#feels sickening. I appreciate all the love and support immensely and I do sincerely apologize

[my-healing-journey]

June 4, 2021

At the advice of my therapist, I have written the following letter to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This has not been mailed to any church official, and has not been shared with any church members in particular. I felt it important to share here.

——

Dear Mormon Church,

To the friends I used to have, to the people who watched me grow, to those who held my babies, to you who comforted me, to you who brought me food, and to all of you who then turned and believed the worst of me when you were lied to,

I’m hurt.

You’ve hurt me.

I used to find peace at church. Now all I feel is wrecked.

A black ball of tightly wadded mess sits in my stomach, just below my diaphragm.

How could you?

How could you betray me like that?

For those who told me they loved me on a regular basis, and then turned eyes of hatred against me.

How could you?

You didn’t even bother to verify the stories with me. You didn’t ask me how I felt. You didn’t support me. You didn’t bother to come visit me. You looked at my children differently. You stopped talking to me altogether. You outcasted me.

Because of lies.

Lies that I still can’t believe you believed.

How could someone who claims to love you, who claims to cherish you, who claims to appreciate you, cast you aside without a second glance? Without a second thought?

This church is a boys’ club. I’d heard it before, but I didn’t believe it.

I know it now. I know it. I know because I’ve lived it. I’ve witnessed firsthand. And I can’t ignore it.

So where do I go from here? Do I leave the faith I still largely believe, in order to try and find peace? Since attending and even not attending brings me agony of spirit, do I cut ties and find some other way to move forward? Do I join another church? Despite the teachings unique to this church which I feel are true? Will the other churches just be glorified boys’ clubs, too?

Will I be damned if I do not raise my children in this church?

I am terrified.

I feel frozen with one foot dangling from a crumbling cliff face.

Do I stay or do I go?

Not everyone has been awful. Some people have been wonderful. They are the ones who I know are true friends. They tell me to do what I feel is best for me. But I don’t know what’s best for me. I’ve always been taught that church is best for me, and I’ve believed that for my entire life, but how can something which brings so much turmoil and sorrow be good?

“By their fruits shall ye know them”

The fruits I’ve seen here have been spoiled. I see others receiving whole, beautiful fruits, and mine used to be beautiful as well, but now they’re tarnished and brown and fermenting.

I don’t understand the disconnect.

I’m hurt.

To you who told me to pray for things to be fixed: I did.

To you who told me to pray for hearts to be softened: I did.

To you who told me that my marriage would work once a couple of decades had passed: I didn’t want to suffer. He didn’t deserve my suffering. I didn’t deserve my suffering. My children didn’t deserve to suffer.

Is the institution of marriage really more important than the souls it involves? Because he had the power to destroy my soul. My soul had been crushed. I managed to salvage what was left before it was completely gone.

I am scarred. So many scars.

And, unfortunately, you have added to those scars in such deep ways that I can’t bring myself to stand near a temple again.

I used to love church. I loved church. I loved the temple. Now I just want to cry whenever I see one. The buildings remind me of the pillar I used to have. The pillar which is now dark and tainted.

There was no “praying the problems away.”There was no “handing the problems to God.”There was no prayer which could have solved my problems.

I know, because I tried. I tried for seven years.

This wasn’t a trivial matter. This was my family. My life. My children’s lives.

I prayed for kindness. I prayed for his heart to be softened. I prayed for him to smile at me. I asked to be seen. I asked for gentleness and peace. But most of all, I prayed to just be kept safe. For my children and I to be protected from his anger.

We weren’t protected. I didn’t receive kindness from him. (And when I did, it was in lieu of an apology.) His heart wasn’t softened. His smiles were shallow. He didn’t see me. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t bring peace. And he hurt my children.

He told them to shut up when they were singing. He locked them outside the house. He hit them. He hurt them. He force-fed them. He screamed at them. His actions told me that he hated them. Those who are precious to me. Those who should’ve been precious to him.

I want you to know that he put on a show for you. He lied to you. He was pious and compliant at church. He was tender-hearted and kind at church. He was helpful and loving at church.

You were duped.

I don’t blame you for that. I was duped, too.

What I blame you for is the actions you took. And the inactions. When I vocalized what was happening, I was silenced. I wasn’t believed. I wasn’t seen. You ignored me. And then you shunned me when I dragged my broken soul somewhere else in order to save myself before I was completely destroyed. In order to protect my children, the most innocent of all.

I needed you, and you left me.

You who raised me. You who claimed to love me. You believed his lies, and you abandoned me.

These scars run deep.

I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.

I’m tired. I’m so tired. I hate feeling this way.

Some of my wounds have healed. These ones run deep.

I’m torn and wounded and hurting.

To those of you who actively and immediately took his side and hated me without bothering to ask me for my part:

Fuck you.

Congratulations, you’ve sided with an abuser and perpetuated the boys’ club. Get out of my life. And stay out. You are not welcome here.

To those of you who reached out in concern but then refused to hear my story because you wanted to remain neutral:

I don’t need you.

Mutual support should not be given when one of the parties threatens the other’s life and wellbeing. So fuck you, too.

To those of you who remained oblivious:

I cast no blame.

And to those of you who helped me, who cried with me, who embraced me and listened to me, who reached out with kindness and sincerity:

Thank you.

I want you to know that your support has been and is still immensely appreciated. Your comfort helps bring peace to my battered soul.

“By their fruits shall ye know them”

You are beautiful. Thank you for believing me. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for your patience and perseverance.

I am hurt. I am wounded. Church has failed me. It’s a giant boys’ club. I know that now.

I wish I could feel peace here again. I wish I could feel happiness here again. I wish I could heal these torn parts of my soul.

I don’t know how to move on.

God never left me. I started feeling His presence again as soon as I moved out of the house I had shared with my husband.

This has been such a confusing experience. Such a disheartening, sickening, anxiety-ridden, fear-inducing, loathsome experience.

I hate that my relationship with my religion has been blackened. I hate that this was one of the casualties of my divorce.

Why did it have to be like this?

I know that the church is a patriarchal society. I never hated that until I went through my divorce. Now I feel invisible most of the time. I feel like I’ve been swept under a rug. I’ve become one of the situations we’re not supposed to talk about. When the family isn’t forever, when the word “abuse” is appropriately used.

To all of the previously addressed church members,

To members everywhere:

Abuse is very real. It exists. It is rampant in religious circles. Those of us who have experienced abuse need your belief. We need your support. We need your understanding and your reassurance.

Wake up.

Believe the victims. Prosecute the offenders. Don’t let them continue to move on and do whatever they want to do. Don’t let them lay their hands on someone else, whether in blessing or in harm. Protect the innocent. Stand for truth and righteousness.

That’s what you’re supposed to do.

I want you to know that I’m not crazy. I never was. I never cheated on him. I never did anything to even remotely dishonor my marriage vows. I was loyal. I was faithful. I lived every commandment I was taught to the “T.” I was a good wife. I am a good mother.

And I hate you sometimes.

You’ve brought me so much pain and agony. To the deepest parts of my soul.

How dare you.

Not a question.

A statement.

How dare you.

God never left me. But you did.

#tw religious trauma #tw domestic violence #tw dv #tw child abuse