Everything you describe is why I left immediately after high school and never looked back. It's also why, in the rare instances that I step foot inside of a church, it's always an intimidating and nerve-wracking experience.
When my father died last year, it was the first time I had gone home in seven years ... and I never missed being there. I know that's an awful thing to say about your home, but it's the truth.
No place is perfect, but where you live is probably among the worst for an LGBT person that I can imagine (in the United States, at least). Being surrounded by fundamentalist Protestants who see you as little more than a sinning, perverted deviant who is in need of redemption, through whatever means possible, is truly frightening.
Wishing you lots of strength... 
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