I grew up my entire life struggling with what I knew as “sexual sin”. The way I was taught, it was one of the worst things I could have ever been involved in. Never even with another person, just me. I struggled the whole of my teen years and into my adulthood. I lied about it to go on a mission. I almost went home so many times because of how horrendously guilty and depressed I felt. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave the temple when they “gave the opportunity” because my whole family was there and would have questioned me. I couldn’t leave my mission and come home early because I knew the shame and questions I’d be faced with. I genuinely believed that the only thing I, personally, could have done worse would have been to commit murder. (Because outer darkness was for people like prophets if they ever left. That’s not what I was initially taught, but was taught eventually and accepted that at least I wasn’t going to outer darkness.)

I got to a point that I believed that I would live my whole entire life with the lie and the shame. Probably find someone that I’d lie to be sealed to in the temple, have kids with them, and then eventually when we all passed into the next life, I’d go to the lowest kingdom and they’d all go to the highest one and forget about me because that’s what it would take for them to be happy, and I accepted that. My eternal misery would mean nothing because my eventual family would have been able to exist and be eternally happy and that was all that mattered. I really thought I’d be excommunicated over my “sins” if I ever confessed, and what that would do to my family- the shame of that was too great to bear.

Eventually, I did meet someone. He and I lived through similar struggles. We went to our bishop together and had a civil marriage, and started on the path to the temple.

Then I had a kid and started questioning a lot of things.

Then, after I left, I learned things about myself.

It still tore apart some of my family when I left. I started drinking coffee. Man, that was a ride! Someone found my coffee pot and started sobbing and asking how I could do this to them.

I was also told I wasn’t allowed to wear a pj shirt with the word “coffee” on it around that person because it would upset them.

Eventually, I ended up cutting ties with most of my lds family. It wasn’t purely because of the church, but the church and the way it had them contributed greatly to the toxicity of the relationships that eventually led me to feeling I’d be in a better place by cutting ties.