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An Epiphany About My Epiphany to Leave Mormonism Part 2

So...

When my daughter told me that she vehemently wanted to have her name removed (which I have not done), I thought about her Mormon extended family members approaching me and saying, "Why would you allow that?"

And I thought about how I would answer.

"It's her decision."

"She wanted it and I couldn't deny her of that."

"Why wouldn't I allow it??"

And then I realized, as I contemplated possible responses, that I should be able to reply to my OWN reasons for wanting to be severed from the church.  And I do indeed feel as though I've severed myself from the organization, regardless of being on the records or not.

But WHAT could I say that wouldn't warrant the typical responses of, Ashley just didn't truly have a testimony OR Ashley doesn't understand the meaning of Joy (an actual thing that's been said to me) OR Ashley didn't do all the things she should have done.  

So I went back.  I thought very deeply about the time that I pulled away.

And I realized that I tried damn, fucking hard to stay.

Go back and read my previous post!

I say it ALL in my initial post of this blog, as well.  I was/did/said/believed everything.

I wanted desperately to be able to explain myself in a way that couldn't warrant any- ANY- dismissive response.  I needed it for me.  As a final rite of passage through my former identity as a LATTER-DAY SAINT.

And I discerned very easily that there wasn't one thing that I could have done more thoroughly, more acutely,  more intensely than I'd already done or had been doing.

I was so earnestly looking for a reason to stay.

And nothing ever felt good.

So, tell me, what can you say to that?  Can you truly write me off as a lost cause, as someone who maybe just didn't get it?

I was born 'in the covenant'.  I was baptized at 8.  I went to BYU looking for kinship.  I married worthily in the temple.  I scrapbooked!

And... as I referenced in the previous post... I, Pamela Ashley Wilkinson Neves, at the age of 35, after a  lifetime of being a truly good Mormon girl, felt... done.

There was nothing more to do.

There was nothing more to be done.

There was nothing that I did half-heatedly or incorrectly.

And I felt abandoned. And an aloneness that I'd never experienced before in my life.

It truly was like a death.





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