Mindy is a 33-year-old teacher from Salt Lake City, Utah. Born and raised Mormon, Mindy remained a devout member of the LDS Church until last month's "update" on LDS policy regarding same-sex relationships, and its greater implications on the place (or lack thereof) for LGBT Mormons in the church: Such couples are now officially considered "apostates" (a term used for those flouting "cardinal" LDS doctrine, which can lead to disciplinary action and/or excommunication) and living in sin, literally. Children of same-sex Mormon parents can also no longer be officially blessed into the church until they turn 18 and must then also explicitly disavow the practice of marriages such as those of, you know, their parents on principle.

Here, Mindy explains the impact of that policy update on her faith, friends, and family, and why it's forced her resignation from the church, along with thousands of others.

For the past 15 years, literally, it's felt like this battle has been waging between my church and my soul. And, now, the final standoff has taken place.

I grew up — from birth until the age of 17 — in a faithful, if somewhat liberal Mormon household. My family was traditionally LDS (Latter Day Saints) enough that I attended church each Sunday and deeply believed in church doctrine and scripture, but progressive enough that we were the only family I knew who was allowed to watch The Simpsons. And being Mormon was awesome! I loved going to church, church camps, youth conferences, and religious seminary classes; my absolute favorite memories from growing up are of walking across the Wyoming wilderness wearing a dress and bonnet I had sewn myself, and pulling a handcart, on our "Pioneer Treks." It was comforting to be part of a community devoted to taking care of one another, reassuring to be taught rules to follow in order to live a happy life, and empowering to have what I thought were unwavering answers to the world's hardest questions.

Courtesy of Mindy/Facebook

From the age of 17 onward, though, my life has been driven by my desires to go new places, to meet new people, learn new things, and to teach others to share their stories. I've studied at five different universities both in the U.S. and abroad, obtained four degrees, lived in six states, taught in four public schools, worked at sleepaway summer camps, and directed plays in countless theaters. The road was not always smooth, and it's drastically changed my outlook on life. It was unsettling to become friends with people who believe very differently than me, disconcerting to learn life lessons from incredibly happy people who lived in a manner I was certain brought unhappiness, and earth-shattering, really, to realize I did not have all the answers to those "hardest questions" after all.

It turns out that hanging out with gay people at theater parties is even more fun than a Pioneer Trek.

I've long struggled to determine how the teachings of the church meshed with my expanding life experience and, while many questions have weighed on my mind, one issue has always stood at the helm of this inner conflict: the policies of the LDS church about homosexuality. This may sound stereotypical but being in the theater, I know a lot of gay people; I love a lot of gay people! It turns out that hanging out with gay people at theater parties is even more fun than a Pioneer Trek.

Back in 2004, as a college student, I faced my first major moral dilemma concerning gay rights. Utah Constitutional Amendment 3, which sought to define marriage as a union solely between a man and a woman, was on the ballot. On voting day, both my liberal and conservative friends turned up to class wearing their "I voted" stickers; I hid away, literally hid, torn and very upset at myself. I fully realized what this decision meant to my gay friends and colleagues, but I was certain, for whatever reason, that this was what God had told the prophets, and wanted for our society. I couldn't make a choice on paper, and I didn't vote that day. The amendment passed.

Protests outside the world headquarters of Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day in Salt Lake City, Utah, following the passing of Proposition 8. George Frey / Getty Images

Another major crisis of my faith occurred during the vote on Proposition 8 in California, when Church members were called by LDS leaders — and therefore by God — to canvas support for the campaign [which called for putting the legalization of homosexual marriage on hold in the state]. I knew undoubtedly this was a huge misstep. I remember, in a discussion on the subject, one of my best friends in the world — a man living very happily with his partner, both of whom were raised LDS and returned missionaries — asked very bluntly whether this meant I'd leave the church. I honestly didn't know, but when I opened my month the answer came out as no. My mind whirled: How could the religion that made me the person I was do something I knew was so wrong? How could the Prophet and apostles make such a major error if they were guided directly by God? I had no idea. But I did what I was taught to do and I held on even tighter to my faith that there was a greater plan God had for us.

I was so devoted to life as a Mormon that my then-Christian (but non-LDS) husband converted so I would even consider marrying him, so we could raise our children together in the same faith, and so we could be sealed in the temple together. That's an important life goal for any good Mormon girl! I attended church meetings faithfully, and the steadiness and consistency of the church was unfailing as my husband and I moved from state to state. With family so far away, the immediate friendship and fellowship from church members was life-saving for us. I had two babies in two different states and was taken care of completely, without question, by dear LDS friends and ward members. I called one of my best LDS friends for a Priesthood blessing — this is a prayer specifically for healing, comfort, or counsel given by a Priesthood holder by laying his hands on the head of the blessing receiver — when I had some minor complications with my first delivery. My husband along with my father and brother also blessed both of my babies into the church after they were born.

Courtesy of Mindy/Facebook

At the same time, the ache in my heart grew stronger each Sunday when I heard church doctrine that separated me from my gay and lesbian friends. I celebrated state after state legalizing same-sex marriage only to attend LDS General Conference to hear the dangers of homosexual relationships and the unhappiness it breeds. I observed faithful LDS church members I knew to be Christ-centered and loving people make fearful, intolerant, and even alarming statements about LGBT people. A dear family friend once confidently stated while in church that she didn't let her children go to sleepovers because "that's how little boys turn gay." I overheard one of my middle school students say with a straight face that "all fags should be killed," and then head off to seminary class with scriptures in hand. This mentality was not what church leaders intended, I strongly believe, but it was still a reality. At times, attending church became physically painful; church usually made me angry. Sometimes it made me cry. I made excuses to not attend meetings, and when I did attend, I would often hide in the nursery with my young children, because it was "safe" there. I could sing songs about Jesus loving everyone, color pictures of happy families, and blow bubbles. My husband felt the same way — at least we were in this struggle together.

At times attending church became physically painful; church usually made me angry. Sometimes it made me cry.

For a long time, there was what some people thought to be a gray area in church policy on the status of gay members. The policy stated on the official church website was, and still is, that same-sex attraction is "a complex reality," and that the sin lies in acting upon that attraction; essentially, being gay is not a sin if you're celibate. "With love and understanding," the policy reads, "the Church reaches out to all God's children, including our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters."

Different LDS members and bishops have interpreted and enacted these guidelines differently. However, as states passed laws making same-sex marriage legal (and later, following the Supreme Court's ruling on a national scale), it was my experience that many members were not entirely clear as to where married gay couples fell in official church policy. There was much talk among my gay LDS friends about friendly places for LGBT Mormons in the church — wards where the bishops and members welcomed same-sex couples and their families. I joined gay-friendly LDS groups online and was inspired by the love I found there. There are safe havens out there, and this gave me hope, hope that maybe over time this view would permeate the church — that it would become more accepting and loving of all types of relationships as they became more common and less-threatening.

Then, on Nov. 7, I read news confirming that the church had reaffirmed its opposition to same-sex relationships by specifying new policy in its handbook. In an interview, Elder D. Todd Christofferson, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and therefore a prophet, seer, and revelator for the church, explained that these policies had been specified to remove any question or doubt that same-sex marriage is, in the church's eyes, a serious and grievous sin.

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And with this, the strings that had been pulling at my heart for many years finally snapped. Just like that. The bit of hope I had clung to for a move toward tolerance and acceptance was instantaneously gone. The long battle was over. My soul couldn't fight with the church anymore and, painfully, I let the church go.

This is more than an issue of one policy and its semantics. It is a fundamental, philosophical, spiritual divide of the mind and heart that, for me, is now impossible to reconcile. There is no question that we can and should find a place in our churches, our lives, and our hearts for our LGBT brothers and sisters who love and marry someone of their gender. I understand it is difficult, potentially even impossible, for church members to see this unless they personally know the loving, happy, healthy people these new policies hurt. But I do personally know these people, many people, dear friends, and I do not believe that God does not allow and support their lives and loving familial ties as equally as my own. I can't. These policies are wrong.

Nothing I have encountered in my life experience supports or matches this rhetoric. I am certain that what brings me true and lasting happiness is my wonderful family, my husband, and my dear friends — of all belief systems and in all types of healthy, happy relationships. We all deserve this happiness. And so I cannot believe that being in a same-sex marriage is a sin — though I do know that causing others great pain and suffering in the name of God is.

I do not make the decision of leaving the church lightly. It is a hard and scary choice to make. I don't know a life without the church in it. I am not a "quitter" as many vehement LDS Internet articles are calling me and the thousands of others also choosing to leave now. Firmly standing on the opposing side of the church is a heartbreaking experience, but at the same time it brings me comforting closure. My heart already aches a little less, or at least in a different way.

Courtesy of Mindy/Facebook

My faith that God has an eternal plan for us has not changed, but I no longer wait for the answers to be given to me. I've answered this question for myself, and my soul wins this battle.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

Full disclosure: At the sleepaway camp mentioned briefly above, I worked with Mindy in the summers of 2004 and 2005.

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Alex Rees Deputy Editor of News I’m the news director here at Cosmopolitan.com, and I could really use a cup of tea right now.

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