Recently a good friend of mine asked if she could help me write the back cover for my book. This is not just any friend. She is someone who helped with my writing from the very beginning and even participated in some of the biggest new experiences. It was a bit scary handing over the manuscript, especially to someone who is in the book! But I cannot turn down this generous help.
My friend read the whole manuscript last week during a stay in sunny St. George, Utah. Thanks to her, I now have an excellent description for the back cover.
When she returned the manuscript to me last night, she said how funny it was to read about herself through my eyes. She also wanted to know more about a particular chapter that delved into my Mormon history. Although we have been friends for six years, she either didn't know that much about my past, or I may have unconsciously kept it from her. She is a very devout Latter-day Saint.
This chapter started when a friend and coworker challenged me with a new experience: a package with DARE written in bold, black letters. I waited to open it until the date specified on the package. When I finally opened it, I had to laugh, because I had guessed exactly what it was.
The Book of Mormon would be an excellent new experience for me, if I had not read it twice already. I thanked my friend for the dare, but didn't tell him I was actually a former Mormon. I didn't want to get into my reason for leaving. When I left Mormonism as a teenager, I never talked to other Mormons--which was virtually everyone I knew--about why. I was afraid I would anger or disappoint them, or even break their hearts.
Last night, when my friend sat in my apartment and asked more about my reason, I felt those feelings resurface. Instead of listening to this fear, I calmly talked to her more about this chapter that divulges my true reason for leaving Mormonism.
I waited for her to counter with why I had been mistaken. Every time someone has asked me why I left, they have told me why my feelings were not valid. This friend listened intently, not showing any signs of wanting to speak. When I was finished, she did have something to say.
My stomach grew tense, as if saying, "Here it comes." She said, "I feel bad that I've known you so long and never asked you about this. I never knew this side of you."
That was it.
I feel so touched by the growing depth in my relationships now that I've written my personal truth without a single apology. I am finding that while I have shocked some people with the book's content, they have shocked me with their receptivity. I have never expressed myself so honestly and openly in anything I have ever created. While that can be terrifying, these early stages of moving toward publication reveal to me that my honest delivery of Cutting Free is one of the best things I have ever done.
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