I was lost, now I'm found (Part 1)

Tonight, I opened Blogger again, thinking I'd revise and revisit the blog I used to keep when I was a newlywed chronicling my journeys and updates with Ed.

The internet was different then. I was still so engaged with people online. People from my hometown, my mission, and San Diego. The best way to feel connected to them was to have a very active online presence and be very open about my life.

Then, slowly, as the years went by, I found it less and less appealing. I didn't want to constantly be seeking the approval of those distant eyes. I didn't need to connect online as much because I formed more in-person relationships. Marco Polo changed the game for my long-distance friendships that were worth the time and effort to update, so the online posts became less and less frequent.

All this to say, that I still find myself leaning on the long form of writing in a journal style to explain myself and express my thoughts and feelings.

So, here I am again, on a blog I don't even remember making 3 years ago. I'm sure I will be back and forth many times.

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One of the things that has weighed on me most in the last couple years is the long process of faith deconstruction that I have found myself in. It's been painful and insightful, and it's completely reconfigured so much about who I am today.

Being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a majority of my life, there has been a lot to address and unpack as I asked myself hard questions and sought for the answers.

Some of that programming over the years was to be a missionary at all times. To share your testimony and share your light. And boy howdy, I did just that. I took all the talent I have for talking, writing, or communicating and made most of it about my faith. I shared everything from scriptures to inspiring quotes from church leaders. I expressed my faith and my feelings often and always tried to paint the things I shared with that silver lining of how much my faith structure made life better.

A lot of that was true. A lot of it was heavily embellished by me. 

I want to say right now that I am painfully aware of my role in the toxic relationship I had with my church of choice. I cannot blame the church entirely, nor will I ever try to point the finger solely at the church. I made choices during my time as a devout member that I can see now were only making things more unhealthy. I own that. I forgive myself for that. That girl did what she needed to in order to live a happy life. I am actually so proud of her for her devotion and strength. I admire it.

As you can tell, however, it was not always as it seemed. It was not always happiness and silver linings. The church, or even the gospel of Jesus Christ, did not always give me every answer or solution to the things that were hard, even when I said they did. And that was more harmful than good. I was expecting a magic wand, and the reality was a religion, loosely based in Christianity, that overpromised and underdelivered what anyone, but especially I needed.

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When I was nearing the end of elementary school, I befriended a girl named Sophia. She was another Latina, like me, but with darker skin and a LOT more confidence. She would have me over to her house and we'd listen to Selina and No Doubt and Brandy and TLC. She loved music and I was finally branching out from the country music I had been raised listening to.

After the summer before middle school, Sophia went to a Christian event in San Diego (about 2.5 hours from where we grew up) called "convention". I will never forget the time we hung out after she came back from that event. She began to throw away or destroy her beloved tapes of music. She offered me some of her CD's and I was so dumbfounded. I asked her why she was doing this and with all her confidence she proclaimed to me, "I am saved now. I have no desire to listen to this secular music." (This is paraphrased, of course.) First of all, I had no idea what the word secular meant, but in the context, my guess was pretty close. Second of all, I chuckle now to myself because this story used to feel like an important element of my religious journey, but now all I can see is two young people from poor socioeconomic circumstances who were about to be sold the biggest lie, which is, God can make your life better.

This moment was definitely a catalyst for me to seek out my own beliefs. As I've shared in many a testimony meeting, this action from Sophia made me ask myself, "what would make me throw away all my CD's?" So, I began attending churches. Youth groups, Sunday services, if a friend invited me, I'd go. I'd watch. I'd wonder. I'd almost never go a second time.

Then after some months of invitations, I agreed to go back to the church I had spent time in as a young child, the Mormon church, or as they now would prefer to be called, members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You might also hear people say they are "LDS". I went with one of my childhood best friends, Kim, and her family. It only took one week to convince me that I liked it best. I was quickly swept up into summer camp, young women's activities, singing performances, and all the exciting, spirit-promoting experiences you could ask a young person to have.

I had faith promoting experiences often. How did I know? Well, I *felt* it. A common theme in the LDS church is teaching people that feelings and thoughts are how the holy spirit will tell you things are true or right (or warn you they are wrong). Anytime I cried because I was overwhelmed with emotion, I thought I was having a strong spiritual experience. Every time I prayed, especially out loud, I felt peace and would find some of my problems worked through in my mind. If I could go back and now and tell younger Jenny that she cried because she was tired, or cried because she has a huge heart...or that the simple act of closing my eyes, taking deep breaths, and working through my problems out loud was my brain's way of helping me problem solve...man. She probably wouldn't believe me! HAHA.

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