Just Stand Up

On finally saying no to religious expectations

Photo by Šárka Jonášová on Unsplash

I turned to my husband the other day and said, “I feel like I’ve been treading water for so long, just trying to keep from drowning, then suddenly realized all I had to do was stand up.”

The water symbolizes everything I was trying to do to be a good, faithful member of the LDS church.

Mostly that entailed saying yes. Yes to imposed beliefs that fractured my mental health and marriage, yes to high-demand callings, and yes to being supportive as church duties consumed my partner’s time and mental energy.

Two years ago, we had just moved to a new ward, and I thought we might get a break from the heavy callings for a while, especially with the arrival of our third baby and my husband being neck-deep in a masters degree. But there I sat on the day of my son’s blessing, raising my hand to sustain my husband to yet another bishopric. Meaning I would be expected to get our kids to church by myself and pack a large bag of enticing surprises to keep them there and quiet.

We could have said no, but years of indoctrination had conditioned my husband to feel valuable only as much as he was useful to the church, and me to find myself worthy only as much as I was willing to offer him up freely to the Lord’s errand. So we kept saying yes.

I had asked permission to hold my baby while my husband gave him a name and a blessing. The area authority denied my request. I was told it would be too “distracting.”

I had already started to think outside the box when it came to the church’s truth claims, but the next two years after that baby blessing felt like a fast track of deconstruction. We started being honest with ourselves, looking at what was really bringing us joy and what wasn’t. Asking ourselves, do we really want more kids or does the church want us to have more kids? Do we really think these callings align with what we want our family life to look like? Answer: No. And acknowledging that the last four years of teaching seminary for the church full-time were not helping Riley’s mental health in the least.

It was uncomfortable taking the reins and addressing what we believed and wanted. Eventually, my values did not align with the expectation that I would take our young children to church by myself every week. So I stopped attending. This caused my husband some discomfort at first, and we had vulnerable conversations around it. I made some mistakes along the way. If I could go back and change anything, I would be there for the 5th-Sunday lesson he worked so hard to prepare. We both learned important lessons from this new boundary I messily drew. But neither of us would take back the growth that came of it.

As our values became more distant from the fundamental teachings and practices of the church, we knew a career change needed to happen. The jump from seminary back to public ed was a bit scary. It took time, and it came with a few discouraging moments, but we pressed on.

Now, within just a few short months, the church calling, the master’s degree, and the seminary career have all come to an end. And with it has come the hope of new beginnings. For so long, I thought I needed to just keep swimming, keep swimming, and someday you’ll get somewhere.

But I already was somewhere. I suppose I could have kept going, just tried a little harder, and packed a larger goodie bag on Sundays. But after seven years of marriage, I’m finally able to look around and see an equal partner, someone who will be by my side instead of a “helpmeet” I need to sacrifice to the church. An equal partner and three beautiful kids who I wouldn’t change for anything.

I feel kind of, well, happy :) Like the deep-seated contentment that makes you love each present moment kind of happy. And I wonder, is this my life now? Where I mow the grass, scrub the popsicle stains, binge The Gilded Age with my hubby after hours, and purposefully lose at Candy-land for the fifth time without a single thought of whether I’m on the path God has planned for me, or if I’ve repented sufficiently for the day, or whether the spirit is trying to tell me something crucial for my eternal salvation.

I’m just now interrupting a month-long break from writing on this Substack publication. Once we started to step out of the things that were weighing us down, I just didn’t feel the tension anymore. I had no words. I didn’t need them.

I think I love my life again. Fingers crossed. I got bogged down living someone else’s values and expectations for so long, believing that when I wasn’t happy, I should just try harder and stay the course, when all I really needed to do was stand up. That and thank my lucky stars for a spouse who felt ready to stand with me.

It’s easy to blame the church’s teachings for my struggles. Some might say I can only blame myself. This is music to my ears. Because after disentangling myself from the church, I finally have enough of a self to blame.

And if there is a god, and if they love me almost as much as I love my own kids, I think they would be really, really happy for me.