Maybe your spiritual walls broke down all at once. Maybe they cracked slowly, one unanswered question at a time. Either way, you’ve found yourself on the outside the temple walls – without scripted answers for everything – and it’s a lot.
It is a lot! Leaving the LDS church, or any high-control religious system, isn’t just a change of mind about doctrine. Leaving means you’ve lost a community, a mission, a social calendar, a future you were promised, and sometimes, your closest relationships.
Of course it hurts.
Here’s what a lot of people run into, and why none of it means you’re doing it wrong.
Is it normal to grieve after leaving the church?
Absolutely! Grief is one of the most common parts of leaving and one of the least talked about. You can be completely sure you made the right call and still mourn what you lost.
People grieve what they have lost. Which means most Mormons who leave end of losing quite a bit: the ward that showed up with casseroles, the certainty, and the promise of forever family. They grieve the person they thought they’d become, and the years, money, or mission they gave.
Grief doesn’t ask permission. It shows up during a hymn at a funeral. On a quiet Sunday morning. Outside a temple sealing you can’t attend.
Why am I so angry?
Anger is the body’s queue that a violation or injustice has happened. Coming to the decision to leave the church probably means you’ve discovered something that feels like one of these violations. Most of my clients have left because of several somethings, often centered around being told to trust leaders without question for years, then discovering they’ve been misled.
Anger is important information. I know it feels counterintuitive (especially when anger isn’t really addressed in the church), but anger needs to be honored, felt, and intentionally processed. The goal of anger isn’t to rush through it, but to let it move through you without letting it run your life.
Why do I still feel afraid if I don’t believe anymore?
Your nervous system learned the fear before your brain ever questioned it. If you grew up hearing about eternal consequences, your body took that seriously. Because your nervous system is still running on old information, “what if they’re right?” can still hit at 2am, even when your thinking has been updated.
Our fear isn’t confirmation that we made the wrong decision. It doesn’t mean you should go back. Our mind can change in a single conversation, but our nervous system changes a lot slower. This is why trauma-focused therapy can help — because approaches like Internal Family Systems (aka, “parts work”) and EMDR work with the body’s alarm system, instead of re-arguing theology.
Who am I without the church?
For a long time, the church answered a lot for you: what to wear, what to drink, how to spend your Sunday, who to marry, what being “good” looked like. Without the church’s rigidity, these questions are now unanswered, and become yours to wrestle with on your own.
Some people go all-in like a kid in a candy store. They head to the first coffee shop they see and order a bikini on Amazon while they’re waiting in line. Others freeze up when the world becomes their oyster. Every choice feels enormous and they don’t know where to begin. Both of these reactions are normal.
Your body, sexuality, and desire can feel especially complicated after years of modesty lessons and the law of chastity. That’s common, and it’s workable.
What about my family?
For many people, this is the hardest part. You’re afraid that your family will see your leaving as a tragedy, a phase, or a problem to solve. And, mixed-faith marriages face questions nobody prepared them for.
You don’t owe anyone a debate. You also don’t have to choose between total honesty and total silence. Somewhere in the middle, there are boundaries that protect both the relationship and you.
Some relationships get closer with time. Some need distance. Either can be the right call.
Does it get better?
Usually, yes, just not right away. And, not in a straight line. Alongside the grief and anger, a lot of people find relief they didn’t expect. Some find curiosity, and most find joy.
Ultimately, you get to decide what “better” actually means, then we can pursue it together. The values you want to keep are still yours. They never belonged to the church anyway.
FAQ
How long does it take to feel okay after leaving the LDS church?
Honestly, there’s no set timeline. Many people describe waves rather than a finish line: steady for months, then knocked sideways by a holiday or a family milestone. Waves don’t mean you’re failing at this, though. They’re part of the process of healing.
Do I need a therapist who’s been LDS?
Not necessarily. You do need one who understands high-control religion and LDS culture, so you’re not spending sessions explaining what a bishop interview is. (I have lived experience in LDS culture, so no translations needed.)
Can therapy help if I haven’t fully left or decided?
Yes. My job isn’t to “get you out,” or change your mind. It’s to help you figure out what’s true for you, with less fear running the show.
If you’re in Arizona or Washington and this sounds familiar, you don’t have to sort it out alone. Learn more about religious trauma therapy or book a free consult. I’m currently seeing women and gender-nonconforming adults. Everyone else can join the waitlist to hear when a clinician opens up.
If you're in crisis or thinking about harming yourself, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or go to your nearest emergency room. This post is for education and isn't a substitute for therapy.
