As an adult covert to the Church, I have faced an uphill battle with doing family history work. As an only child of a mother diagnosed as a bipolar malevolent narcissist, and a father who enabled her, there is a laundry list of toxic family dynamics. These difficulties intensified exponentially after I joined the Church—an entity my parents suddenly despised as the cause of my obscene rebellion against the control they had always used to bend me to their will.

My father died over a decade ago and my mother two years ago without any softening or resolution to what amounted to my banishment from their conditional affections. Since then, I have struggled with ever pressing urgency to do their work by proxy in the temple. There have been stops and starts, frustration and guilt. Recently, however, with the help of our ward’s family history consultants I now have the names of my parents and grandparents temple ready and printed out.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, temple work for the dead is a sacred expression of faith, mercy, and hope. It is rooted in the belief that salvation is available to all of God’s children through ordinances performed by proxy. For many Latter-day Saints, submitting a loved one’s name and participating in their baptism or endowment is a powerful spiritual experience. But for others, the process is deeply painful—especially when the person in question is not a beloved ancestor, but a parent who was emotionally abusive, openly hostile to the Church, disowning them for joining the Church, and other egregious actions that can leave deep emotional wounds behind. In that situation, it becomes very difficult to resolve the dichotomy of the doctrine of eternal families with a history of pain.

For those who face this situation, the very idea of performing proxy ordinances for such a parent can feel like reopening old wounds. Memories of manipulation, rejection, or cruelty may come flooding back, and the pain may be compounded by the fear that honoring their name in the temple is a betrayal of the suffering they caused. However, the gospel offers a framework for navigating this complexity—one that honors both truth and healing.

First and foremost, it is essential to remember that God knows our pain personally. One of the most beautiful doctrines of the restored gospel is found in Alma 7:11–12, which teaches that Jesus Christ took upon Himself not only our sins, but also our pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind. Christ’s Atonement is not abstract—it reaches into the darkest corners of our personal suffering, including the anguish caused by an abusive parent. The Savior does not minimize what we endured, nor does He expect us to suppress our grief in the name of forgiveness or ritual. He honors our wounds and walks with us through the healing process.

It also helps to understand what temple work for the dead actually represents. Performing baptisms, confirmations, and endowments by proxy is not an endorsement of someone’s earthly choices. Nor does it grant them automatic salvation. In LDS theology, agency remains intact after death. Those in the spirit world must choose to accept the ordinances performed on their behalf. Thus, temple work is not a reward—it is an offer. It is the extension of Christ’s grace to every soul, regardless of how they lived. For those who inflicted harm, repentance and reconciliation will still be required. Justice is not suspended in eternity; it is perfected in God’s timing.

For this reason, no member should feel compelled to personally perform proxy ordinances for someone who abused them. The Church allows names to be submitted and ordinances completed by others. If the emotional burden is too great, it is entirely appropriate to step back and allow others to carry that responsibility—or to delay submitting the name altogether. Doctrine and Covenants 64:33–34 reminds us that the Lord does not expect immediate or forced service, but values the sincere, willing heart.

The Atonement of Jesus Christ also provides power to bridge the gap between doctrinal obligation and personal pain. Some individuals may find that performing these ordinances becomes part of their healing, a way of turning the pain over to the Savior and allowing Him to carry the emotional weight. For others, healing may come through distance, boundaries, and allowing the Spirit to guide them in a different direction. Neither path is more righteous than the other. Each soul’s journey is unique, and God honors the honest struggle of His children to move forward with faith.

There is also wisdom in accepting that some things will remain unresolved in mortality. The gospel does not demand that we feel reconciled with those who hurt us. It does not require that we override our trauma or fabricate feelings of love where only hurt resides. Instead, it invites us to place judgment, mercy, and ultimate resolution into the hands of a perfect Savior. The Lord is not asking us to forget what happened; He is asking us to trust Him with what we cannot fix.

In the end, temple work for an abusive or estranged parent is not a test of loyalty to the Church—it is a deeply personal decision that can only be made through prayer, counsel with the Lord, and personal revelation. The Savior knows how hard this is. He knows the weight of inherited pain, the cost of broken trust, and the heartache of spiritual loneliness. His promise in John 14:18 is clear—I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.

That promise holds true in the temple. It holds true in the painful silence of unresolved grief. And it holds true for every Latter-day Saint seeking to walk the path of discipleship while carrying the heavy burden of family hurt. Christ stands ready to heal, to judge righteously, and to bind up the brokenhearted—on both sides of the veil.

However, the question remains, am I able to get over those toxic family dynamics and do the proxy work for my parents? Unsurprisingly, the answer is still somedays yes and somedays no. But while the struggle continues, I have thought long and hard about the situation and am now confident I will complete their work in the very near future.