I'm Agnostic-Atheist and I'm *NOT* okay.

There are many who are unaware of my faith crisis/change at all. There are so many who live their lives remembering a version of me that no longer exists. Most of you that read my blog know I'm no longer Mormon. Some of you know I'm not Christian either. So what am I? Agnostic Atheist. I am godless. I do not follow any religion, worship any god or believe in any deity.

My blogs often write about my experiences with people, often people of my past & present, so I understand others I remember from my past may also have completely changed.

People modify themselves all the time. If I did, you can. My faith change surprised many, it still does. Fuck, it surprised me. I was a Mormon all of my life until December 2018 when I had my memberships removed. This meant 25 years of nothing but Mormonism. And frankly, no other religious influence before the age of 22.

No one is without sin or flaw, and I held myself to the repentance process and church's values. Even when others thought I was less than, even when fellow non Mormon-Christians told me I wasn't Christian according to their standards.

Side Note: Why do so many Christian's that I know constantly accuse each other of not being christian? What's with the gate keeping? There are so many permutations (tens of thousands or more) of Christianity that I think it's not productive to worry about deciding which ones are or are not "real". If you accept Christ as you're savior... you're christian. What the heck peoples?!

It seemed I wasn't good enough for anyone. Not for Mormons. Not for Christians. And not for god, whoever, whereever the fuck he was.

I realize that I shouldn't care how others see me, but I did and I still do. The people who I loved, who I wanted to accept me as their sister in Christ, didn't. And now so many more have turned their backs on our friendships since becoming atheist. Because I'm getting farther away from who they are?

Can I really be angry at them when I participated in that same bullshit, too, at different points in my life?

My therapist asked me how many of the people in my life had even the slightest connection to my church. I replied between 60%-75%. And that is roughly how many people have unfriended/blocked/ignored me since my more progressive views/actions/lifestyle have been made public.

So much has changed. I have changed. Saying goodbye to Mormonism meant grand personal growth. One of my readers views, Kathryn, believes personal growth equals mental stability. But this is not so, at least not for me. I'm only a year out of the cult, and all my suicide attempts were made while being an active member. . . But give it time, I'm sure there will be future attempts. I truly believe suicide will be how my life ends. By my own hands. That much, gratefully, has not changed. I'll take that virtue to the grave. Luckily I have disavowed the racism, homophbia and bigotry I carried with me in my previous years. I've learned to love deeper and more sincerely. And that's personal growth.

In short, I might be happier that I left, but I am not a happy person. I might be a better person for leaving, but I'm not sure I classify myself as a good person anymore.

I'm literally questioning everything.

How people viewed me in the past is their own perception of who they thought I was. I stand here telling you that I have dozens upon dozens of journal entries of talking about my unhappiness. Not realizing so much stemmed from veil and harmful views and standards that I was brainwashed to follow. Or else.

My heart is all over the place. Some days I think I could attend fun Mormon traditional events again like I use to for community, free food, and wholesome laughter- and then the anxiety of the memories rush back pulling me to reality of how unhelpful and damaging that would be to me.

My humor has changed. I love that I can now freely love my LGBTQ+ friends. I love that I can unequivocally deny the morality of the story (yes STORY- it's a fairy tale) of Abraham being willing to kill his son because a voice told him to. I don't have to make excuses or ignore all the racism and sexism in the church in the past, present and unforeseeable future. I love that my thoughts and my desires are my own now and when I do something good, it mainly means that I have something in me that is inherently GOOD. And when I do something bad, it isn't because Satan has deceived me or because god commanded me to and I followed with "blind obedience". I desperately want to be... happy? I don't know. I just don't want to be angry like I am. I don't want to be obsessed about moron church history like I have become. I want to genuinely be OK with others believing in any religion they want, without feeling the need to justify my own positions and beliefs. However, since leaving, I have never felt a greater need for validation in my life. I feel guilty about decades of missionary work doing what I thought was truly god's work and what he wanted me to do. I wonder why I care what others think now that my position has changed but still feel the same call to "missionary work" to help "undo" all the years of damage I have done with everything I do, say, think, wear or post on social media.

I have heard others say this is just a phase... and time will tell. Until then, if you've made it this far, my apologies for another damn blog about religion and me leaving a cult.

If you are a "never mormon", or never raised in any organized religion, I don't think I can tell you how much of every day/week/month habits I've had to break and reteach myself so that it doesn't remind me of the years of harmful indoctrination.

When walking down dark allies, or scared for any reason, my brain wants me to sing a primary song we learned as kids ages 4-11. "I Am a Child of God". We were encouraged to hum or sing this when we felt tempted to sin or felt alone and scared. It was suppose to "bring the spirit" and "keep me safe". This song, and many others, once brought me comfort in dark times. It now reminds me of all of those dark times... ooof. And is a reminder that god was never there and he doesn't exist.

My Mormonism went to what I read, what I watched- no rated R movies, and only *some* PG13 movies. To what I listened to *no songs with provocative language*- growing up a musician, though, expanded my tolerance for this. I sang Opera. It was all about sex and lust. Mormonism was even in my shorts to my knees, the words I spoke, and my judgmental/racist/homophobic thoughts I tried so hard not to say out loud, but still did.

Just look at this bullshit. "Path of pain" "He knew what I needed to grow" Which apparently was pain.

When I woke up, the first thing I'd do was pray. When I was in need, or sick, or struggling, or lost my keys, phone, wallet or car in a damn parking lot from stress, I'd pray.

I don't pray anymore. Ever. It feels wrong, and my soul hurts realizing the person who got me through my life was myself. Read that last sentence again: "...my soul hurts realizing the person who got me through my life was myself? Seriously? I feel remorse for realizing I am stronger than I thought and not some "higher being" doing me a favor be I'm worthy, or because "he loves me"? UGH. continuing. . .

The sickness that got better was due to modern technology, biology and my body's ability to fight the virus/infection. Not Prayer. Not Faith. The inspiration I felt that I called "the holy spirit" was the good choices and my inner self guiding me to make those right choices. Also known as confirmation bias. Just like it was me who treated people poorly based on race, sexual orientation and upbringing. I must own these things. The good and the bad. And oh jear debus (who watches Brandon Farris?) it's so much bad. So many traumatic memories and teachings.

Speaking of memories and people who might not have these views anymore. When discussing my suicidal thoughts with friends, they told me I'll suffer forever in hell if I kill myself, that I am meant to continue to endure my painful life for a greater after life.

And while I could ask her and see if her views have changed, even though she is still actively Mormon, my memories and pain are valid no matter her potential new disposition.

My mental illness is one of the sole reasons I became so close to "god". He talked to me. He answered every prayer. Literally.

Every.

Single.

Prayer.

Other members told me how bizarre this was. Some where jealous of the spiritual experiences I had. Dreams I projected of the pre-mortal existence, memories of my childhood with god. I thought I was special. Haha oh I was alright. And very mentally ill. These thoughts, memories and dreams started shortly after I started going to church all by myself when my family went inactive after the divorce.

Letting this go and accepting I had much to work on was HARD. Not all people in religion are this mentally ill but I really was. And it amplified my symptoms in very unhealthy ways.

Realizing this was devastating. I didn't just practice to myself, I encouraged so many others to join as well. Handing book of Mormon's out in high school. Mailing them to pen pals. I went out with missionaries proselytizing. Prayed for others to change their minds and find out The Book of Mormon was true. My. Heart. Hurt.

To quote a fellow ex mormon he said "This has been one of the scariest and loneliest processes of my entire life." And I'm there right now, in a dark place and would love the extra support. My experience is singular. hundreds of thousands of people who have left a cult have experienced these things. I know I have lost and hurt so many through talking about my beliefs. It's true that so many members don’t know how hard it is to leave. They wouldn't dare think about leaving. I know I didn't. I have lost literally dozens of friends/family I once had. And I have yet to find that joy that is promised "the faithful" ("joy is a gift to the faithful") I I didn't have it as a member and I don't have it now!💔

Every ritual that once brought me peace now brings me so much pain. I relive the moments I realized how totally shitty my parents were but being too young to know I had no choice but to be imprinted and raised by them.

I didn't even know all the disturbing cult history when I left. My shelf broke when a therapist asked me how I knew god was on the other line every time I rang in the connection through prayer. How did I know it was the same person each time.... You can read about that here. I let a fairytale sky daddy take personal credit for all my own actions and decisions my entire life. I place my worthiness, goodness and personal value in his hands. . . I have so much to unlearn.

But I was damaged goods regardless of any divine help. My parents made damn sure of that. Thank you genetics.

Special thanks to my editor, MC-hammer