How it all started

This is a big one, and I don’t know how far I’ll get with it tonight; this move and the subsequent CRAP that goes along with it is definitely taking its toll on me, especially as I’m now driving an hour to and from work in addition to hitting up the old house to keep getting it readier for sale…. Sigh. I’m EXHAUSTED.

But anyway.

How it all started kind of depends on which “it” we’re talking about.  But, here’s a stab at it:

A few years ago, when I was pregnant with our first, Little Miss, we visited Palmyra, New York with some friends. We had such a great time visiting during the off-season for tourists there – we had all the sites and tours to ourselves, and could actually get around the shops and bookstores without bashing into people at ever turn; it was a great trip!

While visiting the LDS-themed bookstore in downtown Palmyra (is there really anything else TO Palmyra other than downtown? I mean, really… a bustling metropolis it is NOT!) and picked up a few things. I remember him picking up a few books that looked so interesting, among which was one on Mormonism and magic (Early Mormonism and the Magic World View) and another on Mormons and the ever-so-hot topic of polygamy (Mormon Polygamy: A History). I thought nothing really of it except that I was excited to have the books in our library and eventually get around to reading them: I LOVE to read and I love to learn about history and what happened, why, when, by and with whom… people are and always have been FASCINATING.

Anyway. So he bought these cool books.

And then over the next years would read a little bit, and put them aside, then read a little bit…. he’s not a voracious reader like I am, so it often takes him forEVER to get through a book, if he gets through it at all.  As far as I know his purpose in purchasing these books or having an interest in the subjects had nothing to do with a desire to test or undo his faith, but you’d have to ask him and see if he remembers where his brain was at back then. WHO knows?

About two years ago he lost his job.  His DREAM job – the job he had his sights set on when he was tailoring his education at university, settled his family in a city for, and quite frankly, for the most part, really enjoyed doing.  He’s a computer programmer and was working on programming video games.  Yeah.  All nerdy boys’ dream, right?  And here he was more or less living it.  With some hiccups, for sure, but it was safe, secure, and decent.

And he lost the job.

Poor man came home just a wreck.  Totally blindsided.  There were a bunch of legal issues and crazy things going on and the funding for the company’s project just disappeared….everyone was laid off. It was BRUTAL. We were definitely not the only ones hit.

So then, he’s unemployed.

For a YEAR.

It seemed whatever he did for a year, just…nothing happened. Which was frustrating for ME, so I can’t imagine how incredibly disheartening it was for him; he’s VERY VERY good at what he does, and should be making great money at work that he LOVES to do, and here he can’t even get a job doing ANYTHING.  It was an awful year.

But at the end of the year I found out he’d not just been working on finding a job, but also been working to expand his knowledge base and understandings of some of the stickier bits of Church history.

An interest he’d piqued by actually sitting and reading the book he’d bought years earlier on polygamy.

It was sooooo unfortunate that his “journey” as he calls it, for a large part, happened in this year: we both suffer from depression and him being out of work was hard on BOTH of us. And then choosing to spend some of his ridiculously valuable time researching history instead of pounding the pavement…. that was a huge part of why I was so furious with him; I couldn’t believe his lack of priorities (or at least that his priorities at the time didn’t align with my, obviously, perfect ones 😉 – if hunting to understand and have truth isn’t a priority in life, yeah….  Anyway!)

By the time he hit me with the news he’d stopped believing the Church was really anything other than an organization that does some good stuff in the world (he’s very not ANTI-Mormon) he’d been working on his position for five or six months.  There was no back-and-forth, no chance for us to investigate and learn together.  I was so disappointed, AM disappointed: it’s a topic I am SO interested in, but being happy in my faith and kind of run-off-my-feet busy ALL the time since…I haven’t found the time. I WILL, but oy.

Anyway. There you have it! That was that.  While some people hide and/or struggle with addictions to substances, pornography, video gaming, gambling, shopping…goodness, any number of things, my husband hid from me his secretly debunking our entire world view!  hahaha

Don’t worry – we laugh and tease about it now.  More on those developments later. 🙂

You’ve been light on questions, lately – any new ones out there? Your questions give us things to talk about with each other and definitely things to write about!  hahaha Yes, our love of your questions is totally self-serving. Get over it. 😉 Ask away!

The Husband Responds

“If we have the truth, it cannot be harmed by investigation. If we have not the truth, it ought to be harmed.”

All this talk about me, I guess it’s about time I actually spoke up and put up a post. My wife has been receiving a lot of questions about me, about the reasons for my change of faith, and about what I believe now that I no longer believe in Mormonism. And since nobody knows the answers better than me, here I am.

What were your reasons for leaving the church?

I wish that this was a simple answer. If it were something as simple as someone offending me, or never really believing in the first place I’d be finished this post already. It’s hard for me, looking back, to find that one thing that flipped the proverbial switch in my head, from Mormon to non-Mormon. I don’t think there could be one thing alone that could have made me leave. But I do know when I started to really look for answers. It began when I started learning about polygamy in the early church in more detail than I was previously familiar with. Now don’t get me wrong, I was aware of polygamy for a long time. How could I not be? But I was okay with it. There were reasons why the early church practiced it. It was commanded by God. It was to care for the widows of those men who had been murdered by the mobs fighting the church. I went through many such stages of understanding, although full readings of Doctrine and Covenants section 132 never really sat right with many of those stages. But I was okay with it. It just wasn’t relevant, not important to my salvation, and for many other similar reasons, I didn’t look any further into it.

Then, as happens in life, I stumbled onto something unexpected. Polyandry. Early prophets of the church, specifically including Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, marrying other men’s wives. That was strange… It must be because they were not able to be sealed to their unworthy husbands… Nope, there’s a husband being sent on a mission to England… Maybe it was just a symbolic union… Nope, there’s a child… It was so out of character with what I knew of the church. I started to research more about what type of polygamy was practiced in the early church, and found secret wives hidden from first wives, teenage brides to old men, and suddenly it wasn’t just something I didn’t understand and could leave alone. It needed to be squared. But it wasn’t polygamy that led me to leaving the church. It started with what happened next. I asked myself one of the most surprising questions I had ever had.

If it wasn’t true, would you want to know?

And I had to answer honestly. Yes. It was important. “Is it good” or “were they justified” were not the right questions. Is it actually, literally, and fundamentally true? If God was what I believed he was, and this was his church, and the prophets are prophets, then “is it good” didn’t really matter. Lots of things are good. More things are relative. Everything that I couldn’t square with my inner moral scale could be safely boxed up and shelved if it was true.

And so I started trying to discover if it was true. Of course, growing up in the church I had already found out it was true. But had I really? I had come to the conclusion that it was true from a confirmation direction only. I hadn’t ever really considered the possibility that it wasn’t true. It’s like I had only ever looked closely at Ford cars, only discussed cars with Ford dealers, only researched cars from official Ford and Ford friendly sources, told other people how awesome Fords are, and then, having decided that I wanted to buy a Ford, tried to decide for myself if Fords really were the best cars. But somebody else similarity immersed in Toyotas would come to vastly opposing conclusions.

I knew the Book of Mormon to be true by spiritual witness, strong feelings that what I know is true, which feelings I believed to originate from God, after studying its contents; the same way that a Bahá’í knows the Kitáb-i-Aqdas to be true.

Now I’m not going to expound fully on all my reasons I left the church. I don’t think that is what my wife had in mind for this blog, and there are better places to find answers than here. But my wife recently asked me if I had doctrinal reasons, as opposed to historical reasons, that I don’t believe. My first response was asking her to define “doctrinal.” But since it was late, and my filter had already gone to sleep, I sort of kind of brain dumped on her. And that dump contained a virtual cornucopia (Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, yay!) of historical and doctrinal issues I have with the church. The honest outcome of my search for the truth of the Mormon church led me to find, from multiple fronts converging with unity, that it is not true. And if it’s not true, why does it matter whether or not it’s good?

What do you believe in now?

My search for truth, along with leading to my belief that the Mormon church is not true, also led me to a few other findings. Other churches’ claims to truth are generally no better founded than Mormonism. And, surprising as it would have been to myself a year ago, that’s okay. I do not believe in any God. I don’t have some revolutionary proof that God does not exist, I just don’t believe in any given god, and that lack of belief did not leave a god shaped hole in my world begging to be filled. I still have a sense of awe and wonder at the universe. I don’t find death to hold any great fear from the unknown. I have found that I still have the ability to morally reason without fear or hope for eternal consequences. I actually find that I may be happier and more at peace than I was as a Mormon. And both RedKin10 and I agree that our marriage is doing better now than it has been for a long time. Possibly better than it has been in all 10 years. And I couldn’t be happier about that.

Not Giving Up

What a blessing this blog has already turned out to be! The enormous, POSITIVE response we’ve gotten is astounding!

As your comments roll into our Facebook inboxes, our emails, and now even on the actual posts themselves (hi, Reddit! WE’RE ON REDDIT!!!) we have the marvellous opportunity to share and laugh and cry with each other about your wonderful insight, experiences, and comforting words.

As I posted earlier in the week, THANK you, so much, for the overwhelming, amazing reception.

One of you used this wording in a message to me on Facebook, and I’m so glad you did!  You said: “…I think I would react much like you did. I really admire that you didn’t just give up on your marriage and you fought for it.”

…..“I really admire that you didn’t just give up on your marriage…”

Sigh.

Can I just tell you how tempted I was?

Here I sat, actually right in this very spot on this couch (isn’t it weird how we often gravitate to “our spot” – sleep on the same side of the bed, sit in the same spot on the couch… ohmigosh, I’m Sheldon!) across from my husband who I was struggling to like, anyway, and he’s completely tearing my world apart.

Why should I stay with him? There’s nothing for me here.  Nothing but heartache, disappointment, fatigue….

Prior to his announcement I had wondered to myself over and over what may be the best way to “knock some sense into him” or get him to “step up” and “get it together” and all sorts of other cliche you-suck-smarten-up ideas.  If we had lived closer to our families at the time I think it very likely we would have ended up separated, at least for some time, as I honestly felt it may be the only thing that could possibly get through to him.  I never did it because our daughter was in school, he had work…I couldn’t figure out the logistics of how it would all work if we separated and I was NOT willing to pay the full bills of a second home locally.

When he told me of his decision regarding the Church, I was floored, and I wanted out.  I thought my marriage was over.

…for about a millisecond.

I KNOW that initial conversation was almost impossible for him; it’s the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had in my life, no exaggeration.  But as repulsed and horrified as I was, I CARED.

When he started sobbing, expressing his concern and agony over the previous months that his newfound dissatisfaction with our faith may cause him to lose me as his wife, part of me thought, well, DUH, I’m OUT OF HERE!  But the part of me that’s a little more reasonable ACHED for the pain he was experiencing.

When he hurts, I hurt. When he cries, I DIE. He’s my Mister, and I love him. To see him hurting is brutal; I can’t stand it.

And he was hurting.

We decided then and there that we KNEW we loved each other, DO love each other, and would always love each other.  And while I know the words in the temple sealing ceremony that we were married with don’t explicitly use the phrase “for better or for worse” I personally go to that phrase ALL THE TIME.

For better or worse doesn’t mean I only love him when he’s happy, when he’s successful. When our hopes, dreams, goals, and ideas are all meshed perfectly in sync. When we like the same food, watch the same movies, and play all the same games.  It doesn’t mean when he loses his job and we’re scraping by on employment insurance that I can ditch him for someone who maybe “works harder,” or that when he’s oppressed by depression that I get to ship him off and select a mentally stable companion.

For better or worse doesn’t mean that when my depression hinders me from functioning as a wife and mother that he tosses me to the curb, or that when my weight balloons out of control and I hate myself that he can decide he does to and trade me in for the latest Young Women’s graduate.

It means we’re in this. For good. For bad. For everything. We’re in this together. Whatever this is, it’s ours.

I didn’t marry him because he was perfect. Nor because I expected him to be perfect! Heck, when we got married he was a socially awkward dork with pants that made his hips look bigger than mine and almost zero social skills, such that when we started dating a mutual acquaintance of ours pulled me aside and told me NOT to date him because he’s such a nasty son-of-a-gun and no one likes him!  (Telling that same acquaintance about our relationship flipping to the ‘serious’ category? Best. Conversation. EVER.)  And he didn’t marry ME because I was perfect. Gosh, I was so imperfect a missionary once teaching our Sunday School class actually interrupted his own lesson in front of everyone and asked my Mister “is this the woman you really want raising your children?” in all seriousness. It was BRILLIANT. (We didn’t like that Elder very much…but apparently he didn’t like me either, so we’re good!)

Anyway. I didn’t leave him.  I won’t.  He’s mine, and I love him.  Sometimes we forget how awesome we are and how much we enjoy being each other’s person, but he’s my person.  With him, I’m home.  I’ve never felt like that with anyone else ever, and I never will, because this is it for me.

My Reaction

I find, often, the easiest way to explain how I felt when he told me, is to just reference an email I wrote to a friend a few days after I had the information. So, with some editing (I changed the names – I don’t think I actually know a Mildred anywhere..?? Sorry, if I do! It’s not about you!) and PLEASE remember, this is a year ago, and NOT my best most charitable moment in time, AND he has read this himself, here you go:

Hiya!  

Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the itch for the gossip over here and then not share…I know that’s brutal! AND I figured I’d email you, because frankly, I’m better in writing than in person, AND writing is SO DANG CATHARTIC soo…. don’t sit down to read this ’til you have time ’cause I can tell you right now it’s not going to be a short one! hahaha  
 
Okay, so Tuesday night my darling husband sat me down for some news.  I thought of all the make-or-break things I could think of and asked did-you-have-an-affair?-do-you-look-at-porn? the usually run-down of the list (which in your case includes smoking!) 😉 He said no to everything, so I breathed a sigh of relief, because I THINK I can handle just about anything else.  And really, what else could it be if I can’t in my wildest nightmares think of it?? Right? 
 
So then he tells me, point blank, he doesn’t believe the Church is true.  
 
Which….is a little bit stunning.  
 
Now, I know having a husband who doesn’t believe in the Church is not REALLY the end of the world – you’re doing it very successfully, Francine seems happy as a clam, Jane makes it work, Kathy too…. It is TOTALLY possible to have a wonderful, fabulous, fulfilling marriage with these men who DON’T hold the priesthood. 
 
Quite frankly, my marriage BLOWS.  It’s, again, nothing compared to what I am SO glad I cannot even imagine my dear friends like yourself, Linda, or my neighbour, or my other friend Cameron, or Mildred – ohmigoodness, I know way too many horrible horrible stories – have gone through. [My husband] doesn’t beat me, yell at me, abuse me in any way.  He IS employed, newly, but takes pride in taking temporal care of us, and really, he’s not all that bad a guy. At ALL.  So please, don’t misunderstand me and think that I’m being naive or ungrateful. I AM grateful! 
 
But my marriage sucks. We’re a joke. 
 
For 9 years [my husband] has just sort of existed alongside me. I drag him around, force him to do the odd thing…basically, I’ve been his mother for 9 years.  It’s exhausting.  And infuriating. He…doesn’t make me feel anything. I don’t feel important, appreciated, loved… I used to feel used because he only had time for me if he was aroused and wanted sex. I yelled at him for that after a few months.  Over the years, though, that has become less and less of a problem….probably being the MAIN reason why there’s such a gap between [our first baby] & this little nugget.  
 
I do EVERYTHING. Everything.  His contribution to this household outside of finances is non-existent. Not spiritually, not physically, nothing.  He does nothing. Even when I ask him to do something to help, he ‘forgets’ or doesn’t get around to it or…I don’t even know. It doesn’t get done unless I do it.  
 
And it’s been exhausting.  But you know what?  He’s a good man, he’s learning, he’s growing. I’m his wife, it’s my job to HELP him learn and grow and we work together. And being [my daughter]’s mom is the greatest thing in the world, so taking care of my two people, while I am far from HAPPY, makes me content, for the most part.  I can live like this. I am married to a good man with amazing potential, who for better or worse brings the priesthood into my home, and that is invaluable. 
 
So then, he tells me, he doesn’t believe anymore. His ONE redeeming factor in my eyes in the last NINE YEARS he has decided to announce, just like that, he is stealing away from me.  I am 4 months from having a baby and all of a sudden, just like that, her daddy won’t be blessing her. Because he’s been reading and researching and really struggling with things for a few months.  He’s done his due diligence and he just can’t believe it anymore. It can’t be true. Joseph Smith & Brigham Young were horrible tyrants and the Church has just covered it all up. We all THINK it’s true because we’ve been duped by psychology mumbo-jumbo blah blah blah… it makes us feel good because it’s comforting.  
 
Tuesday night I try my darndest to just listen. To let him talk to me. To tell me what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking. I try NOT to make him feel judged or uncomfortable, because I’ve found that is the WORST way to make a person feel, and probably one of the most un-Christlike things we can do to each other.  I bawl a bit when I think of my girls (yes, I’m expecting to have another perfect little girl) and the daddy they deserve and the one he’s decided to now become.  But he tells me he’s still the same good man he was the day before.  My instinct is to slap him, but I manage to hold it together.  
 
I ask him questions about HIS questions. What does he plan to do? Does he not believe in Mormonism or in Christianity, because that’s kind of a big thing to know – Joseph Smith is NOT Jesus Christ, and I need to know what is or is not ‘acceptable’ in his new belief system.  
 
He asks if he can hug me. I’m repulsed, honestly. Part of me wants to throw myself at him and be comforted, but he’s the ass MAKING me feel this way, and I want nothing to do with him.  But HE hurts, hurting me, so I let him, and we sob together. He assures me he loves me, and that he’ll do ANYTHING for me, for [our daughter]. He won’t make me go to church alone, he’ll support me in whatever I want to do…. 
 
Yesterday morning I woke him up with my sobbing.  I made good choices, Tarah. I somehow have the benefit of never having GONE through the ‘bad times’ and doing the things we’re not supposed to do.  I fell in love with a worthy priesthood holder, home from his mission. We covenanted to each other eternity in the Temple. I picked well.  And he’s just STOLEN it all from me.  
 
My mom came yesterday after I phoned and asked her to.  I needed help.  My world just came crashing down. My good man just told me he’s taking away the one thing I have always been able to love most about him when he’s made me feel awful. 
 
Mom was excellent.  She loves [him], too. But she knows me pretty well.  I started telling her I don’t want to force him to do anything he’s not comfortable with, make sure not to be all judgy and whatever….and she basically stopped me dead and yelled at ME.  hahaha Moms, eh?  She told me I need to STOP being my people-pleasing self, and for once in my life look at ME, put my foot down, and DEMAND what I want.  I did NOT sign on for a priesthood-free home when I married him, and I am NOT okay with it. I signed on for following the Proclamation to the World on the Family, raising my babies in the gospel, with a wonderful example of a priesthood holder as patriarch. Not for my dad and brother-in-law to have to bless and baptize my babies, for me to have to track down my impossible-to-reach home teachers when I’m sick and need a blessing, for my daughters to have to travel to grandpa for a “father’s blessing” before the school year…. Yes, other people do it, and no, there’s nothing WRONG with that at all. At all!  It’s just not what I want, nor what I’ve ever wanted. 
 
Yesterday I let him have it, after my mom left. She was right, honestly.  
 
I called him on the fact that for MONTHS he’s been keeping this secret from me, hiding in the basement “researching” when he should have been looking for a job. I told him it’s no different than having kept a porn collection hidden from view. That when he first encountered the issue he should have come to me – we’re MARRIED, and this is a huge thing. If he’d come to me we could have worked through it, researched together, and we’d either both be anti-Mormon right now, or both be reconciled with things and moving on. Instead he decided to hide it from me, and has consequentially made the decision to, for this instant in time, ruin my life, without any input from anyone else outside of the damned internet.  (I HATE computers. HATE them.)
 
I called him on his claim that he’s still as good a man today as he was before he told me. I told him that the thing that MADE him a good man to me was not his amazing husband skills, but his priesthood. Because as my husband he sucks.  He makes no effort and does not try to make me happy.  I should feel every day like I’m loved, wanted, appreciated…a freaking princess for pity’s sake. And he can’t even get it together to celebrate my 30th birthday.  I work every day in this house, on blogs, on dinner, lunches, to try to make things run as smoothly as possible for this family. I literally exhaust my physical body to the point now, where while pregnant, it fights back and I cause myself agonizing pain. And he STILL won’t help me.  
 
I said if he’s taking the one redeeming thing that he brings to my marriage away, then he had better damn well figure his crap out and man up. Because I am not spending the rest of my life feeling awful-to-mediocre in my marriage to a selfish overaged child.  I told him that as long as he is willing he WILL be coming to church with us, and when that is no longer something he can do then we need to separate and figure things out; I refuse to have to explain to my daughters why their father, whom I married in the temple, doesn’t join us for worship on Sundays. I told him when he touches me I have no desire to reciprocate his actions. I don’t want to hold his hand, hug, snuggle… but he’s to continue to do it, and do it MORE, because I believe in time that will be important.   
 
Anyway. That’s what’s going on.  I’m heartbroken.  But I’m better today. Other than tearing up a little bit I haven’t cried yet, so that’s progress.  I’m feeling strong and empowered. I can do this – this too shall pass. And maybe, out of it, I’m going to get the husband I’ve always wanted to be head-over-heels for and one day he’ll come back to his faith.  Either way, I’m done being made to feel like I have to accept the status quo. I am better than that. I rock. I need to be made to feel like it’s true. 
 
When you ask if there’s anything you can do…I don’t think so. I’ll need a friend when I can’t have my mommy – I’m lucky she’s close enough by that I can take advantage of her like that! 
 
[My husband] needs help, but I don’t know who or what or where to go to get it.  Regardless of his feelings about church, he needs to figure himself out and figure out once and for all how the heck to be a man. He needs to take care of his family, and not just by working 40 hours for a paycheque. We need so much more than money from our spouses and parents.  

 So…yeah. That’s how I felt. Please note FELT. PAST tense.  I’m happy to expound in better, less horrifically-nasty ways in future, but at the time I was TICKED.

A year later, we have our differences. He’s not perfect, not the perfect husband, but he’s FAR from being the worst. And goodness knows I’m far from being the perfect wife! (Though I’m closer than he is at this whole perfect spouse game… hahaha) We have a long way to go, but have come so far together as a couple in the 12 months. As far as our marriage goes this “crisis of faith” was a wake-up call.  We are better, and will continue to get better. We’re far from throwing in the towel. We differ in opinions and religion, but we love each other and our girls.  And that’s what really counts.

A new journey.

Almost a year ago now, my life changed.

With the odd up and down and of course road bump along the way, the first 30 years of my life were pretty boring.

I was born and raised a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. My membership is something I’ve grown to love and appreciate for many reasons, not the least of which is the knowledge and understanding I have of the incredible Gospel of Christ; I am so incredibly blessed to know of his service and sacrifice, and so many dogmatic issues that go along with it.

But I’ve led a pretty sheltered life. Somewhere along the line I put myself in a bubble, and I just stayed there.  A cliche phrase we use at church is “in the world but not of the world.” Honestly, I think that pretty much perfectly sums up my experience as a teen. I don’t know; I was weird.

I am so thankful for my weirdness, though. It kept me from experiencing some serious pain and problems growing through those vulnerable years of my youth. I have never done any of a large number of ‘normal’ teenage stupid activities. I somehow escaped ever having the desire to really participate, or being in situations where I felt pressured to abandon my faith.

I never really felt connected to the church group, though, either.  I guess I was a bit of a crazy loner.

We joke, too, at church, about girls marrying young and popping out babies. I was never, EVER going to do that. The first “date” my now husband and I had we sat across a table from each other sipping hot chocolate expressing our disgust at the moronic option some of our Church-member peers were selecting, marrying before graduating some form of post-secondary educational institution.

We were married less than a year later.

I laugh; I sort of accidentally have the perfect little Mormon life! Or, at least, I did.

I married a returned-missionary (he served two years for the Church preaching the Gospel in Korea) in the Temple of the Lord, sealed together in an eternal family unit by the restored power of the Lord’s priesthood. Childbearing was accidental and easy a few years later. We’re both educated with university degrees and lucrative career options ahead of us.

Then one night, last year, he dropped the bomb. It came out of nowhere. At least, to me.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. HE needed to TALK. When was the last time in a decade this geeky introvert I somehow fell head-over heels in love with as a teen attending church dances, needed to talk?

My mind was a whirr….  Ohmigosh, he’s having an affair. I KNEW we weren’t having enough sex.  Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe he’s addicted to porn…. I couldn’t think of anything of gravity he may need to tell me that didn’t involve his admitting having broken a vow of chastity between us.

I was not ready for what he said. NEVER in my life had I ever contemplated the need to be ready for what came next. The affair, the internet leading to disgusting, damaging images of sexual misconduct… I don’t even remember now what all flashed through my head, but ANY of those options I felt at least somewhat prepared for.

“I don’t believe the Church is true anymore.”

That… that I didn’t see coming.

In some ways, WHAT a relief. My husband was still, IS still, MY husband, and only my husband. No dalliance or horrid behaviour was creeping into my perfect little bubble world by him.

But in others… I can’t imagine, really, he could have said much more damaging to me at the time. My perfect world, my bubble, instantaneously shattered. My perfect Peter Priesthood to my not-quite-Molly-Mormon, changed his mind.

How do you even DO that?

That night, I heard the voice of the Spirit whisper in my ear the calming words I needed to hear; my reaction otherwise was fury, but with what I know was the influence of the Lord I was able to sit quietly and let this dear, wonderful man, explain to me the struggle he’d been having in secret for MONTHS which led him to his ultimate decision to separate his religious affiliation from the LDS Church. At least, mentally.

He poured his heart out to me. Promised he was still a good man. Expressed his incapacitating fear of losing me and our children; I was pregnant with our second daughter at the time. Feeling repulsed and horrified I listened intently, quietly. I eventually let him hug me, and asked a few questions. We cried together.

And thus began the beginning of a completely different life from what I ever anticipated living. Life is a journey, and currently, mine has led me here.

It’s a year later. In less than a week we celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. We are closer as a couple now than we have been in years. I am an active member of the Church, and while he comes out with us regularly, he is not. We have a long way to go, and a long journey ahead of us, but I know we are an eternal unit, and we are worth fighting for.

Ask me anything.