August 13, 2010
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I was moved today to write this. This letter is NOT written from my own personal perspective or experience, but from the point of view of the many young gay men and women who have chosen to end their own lives because they were unable to reconcile who they chose to love with their religion. This, of course, comes just from my assumptions and my imagination. It may read a little bit like a suicide note, but I write it more from the perspective of someone who has already died. This is dedicated to them.

Before I begin, I want to say how grateful I am for my own parents, and for all the love and acceptance I was and am shown. I feel very lucky for that, and it literally saved my life on more than one occasion.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

Don’t worry, I made it safely. The deed is done.

Before I move on, I wanted to let you know how much I love you and maybe explain a little more clearly why I chose to leave you. I really didn’t intend to cause you so much pain, but it was the only way I could alleviate my own pain. It may seem selfish, but I couldn’t stick around anymore knowing I had disappointed you or made you ashamed of me in any way. I really did do my very best to make you proud. I’m sorry I fell short.

When I was a little kid, Dad, I remember walking along the beach in California holding your hand. It was the very first time I had ever seen the ocean. I’ll have this moment burned into my memory forever: you paused and looked out at the horizon for a moment, then looked thoughtfully down into my eyes that were unblinking and wide with awe and said, “Look out there. As deep and wide as that ocean is, God’s love for us is a million times deeper and wider. And I love you even more than that, and nothing you could ever do or say would change that.” You smiled, tousled my hair, and gave me a kiss on my forehead before leading me down closer to the water so we could feel the cool sand beneath our feet and the waves fall against our ankles.

How I wish I could have stayed in that moment eternally. I felt so loved, so safe, so strong. Even as I grew older, each time we visited the ocean it never seemed any smaller. It still stretched vast and wide toward the horizon, and even now all these years later, I can still feel the strength of your hand holding mine and the waves lapping against my feet. You were the closest physical manifestation of God that I could have grasped at that age. There were many times through the years, especially toward the end of it when things were at the very worst, when that memory was all I had to hold onto.

As I grew up, I had all these emotions building in me, and feelings I had always been taught were unclean and perverse. The only way I could make sense of it was to assume that I had done something to make God angry at me; that he was punishing me for skipping church or forgetting to say my evening prayers. Good people don’t have those feelings for no reason.

They say hindsight is twenty twenty. I’m not so sure. Even now, I am still unable to pinpoint when things changed. The older I got, the the more abnormal I felt. In church, we were always taught that God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle. For awhile, I had myself convinced that this was just a “challenge” God was giving me to test me. After a long time, I lost faith in that. I had a really tough time ever really believing that a God who claimed to love me would deliberately hurt me so much. I suppose I even stopped believing that there was a God at all. Obviously, given the outcome of my life, I couldn’t handle whatever “test” this was. Up until the day I took my last breath I was still down on my knees night and day pleading with God anyway even though I knew he had given up on me altogether. Either I wasn’t paying close enough attention or I never actually received an answer to my prayers. I still don’t know.

I would love to be able to tell you that none of this was your fault, and there’s nothing you could have done to prevent it, but I would be lying. Given what I have done, there’s no point in trying to spare your feelings now. It took me such a long time suffering with this by myself. When I first decided to tell you about the feelings I was having, I was prepared for you both to be shocked, disappointed, even disgusted. What I didn’t expect was to be forced into a “therapy” program that involved so much physical, emotional and psychological pain and humiliation, with the threat of my eternal soul. I didn’t think anything could be worse than grappling with these feelings on my own, but the way they tried to “fix” me was the worst hell I never even imagined. I wish I could tell you I have forgiven you for all of it, but I haven’t, and I’m not sure I ever will. I suppose time will tell.

Mom, there were so many times I wished you would just take me in your arms and let me cry and tell me everything was going to work out, like you did so many times when I was little. Sometimes my eyes would meet yours and there was such a look of pain and disgust I began to avoid you because that look stabbed me so deep. I don’t say this to hurt you, Mom, I just wish you could have broken through and just loved me, instead of placing conditions on that love.

Love. Ultimately that was the only thing I truly needed and craved, and the thing that was the most elusive. I never even had the opportunity to try and love myself. I’m convinced both of you did and do love me, but what good is that when it’s not shown or felt? It becomes a bit of a worthless emotion.

Eventually, I couldn’t bear all of these things. All the praying, all the tears, all the physical pain, all the humiliation, all the self-hatred…all because I couldn’t be what you and God wanted me to be.

And so I ended it.

Please understand, I do love both of you more than anything, and I always will. As you told me so many years ago on the beach, Dad, nothing you could do or say would ever make me love you less. I know I have caused you pain with my decision, but it was the only way I could think of to get even a small level of relief from the constant hurt I felt every day.

Before I go, I just want to say thank you for giving me life. Thank you for taking care of me the best way you could. Thank you for the all the good things that happened because of you when I was a child.

I’m going to be all right, and so will you. I know the pain will ease with time, and life will go on for you. I hope now I can move toward something better; to finally be able to be at peace with myself. I hope someday we will see each other again, and all this will make sense.

Until then, please know that I love you. I hope somehow, someway I will be able to love myself as well.

Very well done.

Top. I want more people to read this. You did an excellent job. I cannot imagine not being able to look into my parents' eyes and know they loved me and accepted me.

This was a powerful post and I do want more to read it.

on Tuesday when I sent in my resignation.

I attempted suicide when I was 13.

I was gay, I had been molested for YEARS by an uncle (TBM) and was lectured by HIS friends about morality (they were our home teachers).

I have just had it. I should have sent it in years ago, but had this feeling that somehow Boyd F. Packer would somehow have something to do with it. I thought that perhaps I would send it in when they made him the Dear Leader, but when he sat in his diaper and made his speech, I had a clear bell ringing moment and realized that this was my time.

So will some mormon please explain to me just how in the hell I felt the spirit when I made my decision? The feeling was strong and clear. I also felt it when I put my letters in the mail. WTF? Hmmmm......

That's such an amazing story. How old are you now?

Beautifully written.

I haven't 'felt the spirit' so strongly in a long time.

I was once in a mentally abusive relationship (with the one RM I ever dated...) The biggest thing I had to work out afterward was realizing that no one could tell me that MY feelings were wrong. Working through that helped me on my way out of the church, since telling people their own feelings are wrong seems to be the mission statement.

It makes me so sad to know that so many people feel they can't be themselves, and have to put on a front to keep love and support in their lives. Hugs to you all

I remember when I realized that it was just our own feelings.

I had discovered all the problems with the mormon church and was sitting there thinking, "but I've felt the spirit. I know I have". Then I got to thinking about when and where. I knew that I had in the temple, and I knew that I had at certain conferences. Then I remembered Paul Dunn's talks. With a certain glee, I pulled up a Paul Dunn tale. I knew that his stories had been debunked. As I read it, I felt the same thing. A-bwahahaha!

Years later when I was talking with a couple of mishies, I mentioned the above story. I asked how the spirit could testify to a lie and the senior one said "well, the spirit can testify to a good idea or thought". I said "just because it's a good idea does not mean it is true. Both mishies had a look of concern on their faces for a second. They hadn't thought of that.

Great post. Shame on Packer and mormonism for making kids feel that way.

Again, not trying to troll here or anything, but these whiny "Shame on them" sort of comments just make otherwise objective and intelligent people seem unintelligent.

do or say anything that would make another individual feel so badly about themselves that they would even consider killing themselves should have SHAME heaped upon them.

So I will chime in and say SHAME ON PACKER.

That's why.

Unless you've been though it, you might never fully understand.

Should organizations not be held accountable for what they say and do, along with the consequences of their words?

If you aren't here to troll, then what's the problem with saying that they should be ashamed of the shameful things they say and do?

I've always been grateful that my children weren't homosexual because the world is just so nasty to them. I love my kids and don't want them to have a life that is any harder than it has to be, so not having that extra struggle was nice. But I can't imagine not loving my child with all of my heart regardless of who and what they are. I cannot imagine the pain of being a parent of a child who killed themself, in part because you couldn't accept them as they are.

I really hate the pain religious teachings cause for so many other people. I hope humanity can outgrow it before a comet strikes the earth and drives us to extinction.

I like winecountrygirl's take on "the spirit."

If we all think back on how many times we had "opposite" feelings--wondering why we would have good feelings about something that wasn't spiritual and wondering why we had bad DARK feelings about things to do with the LDS church.

I'm glad your piece got more exposure. The whole issue infuriates me.

As for "Ignorance"--you picked an appropriate name for your moniker.

Just today, I was talking to my ex about his new boyfriend. He is in his 40s and still in the closet. He has never been married. He lives in SLC. His family doesn't know he is gay (well KNOW he is gay). My ex can't stay over at his condo (which he owns) because his roommate (who rents from him) doesn't know he is gay. My ex has to sneak out of the car so nobody will see him and guess. They had a huge argument about being in the closet last night--and how freeing it is in Utah to be out of the closet (even for me and my kids).

I know several gays still in the closet in Utah in their 50s.