It was suffocating. That's what I most remember. Suffocating and inescapable. I stared at the chapel and thought, "My God. I actually have to go in there. I actually have to be with those people." And it took several deep breaths before I actually did it. Spurts of oxygen that actually had to be used to propel my feet to move. Convince my heart to action.

And as I walked in, the feeling was alleviated. It didn't go away. I wasn't immersed in friends. I was suddenly in a foreign place that felt...harmful. I can't describe it, but I just felt wrong. So there I sat, in mock prayer, hoping for the opportunity to turn invisible and run away from all of these hurt feelings. Hoping and wishing that God would make me different in a way that I didn't want to be.

And it spiraled downward from there. My hoping and wishing led to further hurt and suffering and finally I knew I had to leave. I had to get out of there. It was pertinent.

I came back, but I'm not going to forget that initial thought. The feeling of unwelcomeness I had before. It will reverberate with my soul for a long time.

Search me and know my heart, Oh God.