Courtney's Story
I met Courtney through Tina (I love when couples each share their stories!) and my initial thoughts were how happy, fun, and confident of a human she is. I'm so grateful she agreed to share her story - it's so eloquently written and beautiful! Enjoy.
My parents have half joked over the years that our family exists because of me. My parents got pregnant with me before they were married, and though they were headed for marriage pre-pregnancy, nothing gives you a kick in the butt to get down the aisle like an unplanned pregnancy. When my parents got married, my mom was LDS, but my dad was not. They spent the first 7+ years of their marriage going to church separately, often taking turns bringing the kids to church with them. But when we moved to England (my dad was in the Air Force) my dad started attending the LDS church with the rest of us as a way for us to spend more family time together. I turned 8 and my mom asked me if I wanted to get baptized. When I asked her if my dad could baptize me and she told me no, I said I would wait until dad could baptize me. A little over a year later, my dad and I got baptized on the same day. Over the last 20+ years my dad, and in turn our family, has grown and flourished in the gospel.
And what a beautiful blessing that has been for our family. However, it put a lot of pressure on me. I have always felt so responsible; like the weight of the world responsible. I think a large part of that comes with being an oldest child - I felt such a need to be a good example, a rule follower, an exceptional student, strong athlete, great friend, loving daughter, fun sister. But I also felt like I had to be perfect in the gospel or none of it would matter. I felt like if I messed up in any way that it would be detrimental to my entire family. So I did everything I felt I was supposed to do. And that isn’t to say that I didn’t want to do a lot of those things too, but that sense of responsibility was always in the back of my mind.
I definitely felt an attraction to women in my teens, but I was so hyper focused on “being good” that I never let those thoughts linger or develop to a point where I had to actually acknowledge them. When it came to dating the opposite sex, in my teens and early 20s, it just didn’t seem to happen for me. During my BYU years it was especially frustrating and difficult to deal with. I didn’t understand why it was happening for everyone around me, but not for me. This made me question my self worth and put me in a place where internally I just wasn’t very nice to myself. And on top of all of that, the few times boys did show interest in me, it made me so uncomfortable. I just felt like a fish out of water - and the few times I kissed those boys it made me feel physically ill. But I was still a few years off from fully recognizing, and then acknowledging, my dating difficulty had much more to do with who I was trying to date rather than the unkind narrative I had created about myself.
After I graduated from BYU, I started dating someone. This was my first real relationship. On paper, he was perfect for me; but something was just off. I couldn’t fully open myself up to him. At this point I had started to recognize my attraction to women, but I would quickly dismiss the thoughts or reason my way out of them. Despite my growing recognition of my attraction to women, I desperately wanted to want things to work with this guy, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. I remember the night we broke up he said to me “why won’t you just let me love you?” That question lingered in my mind for a long time. And the answer started to become clearer to me.
Over the next couple of years, recognition of my sexuality progressed to acknowledgment. I remember in the early stages my thoughts would go something like this, “gosh I think I might be gay? But I can’t be, right? That’s not a thing that can happen for me. No I’m not gay...right?” These thoughts and feelings became pretty all consuming until I got to a point where, unless I was actively engaged in something else, all I could think about was that it was in fact a thing. A pretty major thing. But it took me years to even be able to say to myself, “I am gay”; saying it aloud or to other people was not going to happen.
As my mid 20s began to fade to late 20s, I started my teaching career at a great school, had the most amazing girl gang anyone could ask for, traveled the world, spent time with family, bought a house, got endowed in the temple, found my niche serving as the stake girls’ camp director; on the outside I was thriving, while internally I was in turmoil. Given what I had finally come to accept and acknowledge about my sexuality, I felt like I had three pretty crappy options. 1) Stay mostly in the closet (maybe coming out to a very few closest family members and friends) and live a celibate, single life, but be fully in good standing with the church; 2) Attempt to be in a heterosexual relationship (but who are we kidding when kissing boys made me physically ill); 3) Date women and face having to navigate coming out and what that would mean given my religious beliefs. But the thing was, in each of these scenarios I would have to give something up. Something that was so vital to what makes me, me. Whether that be my cherished relationship with my faith and church organization or being able to love another person deeply and fully and receive that love in return. It felt like all options pointed to loss and hurt.
I wrestled with these options for years, cycling through them internally. There were times when I was content and happy enough being single and not dating at all. But that would get lonely. So then I would attempt to date men, and that would inevitably not go well. And then there were a few times when I got tired of the first two options and began to think about trying option number three, but I was terrified to act. Until finally, I wasn’t anymore. But not really. I was still terrified, but the terror was outweighed by the exhaustion of living in internal turmoil. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I felt like I owed it to myself to finally try option 3. I was pretty sure I liked women, but there was a piece of me that felt like I couldn’t be certain until I actually dated a girl. So I got on the dating apps and went on a date with a girl. There wasn’t anything life altering or magical about the first few dates I went on, but although I was doing this in secret there was something freeing about it. Finally acknowledging this part of me to others and not just in my own head was exciting and validating. But I still hadn’t come out to anyone in my world.
At this point I think I was saying things and opening the door for those close to me to ask or question me about my sexuality but I wasn’t ready to initiate that all on my own. The first person I came out to was a dear friend I have known since high school. We were alone in the car on a road trip and I had made a comment that opened the door and she walked through it. She asked me what I meant and after a pretty intense struggle to find my words I was finally able to say to her, “I like girls.” Her reaction was so loving, kind, and comforting. And finally saying it aloud to someone made it feel real. But I was still terrified to tell those closest to me.
Over the next few months, I cautiously continued to explore dating women and came out to a couple more people who I love, respect, and trust but who were not in my inner circle. Every time I told someone it got a little easier to say aloud, “I am gay.” And every time I told someone a little weight lifted. But I wasn’t quite prepared for how my coming out to my inner circle would be initiated.
My best friend saw a notification for a tinder message pop up on my phone. When, “Tina sent you a message!” flashed across my screen my blood went hot, my heart began to race, and internally I was panicking. I tried to swipe it away and hoped she hadn’t seen it. Later that evening when we were alone she mustered up the courage to ask me, “Court, can we talk about what I saw on your phone today?” In that moment the panic set in again and I tried to lie for about 47 seconds before I got quiet and then told her, “you can’t tell anyone”. She spent the next 4 hours letting me pour my heart and soul out to her. We cried and we laughed and I cried some more. But she let me know that I was loved by her and so many others, including our Heavenly Father, and that me being gay changed nothing about our friendship (and that me being gay wasn’t really a surprise), which was something I so desperately needed to hear.
Coming out to Hilaire, set into motion a cascade of coming out to the rest of my inner circle. Meanwhile, I had begun dating a girl and the relationship escalated quickly. This relationship ended up being pretty toxic and there are a lot of things I regret about my choices during that time; but I also learned a lot. I finally felt valid and truly secure in my own sexuality. I got a taste of what it was like to love and be loved. It made everything real for me. And I couldn’t keep this part of me a secret from those I loved most anymore.
I’m super close with my family. I think being a military family and moving every few years will do that. I am especially close with my mom and sister. I count them amongst my best friends; I love them dearly and cherish the relationship I have with each of them. But coming out to them was so hard, I think in large part because I was fearful those relationships would never be the same again. When I finally found the courage to tell my sister, I was again met with nothing but love and support. But once she knew, the anxiety surrounding telling my parents was at an all time high. I wanted to tell them in person, but I also wanted to be able to walk away and give them time to process.
Flash to me dropping my parents off at the airport for a trip to Hawaii on Christmas Day. Wild, I know. But I had to do it. My dad was very sweet. He held my hand as I struggled to get the words out. He acknowledged how difficult things must have been for me especially because I was, in his words, “the most faithful person I know.” My mom was pretty quiet in the back of the car. I remember when she finally broke her silence from the back seat she said, “what are you going to do?” When I told her I was dating she started to cry. I think many of those closest to me who suspected I was gay thought that if I ever did come out that I would have the ‘strength’ or ‘faith’ to not ‘act on it’ (one of my least favorite phrases used in this context). But the thing is, it has zero to do with ‘strength’ or ‘faith’. As we arrived at the airport we tearfully hugged goodbye and my parents told me they loved me. A few days later I came out to my brother and his wife. They were also very kind and loving. And then I finally made it to Oregon to visit the final member of my best friend squad to tell her. And I finally felt like I could exhale. Christmas Break 2018 will forever be known as the ‘Coming Out Crusades’ and when I finally returned home I was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.
But then the processing and mourning began. I think an interesting thing about coming out is that it is so personal, but yet once you come out to those closest to you, parents in particular, it ironically is no longer about you. Usually the person who is coming out has known about their sexuality for quite some time before coming out. You’ve questioned it, wrestled with it, ran scenarios about it and what it means for your life. But once you take the lid off and let others in on your secret, you have to give them space to, as morbid as it sounds, grieve. It’s like they need time to mourn the loss of who they thought you were; the life they saw for you. And that’s the place my parents went to next.
They said some hurtful things. My mom quoted scripture at me, attempting to compare me being gay to Joseph Smith’s struggle in Carthage Jail; my dad questioned whether I was truly gay or just unhappy in my job. There were other difficult things to hear, but I made a choice to listen and do my best not to be offended. I kept reminding myself that I had known I was gay for over 7 years, while they had known for about 7 minutes. I prayed for the ability to be understanding and gracious; to choose to see everything they said and did as coming from a place of love. That doesn’t mean it was easy, but slow progress was being made.
After getting out of that toxic first relationship I ended up reconnecting with a girl I had been talking to before I came out - Tina. Remember her? The one that basically outed me to everyone with that Tinder message. Life has a funny way of working itself out. She found a soft spot in her heart and forgave me for ghosting her (honestly I’m the worst and vow to make it up to her for the rest of our lives) and agreed to a date. That first date was magic; the second was even better, and honestly the rest is history. She was living in the Salt Lake Valley and I was in Boise. We did 6 months of long distance, dashing out of work on Fridays as soon as the last bell rang so as to spend every single minute possible together. In that 6 months I think we didn’t go more than 2-3 weekends not seeing each other. We fell madly, deeply, truly in love. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Tina makes me laugh like no one else, challenges me like no one else can, supports me like I need, and she is my best friend. I am so much better for having her in my life. Tina coming into my life is proof to me that God still knows me, loves me, and wants to me to be happy; gay or not gay I am His child and he wants the best for me. Tina and I have started a beautiful life together in Boise with our new pup Teddy. I asked her to marry me; she said YES! Get ready to party 7/10/2021.
Through the entire coming out process, I remained fully active in my ward and continued to fulfill my calling as a relief society teacher. Eventually I came out to my bishop. He is a good man; loving and kind. But given his church calling he wanted me to live a life that I couldn’t commit to living. At a certain point being at church every Sunday became too painful. So now my activity in the organized church doesn’t look like it used to. However, I still consider myself a member of Christ’s Church. I am grateful for the relationships, experiences, lessons, morals, values, blessings, and testimony I gained in almost 30 years. And now I seek to build upon that foundation in other ways; through personal study, discussion, and consistent prayer; my relationship with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ will always be so sacred to me.
I have been very upfront and honest with my family about my relationship with Tina from the start. In fact, they met her only about two weeks in. We spend a lot of time with them since they also live in Boise. And though they have come a long way since the very beginning, we still run into speed bumps, and there are still times I cry and there are days when things are just really hard. But ultimately we have agreed that there are some things we will never see eye to eye on and that is okay; we can still love and respect each other and have happy and fulfilling relationships. We are moving forward with the mantra of “Let go and love. God will take care of the rest.”
Something Tina has helped me to understand and recognize is that you can be truly happy and things can be hard at the same time. So although I am extremely happy in my relationship and cannot wait for all the life things Tina and I will take on together, it is okay that my heart yearns for a place where my relationship and full participation in the organized Church could fully coexist.
I don’t know everything about God and why me being gay seems to be a hardship when it comes to fully participating in God’s church on the earth today. But here’s what I do know: I know we have a loving Heavenly Father who created us and is vastly involved and concerned about the course of our lives. I also know that I was born gay; this is not a choice I made. God made me this way and He loves me this way. I know that families are eternal, but I also know that we don’t understand everything about the next life in this life. I know that when we get down to the nitty gritty, God is LOVE and my relationship with Tina has taught me more about God’s love than anything else in this life ever could, and to me there is no way that this love can be anything but good. It all comes back to that faith I was blessed with; that innate ability to believe. So I will continue to hold tight to the things I do know and build upon them, and trust in my Heavenly Father to take care of the rest.
My parents have half joked over the years that our family exists because of me. My parents got pregnant with me before they were married, and though they were headed for marriage pre-pregnancy, nothing gives you a kick in the butt to get down the aisle like an unplanned pregnancy. When my parents got married, my mom was LDS, but my dad was not. They spent the first 7+ years of their marriage going to church separately, often taking turns bringing the kids to church with them. But when we moved to England (my dad was in the Air Force) my dad started attending the LDS church with the rest of us as a way for us to spend more family time together. I turned 8 and my mom asked me if I wanted to get baptized. When I asked her if my dad could baptize me and she told me no, I said I would wait until dad could baptize me. A little over a year later, my dad and I got baptized on the same day. Over the last 20+ years my dad, and in turn our family, has grown and flourished in the gospel.
And what a beautiful blessing that has been for our family. However, it put a lot of pressure on me. I have always felt so responsible; like the weight of the world responsible. I think a large part of that comes with being an oldest child - I felt such a need to be a good example, a rule follower, an exceptional student, strong athlete, great friend, loving daughter, fun sister. But I also felt like I had to be perfect in the gospel or none of it would matter. I felt like if I messed up in any way that it would be detrimental to my entire family. So I did everything I felt I was supposed to do. And that isn’t to say that I didn’t want to do a lot of those things too, but that sense of responsibility was always in the back of my mind.
I definitely felt an attraction to women in my teens, but I was so hyper focused on “being good” that I never let those thoughts linger or develop to a point where I had to actually acknowledge them. When it came to dating the opposite sex, in my teens and early 20s, it just didn’t seem to happen for me. During my BYU years it was especially frustrating and difficult to deal with. I didn’t understand why it was happening for everyone around me, but not for me. This made me question my self worth and put me in a place where internally I just wasn’t very nice to myself. And on top of all of that, the few times boys did show interest in me, it made me so uncomfortable. I just felt like a fish out of water - and the few times I kissed those boys it made me feel physically ill. But I was still a few years off from fully recognizing, and then acknowledging, my dating difficulty had much more to do with who I was trying to date rather than the unkind narrative I had created about myself.
After I graduated from BYU, I started dating someone. This was my first real relationship. On paper, he was perfect for me; but something was just off. I couldn’t fully open myself up to him. At this point I had started to recognize my attraction to women, but I would quickly dismiss the thoughts or reason my way out of them. Despite my growing recognition of my attraction to women, I desperately wanted to want things to work with this guy, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. I remember the night we broke up he said to me “why won’t you just let me love you?” That question lingered in my mind for a long time. And the answer started to become clearer to me.
Over the next couple of years, recognition of my sexuality progressed to acknowledgment. I remember in the early stages my thoughts would go something like this, “gosh I think I might be gay? But I can’t be, right? That’s not a thing that can happen for me. No I’m not gay...right?” These thoughts and feelings became pretty all consuming until I got to a point where, unless I was actively engaged in something else, all I could think about was that it was in fact a thing. A pretty major thing. But it took me years to even be able to say to myself, “I am gay”; saying it aloud or to other people was not going to happen.
As my mid 20s began to fade to late 20s, I started my teaching career at a great school, had the most amazing girl gang anyone could ask for, traveled the world, spent time with family, bought a house, got endowed in the temple, found my niche serving as the stake girls’ camp director; on the outside I was thriving, while internally I was in turmoil. Given what I had finally come to accept and acknowledge about my sexuality, I felt like I had three pretty crappy options. 1) Stay mostly in the closet (maybe coming out to a very few closest family members and friends) and live a celibate, single life, but be fully in good standing with the church; 2) Attempt to be in a heterosexual relationship (but who are we kidding when kissing boys made me physically ill); 3) Date women and face having to navigate coming out and what that would mean given my religious beliefs. But the thing was, in each of these scenarios I would have to give something up. Something that was so vital to what makes me, me. Whether that be my cherished relationship with my faith and church organization or being able to love another person deeply and fully and receive that love in return. It felt like all options pointed to loss and hurt.
I wrestled with these options for years, cycling through them internally. There were times when I was content and happy enough being single and not dating at all. But that would get lonely. So then I would attempt to date men, and that would inevitably not go well. And then there were a few times when I got tired of the first two options and began to think about trying option number three, but I was terrified to act. Until finally, I wasn’t anymore. But not really. I was still terrified, but the terror was outweighed by the exhaustion of living in internal turmoil. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I felt like I owed it to myself to finally try option 3. I was pretty sure I liked women, but there was a piece of me that felt like I couldn’t be certain until I actually dated a girl. So I got on the dating apps and went on a date with a girl. There wasn’t anything life altering or magical about the first few dates I went on, but although I was doing this in secret there was something freeing about it. Finally acknowledging this part of me to others and not just in my own head was exciting and validating. But I still hadn’t come out to anyone in my world.
At this point I think I was saying things and opening the door for those close to me to ask or question me about my sexuality but I wasn’t ready to initiate that all on my own. The first person I came out to was a dear friend I have known since high school. We were alone in the car on a road trip and I had made a comment that opened the door and she walked through it. She asked me what I meant and after a pretty intense struggle to find my words I was finally able to say to her, “I like girls.” Her reaction was so loving, kind, and comforting. And finally saying it aloud to someone made it feel real. But I was still terrified to tell those closest to me.
Over the next few months, I cautiously continued to explore dating women and came out to a couple more people who I love, respect, and trust but who were not in my inner circle. Every time I told someone it got a little easier to say aloud, “I am gay.” And every time I told someone a little weight lifted. But I wasn’t quite prepared for how my coming out to my inner circle would be initiated.
My best friend saw a notification for a tinder message pop up on my phone. When, “Tina sent you a message!” flashed across my screen my blood went hot, my heart began to race, and internally I was panicking. I tried to swipe it away and hoped she hadn’t seen it. Later that evening when we were alone she mustered up the courage to ask me, “Court, can we talk about what I saw on your phone today?” In that moment the panic set in again and I tried to lie for about 47 seconds before I got quiet and then told her, “you can’t tell anyone”. She spent the next 4 hours letting me pour my heart and soul out to her. We cried and we laughed and I cried some more. But she let me know that I was loved by her and so many others, including our Heavenly Father, and that me being gay changed nothing about our friendship (and that me being gay wasn’t really a surprise), which was something I so desperately needed to hear.
Coming out to Hilaire, set into motion a cascade of coming out to the rest of my inner circle. Meanwhile, I had begun dating a girl and the relationship escalated quickly. This relationship ended up being pretty toxic and there are a lot of things I regret about my choices during that time; but I also learned a lot. I finally felt valid and truly secure in my own sexuality. I got a taste of what it was like to love and be loved. It made everything real for me. And I couldn’t keep this part of me a secret from those I loved most anymore.
I’m super close with my family. I think being a military family and moving every few years will do that. I am especially close with my mom and sister. I count them amongst my best friends; I love them dearly and cherish the relationship I have with each of them. But coming out to them was so hard, I think in large part because I was fearful those relationships would never be the same again. When I finally found the courage to tell my sister, I was again met with nothing but love and support. But once she knew, the anxiety surrounding telling my parents was at an all time high. I wanted to tell them in person, but I also wanted to be able to walk away and give them time to process.
Flash to me dropping my parents off at the airport for a trip to Hawaii on Christmas Day. Wild, I know. But I had to do it. My dad was very sweet. He held my hand as I struggled to get the words out. He acknowledged how difficult things must have been for me especially because I was, in his words, “the most faithful person I know.” My mom was pretty quiet in the back of the car. I remember when she finally broke her silence from the back seat she said, “what are you going to do?” When I told her I was dating she started to cry. I think many of those closest to me who suspected I was gay thought that if I ever did come out that I would have the ‘strength’ or ‘faith’ to not ‘act on it’ (one of my least favorite phrases used in this context). But the thing is, it has zero to do with ‘strength’ or ‘faith’. As we arrived at the airport we tearfully hugged goodbye and my parents told me they loved me. A few days later I came out to my brother and his wife. They were also very kind and loving. And then I finally made it to Oregon to visit the final member of my best friend squad to tell her. And I finally felt like I could exhale. Christmas Break 2018 will forever be known as the ‘Coming Out Crusades’ and when I finally returned home I was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.
But then the processing and mourning began. I think an interesting thing about coming out is that it is so personal, but yet once you come out to those closest to you, parents in particular, it ironically is no longer about you. Usually the person who is coming out has known about their sexuality for quite some time before coming out. You’ve questioned it, wrestled with it, ran scenarios about it and what it means for your life. But once you take the lid off and let others in on your secret, you have to give them space to, as morbid as it sounds, grieve. It’s like they need time to mourn the loss of who they thought you were; the life they saw for you. And that’s the place my parents went to next.
They said some hurtful things. My mom quoted scripture at me, attempting to compare me being gay to Joseph Smith’s struggle in Carthage Jail; my dad questioned whether I was truly gay or just unhappy in my job. There were other difficult things to hear, but I made a choice to listen and do my best not to be offended. I kept reminding myself that I had known I was gay for over 7 years, while they had known for about 7 minutes. I prayed for the ability to be understanding and gracious; to choose to see everything they said and did as coming from a place of love. That doesn’t mean it was easy, but slow progress was being made.
After getting out of that toxic first relationship I ended up reconnecting with a girl I had been talking to before I came out - Tina. Remember her? The one that basically outed me to everyone with that Tinder message. Life has a funny way of working itself out. She found a soft spot in her heart and forgave me for ghosting her (honestly I’m the worst and vow to make it up to her for the rest of our lives) and agreed to a date. That first date was magic; the second was even better, and honestly the rest is history. She was living in the Salt Lake Valley and I was in Boise. We did 6 months of long distance, dashing out of work on Fridays as soon as the last bell rang so as to spend every single minute possible together. In that 6 months I think we didn’t go more than 2-3 weekends not seeing each other. We fell madly, deeply, truly in love. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Tina makes me laugh like no one else, challenges me like no one else can, supports me like I need, and she is my best friend. I am so much better for having her in my life. Tina coming into my life is proof to me that God still knows me, loves me, and wants to me to be happy; gay or not gay I am His child and he wants the best for me. Tina and I have started a beautiful life together in Boise with our new pup Teddy. I asked her to marry me; she said YES! Get ready to party 7/10/2021.
Through the entire coming out process, I remained fully active in my ward and continued to fulfill my calling as a relief society teacher. Eventually I came out to my bishop. He is a good man; loving and kind. But given his church calling he wanted me to live a life that I couldn’t commit to living. At a certain point being at church every Sunday became too painful. So now my activity in the organized church doesn’t look like it used to. However, I still consider myself a member of Christ’s Church. I am grateful for the relationships, experiences, lessons, morals, values, blessings, and testimony I gained in almost 30 years. And now I seek to build upon that foundation in other ways; through personal study, discussion, and consistent prayer; my relationship with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ will always be so sacred to me.
I have been very upfront and honest with my family about my relationship with Tina from the start. In fact, they met her only about two weeks in. We spend a lot of time with them since they also live in Boise. And though they have come a long way since the very beginning, we still run into speed bumps, and there are still times I cry and there are days when things are just really hard. But ultimately we have agreed that there are some things we will never see eye to eye on and that is okay; we can still love and respect each other and have happy and fulfilling relationships. We are moving forward with the mantra of “Let go and love. God will take care of the rest.”
Something Tina has helped me to understand and recognize is that you can be truly happy and things can be hard at the same time. So although I am extremely happy in my relationship and cannot wait for all the life things Tina and I will take on together, it is okay that my heart yearns for a place where my relationship and full participation in the organized Church could fully coexist.
I don’t know everything about God and why me being gay seems to be a hardship when it comes to fully participating in God’s church on the earth today. But here’s what I do know: I know we have a loving Heavenly Father who created us and is vastly involved and concerned about the course of our lives. I also know that I was born gay; this is not a choice I made. God made me this way and He loves me this way. I know that families are eternal, but I also know that we don’t understand everything about the next life in this life. I know that when we get down to the nitty gritty, God is LOVE and my relationship with Tina has taught me more about God’s love than anything else in this life ever could, and to me there is no way that this love can be anything but good. It all comes back to that faith I was blessed with; that innate ability to believe. So I will continue to hold tight to the things I do know and build upon them, and trust in my Heavenly Father to take care of the rest.
Courtney, I have known, loved, and respected your family for a long time. I can't comprehend your struggle but I admire your courage and grace under difficult circumstances. And I still think you're awesome.
ReplyDeleteStacey Morgan