Is anger bad?

Two years ago, when my son told me that he wanted to commit suicide, I was confused. When he told me that he hated the fact that he was gay, I was sad. When I understood that his impetus for suicide came from our religion’s teachings about homosexuals, I was angry.

I was angry because I didn’t know that by being Mormon, I was homophobic. I hadn’t recognized that talking about the ‘God ordained’ family had made homosexuals feel inferior. I was angry that the only future our church had offered our gay son (and all homosexuals), was a solitary one. I was angry because my church had created policies that hurt people. Policies that I didn’t agree with. Policies that almost killed my son.

As soon as I understood the pain and depression that our religion had caused, I made a choice. I decided to throw away all of my beliefs and start anew. I was very fortunate that my husband felt the same way. The two of us gracefully stepped away from our religious practices and asked our other children if they wanted to join us. In a matter of 6 months, our family of 9 had all resigned from a church, we had previously devoted our life to.

Leaving our religion immediately gave my son hope for the future. I have never regretted my decision. But it did make me angry. I was angry that I was blindsided by my faith. I was angry that my son thought I wouldn’t accept him. I was angry that my church had promised it would make me a better person, but instead made me closed-minded and afraid.

Change was hard and scary. I needed support. So I called my parents and siblings and told them what I had learned. I told them my son was gay and our religion had almost killed him. I told them, after researching some of the uncomfortable doctrine and history of the church, I had discovered that it was full of lies and deceit. I asked each one of them to support me, my family and my gay son, and to leave the religion.

…no one did.

They said I was angry, hurt and emotional. They said I was saying terrible things because of the trauma I had just been through. They said I just needed some space and time to figure out what I believed. They said, I was blinded by my anger.

I admit my memory isn’t perfect, and I probably said offensive things, but it wasn’t just because I was angry. It was because I was scared. I was alone, I was hurting. I needed (and still need) love and support from my family. I needed compassion and understanding. I needed them to ask me how they could love and support me and my family.

I didn’t need space or time. I didn’t need to be labeled as an angry, protective mother. I didn’t need to be viewed as an angry ex-Mormon who hated believing Mormons.

Anger looks scary, but it’s really just a combination of fear, surprise and disappointment. Being angry is good. It is human. It is normal. It spurs change. Loving someone who is angry is hard.

I do not regret being angry. I do not regret reaching out to my family and asking them to consider change. I am proud of my anger. It gave me the courage to transform.