In Apostasies, Zócalo presents stories or ideas from people who find themselves at odds with the fold.
by Brenda Yancor
If I hadn’t grown up Mormon, I wouldn’t have gone camping every summer for seven years. I wouldn’t have had any place to throw my 16th birthday party or any guests to invite. I wouldn’t have known what it was like to have a father figure I could look up to and depend on. And I definitely wouldn’t have known what it felt like to belong.
My family moved around a lot—pretty much every couple of years, and always within a three-mile radius, never leaving the cities of Cudahy, Bell or Maywood. No matter how many times I had to get used to a new neighborhood, I never had to get used to a new church. The church never forgot to pay the rent, never got foreclosed on, and never got kicked out. It was the closest thing I had to a place to call home. At least it was until this past June, when I finally wrote a letter of resignation to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Usually, when I tell someone I grew up Mormon, they either joke about multiple mothers or ask how someone like me – a Guatemalan woman from the hood – could fit in. I explain that my mother (and I have only one) converted to the Mormon Church from Catholicism when she was still living in Guatemala, and the congregation I belonged to while growing up in Southern California was almost entirely non-white. Sunday services were in Spanish. So were the scriptures I read every night.
The Mormon Church found my mother at a lonely time. Her husband had gone to the U.S. to find work, leaving her in Guatemala with an infant daughter and son. One day my mom went to the store to buy five cents worth of vanilla to make incaparina – a porridge-like drink that helps prevent protein deficiency – but the storekeeper was only selling the whole jar. With only five cents in hand, my mother was about to go home empty-handed, but a lady in line overheard the exchange and invited my mother over to her house to get some vanilla. Then she invited my mom to a class on turning old clothes into new baby clothes. This woman was Mormon, and when my mom showed up for the class, Mormon missionaries were also there. Not long after that, my mother was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
My family’s finances were always shaky, especially because my dad had trouble holding onto a job. But when things got especially rough, the church was there for us. One of the first jobs my mom had in the United States was at Deseret Industries, an LDS-sponsored vocational rehabilitation program and thrift store. Not only was it a source of income; it was also where I got a lot of my clothes. We benefited a lot from the Bishop’s Storehouse, a pantry where Mormons in need can get bags of bread, canned food, soap, shampoo and other basic necessities. A few times, the church even helped us with the rent.
Being a Mormon isn’t just about believing. It’s about being taken care of – spiritually, emotionally, and physically. You don’t just go to church for three hours on Sunday. You do something almost every day that defines you as a Mormon. There are weekly activities, monthly dances, and constant responsibilities.
When I was a teenager, my friends and I would take trips to the Los Angeles temple to perform baptisms for the dead – the ceremony of getting baptized in the name of someone else. (That way, if that person chooses to accept the Mormon Church in the afterlife, they’re ready to go.) A group of six or seven of us would pile into a van and get driven over to the Westside to the grand temple on Santa Monica Boulevard. I loved going to that temple – its lawn so neatly trimmed, its golden statue a signal of the wealth and stability so lacking in my own life.
We’d change into white jumpsuits and line up to be used as vessels for those who have died. A Brother at the baptismal font would recite a prayer for each person on the list and then dunk one of us into the water. Afterward, we’d pile back into the van and head over to Tommy’s Burgers for some chili cheese fries and soda.
These were happy times. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, you’re connected to a sense of purpose when you’re LDS. You’re in a worldwide club. As long as you’re a member in good standing, it’s home.
Seven years ago, I started to lose that good standing.
I was in high school when I had my first – and, to date, only – love relationship with another woman. She was my best friend, and when I finally admitted to her how I felt about her, she admitted she felt the same way about me.
I tried to fight it. I wanted to maintain my good standing within the church. I met with my church bishop. He told me—as I knew he would—to break it off and repent. I started going to free therapy offered by a church friend. I’ve blocked out the details of those sessions, but the entries in my diary are a reminder. When I was first able to admit to myself how I felt about my friend, I wrote about how happy I was and how I knew God still loved me, even if I was doing the wrong thing. After I started the therapy sessions, my entries became a record of guilt. I started to keep a daily list of the things I did to deserve God’s love or not. On the days when the not-deserving list was longer, my writing would deteriorate into tortured illegibility.
College took me to UCLA on the west side of Los Angeles – a change I wasn’t really prepared for. Where I grew up, a weekly allowance was something that only existed on TV shows, half of the people in our families were born in another country, and we could switch between English and Spanish in our conversations without hesitation. That wasn’t the experience of most of my classmates at UCLA. Going to church on the west side didn’t make things any better, as the difference in social class between myself and the rest of the congregation became clear. My parents weren’t paying for my college education, while the parents of most of my fellow Mormon classmates were. I wore thrift-store clothes. Everyone else looked like they shopped at J.Crew. Nobody was ever unkind or dismissive, but I felt out of place.
All of this took place at a time when I was frustrated by the idea that I’d never get to be sealed with my family in the temple. Being sealed means you will be together in the afterlife, but a woman can’t perform this ceremony with her children on her own, and my parents had divorced when I was a teenager. For a family to be sealed, both parents must be Mormons in good standing. I couldn’t reconcile the idea of a loving god with the thought of being deprived of my family in the afterlife just because my parents’ relationship didn’t work out.
It didn’t help that I was starting to think about what it means to be a “Lamanite.” Mormons believe that an ancient man named Nephi, who was godly and faithful, produced a line of descendants called the Nephites, who were likewise godly and faithful. Among Nephi’s brothers was a bad one named Laman who left behind a tribe of descendants called the Lamanites. These people were wicked and mocked God. So God cursed them—with dark skin. “I will cause that they shall be loathsome unto thy people,” says God in the Book of Mormon. The skin of anyone who was non-white—my skin—was downright “loathsome.”
In the early days of finding myself at odds with the church, I Googled “gay Mormons” and found an organization called Affirmation that provides a support network for gay Mormons and gay former Mormons. Browsing through Affirmation’s online bulletin boards, I learned that it was possible to resign from the church. At the time, Mormonism was still so intertwined with my identity that I couldn’t bring myself to take that step, but the idea had been planted.
All of these internal conflicts eventually forced me to make a choice—or, rather, many small choices that added up to one big choice. On Friday, May 27, 2011, almost seven years after unintentionally embarking upon my apostasy, I sat in my living room with my computer on my lap and poured myself shot after shot of José Cuervo. “I have chosen to terminate my membership with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,” I wrote to the Member Records Division of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Salt Lake City. “I’ve fallen in love with the world. I love people, in their raw humanity and endless flaws. I love sin, with its ability to teach you things you would never know otherwise.” I headed over to the nearest notary public in order to assure the Member Records Division that it was I, Brenda Yancor, who wrote that letter. I paid 18 bucks to send it overnight.
A week and a half later, the Records Division acknowledged my letter but asked me to reconsider in view of “the eternal consequences of such an action.” They also wrote that they’d forwarded my letter to my local bishop. They enclosed a pamphlet titled “An Invitation” asking me “to return and partake of the happiness you once knew.”
The ex-Mormon forums warn that if you live with Mormon family members, they will be informed of your resignation. Sure enough, on Sunday, June 26th my mother called me to share her anguish. She blamed my friends, she blamed my college education, and she blamed my pride. I had to explain to her that my decision was the culmination of years of thought, not some impulse. Where Mormonism so often saw sin and called for repentance, I saw humanity and called for acceptance. My mother might not have fully understood or agreed with me, but at least she didn’t disown me.
On July 5th I got a letter from my local bishop lamenting my decision but agreeing to take the necessary steps to process my request. Soon after, I got a letter from Confidential Records. It was two paragraphs, each one sentence long. As of July 8, 2011, my name had been removed from the membership records of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
I’d waited a long time for this moment, but it still wasn’t easy. It was really over. They’d yanked my name out of their records. It’s like I was never there.
When I was Mormon, I thought I knew everything – where I came from, where I was going, and what I needed to do. It was hard to let go of that. Today, I’m okay with having beliefs based on observation and common sense and changing them when I feel it’s necessary. I’m happy and excited about figuring things out as I go along, about plunging into the unknown at the start of every day and coming back with new experiences and ideas. Above all, I’m okay with not knowing.
Of course, although I’m no longer a Latter-Day Saint, I will forever be a Guatemalan Mormon who grew up in the hood. I doubt I’ll ever be entirely free of twinges of Mormon guilt. Having a coffee or beer still causes me a moment’s hesitation. I’ll always understand the sense of bliss from surrendering to a higher power. Whether I like it or not, the church will always be a part of me, even if I’m never again part of the church.
Brenda Yancor is an intern at Zócalo Public Square, and takes her coffee with two sugars, lots of milk, and a small portion of guilt.
*Photo courtesy of Altus Photo Design.
These stories are valuable for our community as people of color. The struggles and contradictions we face in institutions that were not meant for us happen every day, every hour, and in many ways. Thank you for sharing your experience. Great article!
It must have been a difficult decision to resign from something you felt so close to for so many years. If only the church could been more accepting, maybe you would not have felt like such an outcast in a place you once called home.
I admire That you are seeking your own truth. God bless you always!
Brenda,
I enjoyed your writing very much and the way you presented the short life-story.
take care,
Kudos to Brenda for this thoughtful piece. What Brenda describes is something that happens to many young people who grow up in a religious or social group only to find that once they become adults their thoughts and feelings about it are not the same. The same can be said about young people who join extremist groups, whether they are of a religious, social, political or criminal nature (such as gangs).
Beautiful piece. Thank you. Free thinking and strong personal values will always serve you and the people around you very well. I admire your courage and wish you all the best.
A big THANK YOU for sharing your personal story! Your early Mormon life sounds like the Christian life my dear (dec’d) father preached for all of us to follow ~ I grew up in a parsonage. He grew up in western Pennsylvania with Amish neighbors, and so admired Mormons for their similar diligence in putting beliefs into practice and caring for others. Later I converted to Reform Judaism (because of ‘mitzvot’ and ‘lovingkindness’ ~ the only one in the conversion class who was not Engaged!) and still later served as Chancellor of an Episcopal Church. Now that I am back to studying the Bible again (NT as well as OT), I realize that we have lifetime searches for being with God, and I am certain that God loves us. An elderly friend (who had lost one of two sons years before) thrice said “God put me here to be happy, so I am going to be HAPPY, just like God wants me to be”. I pass that wish on to you: may you continue to be happy ~ and exploring, and discerning, and WRITING!
Not all her viewpoints are what really happens in the Church. But surely she does feel unaccepted. And I am sorry for that for her. I can tell you that members of the Church, nearly all who I know, are kind and try their best to love others, even if they are seeking or following a lifestyle which is contrary to the Church’s teachings.
What many people in today’s world do not understand or don’t want to understand is that there are laws that God has set. And these laws don’t change just because you “will” them to change. You are either following God’s commandments, no matter how difficult they may be for you, or not.
An eternal family is God’s plan. We are taught in the Church that if you have not had the opportunity to marry as husband and wife in this life or if your spouse has been unfaithful or does not accept the teachings of the Church in this life or the next … then, you will have the opportunity to be sealed to and be companion to a faithful member in the next life. God provides all to those who keep His commandments. I don’t think this author understood this blessing.
If anyone wishes to know more about the Church, you can go to Mormon.org. Also, the Church’s news site, which can be accessed from LDS.org, has statements on the Church’s position regarding homosexuality and same-sex marriage.
Thanks for the excellent article. I had the opportunity to go to Baptist and Catholic schools- though I was raised a Methodist. I couldn’t get kicked out of Catholic HS no matter hard I tried. Later learned it was because they felt sorry for me since all Methodists are going to hell:^O
It may be harder to live your live through observation and critical thought, but it’s well worth the effort.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. While I’m tremendously sorry that you chose to terminate your membership in the Church, I give you a lot of credit for sharing.
That having been said, while I expect it won’t make a difference, I would like to point out that one of your reasons for leaving is based on a wholly untenable misconception, as summed up in the partial paragraph:
“[T]he Lamanites… were wicked and mocked God. So God cursed them—with dark skin. ‘I will cause that they shall be loathsome unto thy people,’ says God in the Book of Mormon. The skin of anyone who was non-white—my skin—was downright ‘loathsome.’”
First of all, not all of the Lamanites were wicked and mocked God. In fact, the most righteous individuals in the entirety of the Book of Mormon—the Anti-Nephi-Lehies—were Lamanites, as were the prophet Samuel and many other faithful Christians.
Secondly, while there is certainly a popular folk belief that God “cursed [the Lamanites] with dark skin,” neither the Bible nor the Book of Mormon supports this belief. Check out the passage where Nephi records it:
“[T]he word of the Lord was fulfilled which he spake unto me, saying that: Inasmuch as they will not hearken unto thy words they shall be cut off from the presence of the Lord. And behold, they were cut off from his presence. And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity.
“For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them.”
If you’ve missed what I’m saying, read it again. I know it’s sometimes hard to overcome long-held, erroneous ideas, but seriously: read what it actually says.
Yes, the Lord cursed the early Lamanites. The curse was that they were cut off from his presence. It had nothing to do with the color of their skin; it had to do with a self-inflicted inability to commune with God, which is the natural, inescapable result of rejecting Him. Even if God wanted to, He couldn’t keep that curse away from those who reject Him; it’s just simple, universal cause and effect.
Now, the next thing we read is that at some point after the Lamanites were cursed by rejecting God, their skins became “black.” This, too, is simply the natural result of their actions. In Mid-Eastern, nomadic cultures (like the one in which Nephi grew up), there are two skin colors: the “white” skin of the city dwellers, and the “black” skin of the dirty, desert nomads. To our western eyes, there is no difference between the two; but to a person raised in the Egyptian suburbs (whether in Nephi’s time or today), the difference is as obvious as night and day. The second a nomad walks into the city, everyone there recognizes his “black” skin, despite the fact that to our eyes, that “black” skin looks exactly the same as the “white” skin of the urbanites.
Now, are there some “Mormons” who think your skin—which, from what you’ve said, is apparently darker that some—is the result of the Book of Mormon curse? Sure. It’s a popular misconception. But just because it’s popular doesn’t make it correct; even some prophets have fallen victim to that erroneous recontextualization. We all tend to understand new information in light of what we already know, and 180 years of tradition is hard to overcome.
I guess ultimately, my point is that, Latter-day Saint or not, “Mormon” or not, there is absolutely ZERO reason for anyone to think his or her skin be “loathsome.” Nephi’s description of the Lamanites’ skin as “loathsome” is a completely normal reaction inherent to a particular culture, which culture is much different than our own. Dislike the Church if you like, but please don’t fault the organization for the ignorant beliefs of some of its members, and please don’t think yourself a second-class citizen in any way.
Hope that helps. {{hugs}}
What a unique story. I loved what you wrote in your resignation letter.
Thank-you for your story, Brenda, and for acknowledging some of the positive aspects of Mormon communities. As a white Mormon with a gay son and brown-skinned relatives (through marriage and adoption) from Mexico, China, and Vietnam, I believe your experience of ostracism due to sexual orientation and/or skin color is not uncommon. Hierarchy saturates Mormonism, dividing us from each other(temple-worthy/unworthy) and others (in the world/of the world). I appreciate your insights on the need for acceptance and acknowledgement of our shared humanity.
Brenda, Thank you for sharing your story. Hope all is well.
Brenda, your story is not unlike many in all religions. Life is about choices and you’ve made your choice and can live with it. I’m happy for you. That’s all anyone can ask of themselves to be free of what’s hurting them or holding them back and seek out the happiness they need where ever that may be. Unfortunately, many of us feel ostracized in life for one thing or another because we are not perfect and there’s always someone around to point that out. That’s just life. I’m glad you have found the pathway you so desperately were seeking and rid yourself of the awful constrictions keeping you free to live as you choose. Best of luck in all you do.
MayaLynn,
While I certainly empathize with your “brown-skinned relatives,” may I ask where they’re located, that they’re feeling this ostracism you mention? I grew up in the New York City area, where Latter-day Saints (like everyone) come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. I suspect that Brenda’s Los Angeles–based experience is much the same. You’ll note, for example, that she never mentions being ostracized at all, much less by Church members; she just *personally* felt inferior, as a result of her erroneous recontextualization of the Book of Mormon (as discussed in my previous post).
I don’t deny that racism is alive and well in the world—we see it, every day—but I really don’t think it has anything to do with being an ostensible Latter-day Saint.
Thanks for sharing your story! Its so moving.
Brenda,
Amazingly written and powerful. I am an active, believing latter-day saint, and I love you. This essay was so moving I don’t even know where to begin. I hope you find happiness and can connect with God or the divine in your own way. Come back to visit if you can; stay awhile too if you can. Thanks for sharing this.
Sooo inspiring…look at all the discussion your story is creating! Cheers bdawg, cheers..
p.s. that cafecito sounds good, even sweeter with the hint of guilt
Matters of faith are so personal, always evolving, and sometimes fraught with anguish and compelled by joy . . . simultaneously. I applaud your honestly within your own heart, and here on this blog. May God continue to walk with you, assure you that you are loved, and unfold His loving intentions toward you every day.
Former worship leader who took a trip to India and had her life turned upside down,
Nicole
Big love from unorthodox Mormon folks like me. Thanks for telling your story. (My dad grew up in Bell Gardens, so that was an extra point of contact.) Love that you take your coffee with a “bit of guilt.” And I love that you say you’ll always belong to the Mormon tribe–yes, you will. I, for one, will always claim you, and if you ever find yourself in a pinch, you can share my food storage any time.
I rarely read these things. As it was so (apparently) honestly written, I kept going… and 5/10 mins later I finished. Well done!
Thank you for taking the time to share your Mormon Story. You are an inspiration. Much love to you.
Rock on, Brenda. Beer I can understand, but coffee? You keep being you.
Heartbreaking and vivid. This is so much my story. My white, middle-class, suburban story. Mormonism is community and a culture, even once you leave.
Thanks for sharing.
Congratulations on your incredible journey. I served as a Spanish-speaking missionary in LA from ’04-’06 and can imagine how important the community was to you growing up. I just resigned from the LDS church this summer as well. It’s a very bittersweet thing!
I went to seven different elementary schools, went camping, had a father I could look up to, birthday parties and a place to call home. I was not raised Mormon.
Truly excellent.
Brenda, I am so sorry the LDS church wasn’t ready to accept you and love you for who you are. I keep holding out hope that the church and the members will become capable of loving and accepting everyone, but I completely understand you not being willing to wait around for that day. When you talk about the night you wrote your resignation letter, it sounds like you were in a place of serious pain. I fully believe that God loves you completely and will bring you all the happiness you can handle if you listen to Him and follow Him, whether you are in or out of the church.
Brenda: Your story is my story, except for the sexual orientation. I also grew up Mormon, after my parents converted when I was 6 years old, and in the barrio of Boyle Heights/ELA. The Mormon religion was my life and had a tremendous amount of influence in who I am today. However, as I became a young adult I began to question many of the teachings of the church. I couldn’t accept that my best friends, all of whom where wonderful and loving people, would not be with me in the celestial kingdom because they had not accepted the Mormon religion. I couldn’t accept that women could never hold the priesthood and bless another person for the simple fact that we’re women. When my daughter was born, I held her in my arms and realized I had created life inside of me! How could it be possible that I can create life, yet not bless it? I was 30 years old at that time and wrote me resignation letter to the church. I also received the same letter with the warning of “eternal consequences” my decision will cause for me. I still have that letter and every time I am faced with a major challenge, I pull it out, read it and recharge my will to face the obstacles head on, with gusto! Nothing is going to scare me from loving life and blessing my children
Adelante, Hermanita!
Sister, I read your article. Thanks for sharing your feelings. Love you.
Firstly, congrats on such a great story. You have had great courage. Interestingly, the blacks getting the priesthood was the first step out of the church to me, because it was at that point I understood the church had been racist. And yes, the church has been incredibly racist.
Jeff – she is not misunderstanding the BOM at all, which has of course been changed quite a lot over the years to take out the overtly racist comments. However, there is no erasing the comments made by prophets over the years, things such as blacks only going to the celestial kingdom as servants, that they would never get the priesthood and should not intermarry with whites. I left the church after doing research – from mormon sources, nothing anti-mormon because I was actually trying to gain a testimony. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I read Journal of Discourses. I was embarrassed to realise how rampantly racist Brigham Young and others had been, and some of the ridiculous revelations they’d had.
Anyway…
Brenda, I’m glad that in your area of the world the church actually lived up to the hyperbole. In Australia, they do not. There are rarely any family social events (a few times a year is all) and it is all about work, work, meetings, and work. The support and care you talk about has been remarkably absent for most people I know who have had to fend for themselves through illness, poverty and despair. There is no such thing as the Bishop’s storehouse down here.
Just didn’t want people to get the wrong idea and imagine this idyllic church existence, becuase from the experience of numerous people I know from around the world that experience is lived by very few mormons.
Love and kisses to you, and I hope you find your “one and only”.
Carolyn
Your courage is inspiring! I converted for my husband but after a year of living the lifestyle, I’ve recently come away after too much of this religion doesn’t line up. It wasn’t an easy conversion because I’m a gay rights activist. I can’t get past the attitude towards homosexuals – God doesn’t make mistakes. I hear this all the time from Mormons and I believe it. But they’re only opening their eyes just enough to see all those empty promises that supposedly come in the next life. WAY too much organization for me to feel the spiritual aspects!
I’ve also participated in baptisms for the dead – it was bizarre and the temples are gaudy and way too luxurious. It felt tacky and garrish to me. If tithing went to feed hungry children I could get into this religion. But the more I read about where that money goes (to build malls, maintain hunting ranges for the rich, build MORE of these temples, etc.) the less I want to do with this group.
Sadly, this has strained my marriage and I’m not sure we’ll make it. He was raised Mormon and now there’s talk of us staying married but never having children. Our bishop discourages this, and still considers me a very spiritual person, despite “falling away” from the church. But real Mormons are all or nothing. It doesn’t matter how much he loves me since his religion tells him we’ll be separated in the afterlife. He believes he’ll end up sealed to someone other than me and our children will be scattered, all because I cannot feel in my heart that this religion is true.
Brava to you, Brenda! You’re courageous and strong! I wish you sooo much love and happiness in this life and the next!
I love your story. As an ex-Mormon myself I admire your ability to see how the LDS church benefited your life, while admitting its faults and choosing to find a path which suits you better. I loved your quote “I’ve fallen in love with the world. I love people, in their raw humanity and endless flaws. I love sin, with its ability to teach you things you would never know otherwise,” even if it was the tequila talking. If there was a Jesus, I’d like to think he would admire your generous heart and love of mankind and this world. Good luck!
Dearest Brenda,
Thank you for providing candid insight as you tell your personal history. I often wonder what people are experiencing when they make life choices, such as yours to sever yourself from a church. In this case it is the church that I have always loved, and to which I still belong.
You mention your acceptance of humanity in its diverse expressions, but it’s not clear from your essay whether you still have faith in God, while merely rejecting the tenants of this specific church. I will assume that you do, or at least that you allow for the possibility of His existence as you plunge into the unknown of each day. I hope you are comforted, knowing that He loves you. As one who still calls you sister, even though I don’t think I know you personally, I love you, too!
I was an LDS missionary in Guatemala years ago. Someone like me taught your mother about the church, and witnessed as she was moved by the Holy Spirit to accept Christ through baptism. I can’t help but think of her and regard her feelings at this time. I hope the Holy Spirit continues to move within her as she shares her love and tenderness with you, despite the differences in choices you each have made.
In your essay it seems clear that you accept total responsibility for your assumptions and actions. Thank you for not demeaning your family, your associates, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or the University of California, Los Angeles. Your reflections seem personal, genuine, in good taste, and respectful of choices that other people have made.
I am familiar with brothers and sisters whose journeys have been somewhat similar to yours, though of course each, like yours, is unique and special. God bless you in your pursuit of truth and happiness.
Brenda, this is a fantastic piece of writing. My story is similar in many ways, different in others. I just want to thank you for sharing yours, every one of our stories is heartbreaking and leaving the church of our youth and often our heritage can be incredibly painful. I resigned from the LDS church in September 2010 and it has been the most difficult and easily the best decision I have ever made. Glad to hear it has been the right decision for you as well. To any with conflicted feelings about leaving the LDS church or any other for that matter, let mine be added to the voices that are in ever greater numbers: You are not alone. You are not a bad person. You will not be punished. You have the support of the thousands of us who leave each year.
I applaud you for your courage and eloquence in conveying this emancipation from the chains that pained you. I think many of us have gone through this as we open our eyes and see the world through our own lenses. As a recovering Catholic, myself, I can relate to the enduring remnants of the judgmental internal audience we spent our entire lives creating and maintaining through the church. Enjoy your beer and your coffee AND sex with men or women. It’s your life and you, likely, only get one run of it.
Great article, Brenda! We all love you and support your decision! Not to mention you’re a kickass writer, too! You go, girl!
I enjoyed reading your story very much. I commend you for having the courage to follow your intuition and your heart. I was raised Catholic and left the church many years ago, which gave me the freedom to listen to my own inner voice. That is what it is for. I have a deeply fulfilling happy life and I wish the same for you.