“Don’t search for the truth until you can face the fact that those things you believe to be true may not be true.” Lloyd Gerber

It’s funny. Several years ago, I was on my way out of the church, but then I panicked and chose familiarity. I didn’t go to church any more often than I had been, but it was still something I knew, something that was comfortable, even though I simultaneously chafed within its bonds.

But last year, spring 2011, when I stood at that precipice again, I must have been ready to face facts. Because I took the leap and kept going.

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

Oy, has my mind stretched. There’s a teeny, tiny little part of me that wants to make my mother happy. But I know–I KNOW–I can never go back to believing. And I cannot pretend. I couldn’t squeeze back into the conformity. I’ve grown. I won’t pretend.

“I think no more of taking another wife than I do of buying a cow.”  -Heber C. Kimball

Well this just flat out pissed me off. Remember Johnny Lingo, and his 10-cow wife? She found her worth because he saw it in her, and showed her village that she was precious.  Nice, huh? But why did it take a man and a bushel of cows to show her that she is worth existing?  And no one, not Heber C. Kimball nor Joseph Smith himself, could afford to buy me like a cow. I am not a cow. I am not for sale. I am no man’s property. If Thomas Monson himself said that I had to marry him or else burn in the fiery pits of Mordor–oops, I mean, be cast into outer darkness–and even if my husband were foolish enough to agree, I’d laugh in his face.

“Religion does three things quite effectively: Divides people, Controls people, Deludes people.” ~ Carlespie Mary Alice McKinney

I’m dealing with the fallout of finally telling my mother. It’s uncomfortable. It’s the elephant in the room. She’s carefully not talking about it, but I know my mother well and I have a vivid imagination. Religion (or my lack thereof) has definitely divided me from my mother. Religion (and particularly in the form of my stepfather) has controlled my mother to the point she’s virtually unrecognizable. And the delusion speaks for itself.

I’m having a hard day today, but it will pass. I’m not going back. Never, never, never will I go back.