May 17th is a day that will be forever etched on that part of the inside of my skull that I can actually see.

Two years ago today:

I lost my virginity.
I left the woman I love.
I said goodbye to friends, family.
I flew to Provo, UT, to enter the Missionary Training Center.

I would have been returning from Singapore today, surrounded by friends and family cheering my return. Every one so glad to see me, proud of what I had done, and happy to say they know me.

What would have happened with you? Would you have been proud of me? Happy to see me? Would you have moved on by now, or would you have waited? Would things have ended up any differently, or would it have been just as tragic?

I suppose I’ll never know.

I don’t plan on sleeping tonight. Too many dreams.

My good friend Valerie Tarico has published an article for the Huffington Post, a wildly popular internet newspaper. The article is entitled “When Losing Faith Means Leaving Your Family,” and uses pieces of my story to introduce the topic.

Please visit and vote up her article!

So I suppose that it’s high time that I post this on my own blog.

I was contacted through a mutual friend by the man who runs FriendlyAtheist.com a month or two ago. Apparently, he had somehow heard the story of my de-conversion, and decided that it was fascinating enough to grace his front page. I was quite honored, as this is a blog I read daily and highly respect, and submitted my story promptly.

Here it is - Leaving Mormonism: Michael’s Story

The local missionaries set up a table in front of the HUB today, singing hymns, handing out pass-along cards, and generally pestering whoever happened to be so unfortunate to not be engaged in conversation right when they walked by. I happened to be one of these people.

Leaving the church was the single most difficult experience in my life, bar none. I lost everything I had, and gained precious little to replace it with. I am conflicted because I do not want to bring that level of pain to any other human life, but at the same time, I strongly believe that religion of all sorts is a destructive (or at least inhibitive) force in our world. I generally make a point of abstaining from trying to “convert” anyone to my opinions for that very reason.

Imagine my discomfort when approached by a representative of the same sect that so recently tore me apart.

I remained polite. Mostly.

He approached me asking my thoughts on the subject of religion. I gave him fair warning that he was asking the wrong fellow, as I am a recent apostate. In retrospect, I probably would have been better off had I stated that I was gay, but alas.

He then began to ask in feigned bewilderment what may have caused this oh-so-evil choice of mine. “I read too much. Are you from Utah, bychance?”

He replied that he wasn’t, but that he was from Arizona. That was all that I needed.

“You are from Snowflake, then. You have some level of confidence here, so I would assume that you have been on the mission for over one year, meaning that you are 20 years old. You were raised in a Mormon household, where your parents taught you from birth that the church is what it says it is, yet you had close relatives that strayed from the church. This emboldened and strengthened you in your youth because you saw how fragile faith can be. You attended and graduated seminary in high school, and you didn’t date much - you were waiting for your sacred companion, whom you would meet after you return home from your mission. You attended BYU for either a semester or a full year, where you lived in the dorms and opened your mission call with a great number of friends. You were disappointed at first to be called to somewhere as un-exotic as Seattle, Washington, but soon reconciled as you realized that it was where ‘the Lord’ wanted you to go. At this point on your mission, you have been approached with some people bearing anti-mormon facts and literature. You dismissed their claims as Satan-inspired lies and dismissed them as enemies of the church who want nothing more than to destroy everything that you hold dear. Nonetheless, you did hear some points they said which were curious to you. You asked your leader what his opinion of the points were, and took his opinion as solid evidence that they were nothing but slanderous lies. You are now looking forward to fulfilling your two-year commission and returning to BYU, where you hope to find that eternal companion and raise little missionaries of your own. Am I close?”

“…how did you know I was from Snowflake?”

The rest, apparently, didn’t phase him.

It didn’t take me long to realize a couple of things:

- He felt that he had a monopoly on truth, enlightenment, and wisdom. I, who turned away from the church, am clearly foolish and ignorant. After all, if I knew what he knows, I’d be Mormon, right? This spiritual arrogance was pointed out to me when I was Mormon, but I scoffed at it then. This was the first time I saw the phenomenon from the other side.

- He believed that anything critical of the church was flawed because he felt the church was true. For some reason, this circular logic is quite pervasive in religion

- He thought that he would be able to dissuade me from my current convictions if he could prove to me that the church gives you warm fuzzies, which I must have never felt before.

But the one realization that really shocked me was about myself. I didn’t want to de-convert him to atheism. I didn’t desire to destroy his faith or his religion.

My sole desire was to show him that, while he may strongly disagree with it, my position is a legitimate one. My points are reasonable and have their basis.

I imagine that these feelings arose from my conflicts with the mormons I care about.

I knew a mormon man back home whom I respected while I was a member, and grew significant respect for as I was leaving the church. He is the father of a past girlfriend of mine, and one of the most intelligent men I know. He recognized that the church has a great number of fundamental problems which are not easily answered. He studied these things quite thoroughly, and while his heart kept him from being completely unbiased, tried to remain impartial. He is an active member of the church, but can still understand and respect those who leave it.

This is not the case, usually. I remember speaking to one friend in particular about it. She asked me why it was, exactly, that I left. I explained in no unequivocal terms for the better part of an hour the things I found, the conclusions I came to, and the choices I made. It felt incredible to have her listen and apparently understand my concerns. However, at the end of the hour, I asked her opinion. She answered with a succinct, “I think that you left so that you could sin and not feel guilty about it.” I cannot express my frustration at that point.

I heard that same sentiment expressed while I was in the church - so-and-so read anti, left the church, and now he/she is an amoral party hound who attacks the church with vengeance.

The belief that apostates leave the church due to sin or the desire to do so is dreadfully common among the faithful. It is also insulting and highly frustrating to those of us who have.

I did not leave the church so I could feed my vices. I had never even tasted alcohol before deciding to leave the church. I did not anticipate having sex for quite some time. I never did drugs, hated cigarettes, and watched plenty of R rated movies when I was mormon anyway.

Even if I did have great desire for these so-called carnal lusts, I’d have to be a complete fool to trade my eternal salvation for a bottle I’ve never tasted and a fun evening. The very idea that a person of any intelligence would do such a thing is quite laughable. Yet, this is the common belief.

It could be that no believing member wants to allow for the possibility that an apostate might have legitimate concerns, for a multitude of reasons.

I just hope that my family one day understands the true motivation for my choices. I don’t think that the odds are in my favor.