At four years old, Joseph sat at a kitchen table while Christmas lights blinked red, green, and gold outside the window - and learned that joy required permission. His mother, a pastor's wife in a small Southern Pentecostal church, dismantled his belief in Santa Claus that December night not out of cruelty, exactly, but out of a faith so total it left no room for anything it had not authorized. It was the first lesson. The lessons did not stop for decades. Dear Joseph: A Memoir traces the full arc of one man's survival: a childhood inside a faith that weaponized scripture, a dormitory fire at eighteen that shattered his body and forced a complete rebuilding of the self, years lost to addiction, the terrifying act of coming out in a world that had taught him silence was safety, and the slow, stubborn work of constructing a life no one in his family had imagined for him. The memoir is structured as a letter - written across decades, in two voices, from the man Joseph became to the boy who needed to hear that he was never the problem. The result is a book of unusual formal elegance: the Prologue and Epilogue mirror each other precisely, both set in December, both centered on the same kitchen table and the same Christmas lights, the second illuminated by everything the first foreshadowed. The prose is sensory and exact, the emotional intelligence hard-earned, and the refusal to sentimentalize absolute. Dear Joseph arrives at a moment of significant cultural appetite for memoirs that engage honestly with religious upbringing, queer identity, and the long aftermath of childhood trauma. It will appeal to readers of Educated by Tara Westover, In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado, and The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, and will find a dedicated audience among readers navigating faith deconstruction, LGBTQ+ identity formation, and addiction recovery. The memoir has strong course adoption potential in programs covering creative nonfiction, queer literature, religious studies, and trauma narrative. It is also a natural fit for library collections serving LGBTQ+ communities, communities of faith in transition, and readers drawn to the expanding Southern literary memoir tradition.