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For many raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, life begins with certainty. Answers are offered before the questions even form. The path is clearly mapped: baptism, priesthood (for boys), youth temple trips, seminary, missions, marriage, children, callings, family home evening, temple sealing, eternal progression. From the outside, it can look ideal. And for some, it genuinely provides comfort, structure, community, and a sense of belonging. But for many others, the cost of that belonging is steep: self-erasure in exchange for acceptance.
There is little room for divergence in a church that values unity as synonymous with obedience. Doubt is not integrated; it is warned against. Questions are not invitations; they are threats. And perfection isn’t just a goal. It becomes a spiritual mandate.
For many raised in Mormonism, the pressure to be perfect doesn’t just come from doctrine, it comes from the culture of more.
More effort.
More positivity.
More service.
More children.
More callings.
More faith.
More property.
More visibility.
More righteousness.
While the doctrine emphasizes humility and simplicity, the lived reality often fosters competitive perfectionism, where the appearance of spiritual and material success is intertwined with one’s perceived closeness to God. A large, well-groomed family in matching Sunday clothes, a carefully decorated home, a leadership calling, a successful business, and a cheerful public demeanor are often taken as signs of divine favor. In many wards and communities, these become silent currencies of worth. One doesn’t need to say, “I’m doing better than you.” The culture speaks it in:
But this pursuit of “more” is not just about social optics. It becomes a psychological framework, especially for young people, that teaches self-worth is conditional and externally confirmed. If you’re doing everything right, and life is hard anyway? That must mean you’re doing something wrong, or worse, that God is disappointed in you. The message is clear, though often unspoken, “blessings come to those who appear most faithful, most cheerful, most polished”. In this economy of righteousness, suffering is seen not as human but as suspect. The cost of this culture is exhaustion. But also, alienation, especially for those who:
To belong is to blend in. And if you can’t blend in, or don’t want to, the culture often responds with pity… or silence. This performance ethic seeps into the deepest layers of a person’s identity. It’s not just what you do, it’s who you are allowed to be. For those trying to heal, to question, or to rest, the hunger for more doesn’t stop at Church. It follows them into their relationships, their careers, their parenting, and even their inner spiritual lives.. Many years ago, I was talking with a brilliant colleague who was a devout member of the Mormon Church and who over the years had impressive success and financial wealth. We were speaking of the pressures and pace within our company and I mentioned, “You know, often times less is actually more, why not slow down a little and reflect? Perhaps we don’t need this wild pursuit of more, more, more”. He looked at me, eyes so weary and said, “I have a hard time with that, more is always better”. For him it is about validation that he is loved, worthwhile and valued. He could never stop or even slow down. Breaking free from this economy of “more” takes time. And it often begins in burnout, heartbreak, or crisis. But in that unraveling, many begin to realize: the divine is not asking for more. Only the institution is. And the invitation from within, finally, is not to do more, but to become whole.
What happens when a young person, particularly a young woman or LGBTQ+ individual grows up under this system? They learn early to suppress anything that doesn’t fit the mold. Sadness, desire, attraction, anger, curiosity, doubt, these become internal threats, signals that something is wrong with them. They don’t know how to rebel outwardly. So, they rebel inwardly often experiencing sever self-doubt, depression, obsessive overachieving, eating disorders, anxiety masked as righteousness, numbness mistaken for peace
For many women, especially, the pressure to be the “perfect wife and mother” becomes a trap. Their value is tied to the number of children they raise, projecting a “joy” they use as a way to avoid scrutiny, the modesty they uphold and the quality of spiritual support they offer their husband
All this while being told to follow, not lead; to submit, not question; to nurture, not assert. Those who step outside this framework, through divorce, career, questioning of doctrine, or choosing childlessness, often experience shame, social exclusion, or direct ecclesiastical consequences.
There is also the pain of adult indecision: women taught to rely entirely on priesthood authority may find themselves unable to make independent decisions, not for lack of intelligence or strength, but from fear that they are inherently misguided or corrupt. Many carry the terror of making a wrong choice and bringing harm to others, a legacy of being told they are temptresses by nature, that their very presence can lure righteous men astray. The idea that a man’s lust is her fault. That she must prevent his fall by sacrificing her own voice, body, or joy. This inversion of responsibility breeds not only confusion, but a lifelong suspicion of one’s own inner compass.
Despite its global spread, Mormonism remains deeply committed to conformity, not only in theology but in expression, identity, and community standards. There is little room for theological exploration outside official channels. Independent spiritual inquiry is subtly discouraged. And differences in belief, lifestyle, or experience, especially those that do not align with traditional heterosexual family roles or political conservatism, are rarely if ever welcomed.
This creates a binary culture:
And behind this is an unspoken ethic of surveillance:
Watch one another. Correct one another. Report concerns to the bishop. Keep the lines tight.
For LGBTQ+ members, this often means silence or exile. For those with interfaith marriages, complex family structures, or different cultural customs, it can mean isolation. For those who simply don’t “fit,” it often means shame or invisibility.
In some cases, individuals are formally disciplined or disfellowshipped, sometimes for publicly expressing disagreement with Church policy, or for behaviors seen as threatening the unity or image of the Church. These removals are rarely discussed openly and are often experienced as both banishment and betrayal.
The result is not just exclusion. It is the erasure of complexity, the flattening of the human experience into categories of righteousness and failure.
Beneath the public politeness and polished community functions, a deep undercurrent often shapes the worldview of practicing Latter-day Saints: a spiritualized distrust of the outside world. This binary is reinforced by the frequent use of language and metaphors that cast the outside world as dangerous, corrupt, or deceived. Public schools are seen as “worldly,” nonmembers are “gentiles,” doubters are persons who have obviously been “led astray,” former members are “apostates” and therefore “anti-Mormon” who if offer any sort of criticism is taken as “persecution.”
Though rarely stated bluntly from the pulpit, the cultural messaging is clear: We have the truth. The world does not. What begins as a boundary to protect the flock often morphs into a subtle but rigid wall of spiritual elitism.
Members are taught from a young age that non-members, including even dear friends, neighbors, and extended family, are living in spiritual darkness. Phrases like “the world” or “Babylon” are not used to describe culture, but to mark everything outside the sphere of Church influence as dangerous, deceptive, or corrupted.
While many individual members cultivate great empathy and understanding, the institutional tone often fosters anxiety and suspicion about the world beyond the Church. This “us vs. them” framework can lead to an inability to trust differing views, distortion or avoidance of outside or new information, fear or suspicion of non-Mormon influences, fragility in the face of honest questions and hostility toward former members who speak their truth. This worldview isn’t simply conceptual, it becomes deeply personal. Those who begin to question doctrine, who read outside materials, or who follow their own conscience in matters of belief and behavior, quickly find themselves not only misunderstood but often spiritually distrusted.
When members leave the Church, even quietly and with no intention of harm, they may be treated with suspicion, sorrow, or silence. To exit is not seen as an evolution or even a personal journey, it is seen as spiritual failure. Those who leave are pitied, prayed for, or cut off. It also fosters a subtle but corrosive spiritual elitism, the idea that “we know better,” “we have the truth,” “we are the chosen,” and everyone else is either lost or waiting to be enlightened.
This mindset, while not always explicit, is deeply damaging to the inner life, because it teaches people to split between public self and private pain, conscience and belief, individuality and loyalty and curiosity and compliance
This creates a bifurcated world, in other words, those who stay are faithful. Those who leave are lost. And somewhere between the two, a third group emerges, those who stay physically, but begin to withdraw emotionally and spiritually. They learn to hide their questions, play the part, and quietly suffocate in the space between. Such an “us vs. them” dynamic reinforces a culture where conformity becomes synonymous with virtue, discouraging empathy for those who walk away and deepening the inner conflict for those who remain but struggle.
In therapeutic work, I’ve seen how this framework complicates healing. Former members often carry guilt for even considering their departure. They fear hurting their families, disappointing their ancestors, and losing their community. Yet they also feel profoundly unseen. Their experiences, questions, and traumas are often invalidated with phrases like “you just misunderstood,” “you weren’t faithful enough,” or “you let yourself be offended.”
In time, many who leave begin to name this dynamic not as spiritual protection, but as spiritual gaslighting, a distortion of truth used to preserve an image of certainty. Healing, then, often begins not with arguments about doctrine but with learning to trust one’s own inner compass.
To dismantle the us-vs-them mindset is not to reject one’s past. It is to see it clearly, to honor the good while naming the harm. And for many, it is the first step in reclaiming not just their faith, but their wholeness.
One of the most difficult – and most beautiful – parts of this journey is the reconstruction of spirituality. Some former members walk away from belief entirely. Others reimagine a connection with the divine that isn’t structured around achievement, fear, or eternal worthiness, asking newer, better questions like: What if God isn’t counting and I am lovable without being perfect? What if the divine is not above me, but within me?
For many, healing includes:
It’s not a clean process. It’s layered with grief, anger, relief, loneliness, and joy. But it is real.
And over time, the shame begins to loosen. The fear begins to soften. And the soul, long exiled, begins to return.
If you are reading this and were raised in Mormonism, or in any high-performance spiritual system, let me say this plainly:
You are not a disappointment.
You are not lost.
You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
And…..
You are free to speak your truth.
You can be in your life nondefensively.
You are becoming whole, not in spite of your leaving, but because you’re returning… to yourself.
There is no celestial reward greater than your inner peace. No one’s approval is more sacred than your own integrity. There is no temple holier than your honest breath, your embodied presence, and your own real, unfolding life.
There is no perfection here. Only truth, tenderness, and the invitation to be fully human.
Greg Corbin, LMFT
Related reading: Resources for recovering Mormons, Religious shame and self-hatred and Religious anxiety.
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