A religious observation

Okay, so this post has nothing to do with being in Québec.  But it's been on my mind for a while.

So.  As most everyone knows, I was raised Mormon.  I have absolutely no problem saying this.  Growing up, I absolutely loved my religion and my faith.  From the time I was three, I knew all the Primary songs, I looked forward to going to the temple, and I wanted to have what I thought was the perfect Mormon life.  I didn't really develop my own faith and belief until I was a young teenager.  I went through what was a slight "punk-ish" stage in that I didn't care about religion at all and developed a combative attitude due to the people I hung out with.  After my parents divorced when I was nine, my mom didn't force us to go to church every Sunday.  Eventually, my sister quit going completely.  I had sporadic attendance in my early adolescence in California and didn't really start going to church again until I was thirteen.

It was at this time that my belief in the Church really took off.  I went to Young Women's Camp for the first time that year, which was an absolutely amazing experience (even though I don't remember that specific year all that much).  It was also the first time I went to do Baptisms for the Dead at the Oakland, California Temple.  (The Temple in which, incidentally, I was sealed to my family at the age of about four.)  It was an amazing experience that I have always treasured.  From age thirteen until age eighteen, I went to Girls' Camp every summer.  Three camps were in California, one in Georgia, and two in Kentucky (or West Virginia, if you will).  Camp really helped me develop as a young woman and helped me to have a leadership position, especially in my last three years in which I was a leader-in-training.  At sixteen I helped to teach a first aid class and at seventeen and eighteen I found myself looking after two different group of girls whom I really grew to love.  Since my adolescence, I have had so many spiritual experiences, whether at Camp or at the Temple.  I absolutely loved my religion.

Yet I always knew I was different.  I'm not going to go into why I left the church at the age of eighteen.  (I did that a while ago.)  But I did leave it, or mostly.  At least I tried to.  Clean breaks are always the easiest, right?  Well, I couldn't do it.  Every once and a while I found something that would draw me back to church on Sunday, no matter how much I told myself that I no longer believed in it.  I can never let myself forget the amazing sense of warmth, comfort, and safety that I felt when I believed that I was a daughter of God.

And yet.  And yet, and yet, and yet.  Here I am, the little agnostic who doesn't know her place in the world.  Looking around the Internet, anti-Mormon sentiments are everywhere.  One would think that, since I no longer consider myself to be a Mormon, I would jump on that bandwagon.  Except I don't.  I find myself still taking the hurtful comments personally.  There are so many ex-Mormons who bash the religion constantly, who dedicate blogs and websites to anti-Mormonism, to spend their lives trying to bash the Church and turn people away from it.  And then there's me.  Me, the little agnostic who thinks Mormons are the nicest, most accepting people on the planet.  Me, whose heart skips a beat when she sees a beautiful, white building rising in the distance with a golden angel perched on top.  Me, who listens to the few hymns she has on her iPod when all other comfort fails.  Me, who refuses to call herself a Mormon and who cannot bring herself to follow the Church and its doctrines.  

I drive myself mad, to be perfectly honest.  Am I the only "ex-Mormon" in the world to still love the Church and its members?  Am I  the only one who thinks of her life as a Mormon fondly with no regrets?  I have not one single regret when it comes to my upbringing as a Christian.  I believe that it has made me a good person, a strong woman.  What on earth do I do with myself?  I feel like I'm pulling a "do as I say, not as I do."  Lauren told me I'm the only person she knows of who is still so fond of the religion in which they grew up yet who no longer believes in it.  I confuse myself.

I'm not sure what the point was supposed to be for this post.  But I just decided to get my feelings out.  Noodles and gravy, my dear people.  Sing it loud.