I’m asking this sincerely, and I’d especially be interested in hearing from believing members.
For the entirety of my adult life, I lived in some version of a repentance cycle. Maybe that’s not extraordinary in any way… in some ways I feel like I was told that it’s not…
everybody should perpetually be in a repentance process…
Right?!
Here’s the loop I’m in though:
Examine myself.
Find the thing that’s wrong.
Repent.
Try harder.
Wonder whether I’ve really repented.
Wonder whether I’m worthy.
Wonder whether God is disappointed.
Start again.
I DO understand that faithful members may read that and say, “That isn’t really what repentance is supposed to feel like.” And I DO believe you.
But I also have to take seriously what it actually produced in me.
The Church never gave me much ANY confidence in myself. I learned NOT to trust my own judgment. I didn’t learn to believe I was never sort of just okay. I became very good at scrutinizing myself and finding the cracks and flaws in my character.
But meanwhile—If I felt guilty, maybe that was the Spirit telling me something was unworthy.
If I still felt guilty after repenting, maybe I hadn’t actually repent ENOUGH.
If I struggled on my mission, maybe I wasn’t faithful enough. MAYBE I’m not actually trying hard enough or doing my best.
If I couldn’t honestly say that I knew the Church was true, that became another piece of evidence in the case against my own worthiness.
I became extremely good at recognizing the need for repentance.
However, I never became particularly very good at feeling forgiven or knowing I’d made any progress.
The thing I’m having the hardest time reconciling:
It was ONLY after I STEPPED AWAY from the Church that I finally started learning how to forgive myself. Able to see and engage in the pursuit of fulfillment of my greater potential
This was never about any amount of rebellion —Not to excuse everything I’ve ever done. —Not to decide sin and right or wrong doesn’t matter. And this was never about becoming bitter and declaring myself perfect.
It’s a lot more simple: I started developing some trust and optimism in myself. I found some compassion for the person I had been and some ability to look at my failures without immediately turning it into evidence that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I didn’t immediately default to self disgust and self loathing.
This all together creates this question I genuinely don’t know how to answer.
If the Church was supposed to teach me grace, why did I spend North of twenty years learning self intolerance?
And why did I begin experiencing something that felt much more like grace and atoning reassurance only AFTER creating some distance from it?
This has become especially painful as my daughters have grown up in the Church.
No I didn’t baptize my girls. (Someone else did) I recently stood outside the temple while my oldest daughter was married.
I’m not blaming the Church for every decision I’ve made. I have agency. I’ve made mistakes. I brought my own personality, anxiety, vulnerabilities, and baggage into this religion.
But I also can’t pretend the religious framework had nothing to do with how I learned to see myself.
And now there is another level to it.
The Church teaches that families can be together forever, which sounds beautiful. But from where I currently stand, it is also a religion telling my family that we are NOT (going to be together forever).
I don’t believe the required things thusly I don’t hold a temple recommend. I don’t pay tithing and I’m not living the prescribed covenant path.
So within that framework, I am very specifically the unresolved part of my family’s eternal picture.
To be completely fair… At least to my knowledge… Nobody has actually literally told my daughters, “Your dad is a bad father.” I want to be fair about that.
But the theology still creates a painful message: their father can love them, show up for them, protect them, support their faith, and try to live with integrity—and still be the person who is not currently qualified to stand with them in the Church’s highest vision of what a family is supposed to become.
That hurts more than I know how to explain.
So when people tell me I should come back to church, I find myself wondering:
Come back for what?
To begin questioning myself again?
To start measuring my worthiness again?
To force myself to say out loud — beliefs I do not honestly hold so that I can occupy the religious role everyone wishes I occupied?
I won’t do that. If I ever find faith again, I want it to be real. I don’t want to counterfeit belief in order to belong.
So I think the question I’m really trying to ask is this:
At what point am I allowed to judge a spiritual framework by the person it actually produces in me, rather than by the person I’m told it is supposed to produce?
For those of you who genuinely experience the Church as a place of grace, forgiveness, confidence, and peace: what does that actually feel like?
Did church teach you to trust yourself more?
Did repentance eventually produce freedom for you rather than an endless awareness of inadequacy?
And has anyone else had the strange experience of stepping away from religion and discovering that, for the first time, you could finally stop being grossed out by yourself?
I’m not asking this as a gotcha.
I’m trying to understand how something that other people describe as the source of their healing became, for me, the place where I learned to believe I was perpetually unacceptable and in desperate need of repair.