Today marks a year since the Mormon church released its policy on same-sex married couples and their children. It’s odd looking back on how much my life has changed since then. The policy itself was the proximate cause of a lot of those changes, so I feel it’s fitting to take a look back now that we’re a year removed from the leak.

The leak of the policy was devastating to me and lots of other Mormons. I was disheartened — though unsurprised — to hear that individuals in a same-sex marriage would be subject to excommunication. The church and its leaders had made their opposition to same-sex marriage pretty clear, and this was largely expected. But the treatment of children of same-sex couples was what took me by complete surprise. The decision to ostracize and reject children because of their parents’ lifestyle seemed incredibly hurtful, cruel, and un-Christian. I couldn’t reconcile the idea of a loving God and the morality that the church itself had taught me with a vindictive policy that seemed to throw all of that out the window.

Until that point I had held out hope that relations between the LGBTQ community and the Mormon church were slowly but steadily improving. Prop 8 was a PR disaster for the church, and in the aftermath there were some signs of rapprochement between the two communities. I had hope that maybe church leaders had learned their lesson and were slowly coming around. Utah’s passing of a non-discrimination law was the highlight of that brief period. It’s still a remarkable feat for a Republican-controlled state to have passed such broad protections for LGBTQ individuals. But all that hope and trust that I had placed in things incrementally improving was shattered a year ago. I felt betrayed and foolish for thinking things could possibly keep going the way they were.

But what hurt even more was the message the policy clearly sent. It was clear that LGBTQ people were not welcome, and, by extension, people like me who saw themselves as LGBTQ allies weren’t welcome either. In the months that followed the policy I still tried to make things work in the church. But every time someone said things like “the policy was separating the wheat and the tares,” it cut me to the core. Was I really just a weed that in the end was going to be burned up because I couldn’t accept this policy?

And I know that I didn’t even experience the worst of it. That burden was clearly borne by the people this policy targeted. Youth suicides in Utah have risen dramatically since 2007, at a rate that doesn’t match states with similar demographics. The Mormon church’s homophobic rhetoric since Prop 8 has caused many beautiful young LGBTQ Mormons to take their own lives. This policy has literally killed people. Today, I mourn the continued loss of these LGBTQ youth. I mourn with the families of these youth who now have to adjust to a life where they were taken too soon from them.

In the months that followed I still tried to make things work. I tried to ignore the increasing feeling that I just didn’t belong. I tried bargaining. I thought, “Maybe I can help to be the change I want to see in the church. Maybe I can help to fix it. Maybe I can help someone who was hurt by this policy.” But the more I looked for somewhere — anywhere — that I could fit, the more I came away feeling like there wasn’t a place for me.

And that’s the thing — I really wanted to still believe. I wanted it to all be true. The church was my community. Most of my family and friends were Mormon. I had invested so much in the church. It was such a part of my identity. I had checked all of the boxes that said I was a good Mormon. I served a mission. I got married in the temple. I went to church every Sunday. I gave the church 10% of every paycheck. I did all the things that I was supposed to and still came away feeling empty-handed.

So I muddled along for about half a year after the policy, never quite finding what I was looking for. Then, in the spring, the dam I’d been building to hold everything gave back suddenly gave way. I lost my faith.

At the time I would have given anything for it to still all be true. I tried so hard. I even tried going back to church in Spanish, like on my mission. I thought maybe that would help me to feel more at home. But nothing worked. Even now, there’s a part of me that would give anything for the church to be true. There are parts of the Mormon church that I love and cherish and will always keep with me. I love the music and singing. I loved my mission. Most of all, I love the people. Last year I wrote that I intended to stay Mormon. I think part of me always will be. It’s my people, my history, my heritage, my culture. I can’t just erase those things. But I also can’t keep fighting with myself. I need to be honest. My beliefs and morality and what I feel to be true no longer are a good fit for the Mormon church, and so I need to move on. There isn’t a way for me to be true and honest to myself and my values while still actively participating in the Mormon church, and admitting that really hurts.

The last time I talked to God I told Him I was leaving. I told Him that I just couldn’t do it anymore. I told Him that I just couldn’t keep living with so much pain. I needed to find some healing, and I knew that I couldn’t find it as long as I remained active in the Mormon church. When I finished pouring my heart and soul out, all I could feel was peace. I felt peace with my decision to leave and not come back. I felt peace with my spiritual life for the first time in a long time.

And that’s what’s been so rewarding about this whole journey, even though it’s been difficult. I feel so much more at peace with who I am and what I believe than I ever did in Mormonism. A song I’ve found helpful during my faith transition has the chorus, “I found myself when I lost my faith.” I couldn’t agree more. I’ve found life to be so wonderfully full of meaning and devoid of simple answers since I decided to leave.

Since my faith crisis I’ve continued on with my own spiritual journey. I love the feeling that I can now chart my own religious course. I found a new spiritual home in my local Unitarian Universalist congregation here in Corvallis. I treasure the newfound sense of belonging that I have there. I’ve made so many friends who share my beliefs and values. After all of those months looking for where I fit, it feels so rewarding to have found it.

To my Mormon friends and family, all I can say is that I’m sorry. I know how difficult this must be for you. I love you. This doesn’t change that. I wish with all my heart that I could be what you want me to be, if only just to spare you some of the pain and anguish I know you’re feeling. But you need to understand that I’ve moved on and I’m not coming back. I’m happier and more at peace with myself now. I hope you find similar happiness in your own lives. If the Mormon church brings you that happiness, then by all means continue on that path. I just can’t join you, as much as we both wish things were otherwise.

So that’s that. A year later, and that’s where I am. I still hurt remembering that moment I found out about the leaked policy. I still pray for my LGBTQ siblings and their allies who are still hurting a year later. I mourn for those we’ve lost and pray that there will someday be the healing we need. But in a selfish way, I’m grateful that the policy pushed me out of my comfort zone. I can now more fully be myself, including as a better and more accepting ally, with no further religious reservations holding me back. I love going to church on Sundays now and seeing the many different types of families all joining together as one community. Most of all, I love my newfound freedom to be me.