While still in the missionfield, I received several letters from my father. Letters from him were very rare so when they came, I opened them with great enthusiasm.
The emphasis of these letters was to ask where was I going to finish my university schooling. He told me that, as a returned missionary, I would probably "want" to go to BYU.
Though I have always liked BYU and am as devoted of a BYU sports fan as you will likely find, as I thought about it, I knew BYU was not for me. I knew there would be a real push for me to seek out an elder returned missionary and get married soon. I could not go "there". Even though I had not formally come out to either myself or anyone else, I inherently knew that going to BYU would be very bad for me, a gay woman in the Church. It would have surely been the literal death of me. I am eternally grateful I listened to my instincts about not going even though the pressure was certainly there from my family.