended at the end of April I fell into one of the deepest depressions of my life. I was very suicidal. Instead of getting up in the mornings after Kyle left to work I would plan my death. Appointments to study with friends or teach piano were the only things that dragged me into the world of the living. Finally, one day, as I drove to my dad's to teach piano I broke into chest heaving sobs. I could not decide whether to continue driving to my dad's or to the Mental Hospital. Indecision led me to my parents, and it was obvious from my swollen eyes that I was not okay when I got there. I finally told them I was horribly depressed and didn't know what to do. I don't remember if it was them or Kyle that got me to restart taking my medication again and take it from there.

My medication helped immensely. I started feeling better. I passed my licensing exam and got a job. My coworkers (who I had already known from my internship) helped me reinstate good habits, like eating, talking about my problems, taking my medication regularly, etc. I began to get back to myself and accept that miscarriages happen, and it wasn't God's punishment. With Kyle's help I explored other churches and found one I really liked, St. Mary's Episcopal Church in Provo.

We went to St. Mary's regularly and got really involved. I loved the sermons because they mostly focused on how to be a better person. (I know they talked about Jesus and God a lot, but I focused on the other parts). I loved the people there. We were super accepted and people in the church were so excited about us being there. They were beyond excited for us to have Felix. They showered us with attention and love.

I went to therapy because I wanted to be able to feel the spirit in a happy way and not an obsessive way. My therapist was great. He was one that I met with in the MTC (not the one who basically told me to leave the church) and I was in group therapy with him after I came home from my mission early. We worked on my thoughts and he tried to help me get a grasp on my spiritual thoughts. He taught me about reality checking, which is what people do when they have crazy thoughts that are not based in reality. Basically, you talk about your thoughts with other people and check your reality against theirs to bring you back to a more sound place of mind. But I couldn't understand how that could work with my particular thoughts (maybe everyone thinks that when they do this) because God is unseen. If any Mormon were in India and did reality checking their thoughts would show up being totally crazy and not “real” at all. So I don't see how you check religious thoughts out, because that is saying you have to match whatever religious beliefs are around you. So, I really tried, and periodically try now, but I just couldn't get a handle on it. So I decided to stay purely scientifically empirical and accept what I can see and make sense of with my mind for the time being.

I expected Felix's birth to be my turning point. I expected a really spiritual experience when I gave birth and waited for that moment to show me that there is a God, there is a world beyond this world, and this was a little spirit I was bringing into it, just like I was always taught. It didn't happen. Felix's birth was really amazing and one of the best experiences ever. It was so cool to see him come out and hold him and love him. But it was not spiritual. It didn't bring the spiritual certainty I expected and I was in the same place spiritually as I was before Felix came.

It was hard to go to church with Felix because of worries about him getting sick, or crying during the sermon, or just getting up and out of the house by the time it started. So Kyle and I got kind of used to not going to church at all. Which started conversations about why we go at all. As I further let myself be honest with myself I found that I loved the social aspects of church more than anything else. I didn't feel the spirit really when I was there or had a deep affinity for the doctrine. Honestly, I really wasn't sure whether God was there or not. I pray sometimes and ask that if he is there he help me out, but I can't say I know he's there or feel he's there or hope he is there. I just don't know.

I still don't know if there is a God. I don't know if you can know that. But I believe that if there is a God, he is a loving, understanding God. I believe he understands that right now I can not actively believe in him and try to follow his spirit without compromising my mental health. I can not separate my obsessive thoughts from religion right now. I periodically try. But I have not yet succeeded in maintaining a separation of God and obsession. So right now I just have to keep myself separate from religious thoughts and stay in the completely rational side of my brain. Maybe someday I'll be able to walk the middle ground, but not today.