lizardho

[lizardho]

i want devices that are functional and hardy and i want them to last and fuck the rest of the shit i dont need. my ds and 3ds can lie in sleep mode for months if not years and i can pop them open and they've still got two or three bars left. my old phones in high school could go days without a charge. if i leave my nintendo switch on the floor for a few days doing absolutely fuck all nothing i will turn it on and it will cry to me mother i am dying. i am dying mother. and i tell him he'll never be half the man his brother was and he can't hear me because he's dead

[lizardho]

I DID IT! The verbal defense of my dissertation is complete and I passed! Minimal edits, but I get to walk, I’m gonna be a doctor, I’m done, it’s done, AAAAHHHHHHHGG 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️😭😭😍😭😭🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

MY AMAZING WIFE JUST DEFENDED HER FUCKING DISSERTATION!!!

[lizardho]

literally @ozker and i in any situation

[lizardho]

Y'all.

Y'all.

What the fuck.

[lizardho]

My favorite thing about the James Somerton fiasco is that he plagiarized his own butthole by sharing nudes on an alt twitter account but they were not actually his nudes they were an OF model’s nudes

[lizardho]

Do you have any tips for surviving a mission as a queer person?

Tip #1 - Don’t go. Genuinely, I know this can be hard for people to hear, but don’t do it. You can’t fix it from the inside, the mission experience is not one that is swayed by pleas for compassion, by heartfelt humanity, by openness and congruence. People will tell you it is, they’ll say you can change the world, that You Being You is all the Lord wants, but they’re wrong. You cannot change in 2 years what Mormonism has spent 100+ years rending and shattering. You cannot ever be You in a way that matters. At best you will be a token to be spent, and at worst you will be spiritually eviscerated and left to bleed out alone once they’re done with you. If this breaks you, they will NOT put you back together again, they won’t even attempt to try or help, they’ll just leave you dying on the roadside like the priests in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. If not going means your mom is sad, or your dad feels like a failure, or your bishop won’t leave you tf alone, STILL do not go. Your mom can be sad for a bit, it’s better than having your soul broken and your heart pulled out and burned on the altar of Buried Gays. Here be monsters, do not set sail.

Tip #2 - if you DO go, like if your tuition hinges on it, don’t give them your passport. If they pressure you, tell them you’re holding onto it even if it doesn’t make sense. Don’t fold on this. They can use a passport to keep you in the field longer.

Tip #3 - Learn to “lie.” I put lie in quotes because it’s often not lying - the questions you are asked are often lies. If someone asks “how many people will you visit this week?” give them the correct answer because what they’re asking in actuality is not “how many people” but “how faithful are you” and the premise is erroneous. If people ask you if you’re queer, say “no,” because knowing you’re queer won’t change their perception of queerness it will endanger your safety and mental health.

Tip #4 - Be bad at it. A good missionary ignores boundaries or discomfort, they push people too hard and too fast, they manipulate others, they take advantage of pain points. It’s better to be a bad missionary. If someone says “I’m not interested” you’re supposed to say “well can I ask why?” but if you say “that’s totally fine! Here’s a card with an inspirational quote and a link to our website!” they usually feel better about it in the long run and you don’t have to pretend you forgot what consent is for two years. ALSO, being a good missionary means supporting other missionaries and sometimes that is NOT ok. I remember supporting a missionary or two struggling with depression and that was a great use of time, but I also remember getting treated like a Narc for a transfer cycle because I called out a pedo Elder for proposing to a 13 year old. Like. Just because he’s an elder or she’s a sister does NOT mean they are Your People.

Tip #5 - Make a game of it. If you take it seriously it will break you - everything bad is your fault, everything good is God having mercy on you. That just marinades you in guilt and inadequacy for two years. Instead, make it fun through any means necessary. I kept a tally of which ward members had inactivated the most people. I read scripture for fun and not just for work (like reading the OT for the stories and not for whatever else). I downloaded rain sounds to listen to at night so I could sleep. I played solo D&D campaigns. I took longer routes to lessons if it meant walking somewhere pretty or relaxing. Do what makes it bearable for you and do it with the knowledge that you’re not sinning for having fun.

Tip #6 - Actually learn scripture - it makes it easier to get people off your back if you do, it can actually be kinda fun and helpful, and it helps you be more genuine without having to use gimmicks like “The Spirit Voice” (the voice missionaries whip out to say something Serious and Real). Scripture isn’t inherently bad.

Tip #7 - Only stay as long as it’s good - everything has good and bad days, but if the bad days start piling up and making everything feel heavy, if you start thinking of suicide, if you start having panic attacks or worsening mental health, if you’re sick or you’re being taken advantage of or hurt or bullied or whatever just leave. They’ll tell you it’s your fault for being weak or faithless and that is such a crock of shit. That’s actual DARVO in action. Don’t buy it.

Tip #8 - Don’t skip the “hard” or “ugly” parts of lessons - teach the law of tithes to the impoverished, teach the law of chastity to gay people, AS IT IS IN THE CHURCH, because they deserve to know what they’re committing to, and too often they find out too late that what they thought they were committing to was Eternal Joy and what they actually committed to was Mom Working Now So We Can Afford Tithing or Everyone Treating Me Like I’m Diseased Because I’m Gay. Let people you teach see the real church, not the sanitized performance they put on.

Tip #9 - If you’re following the mission rules to a T and really not reading for pleasure, then DO NOT read anything but scripture. The teachings of David O McKay will not help your gay investigator make sense of why the church hates and reviles and rebukes his love, but it will open you up to a certain type of missionary who is unbearable to interact with.

Tip # 10 - Really do NOT go if there is ANY other way. If you can do a service mission, do it. If you can get a scholarship somewhere, take that and don’t go. If you can get an apprenticeship in a trade, do that instead. The church sells a lot of hype about RMs and the biggest thing I learned is that if my sister ever wanted to date an RM I would be scared for her safety. Even when I was a TBM, before my faith crisis but after I returned home, anytime I’d hear people say “make sure to date RMs only” I’d panic about it because even the “good” RMs I knew from my mission days had done some fucked up shit. Do not go.

[lizardho]

Closeted trans man here, very early 20s, planning to move out before I come out. Your blog is like a beacon to me. I think you're fucking awesome.

I’m so glad you can find something helpful in my stories! You’re gonna make it! It gets so much better when you’re you.

[lizardho]

Is Captain Mormon married now?

I think I remember seeing a wedding announcement on FB? Maybe? I ought to check.

[lizardho]

Alright kids say it with me

My thoughts don’t make me a bad person

My feelings don’t make me a bad person

My thoughts, feelings, and impulses only exist inside my head, and none of it matters unless I act on it

Nobody can see my thoughts or emotions

The only things anyone can see and judge me on are my actions

There’s no such thing as a thought crime

thank u

[lizardho]

BYU Roommate story 2

The other roommate I had in that apartment was Captain Mormon, and Captain Mormon was a fucking one-man carnival show.

Captain Mormon had lived in that apartment for two years – he was cemented in the ward, he was known by everyone in the area, and he was so God Damned chipper it was almost an insult to my major depressive episodes. My mom came with me to help me move in, because she is a good mama and she is SO good at decorating and organizing and stuff. We bought some basics – bed sheets, a big soft blanket, a Han Solo and Chewbacca body pillow, some coat hangers, the works. And as I’m hauling it all in Captain Mormon comes up to greet us – not offer help, to clarify, but to say “Hello!”

Which was fine until he started talking past the “Hello!” and it became more and more obvious that he was the most annoying type of Mormon. He was homeschooled by Mormon fundamentalists in rural Idaho, he did crossfit, he was 5’2”, he had glasses that made his eyes look 4x bigger than they normally were, he couldn’t read a room to save his life, he couldn’t NOT make it about him, and he was SUPER self-righteous. There was not a single part of his presentation that gave him a fighting chance to be good at socializing.

So he says “Hello,” and he comes bounding down the stairs, big wide-eyed missionary smile plastered on his face, and says “Hi! You must be [deadname]! It’s SO good to MEET you, I am SO excited to get to know you, but before that, just a ~couple~ thingssss, here’s your space in the fridge and because I’m doing CROSSFIT I basically own the pantry but you can store stuff in there too if you want.”

And because I’m depressed and tired and trying to be nice I just nod along as he explains how to live in his apartment, which fine, whatever, good to set boundaries right away (actually tho it does help, at least for me) and he was just getting under my skin because he talked like he was just about to burst into song, like he was in a Dear Evan Hansen universe and nobody but him knew. He finishes his spiel, I say “Cool, thanks for letting me know” and start to walk up the stairs when he starts asking “get to know you” questions “Where are you from? Where’d you go on your mission? What are you studying?” And I answer them one by one and then repeat them to him, starting with the first one:

“Where are you from?”

“Well, originally I’m from HEAVEN! But then God loved me SO much he sent me to live with my super cool mom AND dad in southern Idaho where I was born in the Covenant! I'm so grateful for that!”

I'm not kidding, that is WORD FOR WORD his response. I have witnesses (my mom). it was WILD. And because I’m emotionally connected to my mom we were able to silently, telepathically, look at each other and say “Holy shit this has to be a joke” but it was NOT a joke AND it got worse because he started to tell me his entire life story and as he continued it became more and more and more and more and more and more and more obvious that he was attracted to women against his will because he had a HUGE chip on his shoulder about all the women who had turned him down on dates. His life story included the phrase “friend zone” at least 8 times before he even got to his mission, and after his mission Hoo Boy I lost count.

I figured he may just be awkward and bad at greetings – as a fellow awkward malefailure I was totally there with him tbh so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, although later that night my mom and I did vent about him and my mom DID say that if I wanted to break my lease she’d help me do it because that was a lot.

I told her I’d power through and maybe he was just having an off-day.

He was NOT having an off-day.

He actually got worse, somehow.

Over the next week, I learned that he likes to sing – not by himself, not to himself, he likes to sing AT you, like, getting in my face and dancing on me while he sings. And to make all the WORSE it was singing Disney songs acapella, so I’m not just getting danced at like I’m a Shark and he’s a Jet, but it’s accompanied by “What can I say, except, you’re WELCOME” slightly off key, and it happens at least 4 times a day.

Our shower had something like 6 laminated paintings of Jesus taped up on the shower walls (which in Mormon culture is meant to be an anti-masturbation trick, like you can’t jork if when Jesus is ogling you, but they also go out of their way to give Jesus ‘Daddy’ vibes so…) and he still managed to take 45-minute showers every night at 11:30 PM while belting out Disney tunes to let us know that he wasn’t masturbating, but then kinda trailing off for 20 minutes, then restarting for the last five minutes. This was a nightly routine, btw, and he never missed a night.

I know he was probably autistic, because I’m probably autistic, and while that helped me be patient there were still times where it got aggravating – he was just SO Mormon and SO sanctimonius and also SO oblivious to everyone’s feelings about that, it was just, like, UGH. I know it’s unfair of me, but I’m being self-indulgent in letting myself be annoyed with him despite my better judgement.

The thing that topped off his annoyingness, to me, was that he constantly complained about being friendzoned – like, at least once a week he was bitching and moaning to everyone in the apartment about the new woman who’d friendzoned him. Eventually the siren call of curiosity seduced me and I started looking these ladies up and they were, above all else, fucking GODDESSES, but they were also all over 5’10” and he was 5’2”. That’s not necessarily prohibitive – it limited his options, sure, but as a tall woman myself I’ve never been dissuaded from catching feelings based on height. He could have still been saved by his personality, by intensity, by passion about something, by any other thing, but he was not. Instead, he just persisted in flirting like a belligerent gopher and whining about how not a single one of the 5’10” athletic queens he was head-over-heels for would ever see him as more than a “friend.”

Because I was an undercover woman, I was severely annoyed with him, but one day I had a Jimmy Neutron-esque brain blast – this man is down BAD for anyone he needs a ladder to make eye-contact with, he has the charm and likeability of a grocery bag full of warm raccoon diarrhea, and the hobbies of a Mormon strawman. Despite all of this, there was ONE (1!) woman in our ward who actually got along with him. She was a total sweetheart, ambitious, smart, and she enjoyed hanging out with him! Unfortunately for him she was 5’8” and didn’t play volleyball competitively so he had never noticed her.

I thought I’d throw him a bone – a bone he didn’t deserve because he took my presence as a personal insult to his faith and heritage – but a bone that MIGHT get him off my back. So one day, after complaining about being friendzoned by a 6’0” member of the BYU women’s basketball team, I asked him why he had never asked out the one person who seemed to be able to tolerate his presence. His stopped, thought about it for a second, locked in to think about it for another 10 minutes, then paced around the apartment muttering about how I was a genius and how he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it. I was glad he liked my idea, and also worried because he has NO chill and NO ability to see, understand, or respect a boundary, so I reminded him that she was a person with a history of relationship trauma so he needed to calm down and take it slow. They had a weekly “friend date” of going to the temple and then getting Vietnamese takeout and I told him that the only possible approach that could work for her was to be chill, casual, cool, calm, and collected – something along the lines of “Hey, I love doing this every week, we get along well, what if we make the next one a date? Nothing different, we just call it a date and see how it feels?” and he was like “Yeah, yeah, that works, great idea!” and left to his room, probably to masturbate with more vigor than he had ever masturbated before.

Well, the fated day comes – they are going to the temple to do baptisms then grabbing Vietnamese takeout. He gives me a conspiratorial thumbs-up before leaving that made me think he had found a way to fuck it up, but I reminded myself that she had known him for years and still spent time with him on purpose so there was no way in HELL he could fuck this up because she already knew him enough to know the red flags and still hadn’t run.

Well, I settle in to study for a test, I watch some Stranger Things, and sure enough two hours later he comes in like clockwork. I turn around to ask how the ‘date’ went and he’s just like…SO deflated. Like, popped. No wind in his sails. So I immediately know he fucked it up.

“She friendzoned me,” he says

In a different world, that would be the beginning line of what would turn into a frantic and sweaty boyremoval because at this point his only chance at happiness is to give into the hand nature gave him and transition – he’s 5’2”, nerdy, awkward, autistic, skinny, one prostate exam would probably be enough to convert him to the bark side and fully become the puppy girl God made him to be, but I am, first of all, also a bottom, and second of all, fucking CONFUSED as HELL because HOW did he fumble this? Legitimately, how? Like? Ack? What? I was too confused to do my duty to the trans community, so I just asked him what he did. And he launches into the story:

“Well, we went to the temple to do baptisms but they were cleaning the baptismal font so we did sealings instead” (oh no) “and during the sealing the guy officiating them said we were a good couple and he could marry us for real if we wanted” (oh no) “and she laughed, so I thought she liked that idea” (OH NO) “so on the way to get our food I said ‘hey, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I always have a good time with you. I love the way you make me feel, I respect you, and I think I’m ready to man up and recognize my feelings for you” (OH NO!) “[Name], will you do me the immense honor of being my girlfriend?”

¡¡¡¡¡¡OH NO!!!!!!

Like, bro, first of all, that’s how you propose, not how you ask someone with abandonment trauma out on a first date. But second of all, he torpedoed that relationship and fumbled a cutey because she laughed at an old man’s joke? And he thought “Oh, she laughed at a joke, guess she wants me, no need to pace myself or slow anything down!”

I chastised him a bit for deciding to ignore her own feelings and needs, then gave him a hug and told him to go to bed. Following that interaction they continued their friendship, but it was never really the same after that, and she moved out when her lease was up.

I have so many stories about these roommates, but if I’m being real I just told y’all the main ones – still, if I can remember any other ones I’ll be all over that. Be kind to each other, be gayer, read more Terry Pratchett, and keep your face a minimum of 6 inches away from mine if you’re gonna sing the Moana soundtrack at me.

[lizardho]

BYU Roommate Part 1

I had a weird experience with Roommates at BYU. My first roommate left overnight one night and about a decade later I found out it was because they left the church and later came out as an enby. Honestly, kinda slay, and it made sense that we got along as good as we did, and I missed them like crazy when they left because my new roommate was a guy who came home from his mission early due to some kind of mental health episode and he acted like I and everyone else was judging him and seeing him as worthless because he came home and I literally didn’t care and actually kinda liked hearing him talk about it because it helped me feel like I could bail if it ever got too weird (which was technically true, but literally false, in the sense that the mission took my passport day 1 so I couldn’t go home without their permission.)

I left, I did my mission, shit was gross and bad and I had a mental health crisis, yadda yadda y’all already know. At the very tip of that mental health crisis iceberg, though, there was the first day back in Provo. I got an apartment that was DIRT cheap - $250/month rent, but I had 3 people living in the apartment with me, including one in my room. Adding to that, the apartment had no lightning except for two lights in the kitchen (and because it was a ’dude’ apartment nobody had a single fucking lamp except the one my roommate’s gf got them). So it was dark. It had carpet that hadn’t been cleaned since Nixon was president, it had mildew, there was one vacuum cleaner in the entire apartment complex and not enough room to store a personal one because the apartment was about the size of fruit fly’s urethra, so everything was dusty as hell.

To add to that – there was one bathroom for four people, and the bathroom was so small I could touch both of the far walls without having to stretch. Additionally, the apartment’s other bedroom was occupied by two people, whom I will refer to as Captain Mormon and The Human Jellyfish, for reasons that will become obvious later. I also had a cool roommate who I got along with because he left me alone, he didn’t make eye contact when talking to me, and his gf was nice and talked to me.

For simplicity’s sake I’ll start with The Human jellyfish. The Human Jellyfish has no spine. He has no opinion unless someone else tells him to have one, and even then they also have to tell him what the opinion should be. He has no hobbies except for work and school. He has no friends except for coworkers.

He wasn’t bad, he was really kind and really helpful, but he was not the person you’d go to if you, say, needed someone to take charge.

Well, one day, his coworker, a smart but shy woman who teaches Japanese classes at the MTC, knocks on the door. She asks if she can talk to The Human Jellyfish and I holler at him to come down. He says he’ll be down in a minute so I tell her she can come in in the meantime. She steps in and I see she’s wringing her hands and keeps checking down the hallway, so I ask if something is up.

She asks if I know a guy named Stalker, and I do, because he is my stalker. He was a 28-year-old man who followed me home after work one day and then moved into my apartment complex and then sat outside my apartment once or twice a week waiting to tell me about how much ketamine he owned and how many people he killed in Iraq, so I was VERY well acquainted with Stalker. So I say I do know Stalker, and she says, “Well, I think Stalker’s hurt? He just stumbled into my apartment and when I came down to see what the noise was he fell down and told me he was going into shock.”

First of all, god bless this innocent innocent woman, too innocent to know that she was actively being robbed by a man with a ketamine problem and a history of violence. Second of all, I immediately realized that she did not need a human jellyfish, she needed someone who could be mean, and I could not only be mean but I also NEEDED a win against Stalker because he had been giving me the willies for months. So I said “Yeah, let’s wait for The Human Jellyfish to come down and I’ll go over with both of you.”

She stopped wringing her hands and looked a lot more relieved as me and Jellyboy walked with her to her apartment, where my stalker was lying on the floor of a ransacked living room moaning in pain. He said he had stubbed his foot and was going into shock (I’m not kidding). He sees two people are now with her and sees that at least one of them is a man and immediately says “If Jellyfish can help me back to my apartment I can treat myself for the shock and I’ll be OK,” and Jellyfish is ALL over that because someone just told him to do something and he loves knowing what to do, so he starts moving towards him to help him up when I chime in.

“No you can’t.”

The room goes quiet.

“What do you mean? I can’t what?” Stalker is mad, but he’s also scared

“You can’t treat your own shock. Jellyfish, he’s delusional from the pain, he needs medical attention. Can you prop up his feet and keep him lying down?”

Jellyfish is confused for a fraction of a second while he computes his new orders, but then dutifully follows them. Stalker is scared now, because he knows Jellyfish is listening to me but he DOESN’T know that Jellyfish has no ability to make decisions and can be counteracted by just giving him a new command, so he thinks he’s outnumbered.

Finally, he says “No, wait, I think I’m feeling better now, I can just get up and go,” and I say “Well that proves it! Jellyfish, push him down, he’s out of it, he’s not gonna make it much longer without medical help,” so Jellyfish pushes my stalker down and then looks back at me for approval, so I give him a thumbs up and tell him he’s disoriented from the pain so his job is just to keep him prone until the ambulance arrives. Then I make direct eye contact with Stalker and call the ambulance.

Stalker panics and starts to try and wriggle free, but Jellyfish has now received the honor of a thumbs up for following directions so he is having none of it. Every time he pushes Stalker back down I give him another thumbs up so I’ve got Jellyfish hooked for life. The 9-1-1 operator takes this as seriously as it deserves, and the ambulance arrives in Go Mode within 5 minutes. I go outside to show them the way in and they are working like a well-oiled machine RIGHT UP until they lock eyes with Stalker and the vibe immediately changes.

I see Stalker’s eyes go dark as he realizes he’s caught, and the paramedic drops his voice from ‘giving orders’ mode into ‘Awwh poor widdle baby” and says “Hey Stalker, long time no see, yeah? Do you need the stretcher, or can you walk to the ambulance by yourself?” And after the slowest, shakiest breath I have ever heard this man make, he chokes out “I think I can walk,” and the paramedic goes “What a champ! Come on guys, let’s head back, this’ll be a quick drive.”

And just like that, it was over. I let Jellyfish talk to building management and I walked back to my apartment. The next day my Stalker moved out of the apartment and into a different one across town, and I only ever saw him again in the parking lot of the place I played D&D after that (Stalkers gonna stalk I guess?) but it also was like such a good experience with that guy and NGL I still think of Jellyman in high regard for that.

[lizardho]

working on early horses, i wanted to do a quick sketch to show how small Eohippus was compared to an extant horse (this one is about 150cm tall). as you can see, it wasn't big at all. a perfect little lap horse :)

[lizardho]

i need to know if this is a Mormon thing or a me thing.

Having seriously sensitive shoulders.

I think it’s from the fact that I wasn’t even allowed to wear tank tops until I was like 10?

I always had to have my shoulders covered. My mom was a bit…crazy about ‘modesty’ until I was like 13? Like if it was covered by garmets, it was probably covered.

then I went to junior sizing and my mom gave up because of how short most things are.

You’re asking the wrong person, sadly, I’m just head-to-toe sensitive, but maybe? I know you’re not the only person I’ve heard that from if that helps?

[lizardho]

Growing up is actually all about realizing people don’t inherently dislike you and it’s a bit odd to assume they do

[lizardho]

K so in Mormon history there’s a story of Martin Harris, Joseph Smith’s secretary (kinda), asking to let his wife see the gold plates. Joseph prayed and God conveniently said “Nobody but you can peep on those plates, king, go forth and slay” and so Joseph said “God says no” and Martin says “k but I’ve invested a ton of money into this and my wife is grumpy and wants to see wtf I’m doing” and he says “k gimme a sec” and prays again and God says “cool, more info is helpful, still a no from me tho bestie” and JS says “Hey, I’m JS God doesn’t want your wife to know what’s happening lol” and Martin says “well then tell God to suck the farts out of my ass” and Joseph says “k hang on lemme check” and God finally says “Ok sheesh take the damn translated pages, k? Good compromise? Goodness. Just don’t come hollering at me if something happens.” And Martin takes the translated pages and gets robbed and God gets crabby with both of them and fucks off for a bit to cool down. And what that shows is a few things - one, God says “no” for wild crazy reasons that you could never predict. And two - God can be pushed around if it gets you off his back.

So I dated this girl in HS who was the Uberest of all UberMormons. And she wanted to date me BAD for reasons I cannot fathom (pics provided of what a dweeeb I was) but she apparently prayed a TON and finally God says “sure date ‘him.’” She told me this in a FB message a while ago, and then she said that because of her “pride” God had punished me with challenges that were unduly difficult (Gender Dysphoria). So, essentially, in her world she Martin Harris-ed God into forcing me to date her for 9 months and then as punishment for her pride he whipped out the old Celestial Sissy Hypno and forcefemmed me to teach her a lesson.

Which, to clarify, is fucking hilarious. Like, first of all how self-obsessed? But second of all, how badass? Like, God just said “K you can go to an improv show with him and hold his hand once but then it’s just 1000 years of him loathing his penis you selfish diot” and that is honestly so iconic. I hope she’s right just for the comedy value.

[lizardho]

Trans timelines are what cracked my egg so I put them out there sometimes

[lizardho]

Hey, I'm genderfluid masc-leaning and currently still a member of the church, I just wanted to say good luck on writing your dissertation, thank you for reminding me I'm allowed to be a person and alive.

I don't know where the future will take me but I do know that I'm so grateful that you talked about the anxiety and the burnout and the depression and the pressure of the expectation that comes with everything because I have seriously bad anxiety and there's so many things happening in my life all at once. Thank you thank you thank you. I needed to hear that tonight that the distress is real and that I'm not out of my mind for feeling distressed without being able to give a good enough of a reason as to why.

Thank you for sharing this with me. I hope that if you decide to stay in the church that the church can be good to you. I hope that if you leave the church you can find the joy and peace you were always told they had a monopoly on. I am rooting for you, and I know I’m not alone.