Meet Kate, a woman who has faced incredible challenges as she navigated a profound faith transition. Kate was “born in the covenant” and spent her life in the Church. But at 45, her “proverbial Mormon shelf” came crashing down, triggered by a series of life changes that left her feeling lost, uprooted, and homeless—all tied to her decision to leave the church. Her journey out of Mormonism was not a single event, but a series of experiences that built up over time: dealing with depression, learning to love her child unconditionally, realizing she had been enduring emotional abuse from her mother, and marriages that ended in divorce. She delved into sources and perspectives she had been told to avoid, discovering information that shattered her faith. In the end, she left the church and began a new chapter in her life, embracing freedom and authenticity. Now, Kate is determined to help others who are also going through transitions, especially those leaving high-demand religions like Mormonism, and to offer the compassion she once sought for herself.
I’m a mom, dog mom, divorcee, former teacher, barbershopper, future author, and public speaker. Born in the covenant, this past summer I turned 45 years old, and for my birthday I got a sweet midlife crisis. In a matter of months, I ended my 18-year teaching career to support my husband in his new career out of state, I quit grad school halfway through, my shelf came crashing down, I left the LDS church for good, my second husband and I divorced, I severed ties with my parents and others who refused to show empathy or respect my boundaries, we sold our home, I packed the place up single-handedly, and wound up homeless and unemployed. And all parts of this midlife transition were tied to my decision to first stay in, then ultimately leave the church. I was a Mormon.
In my second year of teaching, I met a man and fell in love. Six months after meeting, we were sealed in the temple. Eleven months after that, we had a baby, Morgan, and postpartum depression hit me like a ton of bricks. Our marriage went south, mostly because he just couldn’t relate to my mental illness. After six years of marriage, we divorced. Soon after the divorce was finalized, I met another man on an LDS dating app. With encouragement from both of our bishops, I married far earlier than was healthy (again, only six months). We had four kids between us, and our daughters were the best of friends. Unfortunately, my new husband and I were not. Our marriage was never a particularly happy one, but it wasn’t supposed to be, was it? Obedience. Sacrifice. Endurance to the End. That doctrine had been pounded into us since birth and there was no way we were going to waver from the straight and narrow. At least we were working toward happiness in the next life.
My then 13-year-old Morgan came out to me as non-binary and pansexual. I was shocked and had no idea how to respond to this. I’d considered myself an LGBTQ+ ally before that, but I told Morgan I wasn’t ready to use her preferred pronouns. I did all I could to learn about LGBTQ+ youth through a gospel lens. I listened to podcasts, I joined a support group, and spoke with LDS parents with children who identified as LGBTQ+. I still wasn’t ready. Finally, Morgan was in a play where the cast and crew used their preferred pronouns. I saw the difference it made in Morgan to be referred to by these pronouns of choice. Morgan was more confident and radiated happiness. I decided then and there that if I had to choose between supporting the church’s doctrine and loving my child, I’d choose to love my child. The church’s treatment of LGBTQ+ individuals weighed heavily on my shelf, but even then, it wasn’t quite ready to break.
I heard a talk from a very nuanced member of the gospel speak about the covenant to “mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort.” However, when people leave the church, members aren’t so compassionate. Instead of treating these who have lost their faith, with love and compassion, we often ostracize them and don’t seek to understand their pain. This message really resonated with me. I had a bunch of family and friends who had left the church, and I realized I had never made an effort to understand why they had left. So I started asking them, out of genuine curiosity and concern, what caused them to leave. Every time I asked, I heard stories of pain and sorrow, and oftentimes they were surprised that I had asked at all. Mormons typically didn’t do that sort of thing. The way the church teaches its members to judge former members as “lazy learners” and “sinners” added additional weight to my shelf.
I realized that I’d been abused my entire life by my mother. Her explosive rage and inability to ever apologize caught me off guard one day when I called her to say hello. As she yelled at me for having the audacity to call her when she was in a bad mood, I realized that I was never the problem as I’d been led to believe. I’d spent my entire life feeling as though I was responsible for her anger, and it dawned on me for the first time that it had never been my fault. I tried setting boundaries with her, letting her know that if she treated me that way, I’d have no choice but to leave. She yelled at me for calling her out on her behavior. I searched everything I could find about what the prophets had taught about anger and abuse: “If you’re an abuser, you’re in the wrong and you need to repent.” Then I looked at what they say to victims of abuse: “If you’ve been abused, you need to forgive your abuser. Forgive 70 x 7. Forgive your abusers or God’s not going to forgive you.” Some leaders went so far as to tell the victims to take responsibility for the abuse they received. It was appalling.
My husband made the unilateral decision to take a job in Seattle. We were living in Utah County at the time, so this was to be a pretty big transition. I asked my husband if he’d consider waiting another two years until Morgan graduated, but he told me the Lord was telling him that this was what he needed to do. I was put in the impossible situation of having to choose between my husband and my child. My shelf was getting heavier by the day. I asked myself why my husband had the authority to decide when and where we moved. I questioned how on earth a loving God could put a mother in a position to have to choose between her husband and her only child. I was angered by the way the sacrifices I’d made in our marriage went unnoticed by both God and my husband. The weight of these concerns, along with everything else that preceeded them caused my shelf to crack even more.
I stumbled upon a podcast called Latter-Day Struggles. The objective of the hosts, it seemed, was to support Mormons in their faith struggles and help them to become more loving and nuanced members. That’s what I wanted for myself, so I binged. I couldn’t get enough. I felt seen and heard. I understood that I wasn’t crazy or wicked for having questions and concerns about the church’s policies and doctrines. My doubts were valid. I couldn’t focus on anything other than my faith unraveling before my eyes. The podcast gave me both the curiosity and the courage to read the forbidden anti-Mormon documents I’d heard about from some of my exmormon friends. I then spent three days doing little else but reading the Church’s Gospel Topics Essays, A Letter to My Wife, and The CES Letter. I felt “the scales had fallen from my eyes.” I could see clearly. It all made sense. Everything I had been taught about the church was utter bullshit, and I was finally free to wash the stench from me.
When I left the church, everyone was just as surprised as I was. I’d had some experiences that weighed heavily on my proverbial shelf, until everything finally came crashing down. As I was redeemed from the Cult of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I was planning on breaking the news to EVERYONE! I started a TikTok page during this time under the handle Midlife Exmo Momma. One of my first videos was of me burning my marriage license from the temple and the copy of The Family: A Proclamation to the World that accompanied it. As I knew I’d be consolidating my life into a storage unit, I felt free to get rid of more than just papers. I burned my temple clothes, my missionary journals and handbooks. I tossed my scriptures and every journal from my youth with pages filled with self-loathing. I didn’t hesitate to toss these reminders of the lies I wanted to leave behind me.
I decided to do the same for my belief system. Decluttering my home while decluttering my faith was both inspiring and symbolic. I spread out all of my beliefs before me to determine which ones sparked joy. The beliefs, or values I kept were those that were not unique to the Mormon church. I held tight to beliefs that virtues like kindness, compassion, service, love, laughter, hard work, gratitude, and honesty would make for a better life. However, the beliefs that were unique to the Mormon church, like Joseph Smith’s divine role as prophet, polygamy, The Book of Mormon, celestial marriage, the priesthood, temple work, etc. etc. etc. could all go into the “give away” pile. No, not the “give away” pile. The “burn to ashes” pile, because these beliefs are going to do anyone any good.
I have a good idea of who I was, I’m beginning to better understand who I am, and I have a clear vision of who I want to be. I want to take the lessons I’ve learned from these crazy life experiences, and use them to help others. I want to support those who are going through transitions of any kind, especially leaving high-demand religions like Mormonism. And so, as I embark on this new chapter of life, I do so with gratitude to have landed with a community that is supportive and relatable and does a hell of a good job at “mourning with those who mourn and comforting those who stand in need of comfort.”
Kate
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