About a year and a half ago, I was the closest to rationally considering suicide that I've ever really come. I'd just realized that my religion and much of my life was not what I thought it was. I didn't know what to do.
Mostly, I was terrified what my family would think. I knew they'd be devastated to lose our eternal family, knew they'd mourn my falling away and worry over my spiritual salvation. I legitimately thought that my death would be less painful for them. That way, they'd take comfort in the plan of salvation; they would be okay because they would know that they'd seem me again someday in the celestial kingdom.
I thought my family would rather have me dead than have me leave the church.
Today, I sat next to Lauren, eating our breakfast with my steaming cup of coffee.
I would say it's a miracle, but it's really not. I never should have doubted my family and I'm ashamed I did. You just hear so many horror stories of disownment. I didn't expect my family to react that way, but I'm sure the people from those horror stories didn't either. I was scared and it's been a bumpy ride. Like any transition, we've had some growing pains. But my family has always had my back. It's a blessing, but no miracle that they've loved me through it.
Please accept my serious relationship with coffee and know that I love you.
