November 14, 2015 “I have something I need to say. I like girls. I don't know what I’m going to do. I know I love the gospel, though. I’m never leaving. I guess I just have to trust in God with this one. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I was terrified beyond all belief when I wrote this in my mission journal. Fifteen months into my mission, I finally came out to myself. The only thing that mattered in my life at the time was the gospel and doing what God’s will for me was. And his will was following his commandments, marrying a man, and immediately having kids.
February 27, 2016 “I’m going home in a few days. I don’t know everything, but I know that the only way to real happiness is through the gospel. I’m gonna make this work. God will help me find a worthy man to marry in the temple. It’s the only thing that matters.”
I was going to make a heteronormative life work for me when I got home from my mission. It’s what God wanted me to do. I was terrified. The thought of marrying a man made me feel gross, but I didn’t think about that. God would help me, right? I’ve heard stories of gay men who had gotten married to women, So God could do the same for me, right? It has to work. I can’t have a happy life if this doesn’t work.
October 10, 2016 “God,” I pleaded. “I can’t do this. I can’t marry a man,” I prayed.
I cried until I didn’t have anything left. Late one night, I was driving around Provo in my car. The week previous, I had gone on a date with one of my really good guy friends. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t want to go on another date with him. I was wildly uncomfortable the whole time. If I couldn’t make it through one simple date with a guy I was close friends with, how could I expect myself to marry one? I drove to the old Provo temple parking lot, parked, turned my car off and sobbed. The reality of being alone for the rest of my life hit me, and I was heartbroken.