i am the youngest of seven children, born to a mother and father that faithfully abided by the doctrines of the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints. (and still do.)
growing up i attended three-hours of church service every sunday.
from the age of twelve, i attended an additional hour on tuesday evenings.
throughout high school, i reserved one credit-hour each semester to leave campus and take scripture courses.
my opinions on the church as a teenager were that there were far too many stories about pioneers.
there were a lot of references to obscurely-named characters from the book of mormon.
it seemed that i was to have every story memorized and able recite at any moment.
i knew to gasp upon mention of getting tattoos and showing too much skin.
i showed up happily to all these meetings. i understood what was being taught and i believed it.
more than anything, i observed the people. i watched what they did, i remembered what they said.
if, after observation, i felt that an individual seemed "good" i would listen to what they believed, then i would take their word for it.
after twenty-one years of doing everything i was told to do, one day i stopped and looked around and decided it wasn't for me.
so i quit going. i ignored phone calls. and suddenly i had all this free time.
then i experienced a down-ward spiral --that may or may not be related to the above-mentioned inactivity.
[the spiral did not consist of pre-marital sex or drinking or drugs or butterfly tramp-stamps.]
quite frankly i went from a euphoric, free feeling to unshakable self-doubt and despair.
but this is another story.
i experienced what i now refer to as a quarter-life crisis.
