Let's talk about my upbringing as a "Mormon". 

I've gone to a Mormon church since I was very young. 
I remember my baptism day, my confirmation, and attending Primary.  I remember my Mother having the missionaries pick my older brother and I up to take us to church.  She thought it was important we have some sort of spiritual upbringing, although she herself had not attended any type of religious church service, since the early nineteen seventies. 

I always loved church.  People there were good to me and most of my friends attended the same ward as I did.  I found a connection with the teachings there and I studied the Book of Mormon, sang the songs, and followed my lessons. 

My brother fell away from the church as he approached his teens, but I continued going.  My Mother was always extremely supportive of both of us - allowing us the choice of whether to go or not.  I got up faithfully, on my own, as an 8-year-old and went.  That surprises me when I look back...because I have never, ever, been a morning person.  To get myself up, get ready, and attend church alone...was almost certainly an act of God all on it's own. 

At age 11 or 12, an experience happened to me that would only solidify my thoughts that I was on the right path and in the right religion.  It was a horrible experience as much as it was a positive one.  I'll talk more on that later.  But through my teens, I continued on as a devout LDS youth.  I held high positions in my Young Women's Presidencies, I attended weekly youth activities, church on Sunday, and summer youth camps.  All but a few of my closest friends were LDS, and I thrived in belonging and in my beliefs.  My goals included graduating high school, going to college, being an LDS girl's camp counselor, meeting my "prince", and marrying him in the Salt Lake Temple.  We would have a family and live happily, ever after. 

Life did play out in almost exactly that manner....with another horrible -yet positive- religious experience added in between my college years.  (We'll talk about that later, too.) 

All in all, I stayed active and faithful up until a year following my divorce.  That's when I began questioning if I was in the right place.  Having spent 33 years believing the same way, in the same things, and for the same reasons...I haven't been sure that I want to give up ALL of it.  However, I wasn't sure I could remain a part of it anymore either.