How I Stopped Believing in God (From Mormon to Atheist) 

Alright, let’s just rip the Band-Aid off—I don’t believe in God. At all. And yes, I know that probably makes some of you clutch your pearls, but stick with me. Here’s the thing: I wasn’t always an atheist.

I grew up very Mormon. Like, prayed-morning-and-night, got-married-in-the-temple, knocked-on-strangers’-doors-to-convert-them Mormon. God wasn’t just part of my life—He was the point of my life.

But somewhere along the way, things started falling apart. Like, what do you do when the God you were raised to love keeps ghosting you? When the “revelations” you’ve banked your life on turn out to be completely wrong? When you start realizing that maybe, just maybe, the “burning in the bosom” is more about feelings than facts?

This isn’t a video about why you should stop believing in God—don’t worry, I’m not about to knock on your door like I used to. This is a video about why I stopped believing. And let me tell you, the journey from Mormon missionary to atheist has been a wild, sometimes painful, but ultimately freeing ride. Let’s dive in.

The Big Emotional Lie

Growing up, my relationship with God was emotional—literally. I believed God spoke to me through feelings: a “burning in the bosom,” a sensation in my chest that I interpreted as divine guidance. These emotions drove major life decisions.

I remember praying in the temple, where I felt an overwhelming sense that I’d be called to serve a mission in Italy. It wasn’t a vague hope—it felt like certainty. I wrote it in my journal, convinced it was direct revelation.

Spoiler alert: my mission call came. And it wasn’t Italy; it was Denver, Colorado. My jaw dropped. Did God mislead me? Or worse, was it all in my head?

When similar patterns repeated—feeling divinely destined to marry one guy (we didn’t even date) or to become a high school teacher (I hated it and spiraled into severe mental health struggles)—I started seeing a problem. These “revelations” didn’t align with reality. Either God was toying with me, or the truth was much simpler: I was mistaking my emotions for divine communication.

God’s PR Problem

When I tell these stories, believers often rush to defend God. “Maybe you misinterpreted His guidance,” they suggest, or “God wanted to teach you lessons through these struggles.” Let’s pause here. A God who deliberately lies or misleads just to teach lessons? That’s not love—that’s cruelty.

And what about the broader picture? Why does this omnipotent being grant trivial blessings like helping someone find their car keys while ignoring monumental suffering like children with cancer or global poverty? The excuses—“God works in mysterious ways” or “suffering is part of His plan”—start to crumble under scrutiny.

If God exists, He seems awfully selective and, frankly, unkind. More likely? He’s just not there.

Faith and Feelings

Religious belief often hinges on feelings—powerful but subjective experiences people interpret as evidence of God. The problem? Feelings are unreliable indicators of objective truth. People of every faith tradition experience spiritual confirmations for conflicting beliefs. Are they all correct, or is something else at play?

Here’s my take: feelings come from within us, not from a divine source. They reflect our desires, fears, and hopes. For years, I mistook my own emotions for God’s voice. Now, I see them for what they are—part of being human, not evidence of the divine.

Religion as a Placebo

Religion works for many people. It provides comfort, community, and meaning. But like a placebo, its power often lies in belief itself, not objective truth. Just as someone might feel better after taking a sugar pill because they believe it’s medicine, religion can provide peace and direction because people believe in its power—even if it’s not real.

That doesn’t make religion inherently bad. If faith helps you navigate life without harming others, great! But when religious beliefs are weaponized—used to justify bigotry, control others, or impose arbitrary moral codes—that’s when it becomes deeply problematic.

Living Without God

Losing faith wasn’t easy. It felt like losing a safety blanket. Prayer had been my go-to for comfort, and suddenly, I was alone with my thoughts. But over time, I realized that relying on myself was far more empowering than depending on a silent deity.

Without God, life becomes more precious. I’m not living for an afterlife—I’m living for now. My moments with my family, the joy of a home-cooked meal, the beauty of a sunset—these aren’t stepping stones to eternity. They’re the main event.

Wrapping It Up: Why It Matters

Religion is deeply personal. If it enriches your life, I’m genuinely happy for you. But for me, believing in God became a way to gaslight myself into ignoring reality. Walking away wasn’t just about rejecting a deity—it was about embracing truth, even when it was uncomfortable.

So, if God is “Santa Claus for adults,” I’ll pass. I’d rather live in the messy, beautiful, complex world as it is than cling to a comforting illusion. And you know what? It’s better this way.