I didn’t always hate going to church. I loved going and hanging out with my friends. I liked the primary songs when I was young but I hated it when they made me sing in front of the congregation and I really hated it when they would ask me to do a “talk” and speak in front of everyone. Like at an extremely young age I would be forced to go up there and say my few lines of how I believed the church was true. I didn’t even think about what to say, all the kids said the same thing. It is what we learned to say and how cute we were when we said it with the big, “awwww,” from the crowd. I never expressed my dislike for it because I really didn’t think I was allowed, it was just life. I do remember not sleeping at all that Saturday night when I knew I had to go up the next day at the Sunday meeting. I did not want to do it but I did and then life went on after.

The first day that I really had a mental struggle was my baptism day. This happened at 8 years old in the LDS church. Back then we called it Mormon but I guess that is not a thing anymore. I don’t know why I guess I could look it up but you will probably see me say both and it means the same thing.

I remember being in the basement of our home getting ready. I think my room may have been down there or the laundry room, I don’t remember exactly. I am the queen of undressing and dressing at the washer and dryer because I am sometimes too lazy to bring my clothes to my room. Anyway, back to it.

I had on a white blouse and a green and white long skirt. It was my very exciting baptism day and I was not at all excited. We learned about why we got baptised but I didn’t feel like I ever wanted to; it was just something we were to do. They said that at 8 we should be able to know good from bad and that day all our past sins were to be washed away and now we were ready to make decisions and be accounted for those decisions…at 8. Like who really can do that at 8, but anyways that is it. 

My parents kept yelling downstairs to me to hurry up because we were going to be late. I remember staring at myself in the mirror thinking, “I really hate this blouse.” I also really remember the knot in my stomach and the anxiety I had about going through with the baptism. This part I remember very well. I sat down at one point and thought maybe if I am late they will have to reschedule me. I had the opposite emotion I was told I would have. I was supposed to have the burning bosom of the gospel and feel all these spiritual things and I felt sick and I didn’t not want to do it. Now that I am an old adult I realize that some of this might have been nerves because I was scared to sin after this baptism. But I also know that I didn’t really believe what was going on either. Remember I liked church because of my friends but I hated it when I had to do the things they wanted me to. 

It was after this day that I started having so many doubts about my life and how I was forced to live it. My baptism day was supposed to make me feel so close to God and all the spiritual things and I had literally 0% of that feeling. During the baptism all I could think about was, “is my dress going to flow up and show my underwear and I hope I can keep my nose plugged so I don’t embarrass myself.” That is literally all I was thinking about. So much for God coming down and taking all my cares away and making this a spiritual experience. Where was my divine. All I had was anxiety and doubt. 

After I got dunked in the baptismal font I did get excited because I was having a party with gifts and cake. So my 8 year old self was good with that.