Breakups are hard. There are so many thoughts and emotions that need to be sifted through to regain your balance. There is loss, sadness, loneliness, self-doubt, and if it was deep enough, it can sometimes feel like as though a piece of yourself went missing, leaving a void behind. Where do you go to fill it? Could you ever fill it? These are tough questions to answer, especially if the breakup was with yourself.

I didn’t ever think I would leave Mormonism. I had given myself so completely to my faith there was little doubt that I would go to my grave with a blue book in my hand. So no one was more surprised than me when, in less than a month, I went from a true-believing Mormon to finding myself as an ex-Mormon. Looking back, I’m still not sure what caused such an abrupt and sudden change. It was as if every doubt and incongruity I ever had spontaneously erupted to the forefront of my mind and demanded my attention; after so many years, they would be ignored no longer. I became gripped with an obsessive fervor to learn everything on the subject I could. I no longer went only to inside sources. I meticulously fact-checked and cross-referenced everything I came across. I was after the truth, whatever that might be. I thought of little else for months. When the dust settled, I found myself on the other side of a wall I had always lived behind, and without the relative safety of the only life I ever knew.

A piece of myself went missing. Where did I go to fill the void it left behind? Could I ever fill it? Many who have found themselves no longer aboard the old ship Zion after so many years have asked themselves these questions, and I was certainly no exception. I was suddenly marooned in completely uncharted territory. I had been taught all my life what was right and what was wrong; how much of that did I keep, and how much did I toss? How was I to stave off feelings of loss, bitterness, resentment, and anger when I had given myself so completely to something, only to later feel duped, even betrayed? These were not easy feelings to sift through, especially when everyone I had ever relied on was, at least in my mind, a member of the other team.

This experience describes the road to ex-Mormonism for someone like me. If I was offered the chance to believe as I once did, I would decline. It was certainly the hardest thing I have ever gone through but it was also very rewarding. I have learned much about myself–about what drives me when there is no one watching. I was able to go on a journey of self-discovery, something that I wouldn’t give back. I was able to discover who I was in a deeper way than I had ever before. Things about me changed. Some things I used to care about I no longer did. Some things I did not care about became very important to me. But ex-Mormonism is not Post-Mormonism.

Post-Mormonism could be defined as being ex-ex-Mormon; someone who used to be Mormon, no longer is, and no longer thinks about it much. I have found that being an ex-Mormon is almost a sort of “religion” with intensity sometimes rivaling that of a true-believing Mormon. Post-Mormonism, however, is when neither label applies to you any longer. You’re not a Mormon. You’re not an ex-Mormon. You’re just you. You think about the religion as often as most people in America do; when you avoid eye contact with their missionaries on the street and when you make abstinence related jokes when your favorite college team plays BYU. This is Post-Mormonism, and it is the holy grail that many people who have walked my road never find. Some have no desire to look for it. I hope to find it someday. I’m no longer a Mormon, and I think I have learned all I can from being ex-Mormon. Now, I just want to be me.