Make the hard choices
How two decisions dramatically and irreversibly changed my life forever
When I was 17 years old, I experienced a crisis of faith that put me in the darkest place I had ever been in.
I grew up in the Mormon faith, and in case you didn’t know, all young Mormon men are expected to go on a mission to preach the word of god.
This mission is a two-year-long endeavour that involves avoidance of all worldly entertainment, avoidance of slang and casual language, prohibition of dating, a strict daily activity regimen, strict grooming and dress standards (clean shaven, short hair, black tie and formal clothes), and being allowed to only make two phone calls to your family a year (once at Christmas, once on Mother’s Day). All other contact with your family and friends is done through letters or emails.
It’s your choice if you’re going to go or not, but you better choose right.
I grew up believing that this was an eventuality for me. I would turn 18 and be shipped off to the Missionary Training Centre in Utah to hastily learn French or Japanese or something and be sent to the appropriate country.
As the time approached, I began to pray and think hard on this decision. Every part of me held the same answer.
I shouldn’t go on a mission.
If I was going to make any kind of positive impact on this world, it would not be by going door to door asking people if they’d like to talk about our Lord Jesus, in a language I didn’t fully understand.
I didn’t know what I should be doing instead, and that was frightening to me, but I knew that every part of my soul understood that two years spent on a mission, would be two years misused.
My parents were incredibly supportive during this time, my father especially. They trusted my feelings and were supportive of them. My dad had a poor experience as a missionary as well, and knew more intimately than me what that decision meant.
Though afraid, I was confident in my conclusion until my religious leaders started asking me if I was going to go.
I mustered up my courage and told them that I would not, and that was the first frightening decision that changed my world forever.
In an instant, I went from being perceived as a hardworking and good spirited young man, to being a lost sheep in the wilderness, and a bad influence on children. At best, I was someone to feel sorry for.
I should have seen this coming. In the culture of Mormonism, if you don’t immediately, fully, and willingly throw yourself into the service of the church when asked, the concern of the leaders is that there is some sin in your life that God thinks makes you unworthy.
I knew that was wrong. I hadn’t done anything to make the God I knew think I wasn’t worthy.
I regularly went to church, I would pray every night before I went to bed, my lips never touched tobacco or alcohol, I was chaste, I paid 10% of my income from my after-school job to the church in tithing, and I studied the Bible and the Book of Mormon in equal part like a good Mormon should.
None of that mattered to them. I had decided not to go on a mission, and that meant I was elbows-deep in wickedness.
It made me think, and it made me ask questions, and it made me learn things.
I started looking into the history of missions as a tradition in the church, then I started looking into the history of the church itself. I started reading about other religions. I started reading about ancient religions, and philosophies about faith and spirituality.
I was reading articles and having thoughts that in the past, would have made me fear that I was getting closer to Satan, that evil was influencing my thoughts and making me look for something to justify my actions.
At first, I didn’t want to be right. I wanted everything to be ok again so I could go back to church, but there was always something in my heart that urged me to keep looking.
Everything I was finding started to point towards the same conclusion but I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to keep looking for something to hold on to.
Weeks of this became months, and I stopped going to church. I didn’t feel comfortable there. Most people were kind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong with me, and I felt like everyone knew it.
Months became a year, and I had finally reached a conclusion.
I don’t believe what they believe, and I never can again.
After my crisis of faith, I was shattered.
Mormonism offers people a plan for life, there’s a literal map of how life is supposed to go down. I didn’t have that anymore. I had rejected it. I had to figure it out on my own. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me that’s how everyone else has to do it.
I spent the next three years feeling empty and meaningless. I graduated high school, got a job at Toys R Us in Lethbridge and that was the biggest and most meaningful part of my life for a long time.
At work I started to get more respect and trust. I became the overseer of the electronics section, and had a great team of people there with me. I miss that job sometimes. Things were simple and safe there, and people liked me. I liked them too.
Even so, my average day involved waking up, going to work, coming home, and playing video games until I went to bed.
I sometimes played Dungeons and Dragons with my friends in Lethbridge, and those nights were the bright spots of those years. During those evenings, my mind wasn’t ruminating over the fact that I had no goals, no prospects, and no plan to get them.
My grandpa told me once while we were driving together on a dusty gravel road that if I moved away from home and went to school, life would really start to pick up.
My dad would quote the 1992 movie, A League of Their Own, and tell me “You gotta go where things happen.”
Both of them always wanted the best for me, and wanted me to make something of myself.
The problem was, I didn’t see a way how.
When I was 20 years old, I got a call from some friends in Calgary who wanted to move into a bigger place. They told me that rent would be kind of expensive, but if me and one of my Lethbridge friends moved in with them, we could find something good for a decent price.
As much as I wanted to make something happen and get started with life, the idea was horrifying.
I hadn’t paid off my junky used car and I didn’t have a lot of money saved up.
I heard my dad’s and grandpa’s words in my mind again. I thought about it, and even though I was afraid to make a change, I was more afraid not to.
I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I thought Calgary was as good a place as any to find out. That was the second frightening choice that changed my life forever.
I desperately looked for a job, eventually getting another retail position with a pet store. I uprooted, took all my stuff and moved north.
Shortly after, I started looking into post secondary options and decided to apply for journalism school.
I knew I wanted to be a writer. I had heard from countless other writers that if you can live happily without writing, then you should go for it, but if you can’t, you’re a writer. I found myself in the latter category.
I had also studied the lives of other writers that I admired like Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, and read that they had become journalists before they were novelists. I wanted to follow that trail and see where it led me.
Like my grandpa said it would, that’s where things really picked up. I applied to school, I applied for student loans and scholarships, I was approved and things moved forward.
When school started and I learned to sharpen my skills and acquire new ones, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. I felt like I was finally taking control of my destiny.
I took to journalism very naturally, and as I forcibly got over my anxiety about approaching strangers, I found I loved interviewing people. Everyone has a story, and I learned that there’s nothing quite like sharing them with the world.
Aside from writing, I found I also really enjoyed photography. I was especially fond of taking portraits.
Through journalism school, I met many people who would become close friends, and have experiences I never would have otherwise. I felt fulfilled. I felt like I was in the process of achieving what I wanted.
During all of this, I started dating the woman who would become my fiancé. She would be my rock through the dark moments when I was afraid that I was doing everything all wrong.
If it wasn’t for the incredibly difficult decisions that I made, I wouldn’t have done any of this. I wouldn’t have moved to Calgary, I wouldn’t have graduated journalism school, I wouldn’t have proposed to the person I love most in the world.
There are times when the choices I made weigh heavy on my chest, not for myself, but for the people I’ve disappointed or worried because of them. Those choices were not the ones they would have made, or will ever make.
Those times are getting fewer and further between.
Deciding to live the life you want for yourself is hard, ridiculously hard, but to quote a character from A League of their own, “Of course it’s hard. It’s supposed to be hard. If it were easy everybody would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”
