I was converted in winter 2007 when I was 19. These three years I've been in the Church have been possibly the best in my life, and also probably the worst. I've grown in many ways. When I was an atheist, I believed a lot things about politics and ethics and philosophy that I rationalized as being altruistic and impartial, when in reality they were all self-aggrandizing. I thought it was possible to remake the world in my image, into a place where I would be more comfortable; but I couldn't let myself know this was my intention, so I constructed a web of intricate lies to fool myself into believing my motivations were honorable. I didn't know it at the time, but I am an INTP and suffer from a non-verbal learning disorder, which together make my specific type of personality less than one percent of the human population. I never fit in while I was growing up and spent most of my childhood becoming increasingly frustrated and misanthropic. Becoming a member forced me to humble myself and examine my goals and intentions.
I had always known deep down, of course, that I was lying to myself about the things I believed. I had always known they weren't true, and for years I fought twinges of doubt and guilt associated with them, including even the atheism which I had devoted myself to fanatically; something deep down had kept haunting me, saying that no matter what the facts said, no matter what the evidence was, I was wrong and I should be ashamed. The day I was forced to confess that there really was a God was the most disappointing and heartbreaking day of my life. Not only were all of my cherished opinions wrong and all my dreams crushed, I was suddenly forced to confront myself about selfish desires which I had hideously masqueraded as virtue. I cried for three days straight and possibly more. My entire world had come undone and I could barely find the strength to go to work.
This period of my early conversion is one of the strong-points of my testimony. I know the Church is true, because I remember how much I didn't want it to be. I couldn't have convinced myself it was unless I wanted it to be, and there were simply no incentives for that. I had no choice but to face a reality I didn't like; I couldn't hide from myself anymore because I knew it'd be pointless: I'd have to also hide from God, and that just couldn't be done. Some of the longterm fruits of this confrontation with myself include my recent diagnosis of the aforementioned learning disability, which I had always convinced myself I could ignore. I've been seeing a therapist to attempt to resolve the issues that have kept my frustrated so long. I have also taken steps become more humble, less judgmental and more sensitive to other people's feelings. I have learned to see individual human beings as intelligent, valuable creatures, and to appreciate concepts such as liberty and equity.
More recently I've been forced to accept another hard truth, which is that I never really recovered from that painful incident of my conversion. I was never really fully converted. As much progress as I've made, I'm afraid that on the whole I may have actually gotten worse. I've battled a masturbation addiction all this time with no signs of immanent victory on the horizon despite a lot of help and encouragement from my last bishop. I impulsively swear more than I ever have before and lose my temper often. I've barely worked, and never contributed much to the Church in terms of a calling.
More importantly though... I'm just not motivated. To say I've become apathetic is to understate. My old causes may have been false but at least I dedicated myself to them. At least they inspired me. I used to involve myself artistically. I used to inhale books, and I was ambitious to become an author. Now all my ambition is gone, and I have to force myself to read anything. I'm lucky to get a few chapters of scripture in each week. On top of that I usually forget whatever I study almost instantly. It's been harder and harder to go to church on Sunday, especially after I moved from the town I was converted in, and after my non-member family took me on a long vacation and I missed several months. All I do eagerly anymore is immerse myself in escapist behavior; mostly surfing the web and playing games. I don't want to have to think about the way the world really is. I don't like the way it is. I resent that the Church is true. I don't mind being bound by its doctrines; I believe that they are sound and logical. But I went from a world of infinite possibilities to a world where "all roads lead to Rome" so to speak. So what if I can still make a difference in my own life and the lives of some others? So what if my book hasn't been written yet? I can't help feeling that all the free will in the universe won't make events unfold any differently in the grand scheme of things.
Many people find religion uplifting because it provides their lives with purpose and meaning. But I valued my life more when I thought it was finite. I valued people who made the ultimate sacrifice more when I thought it was truly ultimate. What was the purpose of my life? Whatever I wanted it to be. It was MY life after all. I never understood why so many people are so inept at finding reasons to live that they need to be given them by someone else. I personally found it far, far more amazing to think that all life was an accident; a fluke. What an AMAZING fluke! How incredibly lucky we are! Life is so complex and wonderful, why does it need a creator to have value? I've listened to many rapturous lines of scripture being read at the podium, and while it almost never ceases to amaze and enthrall me with its beauty, simplicity and obvious truth, I still can't help thinking: So what, it isn't half as interesting as secular philosophy, and it doesn't make me happy.
But... I know that it would be irresponsible to dismiss the truth just because I don't like it. The Church is true whether I like it or not, and I have a duty to the truth. But I'll never be able to maintain a vigilant testimony until I reconcile this confusion. Right now I'm almost completely numb to the promptings of the spirit. I used to be able to fast 24 hours and now I just can't. I've failed to resist temptation so many times now that on occasion I simply don't bother. And so I ask, what could be behind it? What am I missing? What should I do? It could be that my disability and the stress associated with it has left me weaker than I thought. I don't want to accept that, but I am hoping that the medication I may be getting soon may help with my crippling anxiety. I know a lot of you will want me to go straight to my bishop... and you're right, I should work up the courage to talk to him. I don't really know my new one yet since I moved to this ward. But please don't stop there. If there's anything more I can tell you that you might be able to use to help me with, please ask. Thank you all.
