A lot of days come to mind but the first one I thought of was one of the last DCs I attended, big international, 80000 attendance or something. We'd done the hours of flying, staying in cheap accom. My flatmates were in full find-a-man mode and I had been hanging out with my now husband in secrecy for a while, he'd proposed endlessly and I was traumatised by what I knew was coming - I knew I wanted life with him but wasn't quite ready to make the break. I was surrounded by 80000 people and felt totally alone all weekend. I had been fighting my depression for a couple of years and the conventions were always the worst place for that.
My flatmates had been leaving the hotel room early in the morning, I'd get to the session late and seek out my family by sms directions. At lunchtimes I'd sit eating with them and staring out at the field. After the Sunday session I hung with the family for a while and then headed out to the train, the place was just about empty but there was this *moment* - I saw my flatmates walking down the corridor and was cheered by seeing somebody who would talk to me. I smiled and looked down to my camera to get a shot of them because they had really made an effort. I looked up, they posed while walking, and then just walked right by me, like I was a ghost. There wasn't another person around in acres. That was the moment I stopped caring how they'd feel if I left.
There were some pretty sad JW times after that for a while; surprisingly, being disfellowshipped wasn't the worst of them. By then I'd found the resolve to live and LIVE. My life completely changed on finally hooking up with Mr Frass - infinitely better. It made the disfellowshipping an almost insignificant blip. The next year after the disfellowshipping I was back at the same DC site, the week before my wedding. My family had told me that they couldn't make it to the wedding, using the excuse that they couldn't travel that far, but they were at the convention (in the same city, a six-hour flight from home...) I didn't care; I knew I was going to be okay. By the end of that year, all the sad JW times were over, because I knew I could never get reinstated and that it wasn't my fault how much that hurt my family.