Because it just feels wrong. It feels wrong from the very moment you have thoughts. You can tell something is wrong with you even as young as five, you don’t know WHAT it is, but you that you’re different than the other boys and girls. When I was six, my teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I said I wanted to be a mommy. This of course set off the chain reaction that had me in therapy for nearly ten years.
If you want to get into the physical aspects of it. I am literally so disassociated with what I have between my legs, I have to take care of it like a paralyzed person. It is complete severed from my brain, I could attack it with a knife and I would feel nothing. I have been ordered by my doctors to inspect it now and then, to make sure I didn’t cause damage or an infection and not notice it, because an unnoticed infection there can rapidly lead to death.
And before you say, that’s an issue that needs help/medication. I went through 10years of trying to do that, I’ve been on every psychiatric drug on the planet I think, and nothing did a darned thing. If anything, it either just made me a zombie, or settled my mind enough to try completing another suicide attempt.
Also, yes, religious help was done. At the same time, and often by the same therapist. Most were divinity students, rather than therapists. Get a 6-10year old to do 5hours of prayer a day? They did it, somehow, yet it never did anything either.