As I sit here today it’s hard for me to imagine that six months have already passed since the day I officially became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. 

On this day, six months ago, I attended church like I normally would. During Sacrament Meeting, a group of priesthood holders placed their hands upon my head and performed the sacred ordinance that is known as confirmation. In this ordinance I was given the opportunity to accept the Holy Ghost as my constant companion – to have the Holy Ghost to help guide me in my decisions, to comfort me in times of need, and to watch over me at all times. It was upon the administration of that ordinance that my membership in the Church became official.

When I read my journal entries from those days in my life I can’t help but be swept up in the emotions that I was feeling at that time. As I wrote on the morning of my baptism, I felt “like I might light up the whole room.” 

This period of six months has been one of incredible growth and change for me. My entire perspective on life has changed. The way I look at problems and approach difficult situations is completely different. I am decidedly not the same person I was six months ago – I am infinitely better. I am also infinitely happier. 

Just recently I was thinking about the fact that my six month anniversary was approaching and I laughed to myself, thinking, “The honeymoon is definitely over.” In many ways, this is true. When I first joined the Church, nothing could touch me. I knew I was on the right path, knew I was making the right choice, knew it didn’t matter what anyone else said or did – I was doing the right thing. 

Then I moved back home and received a harsh wake up call. My mother still had issues with my membership in the Church. Some people I considered very close friends of mine had so much trouble with my decision that they completely shunned me. In a word, I was devastated. I loved those friends and  couldn’t imagine how or why they could and would be so hurtful.

But then I remembered they weren’t there. Before I joined the Church my life was lonely. I was depressed. I had been unemployed for almost 2 months, hadn’t gotten a single interview request, and was running out of money fast. Most days I slept – if you could even call it sleep – until 2 or 3, then dragged myself out of bed just to sit on the couch and watch TV. Sometimes I drank. A lot. Mostly I just did nothing. I barely left the house. I drank a lot of coffee for no good reason, I avoided my roommates – the same ones that  just weeks earlier I was doing everything I could think of to get them to like me and hang out with me.

I cried a lot during those days. I didn’t know why no one wanted me to work for them. I felt like I’d spent an entire year of my life getting my Master’s for no reason – that was a whole year that I was miserable (and I was mostly miserable during grad school), lonely, and I had nothing to show for it but debt. I felt like my being in New York was a waste because I couldn’t go experience the city since I was broke, but I also felt like it would be more of a waste to go home and have no money and nothing to show for the time I had spent in New York. Most of all I felt worthless, like a complete failure. Some nights I prayed that the Lord would put me out of my misery. I prayed that he would just take me out of this world so I wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live either. 

I knew I was circling the drain. I knew something was going to have to change. I didn’t know what or how, but I knew it was coming, whatever it was. 

When I look back at my blog during the dark times I can see that the darkness is markedly absent. I don’t even know how I managed not to write every post about how much things sucked. I think my blog was a refuge from the scary things that were going on inside my head. As long as I could keep up the facade I knew I was at least still keeping my head above the water. 

And I tried to dig myself out. I thought up projects, I baked, I took pictures. Still I knew there was something missing from my life in a big way. 

Then there was Jenna. She didn’t know me, and I didn’t know her. All we knew about each other were the select items that we deigned to share with the world via our blogs. And yet, Jenna reached out to me. She had no way of knowing how dark and scary life was for me at the time – I barely understood it myself – but here she was with a flashlight. 

I remember getting the e-mail from her asking me if I’d like to visit the LDS Church. I remember thinking, “no, I don’t really want to do that.” But then I thought, “Well, why not?” And I was honest with her when I wrote back that I wasn’t sure I was into it but I would try it anyway. And like a fool gave her all of my contact information, just you know, so if she were a creepy 50 year old man she could come and hunt me down and stalk me. 

Essentially, then I forgot about it. Time was really weird for me during those days – it alternated between stretching for eons and lasting only nanoseconds. I had my mind on other things, and then suddenly my phone was ringing and I was talking to Elder Leatham. He asked if he and his companion could come visit, and, oh, would it be okay if they brought a friend?

I got off the phone and was an awkward combination of giddy and panicked. What would I tell my roommates about the missionaries coming over? I don’t remember what I did tell them, but they were so freaked out that they made plans to be out of the apartment. 

The big day arrived and the missionaries came – they were late, actually, but they made it. When they left, I had my own copy of the Book of Mormon, some pamphlets, and a ride to church on Sunday. But the missionaries left something else with me that day – hope. Suddenly I had something to look forward to again. As soon as they were gone that night I got on my knees and asked the Lord if this was what I’d been searching for, if this was really something He wanted me to do. I remember it felt like my heart my burst because I was so happy. 

When I went to church that Sunday I couldn’t deny the feelings that I felt being in that place. It felt like coming home. Somehow I just knew this was exactly what I’d been praying for all those terrible nights when I’d asked the Lord to take my pain away. 

I was baptized on February 22nd and confirmed on March 1st. One week later I received my first temple recommend, and soon after booked my first appointment to attend the Temple. 

My first visit to the Temple was incredible. I fasted the day before to put myself in the right mindset. When I walked through the doors of the Temple I was greeted by smiling faces. Everyone was dressed in white. I remember it seemed like there was a soft white glow filling the rooms inside. When I left after that first visit I remember wishing I could go back and just sit forever in the calm, serene space.

The first few months were full of beautiful experiences like this. I devoured the Scriptures, drawing strength and inspiration from the words that so often seemed like they were written just for me and my circumstances. 

Suddenly I forgot how much it hurt that no one wanted to even interview me, let alone offer me a job. It wasn’t about me anymore – it was about the economy. I stopped taking everything on such a personal level. For example, my roommate wasn’t hanging out with me not because she didn’t like me or I’d done something wrong, but because she just didn’t have time. 

My self esteem skyrocketed. I don’t tolerate people being mean or taking advantage of me anymore. I won’t stand idly by while someone stomps all over me (figuratively). For the first time in maybe my entire life I can honestly say that I know who I am, and I’m very happy with who that person is. Not just happy – I love myself. 

Still, it was easy in those early months, and it has gotten exponentially harder in the past two months. This place is full of ghosts – it’s so easy to slip into the old habits – things like judging everyone too harshly and criticizing friends behind their backs. Sometimes I catch myself going down that path and it always feels awful. Sometimes I isolate myself now by choice – because I need time to myself to remember what’s most important to me. 

One relatively difficult day when I was feeling like I was maybe ruining all the good I’d done for myself in the past 6 months by the way I was behaving here I had  visit from the sister missionaries. As we talked that day and I had the chance to share my testimony with them I realized that I’m not actually on the shaky ground I often feel like I might be standing on. Really and truly, I’m still standing on that rock solid foundation that is the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. And if I would stop trying to do things like stand on my head or stand on tiptoe on one foot, I might stop feeling like I’m about to fall over at any second. 

So today I’m sitting here thankful. I’m thankful to have the knowledge that perfection isn’t possible. All we have to do is our best – the Lord will take care of everything else. Even as I write this I feel an enormous weight lifting from my shoulders. Everything I’ve written in this post has been true. I am the person I am today because of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t involve being a member. 

Yes, there are still dark moments. I still get down and feel like I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. But those moments are fewer, and much easier to move on from. I know that I don’t just believe in the Church, I know it to be true.  I know that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and would do anything to have me return to live with him in the future. And I know that I have that opportunity, and there’s truly nothing that I want more. When things get hard, I stop and think about the things that are going right – there are always more positive things than there are negative ones (and I’ve had some serious bad things go down in these past 6 months). The positives always outweigh the bad.