One of the most poignant scenes on tv for me was from “The Bachelorette”. (I know, I know, don’t judge.) The scene was during Andi Dorfman’s season when she was on a date with the late Eric Hill. During their date, Andi asked Eric to tell her something personal. He stated that he had left his church, the Mormon church. Her response was almost like crickets. She didn’t get it. I don’t blame her. Unless you have been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, there is nothing to compare leaving it too. I’m sure she thought it was as simple as not going back. It’s not. There are so many people leaving, me included, that I wanted to shed some light on what it is like.

Let me try to set the scenario for you. You are born of goodly parents. They love you and in their hearts they have a deeply profound love of France. This deep love of France is passed on, instilled into you even. Their whole purpose in life is to go to France. Every decision ever made is with this goal in mind. They have to make it to France. You too, make it your life mission to go to France. You have to make it to France. You whole family has to make it to France. You can’t imagine France without them.

In order to prepare for France, you learn everything about France. You learn who the leaders are. You learn about Marie, the national heroine of France. To some she is revered as a saint for her act in delivering France —maybe not in a manger—but safely from the English. You learn about Lucien, the great French Emperor who prominently arose on the War scene. A keen observer of Lucien’s rise to power, explains that “his followers wanted a mansion in France to come automatically to all French nationals, whether by birth or adoption.” That actually sounds great. Everyone. Meaning, no chance of being in France without your family. You learn one-third of all Frenchman became Lucien’s followers—those who wanted to be with their family always— believed and wanted sincerely for Lucien to exert his authority and save them. After the Thousand Year War, the European powers cast Lucien and his followers into outer darkness. You learn about Christophe, born in April; but somehow France celebrates his birthday in December. Christophe was King over all, not only was he king of France, but he had an entire empire, almost like worlds without end. Christophe wanted improvements to the basic tenets of religion. He wanted everyone to love one another. He also wanted to include free agency. He earned approval from the father of religion. You see, Christophe had a plan for France, and for you in France.

You learn about and listen to French music. You learn about French art. You especially love Claude Monet, the founder of French impressionism, and, Marc Chagall the French artist who focused on emotional association. You make numerous trips to art galleries just to see these paintings and to feel close to Christophe. In fact, your leaders encourage you to go once a month. You are even judged on how much you love France by the number of times you go to the gallery. You need a special card to get into the gallery. This card is only given at the discretion of your leaders. And, only If you answer a set of questions about France with the expected, predetermined answers and if you pay 10% of your salary to the leaders who teach you about France. You value this card above all else. You learn to speak the French language. You adopt a French accent. It becomes natural to you.

You learn about French culture. Your friends are only those who also want to go to France. Because they are your neighbors. They are your grocers. They are your PTA presidents. They are the guy next to you in line at the grocery store. Those who love France are the celebrities where you live. It’s easy to make friends with those who value France, because that is who predominantly surrounds you. In fact, a staggering 98% of people in your city also desire deeply to go to France. And this gives you a community. This gives you a huge sense of belonging. This gives you a purpose. And, you all go to the French cafe on the corner every weekend to talk about your love of France. And, one weekend a month at the corner French cafe, if you want, you can testify of how great France is even though you’ve never been there or never seen it. But, you just know.

Your desire to go to France, drives your clothing choices. There is even a special piece of clothing you wear that identifies you as a France lover. You don’t dare wear something else. Everyone, and almost everyone can identify you because of the special piece of clothing. And you are proud. And if you take these clothes off, you know you will be judged for it. Even to mow your yard. Even if your desire is to keep your clothes special and not soiled by sweat, you are still judged and accused of not loving France.

You tasted and explored French cuisine, famous around the world for its rich tastes and subtle nuances.

You’ve heard whisperings of other places. And, maybe that France isn’t real. But, all your French teachers tell you to doubt your doubts. The teachers also say you can ask questions about France. But your teachers tell you they are the only source to come to for information. That other’s couldn’t possibly know about France better than them. That they are the authority on France. Your teachers assure you they have put all their information about France out there for the world to see. The teachers also proclaim that if you don’t love France anymore there is no place for you outside of loving France. “Where will you go?” they ask.

The day comes. You have bought your ticket to France. You board the plane and you can barely contain your excitement. Everything in your life has led to this moment. You sit on the plane and know you are headed “home”. Home, where you have a place prepared for you, you have a name, you know the signs. And most importantly you are told true happiness only resides there. The plane lands. You are in France. You have arrived. The yearning in your soul is deep.

You take your first step off the plane.

As you look around, your heart starts to race. You see words on a sign. Initially you feel confusion. Why doesn’t that look like French? Denial. Slowly realization dawns…the fact that you aren’t in France. The fact that the plane took you to Spain. Shock. Denial. More shock. More denial. How can this be…you are suppose to be in France. The pain is immense. This pain won’t go away. The pain is unwanted.

Please, please let me be wrong. Just let that be a French word that I don’t know. Just let this be a mistake. I don’t want this. Bargaining.

What, that is not France! I need to talk to the pilot, this is not acceptable. He was suppose to take me to France! You sold me a ticket to France. How could you lie to me? Anger

Tears. Despair. You want to be in France. You just want to curl up in the fetal position. The pain of being in Spain is overwhelming. It transcends any pain you have ever experienced in your life. The plane doesn’t go to France. There never was a France. You have to mourn this loss. Depression.

I’m not in France. sigh. How in the world did I end up in Spain? I’m in Spain. There is no France. I’m in Spain. There is no France. I’m in Spain, now what? Acceptance.

Excitement, I am in Spain. Where will this new journey take me? Where will I go?

All analogies aside, this is an extremely painful process. There is no way to escape the pain of this loss. And, sadly those who could possibly understand the most, don’t. They think you have lost your way. You get told you are dark. You get told Satan has control of you. You get told the reason you are depressed is because you no longer have the Holy Ghost. You get told you are destroying your family. That people feel sorry for your kids. That you are the reason you won’t all be together anymore in the next life. They dig into their beliefs even deeper. Sometimes they tolerate you. Other times they literally disown you. And it hurts. It all just hurts.

And, it is exciting. You are now your authentic self. You are now driven to find a new purpose in life. You alone get to decide your morals. What do I actually believe? The truth is people are inherently good. Most people strive to do their best in this life. Most people don’t rape, most people don’t murder, most people don’t abuse. I have no more desire to do those things than I did before. Why? Because I am who I am. Believing in a God doesn’t change who we are. There are Mormons who rape. There are Mormons who commit murder. There are Mormons who abuse. Contrary to the blind obedience that most members wear, Mormon leaders can be evil. I have no desire to lie, I have no desire to steal. I have no desire to cheat. I have a strong moral compass. Church didn’t give me that. I’ve always had that.

So, you’ve walked out of the Mormon church for the last time. You think you are done. But just wait. Guess who’s knocking on your door? The Relief Society president with a plate of cookies, telling you you are missed at church. Oh and the ward clerk is calling and wants to set up an appointment with the bishop. Why? Because you have records. Records in the church. Records that have tracked your every move in the church. A record of when you were blessed (if you are BIC, born in the covenant). A record of when you were baptized. A record of when you were endowed. A record of when you were sealed. And, if you are male, you have a record of when you received the priesthood. What, you mean other church’s don’t have that? You can literally walk away and no one contacts you.

To finally be able to quit the Mormon church, you have to have your name removed from the records of the church. And do you know what that requires? A lawyer! That’s right, a lawyer! Ponder that for a minute. You can quit a job easier than it is to quit the Church. You can have a baby easier than it is to quit the Church. You can get a passport easier than it is to quit the Church. You can get married easier than it is to quit the Church.

So, Andi didn’t get it. I don’t blame her. Can you?