It's me, Enoch Witty
Posted: Mon Dec 05, 2016 1:06 pm
Greetings!
I was BIC and remember enjoying church when I was young. Singing primary songs with gusto is the main thing that sticks out to me from that time period. When I got baptized, I remember wanting to do it again. I was disappointed when the wrapped present turned out to be a set of scriptures, though.
By age 12, church was nothing but boredom. My first real conflict came when a friend of mine called me to be Deacon's Quorum Secretary. I had absolutely no interest in doing so, but my parents made me. Thus began a church career of never, ever turning down a calling, but half-assing anything I didn't want to do (which was most of it).
My first bishop's/TR interview was fun. He explained what masturbation was to me (although in vague terms: "You can't touch yourself anywhere that a bathing suit covers"). The early guilt was instilled, yes, but the seed was also planted and curiosity began to bloom. I, of course, learned to lie about my masturbatory habits from before I even began masturbating. Thanks, TSCC!
I had no interest whatsoever all through YM, but my parents continued to force me to go: "You live in our house, and in our house we go to church." I wore Converses and polo shirts, openly read a book through every meeting, and generally showed my contempt for it all. I had no moral qualms about seeking opportunities to lose my virginity and developed a love for various flavors of intoxicant. I had a couple good TBM friends (both now Exmos) at that time, which kept me somewhat happy at church despite not being into it at all.
Unfortunately, my eyes had not yet been opened. I was a rebel, yes, but thoroughly indoctrinated. I dealt with guilt through high levels of self-justification, mental gymnastics, and "procrastinating the day of my repentance." The idea that the church is not true never even crossed my mind, but I also admit I wasn't in the depths of guilt over this stuff. I guess I viewed it as, "The church is true, God loves me, the brethren are trying to do good but are too extreme in their views, and everything will fall into place." The only exception to this was Prop 22 (the Prop 8 predecessor): I was in California at the time, and I was the only kid in my YM quorum to take open issue with the church's horrible, horrible stance on same-sex marriage. It still makes me sick.
I went to college. My Mom paid me $20 for every report I wrote about an institute class or church meeting. So I went to them all! I met an RM six years older than me, we had an awesome sexual relationship that I thought was cool but racked her with guilt, then she left for the summer to return to her missionary stomping ground with a former elder from her mission. They hooked up; it was the plan all along. I was heartbroken and stopped going to church in that town.
I went to grad school. Out of loneliness more than anything, I started going to church again. Through dating, callings, socializing, and charming leaders, I was roped back in. I was married a little less than a year and a half later to my wonderful wife, a TBM but extremely liberal. We got married in the temple, which was symbolically meaningful to me at the time, but I was highly, highly unimpressed with the actual sealing. (The endowment two weeks earlier freaked me the eff out, though I of course was never able to tell any family members that. I recently found out I was given the proxy name for the day instead of the living name. I honestly don't know whether I feel violated or amused.) The sealing felt rote, minimal, un-special. But whatever, it's the marriage that matters, not the wedding.
This is the most TBM portion of my life. I tried to do all the right things for three long years. I became an arrogant, judgmental POS. My wife and I hardly ever fight to this day, but our biggest fight in the early years was that I wanted to follow the brethren and hang the Proclamation to the World in our home; she didn't want it to insult her gay friends; I said, "What's possibly insulting about this? It's just talking about the importance of the family!" How blind I was.
We attended institute together. She had graduated at BYU, and I put in the work to graduate from the program at this time. The teacher was highly charismatic. I flirted with the idea of becoming an institute teacher myself, but was basically advised to not bother since I'm not an RM. (I later found out that I was taught many, many lies in these classes. A Pearl of Great Price class started with notes to the effect of: "Joseph translated the Book of Abraham from Egyptian. This wasn't a stretch, since he had previously translated the Book of Mormon from reformed Egyptian." Who wants to count the lies, half-truths, and misrepresentations in that class opening?)
I tried the TBM lifestyle for those years not out of deference to my wife (although I'm sure that was part of it), but because deep down, I believed the church was true and I was ready to seek the happiness that I had been promised was available my whole life. But the more I tried to live the TBM lifestyle, the more I found myself bothered by cultural practices and assumptions at the church: a home-teachee making judgmental comments about my marrying a woman who had career aspirations (the horror!), hateful right-wing rhetoric preached as gospel, and the thick guilt laid on for anything less than perfect performance (and not in spiritual duties, but administrative ones).
I'm also a naturally anxious guy, and had found the use of a particular flower to ease this feeling in me (I had a medical card during college, even). After more than three years of abstaining, I found that I was not happier. In fact, I felt quite the opposite. My marriage was the only stable thing in my life at this time. I was distressed about my education, my career, my ability to earn money and pay off my massive student debt, and the church. I reached a point where I simply had to ease my anxiety, so I sought out the thing that had worked best for me in my life for that purpose.
For the next four or five years, I lived as a Jack Mormon. I wasn't straightforward and open with my wife about things, but I also didn't make much of an attempt to hide my contempt. Church became something I dreaded. Weekends were bittersweet because I would have to go to church. Home teaching became my nemesis, and I wanted nothing to do with the program (the forced-friendship nature of it has never sat well with me, frankly). I felt like I had to continue going to church and paying tithing as a tax to stay married.
Then my son was born. As I got to know him and consider my own past in the church, I realized that I don't want that future for him. In a way, this is where my shelf truly broke, but my eyes had still not been opened, and I still couldn't bring myself to tell my wife. I used caring for my son as an excuse to get out of classes basically every single week for the first two years of his life.
The November 5 policy happened during this time, and it was what truly shattered my mantle. I still didn't tell my wife for more than six months, but I finally did, and she is so cool. I was afraid divorce was on the table, but she was like, "It's not like what you're telling me is any surprise. I won't wake you up for church anymore. You're free."
This basically gave me permission to finally seek spiritual truth. In the last six months, I've listened to dozens and dozens of episodes of Mormon Stories, Infants on Thrones, and My Book of Mormon. I've lurked on the NOM boards and Exmo subreddit. I've read the CES letter and so much more.
For the first decades of my life, I never allowed myself to believe the church wasn't true. Despite the evidence staring me in the face, my lifestyle that didn't fit in to the culture, the concerns I had with the church's stance on same-sex marriage, I was indoctrinated: I may not have liked it, but it was true. So on one hand, it's an incredible relief to me to come to the realization that my sexist, racist, homophobic church is not God's one and only true church upon the earth. It's a relief to know that God doesn't support those hateful things.
On the other hand, I feel betrayed and lied to. My entire extended family is TBM, and while they're not so extreme that I expect to be shunned when they find out, it will break my mother's heart and I will be viewed in a purely negative light. My uncle left the church when I was a kid, and it was a family tragedy for years. People talked about him like he was dead. Then he read the BOM, decided to go on a mission, and has become one of the most politically/religiously conservative people in the family. With that being the model for leaving the church in our family, I fear that there is going to be some horrible disappointment in the future. I also found it insulting during college how often family members told me they were praying/going to the temple for me to go back to church. I'd like to avoid that this time around. It would be easy to keep it a secret because my family is thousands of miles away, but I also feel like I can't have an honest, open, authentic relationship with them without being my honest, open, authentic self. We'll work our way up to it, I guess.
I'm still seeking truth. I'm not sure what I believe yet, other than that it is invigorating that for the first time in my life, I get to set my own moral boundaries. These have always been prescribed to me, and I'm loving the pursuit of being a good person on my own terms.
Thanks for reading. Anybody here from Northern Florida by chance?
I was BIC and remember enjoying church when I was young. Singing primary songs with gusto is the main thing that sticks out to me from that time period. When I got baptized, I remember wanting to do it again. I was disappointed when the wrapped present turned out to be a set of scriptures, though.
By age 12, church was nothing but boredom. My first real conflict came when a friend of mine called me to be Deacon's Quorum Secretary. I had absolutely no interest in doing so, but my parents made me. Thus began a church career of never, ever turning down a calling, but half-assing anything I didn't want to do (which was most of it).
My first bishop's/TR interview was fun. He explained what masturbation was to me (although in vague terms: "You can't touch yourself anywhere that a bathing suit covers"). The early guilt was instilled, yes, but the seed was also planted and curiosity began to bloom. I, of course, learned to lie about my masturbatory habits from before I even began masturbating. Thanks, TSCC!
I had no interest whatsoever all through YM, but my parents continued to force me to go: "You live in our house, and in our house we go to church." I wore Converses and polo shirts, openly read a book through every meeting, and generally showed my contempt for it all. I had no moral qualms about seeking opportunities to lose my virginity and developed a love for various flavors of intoxicant. I had a couple good TBM friends (both now Exmos) at that time, which kept me somewhat happy at church despite not being into it at all.
Unfortunately, my eyes had not yet been opened. I was a rebel, yes, but thoroughly indoctrinated. I dealt with guilt through high levels of self-justification, mental gymnastics, and "procrastinating the day of my repentance." The idea that the church is not true never even crossed my mind, but I also admit I wasn't in the depths of guilt over this stuff. I guess I viewed it as, "The church is true, God loves me, the brethren are trying to do good but are too extreme in their views, and everything will fall into place." The only exception to this was Prop 22 (the Prop 8 predecessor): I was in California at the time, and I was the only kid in my YM quorum to take open issue with the church's horrible, horrible stance on same-sex marriage. It still makes me sick.
I went to college. My Mom paid me $20 for every report I wrote about an institute class or church meeting. So I went to them all! I met an RM six years older than me, we had an awesome sexual relationship that I thought was cool but racked her with guilt, then she left for the summer to return to her missionary stomping ground with a former elder from her mission. They hooked up; it was the plan all along. I was heartbroken and stopped going to church in that town.
I went to grad school. Out of loneliness more than anything, I started going to church again. Through dating, callings, socializing, and charming leaders, I was roped back in. I was married a little less than a year and a half later to my wonderful wife, a TBM but extremely liberal. We got married in the temple, which was symbolically meaningful to me at the time, but I was highly, highly unimpressed with the actual sealing. (The endowment two weeks earlier freaked me the eff out, though I of course was never able to tell any family members that. I recently found out I was given the proxy name for the day instead of the living name. I honestly don't know whether I feel violated or amused.) The sealing felt rote, minimal, un-special. But whatever, it's the marriage that matters, not the wedding.
This is the most TBM portion of my life. I tried to do all the right things for three long years. I became an arrogant, judgmental POS. My wife and I hardly ever fight to this day, but our biggest fight in the early years was that I wanted to follow the brethren and hang the Proclamation to the World in our home; she didn't want it to insult her gay friends; I said, "What's possibly insulting about this? It's just talking about the importance of the family!" How blind I was.
We attended institute together. She had graduated at BYU, and I put in the work to graduate from the program at this time. The teacher was highly charismatic. I flirted with the idea of becoming an institute teacher myself, but was basically advised to not bother since I'm not an RM. (I later found out that I was taught many, many lies in these classes. A Pearl of Great Price class started with notes to the effect of: "Joseph translated the Book of Abraham from Egyptian. This wasn't a stretch, since he had previously translated the Book of Mormon from reformed Egyptian." Who wants to count the lies, half-truths, and misrepresentations in that class opening?)
I tried the TBM lifestyle for those years not out of deference to my wife (although I'm sure that was part of it), but because deep down, I believed the church was true and I was ready to seek the happiness that I had been promised was available my whole life. But the more I tried to live the TBM lifestyle, the more I found myself bothered by cultural practices and assumptions at the church: a home-teachee making judgmental comments about my marrying a woman who had career aspirations (the horror!), hateful right-wing rhetoric preached as gospel, and the thick guilt laid on for anything less than perfect performance (and not in spiritual duties, but administrative ones).
I'm also a naturally anxious guy, and had found the use of a particular flower to ease this feeling in me (I had a medical card during college, even). After more than three years of abstaining, I found that I was not happier. In fact, I felt quite the opposite. My marriage was the only stable thing in my life at this time. I was distressed about my education, my career, my ability to earn money and pay off my massive student debt, and the church. I reached a point where I simply had to ease my anxiety, so I sought out the thing that had worked best for me in my life for that purpose.
For the next four or five years, I lived as a Jack Mormon. I wasn't straightforward and open with my wife about things, but I also didn't make much of an attempt to hide my contempt. Church became something I dreaded. Weekends were bittersweet because I would have to go to church. Home teaching became my nemesis, and I wanted nothing to do with the program (the forced-friendship nature of it has never sat well with me, frankly). I felt like I had to continue going to church and paying tithing as a tax to stay married.
Then my son was born. As I got to know him and consider my own past in the church, I realized that I don't want that future for him. In a way, this is where my shelf truly broke, but my eyes had still not been opened, and I still couldn't bring myself to tell my wife. I used caring for my son as an excuse to get out of classes basically every single week for the first two years of his life.
The November 5 policy happened during this time, and it was what truly shattered my mantle. I still didn't tell my wife for more than six months, but I finally did, and she is so cool. I was afraid divorce was on the table, but she was like, "It's not like what you're telling me is any surprise. I won't wake you up for church anymore. You're free."
This basically gave me permission to finally seek spiritual truth. In the last six months, I've listened to dozens and dozens of episodes of Mormon Stories, Infants on Thrones, and My Book of Mormon. I've lurked on the NOM boards and Exmo subreddit. I've read the CES letter and so much more.
For the first decades of my life, I never allowed myself to believe the church wasn't true. Despite the evidence staring me in the face, my lifestyle that didn't fit in to the culture, the concerns I had with the church's stance on same-sex marriage, I was indoctrinated: I may not have liked it, but it was true. So on one hand, it's an incredible relief to me to come to the realization that my sexist, racist, homophobic church is not God's one and only true church upon the earth. It's a relief to know that God doesn't support those hateful things.
On the other hand, I feel betrayed and lied to. My entire extended family is TBM, and while they're not so extreme that I expect to be shunned when they find out, it will break my mother's heart and I will be viewed in a purely negative light. My uncle left the church when I was a kid, and it was a family tragedy for years. People talked about him like he was dead. Then he read the BOM, decided to go on a mission, and has become one of the most politically/religiously conservative people in the family. With that being the model for leaving the church in our family, I fear that there is going to be some horrible disappointment in the future. I also found it insulting during college how often family members told me they were praying/going to the temple for me to go back to church. I'd like to avoid that this time around. It would be easy to keep it a secret because my family is thousands of miles away, but I also feel like I can't have an honest, open, authentic relationship with them without being my honest, open, authentic self. We'll work our way up to it, I guess.
I'm still seeking truth. I'm not sure what I believe yet, other than that it is invigorating that for the first time in my life, I get to set my own moral boundaries. These have always been prescribed to me, and I'm loving the pursuit of being a good person on my own terms.
Thanks for reading. Anybody here from Northern Florida by chance?
