Hello, I am K
I am a health care provider (FNP and PMHNP). I love art, animals, and traveling.
About me
When I was twelve, I got baptized in Perú. I began to be bamboozled by the leadership of the church. I was taught to fear questions, to equate doubt with sin. They handed me certainty wrapped in scripture, and I swallowed it whole—trusting those in authority who taught that obedience was the same as faith.
For 43 years, I played the part. I nodded when I didn’t agree. I gave my heart, my time, my money, my voice—to a version of God that demanded sacrifice and obedience.
Slowly, painfully, something shifted. At 55, I broke free. And freedom—real freedom—isn’t loud at first. It’s quiet. It starts with a whisper: “This doesn’t feel right.” And then it grew. Now, I see with new eyes. My faith didn’t die. It just shed its chains.
# Why I left More stories of 'Why I left' the Mormon church
My deconstruction began when I confronted the heartbreaking reality of youth suicide rates in Utah. Around the same time, I visited the Philadelphia Temple open house. The contrast struck me deeply: how could the Church allocate such vast resources to constructing a temple while seemingly doing so little to address the suffering of young people in its own heartland?
For years, I had quietly shelved my concerns—questions I couldn’t answer, things that didn’t sit right. But this issue refused to go on the shelf. It cracked something open in me. Once that door was open, there was no going back. The rest, as they say, is history.