Speaking of O.C.D., my last post reminds me of growing up Catholic. There were some good things about growing up Catholic, but there was a lot of guilt. And I'll tell you this, Catholicism and O.C.D. are a lethal combination.
I grew up on the same block as my church. There was [is] a statue of a life-size Jesus standing on a three foot pedestal on the block where I grew up. He just stands there looking out at the sidewalk and parking lot, with his arms out and palms open. Judging.
I'm walking to my friend Charlie's house and we're going to play ding dong ditch? I have to walk past Jesus on my way home. I walk to my friend Pat's house and I end up punching Pat in the face? Jesus is there. I actually took a different route home once--I walked two blocks out of my way--because I had been looking at a Playboy at my friend's house and I didn't want to have to see statue Jesus.
The Jesus statue was north of my house. When I was in Kindergarten through fourth grade, most of my friends were north of my house. Interestingly, by 8th grade all of my friends lived to the south. Was that just because I didn't want to have to walk past Jesus? Probably not. Probably more like my friends to the north were dicks. But I like to think Jesus psyched me out a bit.
In later years, I took a girlfriend to the church parking lot across the street from Jesus and we made out in my parents giant brown van. In hindsight, it's kind of creepy to be in a big brown Ford van making out in the back. At the time, I thought it was creepy that Jesus was staring at me the whole time.
What's the point? The guilt. I went to Catholic school K-8. There were some pretty good teachers there, I'll admit. But there were also a lot of teachers who were super close-minded and would hammer home lectures on "sins." And I do think it's odd that my sex education classes left me with little to no understanding of sex, orgasms, or what a vagina looked like. Until I saw a Playboy in 7th grade, I thought vaginas were like little mouths hidden behind the pubes. I masturbated for two years to the concept of anatomically incorrect female bodies. Boobs are all that really mattered.
What I did get from sex education was that masturbating is a sin. A big sin. It's a terrible thing. At the same time, I had years of indoctrination that sinners go to Hell. Being a logical person, I put two and two together, and came up with this rule: Masturbators go to Hell.
The first time I masturbated, I didn't even understand what I was doing. I just kind of started tugging, thought it felt pretty good, and suddenly "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS WHITE SHIT?" I thought I was diseased. Leprosy. I was terrified of leprosy because of the Bible, so every time anything out of the ordinary happened I was sure I was a leper. Totally ridiculous.
After a couple more times, I realized what was going on. I was masturbating. Because Masturbators go to Hell, I tried to stop. I went five days without doing it. Praying each night for God to take away my urges. On the fifth night I had a wet dream. So I'm damned if I do. I'm damned if I don't. Literally.
I came up with an agreement with God that I would only do it every third night, just to avoid having a wet dream again. So for a year, I masturbated every third night. And each masturbation event was followed by the most intense crying and prayer.
"I'm sorry Jesus. Please forgive me. Please don't send me to Hell. I don't want these urges. Really, why would you give me these urges if I'm not supposed to act on them? It's crazy. Where do you get the nerve-- Sorry Jesus. I didn't mean that. Who am I to question God's wisdom and God's plan? I'm nobody. Please don't smite me. Please don't make me a leper."
Now understand that there's all kinds of O.C.D. shit going on here too. I believe I'm going to die and go to Hell if I don't touch my face an equal number of times with both hands every time I touch my face. I believe I'm going to die and go to Hell if I exit a building through a different door than the door I entered the building. I don't say the word "Hell" or "Goddamn," I don't even say "God" unless it's reverently. I'm insane. What do you think is going to happen if I masturbate?
Fast forward to June 3, 1994. I'm in my bedroom on an unscheduled day. Some 8th grader was looking real pretty that day at school. Maybe even the last day of school. I'm a pubescent boy. Alone. In my room. I tell myself I'm just going to play with it a little bit, but I'm not going to go all the way. So I do. But I fly too close to the Sun. My parents are in the living room with the news on. I've got to go to the bathroom to clean up, after my obligatory Hail Marys and Our Fathers.
I leave the room and walk to the bathroom. But on my way to the bathroom I hear the TV.
"A tsunami has hit off the coast of Indonesia. Hundreds are feared dead, thousands missing. With more we go to our correspondent reporting from Bali."
DID I DO THAT?
Now I'm back in my room crying and praying and crying and praying because I'm positive, I know that God killed all these people to teach me a lesson.
Commandment 11: Thou shalt not masturbate on unscheduled days when you have an agreement in place!
During seventh grade, all of my peers would begin talking publicly about their masturbation habits, and I relaxed a bit. EVERYONE is masturbating. We can't all go to Hell.
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