Summary: Laura Delano’s life changed when she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a teenager. Even after nineteen medications across a span of fourteen years, she felt deep emotional pain. This is her story of finding deeper, and more lasting healing – along with a happiness she could not have imagined possible. 

This will be different than anything I’ve ever written. My intent is very simple:  to tell a story that I believe many could benefit from in our faith community. 

Why?  Because Laura’s story is that of many Latter-day Saint teens and young adults growing up today – or at least it could be. Her story ends differently than many people you and I have known and loved – but that’s precisely the point. While many have started a story very similar to Laura’s, they haven’t yet found her ending (which is actually a new beginning – as Laura’s story continues today hopeful and vibrant).   

I believe it’s possible that many of these we love could also find a similar change…if they became aware it was even possible. That’s why I’m writing today – to highlight this woman’s experience because I believe the trajectory of her heartening account could represent a path for many other Latter-day Saints with mental health challenges to find renewed hope and healing in their own lives.

What follows combines quotes from Laura’s other videos, and my own observations of her, with a condensed adaptation of a remarkable feature piece in the New Yorker last year. I supplement this narrative with some additional references to the larger context and some clarifying comments from her directly, having worked with her on a volunteer basis for the last couple of months in her important non-profit organization, Inner Compass Initiative and their signature effort, The Withdrawal Project. As a way to make this more accessible, I have necessarily shortened many parts of the story – and encourage you to review original sources to go deeper. I’ve also embedded here a shorter, recent video of Laura providing a more personal glimpse into her experience.    

Part II. Nehor Rises Again

Jacob Z. Hess

Note: I believe healthy deliberation includes space for strong critique, passionate contestation, and efforts to persuade. I do all of that here without questioning the sincerity, intelligence, or intentions of those with opposing views. Although I believe most people are doing the best they can to love, to help, and to understand, I also believe the patterns outlined in these essays are little considered or understood in the broader discourse.

That’s why I write. These are perilous times for America. In my view, anyone willing to preserve space for thoughtful people to disagree on these and other matters (no matter your actual position) is part of the solution – and helping lay the foundation for our collective future. Anyone contributing to a recession of this same space (no matter your position) is part of the problem – and helping lay the foundation for even greater misunderstanding, hatred and violence than we have yet seen in our country.

Latter-day Saints revere the Book of Mormon for its role in re-establishing truth that was lost, or made dim, by a Biblical interpretation process that confused or omitted certain “plain and precious” parts of God’s message to the world. 

One of the lesser-appreciated truths clarified in the Book of Mormon is the role of anger in subverting the long-term trajectory of both individuals and entire communities, through a variety of means.  For instance, virtually all scriptural references to a people being “stirred up to anger”^[1] happen in the Book of Mormon. 

In part I, I summarized the way in which Mormons Building Bridges (and other allied organizations) became a persuasive force that convinced many Latter-day Saints to adopt the larger narrative of the gay rights movement, along with its accompanying anger (and built-in explanations for that anger).        

In that first part, I only began to touch on problems with that larger narrative frame – mostly focusing, instead, on how these new ways of seeing identity and sexuality became a significant wedge for so many people in their faith – effectively distancing so many precious brothers and sisters from their spiritual home, and leaving them wounded in their attachment to anything related to the same.  As one woman told me recently, “I’ve got to stay away from the Church…it’s just too toxic for me!” 

In what follows, I round out the picture, introducing an alternative way to make sense of this movement that has unfolded and overflowed into members’ lives – one that contrasts sharply with the framework outlined in Part I (true-identity discovery in a larger movement about liberation and civil rights that welcomes any allies willing to stand by their bravery). 

Jacob Z. Hess

This is the last of a seven-part series “Recruiting Alma the Younger“ that began on Millennial Star and expanded to Meridian Magazine (earlier pieces explored competing ways of making sense of faith struggles, the pain of walking away, historical concerns, and the impact of The Church of Jesus Christ – along with considering the implications of socio-political views on faith and an appeal to come back to one’s spiritual home for Christmas). 

“It is never too late to be who you might have been.” -George Eliot

I didn’t always feel this happy.  Or carry with me a peace that rarely goes away.

For many years, I lived life in a cloud, surrounded with a palpable fog of regret, despondency and gloom that seemed to follow me – like Charlie Brown’s Pigpen or Little Abner’s Joe – wherever I went. 

After carrying that weight for so long, I know what it’s like to start believing – really believing – that underlying sorrow and fear is “just going to be my life.” 

Faced with this kind of internal angst, no wonder people like me numb out – finding something to push away what we’re feeling.

Anything but this. 

This is the sixth of a seven-part series, “Recruiting Alma the Younger” (see earlier essays exploring competing narratives of faith struggles, the pain of walking away, historical concerns, and The Church of Jesus Christ itself – along with the under-discussed effects of socio-political narratives on faith). 

“I thought it was a bunch of mumbo jumbo. Crazy thing is… it’s true…All of it. It’s all true.” – Hans Solo, The Force Awakens

Upon stepping away from the Church of Jesus Christ several years ago, a friend of mine wrote publicly about his new feelings at Christmas time.  In recounting a seasonal concert his family had attended, he remarked at how “transfixed” his young son was with the magic of the holiday event. Although this young boy still believed in Santa Clause, he no longer believed in God – following his parents’ lead.  

After reflecting on that ironic contrast, my friend’s concluding take-away was this: “They’re just stories! Santa Claus. Baby Jesus. Elves and reindeer. Angels and wise men. Each as real or fictional as the other.”

No matter how engrossing any of these dramatic stories may be to us, he’s arguing that like Star Wars, they’re really just pleasant fictions – no matter what Hans Solo might think.

Each time I revisit the conclusion of this man I continue to love and respect, I feel the same thing: A sadness. For him.  His sweet boy. And his whole family – especially during this season of the year.    

If the whole thing – baby Jesus, angels, the cross and empty tomb – really was just “mumbo jumbo” or a captivating fable…would Christmas have any meaning at all – outside of, perhaps, a raw anthropological acknowledgment of inherent value in social bonding, human community and cultural myths that help all of that happen?

Not really.

Transcendent joy?  Peace on earth?  Good will to men and women? 

Some nice feel-good concepts, arising from enduring myths that would make Joseph Campbell proud. 

As quickly as a child discovering who really left presents under the tree, the magic of this holiday season would vanish for me and many other believers. 

But it doesn’t have to.