“I did get up and go to church. I sat next to people I sit next to every week. Not one of them, except the people who came in the same car as me and the pastor who presided over communion, know I am a survivor. So no one knew to check on me. This community has left me to wither and die on the vine. They have left me feeling like I have more in common with people in bed suffering from depression than with people who have hope in resurrection.”