It's not the first time I've written about my troubles, and now as then quite a few people would post comments along the lines:
"Your church is so cruel to make you feel like that, who are they to judge you, forget about them, who needs church or god?"
or
"Our church wouldn't be so bad to you, come join us"
Being honest, I have thought about leaving numerous times, there was even a time about three years ago when I gave up on myself, I gave up on my ability to live up to gods expectations for me. That was the first step to my downfall. I've made more mistakes in those few years than I've ever made and hopefully ever likely to make. I undid much of the good I had done up to that point.
Leaving the church to live a worldly life, if you have so much as an ember of a testimony remaining is not a recipe for happiness. You will always come back, and when you do, your choices during that time will haunt you. If you want to leave, you had better make sure that you have no testimony left, or that you never had one in the first place, otherwise that happiness you left to find will forever remain elusive.
I tried walking away, misery and living death was the result. How can you turn your back on something that you know in your being to be true? I don't have the companionship of the holy ghost now, but I used to, I've felt his presence and spoken to me, spirit to spirit.
Despite the high standards the church has, the guilt and shame of me not meeting them, it doesn't change the fact of what I know. Why should I blame the church, and the imperfect people in it for my own failures?
Why stay if it hurts? This pain will only be temporary, it's the medicine for my illness. If I leave the misery will grow, like an untended wound until I am overcome by it.
Pain, like guilt isn't pleasant, but sometimes it's a sign of good things.
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Monday, 22 October 2012
Guilt
When you mess up, if it's not something big then the consequences are pretty simple to see and hurt is generally localized. If you broke your brothers bike, you know the wrong (bike broken) and who it affects (your brother) and sometimes maybe things can be put right or fixed (new bike perhaps).
When you mess up big, there are consequences far beyond what you may ever have thought, and more people than you would realize get hurt in ways you had never imagined. One of the sad parts is you only see all this after it happens, and had you known the extent of the damage to be done, you probably wouldn't have made the same choice.
Some things once done can't be fixed, you can't mend them, replace them or make up for them.
You can't take them back or undo them, no matter how hard you wish you could. In the heat of the moment when things are happening, when you're doing wrong, you ignore the consequences.
You don't think about what damage it will do to you, your friends, family or anyone it involves. But later you will, if you have a conscience, the guilt will come flooding in.
After you're baptised and confirmed, the holy ghost will be your constant companion, providing of course you're righteous. The moment you sin is the moment you lose that companionship. But don't worry, if what you have done is especially bad you get a new buddy, a new companion. He'll stay with you every waking moment and even in your sleep. Every time your mind is empty, every time something isn't taking all your concentration, in your dreams, your new pal is going to be there probably in ways the holy ghost never was. Say hello to your new companion; Guilt!
Firstly if you've done something wrong, and are feeling guilt as a result, congratulations on not being a psychopath. Guilt is a way for you to know that you HAVE done wrong, and separate from the consequences feel bad. In this sense guilt is good, in the same way pain is good. Without pain how do you know if something in your body is broken?
For me it had taken about 2 weeks for the guilt to come. Prior to that I was mostly in shock and had so much to deal with I didn't get the chance to think. But come it did.
After moving I suddenly had an overabundance of free time, with very little to occupy it (and even less money). Events were replaying in my head over and over again. Slowly it began to dawn on me the full extent of my actions.
I was overcome by that sickening feeling, I couldn't get to sleep, at times I wouldn't sleep for days, and then when I finally nodded off I wouldn't get up for days. At times late in the night or early in the morning I'd wake and sob like a little child, with my arms wrapped around my sides.
The names of those you've hurt float through your mind, and you try to imagine the pain you've put them in, which only makes the sickening feeling grow.
At times it gets so intense your blood pressure rises as you try to hold it in, only to bring on migraines or nose-bleeds. You are filled with an unmeasurable sense of loss; and it's (usually) all your fault.
About a month after moving is when I was excommunicated, and then about a month after that was Christmas, so I went to the country and stayed on my mothers farm...for about a month. A little after Christmas she went off on a short holiday and for a solid week I was alone, with nothing to do but look after some animals (no phone, internet or neighbours, the place is pretty remote). Let me tell you that week was one of the loneliest, most guilt ridden weeks of my life and is not something I would like to repeat.
During this time I had been praying and reading the scriptures a lot, and I had a lot rolling around my head. Once thing the bishop had said was I needed to experience godly sorrow. Well there isn't too much written about that but I spent a lot of time thinking about it, spent a lot of time thinking about the atonement.
The last big package of guilt to hit you, especially if you've done something serious is when you realize Christs part in all this. I think it was one or two days before new year when it hit me.
I was thinking about the emotional hardship that I was going through, that this was a part of the price I had to pay if I was to repent. I then realized, this is only a tiny fraction of the price to be paid for this sin, and that as long as I repented I would not have to pay in full. But someone does or more accurately someone already has.
At that moment I understood; Christ already paid in full for my sin(s). He already suffered the full amount, remember; I was excommunicated so what I'd done wasn't something small.
Because of my actions, my choices, my selfish decisions I have caused Christ to suffer unimaginable pain. He, the most innocent, most good to have ever been a man, of his own free will, has taken what is rightfully my place in the share of justice to be given out. That by my hand put such pain on him, I might as well have been there whipping him myself as he made his way to Calvary.
Try to comprehend the kind of guilt that accompanies the realization that you're responsible for the suffering that Christ went through. How unworthy you feel. Causing the son of god to bleed at every pore.
That was my lowest point.
When you mess up big, there are consequences far beyond what you may ever have thought, and more people than you would realize get hurt in ways you had never imagined. One of the sad parts is you only see all this after it happens, and had you known the extent of the damage to be done, you probably wouldn't have made the same choice.
You can't take them back or undo them, no matter how hard you wish you could. In the heat of the moment when things are happening, when you're doing wrong, you ignore the consequences.
You don't think about what damage it will do to you, your friends, family or anyone it involves. But later you will, if you have a conscience, the guilt will come flooding in.
After you're baptised and confirmed, the holy ghost will be your constant companion, providing of course you're righteous. The moment you sin is the moment you lose that companionship. But don't worry, if what you have done is especially bad you get a new buddy, a new companion. He'll stay with you every waking moment and even in your sleep. Every time your mind is empty, every time something isn't taking all your concentration, in your dreams, your new pal is going to be there probably in ways the holy ghost never was. Say hello to your new companion; Guilt!
Firstly if you've done something wrong, and are feeling guilt as a result, congratulations on not being a psychopath. Guilt is a way for you to know that you HAVE done wrong, and separate from the consequences feel bad. In this sense guilt is good, in the same way pain is good. Without pain how do you know if something in your body is broken?
For me it had taken about 2 weeks for the guilt to come. Prior to that I was mostly in shock and had so much to deal with I didn't get the chance to think. But come it did.
After moving I suddenly had an overabundance of free time, with very little to occupy it (and even less money). Events were replaying in my head over and over again. Slowly it began to dawn on me the full extent of my actions.
I was overcome by that sickening feeling, I couldn't get to sleep, at times I wouldn't sleep for days, and then when I finally nodded off I wouldn't get up for days. At times late in the night or early in the morning I'd wake and sob like a little child, with my arms wrapped around my sides.
At times it gets so intense your blood pressure rises as you try to hold it in, only to bring on migraines or nose-bleeds. You are filled with an unmeasurable sense of loss; and it's (usually) all your fault.
About a month after moving is when I was excommunicated, and then about a month after that was Christmas, so I went to the country and stayed on my mothers farm...for about a month. A little after Christmas she went off on a short holiday and for a solid week I was alone, with nothing to do but look after some animals (no phone, internet or neighbours, the place is pretty remote). Let me tell you that week was one of the loneliest, most guilt ridden weeks of my life and is not something I would like to repeat.
During this time I had been praying and reading the scriptures a lot, and I had a lot rolling around my head. Once thing the bishop had said was I needed to experience godly sorrow. Well there isn't too much written about that but I spent a lot of time thinking about it, spent a lot of time thinking about the atonement.
The last big package of guilt to hit you, especially if you've done something serious is when you realize Christs part in all this. I think it was one or two days before new year when it hit me.
I was thinking about the emotional hardship that I was going through, that this was a part of the price I had to pay if I was to repent. I then realized, this is only a tiny fraction of the price to be paid for this sin, and that as long as I repented I would not have to pay in full. But someone does or more accurately someone already has.
At that moment I understood; Christ already paid in full for my sin(s). He already suffered the full amount, remember; I was excommunicated so what I'd done wasn't something small.
Because of my actions, my choices, my selfish decisions I have caused Christ to suffer unimaginable pain. He, the most innocent, most good to have ever been a man, of his own free will, has taken what is rightfully my place in the share of justice to be given out. That by my hand put such pain on him, I might as well have been there whipping him myself as he made his way to Calvary.
Try to comprehend the kind of guilt that accompanies the realization that you're responsible for the suffering that Christ went through. How unworthy you feel. Causing the son of god to bleed at every pore.
That was my lowest point.
Sunday, 21 October 2012
The miracle of forgiveness
So a week after the counsel that excommunicated me, I read "The miracle of forgiveness" by Spencer W. Kimball.
Firstly, the title of the book should be changed, I think something along the lines of "The little book of mormon shame" or "You thought you were good!"
Joking aside, Kimball doesn't mince words, when a slightly more shy bishop would dance around the bush he cuts right to the chase and lays down exactly whats not ok (that I'd imagine a lot of members would have thought was) and some of the more (possible) serious consequences.
If you're an average member, i.e. you've not done anything that warrants being excommunicated, this book will scare the daylights out of you. You'll begin to wonder about just where you stand (spiritually) in light of the tough standards of Kimball. My best friend is really afraid of reading this book. My only advice for the average member on this book is to make sure you read the last three chapters, they will really really help with the suicidal guilt that this book induces.
My experience reading was quite different. Being excommunicated, as I read through I really a little impervious.
The worst has already happened, I've been excommunicated, at that point in time there wasn't really anything that book could have said to me to make me feel any worse than I had already felt. So I breezed through it, with only a few parts that got me worried.
The first was the comment President Kimball had made to a former member who he had excommunicated, "well you'd better hope you don't die before you get re-baptised"(I paraphrase), this was something of a threat as apparently that person was taking the whole thing lightly. Frightened the life out of me, I though I really can't die before I get things fixed.
The second one, I can't remember the exact quote but my understanding of it was that someone without the priesthood couldn't attend priesthood meetings. I asked the bishop about this in our next meeting and he said that's not the case.
Long story short, if you've been excommunicated there is only one line in this book that will really scare you. It's a good book for you to read and the most important chapters to read are the last three.
If you've not been excommunicated, try to read it with a friend and support each other as you do and please please please make sure you read the last three chapters, these are the really important ones after all the hard stuff before them.
I need to re-read them as I can't really remember their message.
Firstly, the title of the book should be changed, I think something along the lines of "The little book of mormon shame" or "You thought you were good!"
Joking aside, Kimball doesn't mince words, when a slightly more shy bishop would dance around the bush he cuts right to the chase and lays down exactly whats not ok (that I'd imagine a lot of members would have thought was) and some of the more (possible) serious consequences.
If you're an average member, i.e. you've not done anything that warrants being excommunicated, this book will scare the daylights out of you. You'll begin to wonder about just where you stand (spiritually) in light of the tough standards of Kimball. My best friend is really afraid of reading this book. My only advice for the average member on this book is to make sure you read the last three chapters, they will really really help with the suicidal guilt that this book induces.
 |
| Didn't like his jokes. |
The worst has already happened, I've been excommunicated, at that point in time there wasn't really anything that book could have said to me to make me feel any worse than I had already felt. So I breezed through it, with only a few parts that got me worried.
The first was the comment President Kimball had made to a former member who he had excommunicated, "well you'd better hope you don't die before you get re-baptised"(I paraphrase), this was something of a threat as apparently that person was taking the whole thing lightly. Frightened the life out of me, I though I really can't die before I get things fixed.
The second one, I can't remember the exact quote but my understanding of it was that someone without the priesthood couldn't attend priesthood meetings. I asked the bishop about this in our next meeting and he said that's not the case.
Long story short, if you've been excommunicated there is only one line in this book that will really scare you. It's a good book for you to read and the most important chapters to read are the last three.
If you've not been excommunicated, try to read it with a friend and support each other as you do and please please please make sure you read the last three chapters, these are the really important ones after all the hard stuff before them.
I need to re-read them as I can't really remember their message.
Friday, 19 October 2012
Hope
Sorry for the downer of the last post, but if I'm going to do this properly I need to include everything. To balance each depressing post I'll try to include a positive one. You certainly get a sense of the kind of the smothering hopelessness I experience. Also it comes and goes, at times I'm fine, and then others (usually at night, waiting to fall asleep) it all floods back and I'm overwhelmed, then the future seems dark and without hope.
But there was and is hope.
The first glimmer came to me from my best friend. At the time I had lost everything, my home, job, family and religion. I had nothing; she gave me a place to stay and well, was just my friend.
Listened to me and gave me some good straight up advice (speaking to the bishop for example). She was a really awesome friend, and my time around her did nothing but make me want to better myself. I don't know if she's ever realized how close I came to just giving up on church, life, everything.
Then came the time after excommunication. First week or so was pretty depressing, it was hard to get over the fact that I wasn't a member anymore. The church had been at what I had built my life on, my principles, sense of what was right or wrong and what I thought success was. This, this meant that I was a failure. OK I won't keep droning on about those feelings because they get obsessive.
A week later I went to church, and things didn't get any worse. So I started praying and reading scriptures (which is something I hadn't really done in years). And since I was near the temple I started to go and look. You see I've never been to a temple, and until late last year I had never even seen any temple in person. So I finally got to see, and it felt really good.
Seemed kind of ironic though, this place that I've always wanted to go, this is the closest I've been and yet at the same time never in my life was I further away from being able to go in.
Anyway, things didn't seem some completely bleak then. Although looking back I can't see much, I remember having hope. Maybe it was the feeling of having even a little after losing it all. The simple fact that things had stopped getting worse, gave me reason enough to hope.
The level and I guess kind of hope I've had over the last year has changed. At first it was the hope that maybe the world as I knew it wasn't going to end; followed by the thought that maybe I really could change the person I was (I'd made some major breakthroughs at that time kicking some habits). Next was that given by enlightenment of the meaning of godly sorrow; having read that it was needed for true repentance (I'd started to freak out, what if I never got it?).
The most recent hope that I've been given was the last time I spoke with my bishop, in July. He told me in a few months time a year will have passed, and we could start thinking about getting baptised, and then visiting the temple. To finally go to the temple (not for my endowment of course), I almost cried when he told me that.
A good friend, hope (just a little), and a goal makes a huge difference. After having something of a relapse the last few months (moving multiple times, job insecurities etc.) I'm starting to pick up again, bad habits are being kicked and I might even get around to reading and praying tomorrow.
But there was and is hope.
Listened to me and gave me some good straight up advice (speaking to the bishop for example). She was a really awesome friend, and my time around her did nothing but make me want to better myself. I don't know if she's ever realized how close I came to just giving up on church, life, everything.
Then came the time after excommunication. First week or so was pretty depressing, it was hard to get over the fact that I wasn't a member anymore. The church had been at what I had built my life on, my principles, sense of what was right or wrong and what I thought success was. This, this meant that I was a failure. OK I won't keep droning on about those feelings because they get obsessive.
A week later I went to church, and things didn't get any worse. So I started praying and reading scriptures (which is something I hadn't really done in years). And since I was near the temple I started to go and look. You see I've never been to a temple, and until late last year I had never even seen any temple in person. So I finally got to see, and it felt really good.
Seemed kind of ironic though, this place that I've always wanted to go, this is the closest I've been and yet at the same time never in my life was I further away from being able to go in.
Anyway, things didn't seem some completely bleak then. Although looking back I can't see much, I remember having hope. Maybe it was the feeling of having even a little after losing it all. The simple fact that things had stopped getting worse, gave me reason enough to hope.
The level and I guess kind of hope I've had over the last year has changed. At first it was the hope that maybe the world as I knew it wasn't going to end; followed by the thought that maybe I really could change the person I was (I'd made some major breakthroughs at that time kicking some habits). Next was that given by enlightenment of the meaning of godly sorrow; having read that it was needed for true repentance (I'd started to freak out, what if I never got it?).
The most recent hope that I've been given was the last time I spoke with my bishop, in July. He told me in a few months time a year will have passed, and we could start thinking about getting baptised, and then visiting the temple. To finally go to the temple (not for my endowment of course), I almost cried when he told me that.
A good friend, hope (just a little), and a goal makes a huge difference. After having something of a relapse the last few months (moving multiple times, job insecurities etc.) I'm starting to pick up again, bad habits are being kicked and I might even get around to reading and praying tomorrow.
The Shame
Writing, in this semi-anonymous manner gives me some room, the chance to share; to just tell someone. I have up to this point taken every precaution to keep my secrets...secret.
Who knows? My wife, ALL her family, some of my family, the bishopric, and my best friend.
Why? The shame.
I'd like to be able to say I made mistakes, which technically is true, but I don't think that word really covers it. A mistake is deciding to become a lawyer even though you love medicine or getting a mortgage on a home in 2006.
Mistakes involve some element of innocence in the decision making process. I plain did wrong, on numerous occasions, and I knew it. There was a time last year when I was just being a bad, selfish person, who knowingly did bad, even here I don't want to say what they were( I didn't commit a crime).
I lost my job because of it, shortly after everyone there knew about it, and then everyone where we lived. I left the home a week later, moved to a city so far away it's almost another country.
The shame, when you walk past someone on the street, and they know something about you that's deeply personal, that is horrifically embarrassing. In your head when you see them, you know they're thinking "that's him, he's the guy who did THAT". They're judging you, looking down on you, and disgusted by you all at the same time. You imagine they tell their kids to keep away you're so tainted.
The shame, when you know others know, you feel naked, wanting nothing else but to shrink up and disappear. To have never been.
Shame that is so overwhelming it makes you sweat from the fear that people might somehow, magically figure out or discover what happened.
Even now, over a year later. After everything came to light, after losing my job, family and home, after (voluntarily) going to the bishop, after the disciplinary counsel, and I've not made any serious mistakes since, but the shame remains.
The disciplinary counsel was hard, I mean really really hard. Going into the details of what happened in front the bishop and three, maybe four others. Sitting there laying things out for them my face was hot and red from embarrassment, and then tears. Waiting outside for them to decide what to do, and the result being excommunication.
I have flashbacks of this and other moments like this. One time I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, when these events started replaying in my mind. Next thing I realized was I'd been standing there for 50 minutes, the water was now cold and I had a headache.
My feeling at this point is even with repentance I'll never lose the shame, if in five or ten years time someone asks why I separated from my wife, I'll have to lie. And if my wife ever wants to be with me again, and people find out then how embarrassed is she going to be?
I've read the miracle of forgiveness; a difficult book to read, emotionally. If I were to be re-baptised, from my understanding of what Spencer W. Kimball said, yes I could go to the temple, yes I could have the priesthood, but even living a righteous life the callings I could serve would be limited.
Maybe, if I live a righteous life, and complete the repentance process I can be forgiven, if not by myself, my wife or her family, then at least by Christ. Even then, the shame will remain.
Don't let this post get you down, read the follow on "hope".
Who knows? My wife, ALL her family, some of my family, the bishopric, and my best friend.
I'd like to be able to say I made mistakes, which technically is true, but I don't think that word really covers it. A mistake is deciding to become a lawyer even though you love medicine or getting a mortgage on a home in 2006.
Mistakes involve some element of innocence in the decision making process. I plain did wrong, on numerous occasions, and I knew it. There was a time last year when I was just being a bad, selfish person, who knowingly did bad, even here I don't want to say what they were( I didn't commit a crime).
I lost my job because of it, shortly after everyone there knew about it, and then everyone where we lived. I left the home a week later, moved to a city so far away it's almost another country.
The shame, when you walk past someone on the street, and they know something about you that's deeply personal, that is horrifically embarrassing. In your head when you see them, you know they're thinking "that's him, he's the guy who did THAT". They're judging you, looking down on you, and disgusted by you all at the same time. You imagine they tell their kids to keep away you're so tainted.
The shame, when you know others know, you feel naked, wanting nothing else but to shrink up and disappear. To have never been.
Shame that is so overwhelming it makes you sweat from the fear that people might somehow, magically figure out or discover what happened.
Even now, over a year later. After everything came to light, after losing my job, family and home, after (voluntarily) going to the bishop, after the disciplinary counsel, and I've not made any serious mistakes since, but the shame remains.
The disciplinary counsel was hard, I mean really really hard. Going into the details of what happened in front the bishop and three, maybe four others. Sitting there laying things out for them my face was hot and red from embarrassment, and then tears. Waiting outside for them to decide what to do, and the result being excommunication.
I have flashbacks of this and other moments like this. One time I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, when these events started replaying in my mind. Next thing I realized was I'd been standing there for 50 minutes, the water was now cold and I had a headache.
My feeling at this point is even with repentance I'll never lose the shame, if in five or ten years time someone asks why I separated from my wife, I'll have to lie. And if my wife ever wants to be with me again, and people find out then how embarrassed is she going to be?
I've read the miracle of forgiveness; a difficult book to read, emotionally. If I were to be re-baptised, from my understanding of what Spencer W. Kimball said, yes I could go to the temple, yes I could have the priesthood, but even living a righteous life the callings I could serve would be limited.
Maybe, if I live a righteous life, and complete the repentance process I can be forgiven, if not by myself, my wife or her family, then at least by Christ. Even then, the shame will remain.
Don't let this post get you down, read the follow on "hope".
Start
I wasn't born into the church, my mother became a convert and I was baptised when I was eight. A few years later my parents got divorced(my father was never a member) and eventually she and the rest of my family stopped going, I continued.
I'm now thirty years old, married for some time with a son but separated, they live in another country and the next time I might see them both is in a year if things work out.
Despite being a member since I was seven or eight I have never been to the temple. Not for a lack of desire but that I've never been worthy. I always planned to go on a mission, but again not being worthy prevented me and then I married.
One year ago my life was destroyed by a series of stupid choices I made, I became separated and not too long later was excommunicated.
I'm incredibly angry at how things have turned out, not at church but at myself, for falling so short of my potential. I've let down my wife, my son, my friends, the church, and myself.
After moving to a new city, and being completely inactive since June I attended sacrament last week.
Being new, the missionaries asked (as they always do) "Are you a member?". After thinking about it for a while and being slow to answer I finally said no.
The less people know the better, so I won't be telling anyone who I really am, or any of my past. I'll just be one of those investigators who never makes a commitment. Too embarrassed, too ashamed.
Writing is not something I do easily, but I have no one to speak to about this, so it going here. Apart from mostly ex-mormon anti-LDS stuff there isn't really anything out there on the net about what it's like being excommunicated or how to deal with it, especially if you'd like to come back.
There is almost nothing written about the topic on lds.org and felt that, now I'm excommunicated what do I do? If someone finds any of these posts useful great, if not it doesn't matter. No one but these pages will know my story.
I'm now thirty years old, married for some time with a son but separated, they live in another country and the next time I might see them both is in a year if things work out.
Despite being a member since I was seven or eight I have never been to the temple. Not for a lack of desire but that I've never been worthy. I always planned to go on a mission, but again not being worthy prevented me and then I married.
One year ago my life was destroyed by a series of stupid choices I made, I became separated and not too long later was excommunicated.
After moving to a new city, and being completely inactive since June I attended sacrament last week.
Being new, the missionaries asked (as they always do) "Are you a member?". After thinking about it for a while and being slow to answer I finally said no.
The less people know the better, so I won't be telling anyone who I really am, or any of my past. I'll just be one of those investigators who never makes a commitment. Too embarrassed, too ashamed.
Writing is not something I do easily, but I have no one to speak to about this, so it going here. Apart from mostly ex-mormon anti-LDS stuff there isn't really anything out there on the net about what it's like being excommunicated or how to deal with it, especially if you'd like to come back.
There is almost nothing written about the topic on lds.org and felt that, now I'm excommunicated what do I do? If someone finds any of these posts useful great, if not it doesn't matter. No one but these pages will know my story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)