Too often, like in cases like mine, my abuser deeply wounded me within and I questioned why God put me in a family where betrayal was the norm. The act of trauma was a layer upon the already existing unwantedness in the womb, and my unbelief in authority figures and God felt like the same betrayal. The “I was born this way” thing happened to me because I foundationally felt like something was wrong with me. As far back as I could remember, I was drawn to females but felt guilty about it. My confusion over longings, feelings and dis-interest in men lied to me about who I was because society was telling me who I shouldn’t be. The anger for being the unaccepted scapegoat at home created Great Depression and I believed God was punishing me through guilt. The chasm between God and myself grew because expression of inner conflict or turmoil was perceived as a reflection on my parents which they always flipped back on me for being defiant, a quieting of my voice out their fear of being found out. Hence, suicide seemed like relief from my identity in deviancy that shamed me into secrecy.