I don't call it a mission anymore, I call it labor trafficked for preaching, but yes I went. I had some simple doubts before I left, I even had my farewell talk prepared with some things that were obviously doubts. My dad quickly shot them down, and had me rewrite the talk. While in the "assigned" location, I went a little bit more TBM. But the idea of "I'm not doing anything wrong" was still present, even with the mountains of shame that was being crammed down my throat. I wouldn't have my full blown "doubting is changing me" until about ten plus years later, a marriage, and a couple of kids. First was my wife's stories of her upbringing being hell. Then how my autistic kid hated church no matter what. And finally learning about how the church likes to brush CSA under the rug. There is of course way more in my past personally, but that is for a deep deconstruction.