Affirmation and Priesthood Leader Russian Roulette

So, a lot has happened in the past month. I've moved out of my parents' home in Bountiful, UT and am currently living in Millcreek, UT to be closer to work and school. It's really great because my tank of gas now lasts two weeks instead of one. I love the new place that I'm living in too. It's a 3 floor townhome with 4 other guys and I have my own room for $260 a month + utilities. A screaming deal! Especially because my room is huge and I virtually never see my roommates (not that my roommates are bad. They're great. But it's good to have some room to breathe too). It's almost like I have my own house. It's incredible.

I also went to the Affirmation Conference for the very first time on Sept. 19-20. I was really nervous to go because I wasn't sure what to expect at this conference, but it ended up being one of the most spiritual two days of my life. I heard a transgender woman, a gay man, a lesbian lawyer, a lesbian woman in a mixed orientation marriage, and a father of a gay Mormon speak. It was such a variety of speakers, but they all had very important perspectives to give. When they spoke, their words brought me peace and comfort. Everyone at this conference (a good solid 300 people) has been touched by LGBT issues in the church, and they all understood and could empathize with me. We were all able to empathize and understand the speakers. What a beautiful place to be. There was also a super fancy dinner and then cheesecake after the conference. There was also a dance and a lot of socializing. It was a fantastic and diverse experience.

Sunday morning was an even better session. There was a testimony meeting and that was incredible. There were people who hadn't borne their testimony in years because of church discipline that got up and bore beautiful witness to the church. I was moved to tears and got up and bore my testimony, myself. There was so much self-discovery for me at this conference. I finally got a glimpse at the idea that I was living life in a way that was good, and that was a beautiful feeling. After the testimony meeting, there was a super fancy lunch with salmon, wild rice, asparagus, and fruity cake. It was delicious.

The most important thing that I gained from this conference was a sense of community. As a gay Mormon, I have felt like I lived in a sort of limbo between the gay world and the Mormon world, not really fitting into either. But at this conference, I realized there was a place for me and there were at least 300 people that were a part of my community that shared empathy and experience like my own. What a blessing.

A result of this conference was a deeper questioning about what I want in this life. For the first time in my life I'm starting to face the reality that if I continue to date men, I will eventually be first disfellowshipped, then excommunicated if I don't have the desire to change my course of action. That being said, I don't know if I will change that course of action because of the love, peace, and comfort that I have felt while pursuing a more authentic lifestyle. But to be disfellowshipped/excommunicated from the church that I love so much is incredibly traumatizing to me.

So that's where I'm at.

Another point to bring up is that I just moved to a new ward. I had an amazing bishop when I was living with my parents. Not very many gay Mormons are blessed like I was to have a bishop that was so willing to emphasize the importance of embodying Christ and losing yourself in service when you come out to them. Moving brings a huge complication to the relationship between me and my Priesthood Leaders, because not every Priesthood Leader is as kind.

I have often heard of moving and getting a new bishop being described as Russian Roulette, and I agree. You can have a bishop that emphasizes Christ's love and service when you come out to them, or you can be excommunicated or disfellowshipped without them batting an eye. It's a scary road to walk, knowing that you could be on the brink of having your membership in the church ripped from your hands, and it makes me nervous to approach my bishop with the questions that I have and where I am at my life currently.

Fortunately I have reached out to many people who have offered me incredible advice and thought provoking discussions and I have come to an assurance of a few things:



1) No Priesthood Authority can dictate my relationship to God. They may be able to dictate my membership, but my relationship with God is purely personal. That will never change.

2) I can still have the influence of the Spirit in my life. Perhaps not the Gift of the Holy Ghost as is conferred in the baptismal covenants, but God doesn't abandon his children and leave them without guidance.

3) No matter what happens, I am a good person.

4) God wants the happiness of his children. "Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy." 2 Nephi 2: 27

5) I have seen by the fruit that my actions have borne, that my life is good and I have good things to come.



God loves all his children and he will not leave us hopeless. There is a plan for each and every one of us.

A Most Dreaded Sunday

So, I'm sure most of you know, the first sunday after the June 26, 2015 SCOTUS decision led the church to read the official statement that the church put out regarding the decision in each of the wards during the priesthood/relief society block. I knew this was coming, and my nervousness and fear was palpable. I texted a friend in my ward to make sure she was going to church so that I didn't have to face that alone. I walked into sacrament meeting and took my seat in the center section of the pews alone. Though I did know people in the ward, I wasn't comfortable sitting next to or befirneding any of them at that time. My nervousness was too strong and I needed time for introspection during sacrament meeting.

I watched the people begin to flood into the chapel, trying to catch the face of the friend that was going to accompany me during the meetings. I saw many faces that I recognized, even some people that knew I was gay. I wondered if they knew or could comprehend how hard it was for LGBT members of the church to show their faces on this day. I tried to keep my chin high, and an intimidating air so that I could be left alone. It worked.

The bishop stood and called the congregation together and we sang the first hymn, then down to business. He announced the various callings and releasings that are typical to a sacrament meeting and then announced that the relief society and priesthood meetings would be combined in the cultural hall due to an important message from the first presidency. A lump formed in my throat and my stomach sank. I had to wait for another two hours for this letter to be read. Why not just rip off the band aid and get it over with?

We sang the sacrament hymn and partook of the sacrament, which was a reverent and peaceful meeting regardless of the coming message that I was dreading. Once that was done, my mind turned to the testimonies that were to be borne for the next 45 minutes or so.

To be honest, I was really worried about the testimonies consisting of all the young stalwart single adults ripping the SCOTUS decision to shreds, which to my surprise and pleasure, isn't what happened. There were several heartfelt testimonies, and not one mentioned anything of same-sex marriage.

Also to my surprise, I felt that burning feeling in my chest to go up and bear my testimony. You know, it feels like your heart grew 10 times larger, your arms are shaking, and chills raking your skin with goosebumps. An undeniable physical manifestation of the spirit. I felt the Spirit whispering almost loud enough to hear, "You need to get up there." But because of my nervousness, the fact that many in the ward already had knowledge of my sexuality, and fear of judgement, I stayed plastered in my seat until about the last 10 minutes.

Once I clambered out of my seat, I felt incredibly self-conscious as everyone in the congregation stares at you as you walk up to the front of the chapel. The speaker said his final "amen" and it was my turn to walk to the pulpit. As I turned around to face the mike, I realized how many people there were in the congregation. People I knew, people I didn't know, and people I would eventually get to know. My nervousness spilled over as I shouted "HI!" in the microphone and practically burst everybody's eardrums. I covered by using my charisma and making everybody laugh, and I'm going to summarize the basis of what my testimony was.

I testified of the church because of the principle teachings of Jesus Christ: Love and Service. I expounded by emphasizing the importance of family.

WHAT? A  gay person baring their testimony on family? Preposterous!

Let me explain. Family doesn't only extend to the traditional sphere of marriage between a man and a woman and rearing children to do the same. No, family includes all family members. Those that fall away, those that don't have the same beliefs as us, those that make decisions that we deem as morally wrong. Not all of our family members, our very own brothers and sisters in our homes, fit the "Mormon Mold." That is what family is supposed to be about. Not just traditional marriage, family.

I sat down and listened to the rest of the tesimonies that were being shared in sacrament meeting. Sunday school went by, and then came the dreaded combined priesthood/relief society meeting. We all filed into the cultural hall and my friend and I sat down somewhere in the middle. The bishop stood up and called up together and we sang a hymn and said a prayer. He again stood up and announced that he was reading a letter from the first presidency about the new same-sex marriage ruling along with some other compiled notes and documents. He read the documents first and then he read the letter.

I hope that you all know that I have no problem with the beliefs of the church. The church can have its standards, that is not my issue. My issue is when you don't put a person behind the issue. There are thousands of people in our congregations silently suffering as we hear the messages that who we are is wrong and we don't fit into the plan, that we need to live our lives in loneliness or a marriage that we can't give our whole heart to.

And that is absolutely NOT true.

Our focus doesn't need to be gay marriage. We know the doctrine by heart. We hear it every sunday. We see it on social media. We see it every day we get a marriage announcement. We see it every time someone posts about their baby and their small eternal family. We see it. We know it.

When the bishop read the letter and documents, I was frustrated that there wasn't a greater emphasis on love, inclusion, and family being the vital focus of the church. Christ doesn't leave anyone out of his circles. He ate with publicans and sinners and he scolded the "righteous." That is what our church should be modeled after, not leaving people out of our circles. They are our family whether they are following the church standards or not.

That is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Love.

Put It On The Shelf and Just Hit The Ball

So before I start the story, I just want to say that my bishop is awesome. Earlier in the year I went to visit with him so that I could get a temple recommend and I was terrified because I was dating men and okay with that. Many bishops aren't okay with guys even holding hands, saying it's breaking the law of chastity.

Anyways, I confided in him that I was a gay Mormon and the immediate response he had was, "That sucks." To me this was a fantastic response, because it showed that he had some empathy! He then continued to say how he can't imagine how hard that must be for me as a member of the church, then he asked if I date guys. I told him yes and he told me that as long as I abide by lines, that I'm fine. Since there is no real set doctrine on what is right and what is wrong when it comes to homosexual behavior, I have kind of constructed the line to be, "If it makes my conscience feel bad, I have a loss of light, and a lack of the spirit, then I have crossed a line." He then not only gave me my temple recommend, but he extended me two callings that I still hold to this day. I like my bishop.

So back to the story I was going to tell you.

I have been going through a kind of spiritual lag for about a month now. Where I didn't read my scriptures with real intent, my prayers were spotty and insincere, my attendance to my church meetings were of mediocre effort... simply because I haven't felt happy and comfortable going to church lately. So I decided to set up a meeting with my bishop to discuss things. I sat down on one of the cushy chairs and he sat down on the cushy chair next to me, which is something I like. It makes him seem more human, instead of sitting in front of a desk, we were sitting on chairs next to each other conversing like friends.

We had the usual greetings and small talk exchange, and then quickly shifted the topic to the reason I was really there. I told him I felt unhappy in the church and I felt unhappy out of the church and I'm not sure what to do because of my attractions to men. He immediately validated my feelings and told me that I do experience some challenges that most men and women don't experience in the church and that my life holds a series of many complications in that sense. He then sat and pondered a little bit and told me a few simple things that I should do that would bring me more light into my life. I said, "Well, what do things things have to do with me figuring out what path is best for me to take to attain the greatest happiness I can?"

He got up from his chair and started to pace around his office, clearly deep in thought. The finally he stopped and asked, "Trevor, have you ever played golf before?"

I told him yes.

"Well," he said, "You stand there ready to swing. You can think about your posture, how far you're standing, if your swing is right, if you're aiming well, and stress about all those minor details. But I want you to just stand there and hit the ball. Just hit the ball."

I asked him what he meant.

"I mean that I can see that all of life's complications that has been worrying you is weighing you down," he walked over to me and pushed down on my shoulders, "Making you feel like this. And that's not how life should be lived. I want to see that light in yours eyes again. I'm not saying you need to forget your worries, but right now I want you to put them on a shelf. Those things you are concerned about are not things that you need to think of now or the near future. Right now I need you to concentrate on bringing more light into your life. Has dating men been distracting you?"

I said no.

He said, "Good," and then gave me a hug before I left his office.

I have never had a stronger testimony of the leadership of the church. My bishop is a good man.

The Prison of the Heart

This is a poem that I wrote for a project in my high school junior year's Honors English class. We were supposed to imitate the style of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven." I thought I was quite successful in this endeavor! I wrote this poem in the heat of when I was trying to reconcile my sexuality with my religion and captures the intense emotions I felt during this period of my life. Enjoy!

The Prison of the Heart

1 In weak reflection in endless night, the blended shade of black and white;

2 Gray it is called for it’s neutral shade, but as I am it does not exist anymore--

3 For the heart’s prison, and the judgment did she die by torment,

4 And there she lies; in black white pallor do I secretly favor,

5 That in the heart she did choose the poison I cannot ignore;

6 Yet as it truly is black white, I still accused the Tormentor.



7 Lady Justice holds the scale before her eyes, with the poison on black, and the water on white;

8 Her eyes stare forward with base benevolence towards she that accompanies evermore,

9 Overshadowing the blank cell with her God-given wings of authority.

10 And she lies in the prison of the Impersonator,

11 With the black white choice of the Liberator--

12 But outside the prison, the very reason, lies the Tormentor.



13 The lady, not of Justice, but captivity--

14 With deep blue eyes and auburn hair she lay there on the floor;

15 Her eyes, so bright they were before, like crisp clean ice on a winter day,

16 Her eyes, her eyes, where was the light before now is black and always will be forevermore!

17 How could she drink the poison before and fallen on the floor?

18 Alas, the Tormentor, the Tormentor!



19 This prison with it’s iron bars was unusually crafted,

20 For the lock itself was on the inside of the door!

21 The key in the hands of the prisoner, for it was a voluntary prison;

22 Ingeniously devised, this was the plan of the Impersonator,

23 To induce a self-made torture of the captor,

24 And placed outside the door was the Tormentor.



25 His last cruel idea was Lady Justice with her morbid scale,

26 The poison or water meant for the confessor,

27 The vial of poison the size of a thumb, the golden pitcher of water delicious to the tongue.

28 A strange power holds the scale balanced and moves no more,

29 And of this terrible idea do I abhor,

30 That in a sense, the Impersonator is the Tormentor.


31 Reasons of love was the reason she went, Forbidden and strong was the love therein;

32 In secret, that is who lies outside the door, her lover is also the Tormentor.

33 Because of the bars and the empty space, she constantly heard his words and saw his face,

34 Oh, how he enticed her, but his enticings were that of a suitor,

35 Yet, the guilt she held hurt her like a razor,

36 And this was how he was her Tormentor.



37 He never left, he was always there, wanting with her his life to share,

38 The tears her eyes drew to her lids ashore,

39 She grew quite parched and looked towards the scale,

40 And realized this torture in her hands could be o’er,

41 That thought she could not keep nevermore,

42 She knew, somehow, it was the plan of the Tormentor.


43 But she drank of the water, feeling the smooth golden pitcher,

44 And tasting the white sweet water therein to savor,

45 Her thirst was quenched, but her ears were dry with the sounds of his lies,

46 To her soul no more, for it was sold to the Impersonator,

47 Signed by her own blood was she the captor,

48 Unfortunate was she the victim of the Tormentor.



49 Frantic was her pleas and now she couldn’t bear,

50 How he laughed at her pain and madness he did adore,

51 Her cursed wails, screams, and tears of frustration, of which he didn’t listen,

52 She threw the golden pitcher with violent vigor,

53 Hoping to silence his words and be done for,

54 Of course, this only strengthened the Tormentor.



55 Now she was done with this terrible torture,

56 But she couldn’t bring herself to go outside the prison door,

57 A much clearer end was there for her to ensure.

58 She stood and walked with unneeded terror,

59 Towards Lady Justice, her eyes full of valor,

60 For this man was no longer the Tormentor.



61 She reached her hand out, trembling with unfearful anticipation,

62 That after partaking of the poison she would be no more,

63 That the man’s pleading would end and he would suffer like her.

64 She unstoppered the black poison and consumed it as liquor,

65 Now the black white state of death consumed evermore,

66 For the tormented was now the Tormentor.



67 And this was the pains of my soul, for she died in my sake,

68 The pure white life that she held in her eyes no more,

69 For she entered into black white death on her own,

70 It is black white for it’s terrible dishonor,

71 And also for it’s unreasonably good savor,

72 For that, no power is in the Tormentor.



73 Ever in the prison of my heart she lies dead,

74 For the secrets I hold and attempt to ignore;

75 But attempt is what it is, for it will always be there,

76 As if a sin against God himself I wish to restore,

77 For I cannot try to be my own liberator,

78 Because me, myself, and I are my own Tormentor.



79 I wish as I could to revive her again,

80 For she was the one who kept me in my splendor,

81 That beautiful woman in the prison of my heart,

82 For I am not gray, but a black white horror,

83 Measured by man by the death of the captor,

84 For now I do wish I was not the Tormentor.



85 Now I contemplate on this endless night, my own Lady Justice, black and white;

86 For now I am as the woman in my heart, the captor.

87 The choice is the white water, and the black poison,

88 Yet, this idea is not that like honor,

89 Disgust, and will cause the people to rumor,

90 For this decision it is I, the Tormentor.



91 I reach, trembling, and knock over the golden pitcher,

92 Shocked, the decision is easier, I also will consume the black poison as liquor.

93 I listen to the rain outside my window patter-patter,

94 Frozen I am, where is this Impersonator?

95 I laugh, “What a silly idea, you cause me to have terror,

96 For it is not you, because I am the Tormentor!”



97 I felt the sensation of madness for once, and I welcomed it in abundance.

98 I snatched the black poison and ripped off the cork with vigor,

99 I drowned in it, with the feeling so savorable,

100 And now I drank to live on nevermore,

101 So I may reach the sands of Hell’s pebbled shore,

102 For it will accept I, the Tormentor!



103 I, the mad man, impulsively drank the black poison,

104 The black white death did not consume, it did not restore,

105 What wasn’t there, there was only the black, even that I lack,

106 Now I know there was never an Impersonator,

107 Now I know there was never a Captor,

108 There was only me, I, the Tormentor

Being Jaded: A Personal Choice

So I recently have gone on a couple of dates with a guy and he pointed out my lack of being "jaded." At first he said he attributed it to my age, as I am only 19 and a little more optimistic and hopeful about what my future has in store for me, but after talking about life experiences and getting to know more about each other, he said he didn't think that was the case.

I had been unfamiliar with that word, "jaded." But I have noticed that many of my friends and love interests have seemed to assimilate it to their vocabulary. So I decided to look it up:

jad·ed

adjective \ˈjā-dəd\

: feeling or showing a lack of interest and excitement caused by having done or experienced too much of something

CloseStyle: MLA APA Chicago

Full Definition of JADED

1

: fatigued by overwork : exhausted

2

: made dull, apathetic, or cynical by experience or by surfeit <jaded network viewers> <jaded voters>

I was curious about why there was something about adulthood that causes people to become jaded. People have said they become jaded because their lives don't end up how they wanted them to be or envisioned it to be, their career plans are different because their dreams were too big for them, they're frustrated because they can't find "the one."

I understand these things. I thought I would be serving a mission right now. I'm getting educated in a field that is very unstable and unreliable, I still struggle whether I should be dating a woman or men, I've had problems with depression. I get how those things can make you jaded. I let them make me jaded for a long time, starting when I was 13 until I was 17. But that left me with so much unhappiness and unfulfillment. It was a lot to let this jaded unhappiness consume me, but as a wise man once told me, when has anything good come about by taking the path of least resistance?

So I have come to the conclusion that being jaded is a personal choice. It's a choice to either be bitter with the path that life has taken you, or have faith that even though things didn't go as you planned, God has a plan for you, and His plan is perfect and you're going to end up where you need to, and even if that isn't what you initially wanted, it's what you get. There's no point in becoming "dull, apathetic, or cynical" about your life, because you only get one.

There's always something bright to look up to. There's always something good in a person. It just might take a little more effort to find it and to get there, but I can promise you that the effort is worth it. Being jaded doesn't have to be a requirement of adulthood.

But then again, who am I to say anything? After all, I'm only 19 years old. ;)

Only Black and White: High School

I think this post is important for any high schooler to see because even though this may be my story, every high schooler has struggles just like this that every high schooler faces, but nobody sees. High school is all about masks and personas, what we want people to see. And that is in no way a healthy behavior. Here's my list of advice to any high schooler:



1) Just be yourself (or discover yourself). People will love you regardless of who you are. And if they don't, they're not the ones that are deserving of your love.

2) Life ALWAYS goes on! You may think that you made a mistake, or you may get embarassed, but life wont stop. And I think you'll find that life is directing you in paths you need to go, anyways.

3) "You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it."- We Bought a Zoo

4) Going off of number 3, you know that girl or guy you like? Yeah, it doesn't hurt to tell them you like them. Don't wait two years.

5) Last of all, to tie it all together, you never know if you don't try.



Now on to my high school stuff.

I remember my first day of high school was actually pretty lonely. I was in an unfamiliar school with unfamiliar people. I knew two people, but they were a couple and I was sort of the third wheel left to fend for myself. Half of the first term I ate lunch by myself because I was so shy back then, but that didn't matter, because I could start anew. I was on my school's dance company and the band and eventually joined a few other clubs and got a bit more involved in my high school and I knew that I was set to gain friends and become comfortable, but I was plagued with the fear that people would bully me incessantly like they did in elementary school and middle school. Fortunately that wasn't the case.

I remember the name of my first friend at this new high school. We met in our math class and  I started eating lunch with her friends who remain some of my best friends to this day. I remember this math class vividly because I had a huge crush on my teacher. It's no wonder I got straight A's and the highest test scores in the class. There was NO WAY I wasn't going to pay attention.

Now that I had established a friend group, I felt more established. Things were definitely looking up. I got a 4.0 for the first times in my life and then at the end of the first semester, I started to develop a crush on a guy in some of my classes and that kinda threw things for a loop. There was no way I was going to like this guy, so I was actually kind of rude because if I wasn't nice to him, obviously he wouldn't like me and I wouldn't like him anymore. That didn't work, because I still really wanted him attention and company, even though I hated that I wanted that. This kind of started to make these feelings a rising problem for me.

Then sometime in there, the October 2010 General Conference happened where Boyd K. Packer gave a talk that mentioned homosexuality and the LGBT community exploded over it. This caused a lot of confusion for me, so my anxiety grew and I decided to look for answers. I created a fake facebook account and joined discussions on a page called "I Support Boyd K. Packer" and met some very great people that were trying to lead me to gospel answers. I really respected their efforts, but their pointed efforts to lead me to reparative therapy led me thinking that there was something wrong with me and that I needed correction and I felt like I was even more of a mistake. So I decided to tell my first friend about my feelings towards men.

Let's call her Jessie (not her real name). I remember it was sometime that December while I was on my paper route that I texted her and told her I was gay. It was such a relief to me to finally get that off my chest and have someone know me for who I truly was.

I was apalled with the conversation that followed.

She told me she was very concerned for me and that these feelings I was experiencing weren't actually real and that I must be letting Satan control me for those thoughts to ever enter my mind. I tried so hard to explain that I didn't want to feel this way and that I was trying really hard to make them go away. My stomach dropped as I realized I had told the wrong first person. I didn't tell anyone else for almost two years.

The next two years were pretty uneventful, but I kept myself busy. I knew that if I was busy, I wouldn't have time to think too deeply about my feelings and the frustration and depression I was facing in life. It worked for a while, but summers were always hard because I didn't ever have that much to do but work. But finally, the summer after my junior year I decided I was going to start facing my attractions toward men. I turned to youtube and google to find blogs and people who were experiencing these feelings as gay mormons, and I found that there were a lot. A lot more than I realized and a lot more than should go unnoticed.

I heard their stories of confirmation, about how God loved them, and how they began to love themselves, so I thought that maybe I could ask God myself. After watching "Prayers for Bobby" on youtube I decided to get on my knees and ask him if it was okay that I was gay. The overwhelming sensation of the Spirit told me that God loved me and I had a lot of personal revelation for myself that I will never forget.

God loved me no matter what.

On the Breaking Point: Middle School

As middle school progressed, so did the teasing and insecurity. 7th grade I was desperate to try and change these feelings, so I pretended to have a crush on this girl (let's call her Victoria because that's a sexy name and I don't know anyone named Victoria). I tried very hard to win over Victoria's heart as a 12 year old boy, and I succeeded for a time. We were both in the awkward young teen love stage where we both liked each other but were too grossed out by cooties or something (like the fact that she was a girl) to actually talk about it. Eventually in mid 8th grade, she told me she didn't like me anymore and I was absolutely traumatized. I cried and listened to sad music because I thought that my chance to become straight was shot.

As dramatic as that sounds, as a little gay boy it was a legitimate stressor for me. It caused me a lot of depression because no matter how hard I tried to pretend to like girls I could never actually like girls. All my friends were talking about the people they had crushes on, and the people I had crushes on I felt like I was forbidden to admit. So I continued to try and have crushes on Breanna, Marissa, and Alexa (all alias names) to no avail. They would all have crushes on me and eventually tell me that they didn't like me anymore. I was crushed (pun definitely intended).

Then came 9th grade and along with 9th grade came seminary because it was the first year of high school. We were studying the Book of Mormon, which I thought was a fantastic start to my seminary experience. The Book of Mormon was the keystone of the gospel and it would be a fantastic way to develop and strengthen the foundation of my testimony. My teacher's name was Brother Garrett and it was one of the most spiritually strengthening years of my life. Also one of the most depressing.

I was on top of my scripture study and I made sure to pass off every scripture mastery. I took notes, pondered, and prayed about everything I was taught that year because I figured if I was spiritual enough, God would provide me an answer to my prayers and I could become straight, making the following years of my life a lot easier to handle. In the meantime the bullying intensified.

Some of my classmates would pretend I wasn't there, run into me in the halls and call me a "faggot," "gay," or "queer." Someone even sent me a fake valentine for valentine's day from a well known gay guy at our school to spite me and that guy. The thing that hurt the most was when I found out that one of my best friends spread rumors about me around the school that I was gay (which, I mean.. was true. But 1) I didn't tell anyone yet and 2) You just don't out people. Period.). Because of this rumor, the bullying got so bad I had to go see the school councellor to get it to stop. He called her in to face me and apologize but she pretended nothing happened and walked out of the office with her head held high. Because of this, I became very withdrawn and defensive because I didn't know who I could trust. I even began to withdraw from my closest friends.

I remember a specific incident where I fasted and knelt beside my bed praying specifically to be healed from having these feelings and feeling so very empty as I didn't get any divine answer from God that I would be changed due to my faithfulness. I became numb inside as I sobbed into my sheets.

The end of ninth grade rolled around and I couldn't take the bullying anymore. Like I said, I distanced myself from my friends and applied for a varience to go to Davis High, which was roughly 15 miles away from where I lived in Bountiful. I had my escape and new start in order and I couldn't wait.