It's Not You, It's Me

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog in the form of a letter -- a semi-serious apology, alluding to my history with Utah as a rocky, complicated relationship. During the last year I have learned so much about myself, most importantly - how to feel whole and okay with who I really am; finding the line between complacency and dissatisfaction; trying to trust my intuition while at the same time constantly reminding myself how much I have left to learn and how little I really know.

I'd hoped that coming to terms with my own ignorance would make me a more accepting and open individual. I have tried to embrace the occasions when someone else can teach me something new and admit when I'm wrong - though I'm not sure how well I've accomplished that task.

In many aspects of my life, this has worked very well. I do feel that I have learned to be more accepting and gregarious than ever. I've tried to stand my ground when I feel strongly about something while at the same time keeping both sides of an argument in mind.

But, during the last year I have also been called "opinionated, manipulative," and (sarcastically) "always right." That last one was actually written in marker on my back during a party... another story.

I'm sure there was some truth to those statements, as much as I hate the idea of being that guy. I've enjoyed some very engaging discussions with friends and family during the last year. I really want to thank them for that. Probably because of more fault of mine than anyone else’s, many of those have turned into debates or even heated arguments.

Much of the pain of our separation from Mormonism has subsided. The book I wrote about the process has collected dust for months and I haven't thought much about it. It has actually felt very good to move on.

However, today I've been going through my blog and reading many of the posts from the last year. Last night my wonderful cousin Melissa told me that I was "Irreverently and inappropriately funny." I considered it a compliment because I think she meant it that way, but at the same time it carried a small sting because it made me wonder if I've been offending other people. I figure the chances are pretty high.

While reading my blogs in chronological order I can see that my writing has become noticeably more jaded and outspoken. I'm worried that I've gone too far and lost any sliver of respect my Mormon family and friends may have still had for me. If that is the case, I want to sincerely apologize.

Getting out the "bubble" has been a journey. I've loved learning so much about the way other people live, love and worship. I've tried so hard to understand the cultures, lifestyles and religions outside of the Utah I grew up in. The world out there really is so different; it's easy to notice with even just a glimpse.

Throughout this process I have worked hard to give more respect to other belief systems. I've made an effort to extend a tolerance I didn't allow myself before. In doing so, however, I feel that I've become MORE intolerant of Mormonism within Utah. That isn't right or fair.

I don't know if I will ever again be able to experience certainty in spiritual matters. In the movie "Doubt" I heard a line from Phillip Seymour Hoffman that hit me like Catholic bible to the head, "Even if you feel certainty, it is an emotion, not a fact."

That is something that rings true to me but you might not feel the same, and I respect that. I applaud your obedience and faithfulness, even if I've decided to try adopting a more Buddhist or Secular Humanist approach to morality. I could be wrong.

So, even though I will strive to be honest in my writing and speak my mind regardless of the audience, I may still need help from loved ones - keeping me in check to help minimize the number of them that I offend. I think everyone needs to find that line, right? I sure could learn a lesson or two about erring on the side of caution.

I love you guys. I'm sorry if I've said or written anything that has left you feeling personally attacked. I promise that wasn't my intention.