You'd never look at me and think that something wasn't right. I was perfect from the outside. By perfect I mean: always engaging in anything and everything church related. I could probably count on my hands the number of times I missed church throughout my life. We just didn't not go unless you were dying. I wasn't allowed to skip the midweek YW activities. I was always president of my classes throughout my youth. I strongly encouraged my boyfriend to serve a mission. As in "I won't marry you unless you do." He did and we did in fact get married upon his return in an LDS temple. We started having kids right away because that's what the righteous do. I never said no to a calling even when it was absolutely ridiculous to ask of a brand new mom or I was just plain uncomfortable with it. You NEVER turn down callings in my family. I judged members for various "sins" all the time. I was also aware of the judgment of others through out my life. I was constantly trying to be the perfect person that I felt was expected of me. But there was a dark side to all of this.
I distinctly remember my first anxiety attack. It was at my baptism. The time where I'm supposed to be filled with the Holy Ghost, and BAM! It hit my poor 8 year old self like a ton of bricks. What was happening to me? Didn't I just make a good choice? Then why do I feel so bad? It seems as if that feeling followed me throughout my life in Mormonism. I was always experiencing conflicting thoughts about it all. Still I tried hard to push all those thoughts away and be perfect. I was horrified that I didn't/couldn't believe what everyone around me did. Thus began years of self hatred and later self harm.
I was thirsty for love. I just wanted desperately to feel something positive. As I began my teenage years this thirst for love drug me down some dark paths, but I did a pretty good job of hiding it away from everyone close to me. I acted out by breaking the "rules" with my boyfriends. It was my silent way of pushing against the system. It felt so good to be free and make my own choices, but afterwards I'd always feel terrible guilt which would turn into another reason to hate myself. This was the cycle of my teenage years.
Next Up: Why I Left the Mormon Church: Part Two
