When I was 14, I sat in my bishop’s office, listening to men I’d never met—church authorities in Utah—explain over speakerphone what I was being accused of and the gravity of my sin.
I was given a choice: repent for my sin, or sign a piece of paper stating that I was an apostate—the highest form of treason against the Mormon Church. By signing, I would be renouncing God and forfeiting any hope of reaching heaven, not just for myself but for my future children as well.
The leaders made it clear: I would be shunned, cut off from the community, exiled. At 14 years old, I faced the weight of eternal damnation—all because I dared to question and step outside the bounds of their control.
The events leading up to this moment opened my eyes to some dark truths about the church. Today, I’ll share five of these dark truths and how they mirror the dynamics of cults and narcissistic relationships.
Dark Truth #1: You Must Concede Your Power
I was a devout Mormon. Born and raised in the church–meant 3 hours of church every Sunday, family home evening every Monday, and mid week church services.
As a teen, I was the church organist on Sundays, played piano for several church choirs, and went to seminary at 6:00 am every morning before school. My friends were in the church. My parents were in the church. I went to church camps, clubs, sports, and dances. I went to BYU for summer youth programs.
I followed the rules and obeyed–I was blessed as a baby, baptized at 8 years old. I’d gone through confirmation. I’d received my patriarchal blessing. I went to the temple and participated in rituals of baptisms for the dead. I prayed, I read the scriptures. I was a believer.
So, how did a good little Mormon girl like that end up signing away her soul?
The answer lies in the first dark truth about the Mormon church: you must concede your power.
The hierarchical power structures within the church not only create opportunities for narcissists to abuse their authority without being questioned, but the power structure of the church itself acts like a supreme narcissist, using its position to control and manipulate others.
Just like in narcissistic relationships, these structures allow the leader to maintain control by positioning themselves as the sole authority, silencing anyone who dares to challenge them and fostering an environment of dependency and fear.
The Mormon Church is built on a strict hierarchy. At the top are the men in power—the bishops, stake presidents, and general authorities—who are seen as representatives of God. These leaders are trusted implicitly, and their decisions often go unquestioned. But this system also opens the door for abuse.
Narcissists thrive in hierarchical structures like this because they can use their position of authority to control others. And when no one dares to question them, that power becomes dangerous.
For me, it all started when my bishop, the highest authority in our local church, put me in an impossible situation. One day, he asked me to come over to his house to babysit. When I arrived, there were no children, no wife—just him. I knew something was wrong—I clearly wasn’t there to babysit—and I managed to call my mom. She came and got me, screaming and cursing at the bishop.
Even though I was young and naive, I had some idea of what his intentions had been that day at his house. My mom had explained it to me, and told me I needed to stop wearing makeup to church and dress more plainly so I wouldn’t draw any more attention to myself.
But it didn’t end there.
To cover his tracks, the following Sunday, the bishop opened with a special announcement and asked me to come stand next to him at the pulpit.
I walked down from behind the organ, looking out to a sea of hundreds of faces. I was terrified.
With all the force of fire and brimstone, he announced there was a ‘Jezebel’ in the congregation. He pointed to me and claimed I had used the power of Satan to seduce him.
He said he, himself, had repented for his sin of lust, and had already been forgiven. But he announced that I needed to repent because I was corrupting the men of our congregation. Then he asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer to ask for my deliverance from evil.
No one—not even my mom—questioned him. She, like everyone else, bowed her head and prayed for my redemption.
I was young. I was innocent. I hadn’t even held hands with a boy, let alone mastered the art of seduction.
Dark Truth #2: Obedience is Mandatory
As I stood shaking in front of the congregation, I scanned the pews. My friends, their families, my mom, brother, and sister–everyone had their heads bowed in prayer. All but one person: my dad.
He was looking right at me, he pointed at me and then pointed to the exit door–cuing me to walk out. The bishop kept on praying for my repentance, and I kept my head down while I made the long, humiliating walk out of the chapel.
Later, in a teleconference with the bishop and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in Salt Lake City, I was given two choices: repent for my 'sin' of seduction, or face excommunication.
Which brings me to the second dark truth behind the Mormon Church: Obedience is mandatory.
In that moment, the message was clear—I was not a human being with personal rights. I was a possession of the church, or I was nothing. The truth was irrelevant, the facts didn’t matter, my age, my innocence—none of it meant anything.
The only things that mattered were upholding the image of the church, reinforcing the power of its leaders, and taking the blame for a grown man’s sexual fantasies.
You see this dynamic both in narcissistic abuse and cults. In these systems, the truth is often disregarded, and the person’s worth is reduced to how well they can serve the needs or image of the narcissist or the group.
Just like in a cult, where the leader's authority is unquestionable and the group’s reputation is paramount, narcissists demand total control. They twist reality to protect themselves, forcing their victims to take the blame and submit to their version of events, no matter how distorted.
In both cases, obedience is demanded, and any form of resistance or assertion of personal truth is punished with rejection or humiliation.
Dark Truth #3: Image Control is Everything
My dad walked me out of church that day, while my mom stayed behind to pray. And the difference between their responses haunted me for years. I couldn’t make sense of it.
My parents were both physically abusive, incredibly cruel people. Of course, I can’t really diagnose them, but my best guess is that my mom had borderline personality disorder along with being a grandiose narcissist, while my father was a sadistic covert narcissist.
These were people who were unwilling and unable to truly care about me. They lacked empathy. They were sick and disturbed.
So why did my mom come and get me at the bishop’s house? Why did she scream at him when picked me up? And then why did she ultimately stay at church to pray?
And why did my dad point me to the exit door that day? Why did he walk out with me?
For years, I clung to these two memories like a broken raft in a raging sea. I used them as proof that, at least once, my parents had loved me and protected me.
It wasn’t until I understood the inner motivations of narcissism that I realized the dark truth behind these two events and how they related to the Mormon Church: image control is everything.
While I had once thought that these moments symbolized protection, they weren’t protecting me. They were protecting their image. My mom stayed to pray because she wanted to protect her image as a good Mormon wife. My dad publicly protected me by walking out because he wanted to control his image as a strong Mormon father. They ultimately were concerned about themselves, not about me.
And this is how the Mormon Church operates, too. Just like my parents, the church places an obsessive focus on image. What happens behind closed doors—whether it’s abuse, manipulation, or control—is irrelevant, as long as the facade remains intact.
This is a hallmark of both cults and narcissistic relationships: it’s not about what’s real; it’s about what looks good. In both systems, the individual is sacrificed for the sake of maintaining a perfect image, and any threat to that image must be silenced or cast out.
Dark Truth #4: You Must Surrender Your Ethics
Years after my mom died, I was able to track down a church-appointed therapist who, over 20 years earlier, had been assigned to my family. When we spoke on the phone, I asked if she remembered me, my mom, and my family. Her response was immediate: “Yes. I remember your mother. She was the most terrifying woman I’ve ever met.”
She then explained that she had known about the physical abuse we kids endured. She had notified the church several times, begging them to protect us, to intervene. But the church did nothing. Instead, they told her to keep quiet and reassigned her to another family. And she did stay quiet, because like many women in the church, she knew she didn’t have any real power. On the phone, 20-something years later, she expressed deep regret. She, also, had lost her faith in the church and eventually left.
Which brings me to the fourth dark truth behind the Mormon Church: You must surrender your ethics.
The church doesn’t just guide your beliefs—it demands that you abandon your own moral compass when it contradicts its agenda. Just as a narcissist manipulates their victims’ values to fit their control, the church expects its members to sacrifice their own ethics in order to protect the institution. You’re molded to fit the narrative they want, and any resistance is treated as a betrayal. Questioning the church’s decisions—especially those that go against your conscience—isn’t just discouraged; it’s condemned.
Narcissistic abuse, like cult dynamics, thrives behind closed doors. It’s insidious because it’s never acknowledged.
That’s how these systems operate—abuse is kept secret, never spoken of, and those suffering are expected to stay quiet. The church, like a narcissist, needed to preserve its image at all costs, even if that meant forcing others to betray their own ethics to protect those in power.
Dark Truth #5: Only the Special Can Belong
Before my exit interview, representatives from the church came into my home to inspect for contraband—alcohol, coffee, anything they could use as evidence against me. And… of course, my parents let them.
It was as if the church was the FBI, building a case, treating me—a 14-year-old—like a criminal under investigation. They opened cupboards, went through my dresser drawers, looked under my mattress. Even though they found nothing, I was still found guilty.
I signed the apostasy paper, not because I feared their threats or believed what they were telling me, but because by the time I was in that room, on the teleconference with the men in Salt Lake City, everything I thought I knew about God, faith, and Jesus had already been eviscerated.
I did not know what the future held for me—whether it was damnation or something else—but I knew for sure that the church was not aligned with anything holy or good.
And yes, I was shunned. I lost my church friends. But that was the least of it. I lost something more vital, more precious, more devastating. I lost faith.
It took over 30 years to heal that wound. Because in that pivotal moment, they didn’t just take away my church. They took God, Jesus, the Bible—all that I had found holy.
Which brings me to the fifth dark truth behind the Mormon Church: only the special get to belong.
And what does “special” mean? The church teaches that it is the one true church and that if you remain faithful, you’ll become a god of your own world—making you special. This idea is deeply ingrained in their philosophy, and it attracts narcissists like flies.
Being "special" means you’re willing to buy into their inflated image. You’re willing to uphold the fantasy they’ve created about themselves. As long as you conform, as long as you validate their version of the truth, you’re allowed to stay. But the moment you question them, the moment you stop feeding their ego, you’re cast out.
This is exactly how narcissists operate. They treat you like you’re special—until you stop serving their needs. As long as you’re willing to uphold their fantasy, they’ll keep you close. But the second you challenge them or refuse to feed their inflated sense of self, they discard you.
Cults work the same way. You’re part of something exclusive, something “special,” but only if you’re willing to accept the narrative they’ve constructed. It’s not about what’s real; it’s about maintaining the illusion of perfection, and anyone who threatens that is removed.
If you were raised in the church and have experienced anything like what I’ve shared today, please know this: it’s not your fault. It’s a corrupt system and narcissistic by nature. You were conditioned to question yourself and surrender your power, which means there’s a good chance you have more than your fair share of narcissists in other areas of your life, family members, teachers, leaders, or partners. Understanding narcissism can help you heal and protect yourself from further harm
So read this blog next… to learn a 5 second test to help you immediately spot a narcissist, making sure you're always protected,