Day 1: They’d understand
I got it into my head: I could go to an Ivy League school if I wanted to. And maybe I did want to. Or to the Chicago Institute of Art, get a BFA in creative writing. But I imagined: I go for one semester, then I take off for 2 years. What would that look like?
So instead I went to BYU, where I knew they’d understand.
In my fifth year at BYU, I saw clearly what I’d worried about for ages: that the church wasn’t what it claimed to be. In my sixth and final year, I moved farther from campus. I got lost in the shuffle of a new ward. I made decisions on when and with whom I shared. And I avoided all sorts of conversations.
Until I graduated, I hid. Because it was BYU — where I knew they’d understand.
(This is Day 1 of a 100-day project. For more about When I Was Mormon, read my introductory post.)