Reproving Ones Publicly.

 When I was a teen I had horrible allergies.  So bad, in fact, that I went to the family physician for allergy shots once a week.  One day after school, one of my siblings walked with me to the Doctor’s office to get the shots.  My sister I think,  fuzzy memory,  shocker of a day.  

    My Mother, if I remember correctly,  said she would pick us up outside.   Sheryl and I were waiting for a half hour and no one came.  I went inside called home no answer my father Left work and no one was answering at home.  Hour and half, and 2 more calls nothing.  I can't tell you how long we waited there.  My father finally pulls up in his big black Chevy pickup and we get in.  

 I looked at him my sister playing with her book bag between us.  His eyes were fixed on the windshield of the truck, red and swollen as if he had been crying.  He was grinding his teeth, facial twitches I had seen before in him when angry.   I could tell this wasn't anger.   He spoke in a fractured but Stern voice.  

"Well,  your mother left me from another man"  

I remember saying "You're playing a joke"  and thinking,  what a cruel joke,  this isn't happening.   In that instant every evil thing I remember my father saying or doing came to mind,  As well as every good.   That picture she had me draw animated in my head and the blood spatter stained my heart soul and mind.  I looked at him again and realized he HAD been crying.  Silence,   pure, painful, and pungent.

 The following few days is flashes of reactions in my family.  I blink, I see her twin sister, Hannah,  holding on to us so tight,  as if making it hard for us to breathe stopped the hemorrhaging this family was suffering from,  had been suffering from for years.   I blink,  I see The Elders on her Judicial Committee standing about both of them,  or seated across from them as I peer through the banister of the staircase in that big old house we just HAD to have.   I blink,   I see her standing outside leaned up against a car.  The glass of the window in the Dining Room of that house was not cold or warm,  no snow on the ground.   But the leaves were everywhere,  early November.  

 They made us stay inside for this confrontation,  as if not hearing what was said made this all easier.   I saw my father step toward her though it barely closed the gap between them.  I could tell he asked a question.  Her stature simultaneously shrank and then it grew.  I blink, I see through the same window the same scene only I see Hannah,  supporting My father,  my mother leaned up against a car facing all of them.   Her against them,  them against her.   HER flesh and blood behind my father supporting him emotionally and each other physically.  They looked as if she was terminal.  In their minds, she was.

 My mother took a moment to think again,  rubbing her lips,  which incidentally had no sores on it.  

Amazing what a little stress relief will do.

 When she spoke she did it with delivery,  she used emphasis,  she used body language and gestures.  It was as if she kicked my father right in the balls,  there was no mistaking what was shouted next.  Who shouted it,  I can’t tell you, a man’s voice.

 “How could you sleep with him?”  The questions rang through the naked trees and I went running outside, as the second question finished,  “How could you do it to your children?”

“Your a whore!”  I screamed and was rushed back inside.

 She made many statements that said she would not make it to “The New Order” if she did not repent.  At this point my mother still seemed resolved in her choice.   She was empowered,  on a mission,  and feeling confident.   There were two sides to this story.  She had reason to feel empty in some ways as a woman.  I do not in anyway,  being where I am in life now,  feel my mother was wrong to need what she did.   Nor that she got it.  How she got it is, however, up for debate.  

Well maybe not,  but I could debate it quite well.

 I never saw the man who had stolen my mother from us during the whole time it was happening.   They met at a job she took with a local factory.  I don’t even know how long it went on.  I know it wasn't the last.  I also know there is part of me that is proud she went and got hers.  The other is just sad she settled down so soon.  

What a life mom.  Really, sweet n sour candies for all!

My father breaking down like that I knew he was hurt as much as my mother had been hurt by him over the years.  In  that one moment she had visited on him the equal in Emotional pain he put on her.   I watched the next few days as my father broke down.  He kept himself calm as well as he could.  Had to take sleeping pills to get any rest.    I woke one morning and he was at the kitchen table.   I had to get him to eat something.  He was crying wrapped in his bathrobe,considering going to work.  I made a bowl of cereal,  his favorite, Frosted flakes.  I told him if he was going to work he'd have to eat  and put them in front of him.  Trying to lighten things I put the bowl and spoon in front of him and growled, 

"They're grrrrrreat" 

 He used to say this whenever he poured a bowl.   For one moment he snorted on his sobs and then broke down even more.  Crying, mumbling, trembling tears falling into his cereal as he spooned them back up with the milk and flakes into his mouth.  He swallowed hard,  and  wiped his face on his sleeve.

  "You kids don't deserve this..."  

 

 I wrapped my arms around my father's head and he leaned into my arms and cried,  he cried so long that it gave me time to think grow angry.  I ran out of the house,  got on my bike and peddled. I rode it  3 miles to my Best friends house.   When I finally stopped at her steps  collapsed on the stairs and she popped out of the door. I looked up at her and her face stiffened.  

"Oh my Lilith what happened?"  

 She sat on the stairs and lifted me to a sitting position.  The first person to focus on me for a moment and what I was feeling.  I broke down for the first time on her porch  I told her what happened with my mother a couple days ago and I fell asleep on her couch.  She said what she could to console me.  But she also knew that just letting me cry and talk and scream was what was needed.  I needed to deflate and she provided the bleed needle.

  I spent hours there and as the sun began to dip I started home.  I wanted to ride,  and think before I got home.  I realized at this moment I had to be the strong one.  I had to help my brother and sister adjust and in my vent to Helen I realized i wanted my mother to STAY with this other man.  She was unhappy with my father.   

That’s right,  that’s what I thought was best.

 I don't know how long passed before my mother contacted daddy again.  She wanted to talk.  She wanted to come home,  she had questions.   She wanted to live in the house and take care of us kids.  She wanted to still see the other man at the same time.   My father told her he would talk to us,  the kids, my father wanted to hear our voice.  This made me feel very good.  In the end my father told her that she couldn't not live here with us and be with him.  And he was not going to divorce her.  He loved her.

  Now my parents were even in my mind.  They both hurt and they both tried to forgive,  Or so I thought.  Later my mother told me that each year since my father rolled over on the 4th of November and said to her..  "its been to 1 year since I almost lost you,"   "its been to 2 years since I almost lost you"   He did not say.. I am so glad I didn't lose you.  Since this time she has, from what I heard,  had 2 other affairs.   She was never disfellowshipped,  only publicly reproved.  Meaning,  A Elder gave a talk about Infidelity and adultery and the importance of wedding vows.  Then another came to the front and gave an announcement,  "We are aware of the situation with Sister Theroux,  it is being Dealt With.  Please Pray for the strength of this family and their hard times"  or something to that effect.

I actively began my exit of The Organization and it was one bumpy ride.

Psychotic Reality.

 


This time in my life taught me the truth in the words 'Hindsight is always 20/20'.  And even as I write this now more and more surfaces in my mind.  Perhaps this will answer for myself as well as my readers The question I asked in the beginning.  "What Made us So Special"  It was September 1992 I think.  

  Junior Year of high school and I had started slowly to make friends.  I had three very good friends by then Helen was my closest.   She was a Fiery Baptist as was Randy My second good friend.  We three would sit in the lunchroom and packing bibles debate the truth of god and man religion and Philosophy. At the time we had no Idea that’s what it was called I don’t think,  or at least I didn't.    Well, we would debate it as well as 17 any year old could!

    I remember Helen's words over and over.  "They aren't Christians Lilith, That is not love!" I told her everything.  About my father,  The Organization,  my aspirations,  My questions about the religions other than the one I had been born into.   Here is something if any of my family actually has the balls to pick this book up and read it through they will be thinking as they read.  This is how bad association spoils useful habits.   Yeah,  pisses you off doesn't it.  That I can call it so easily,  even still?

    Two years earlier I  had began writing poems, short stories anything I could get out of me onto paper.  And in reading my own words I realized how angry I was but also how much being able to move people, paint pictures with words meant to me.  How much I loved to be as effective at it as possible.    I wanted to be a English Teacher or at least Study English Literature.   About the same time that there was a Assembly,  one of those conventions that made me so Excited to go to as a child.  They Still excited me, but it was for an entirely different reason.   Boys,  it became about my appearance, and just so you know I was a very large girl. at the time i was spilling well over 300 pounds and I knew what my fate was going to be in the pool I was seeing around me.  

   So it was even harder to feel accepted and have hope you will find that one “Brother” who would love you for who you are not your looks!  After all God will make us all healthy in the new order!  This was another rule that was pounded into you.  They would call them “Requirements”  its a softer sounding word, they really like to pull that shit.   Sugar coat a pile of bull shit so you can swallow it.   Your head shaking with Cognitive Dissonance because you know what yer swallowing but you just can’t help yourself.   

 You were only to marry “In the lord”  if ya didn't and you married a non believer, again you were shunned.  Not necessarily disfellowshipped.   But being as you married someone who was not one of “The Flock”,  what would happen when things like Christmas,  or other holiday’s came up, or *Gasp* Oral sex!  Training you to fear any deviation from the JW Norm.  Thus keeping you, or trying to, tied to the collective.

 When I was little we lived in a Rural Area,  Amish and farms Miles between houses.  The people who went to my congregation were simple folk.  I loved it there,  my whole family lived out there.  It really was more important to them that you were at the Kingdom Hall not how you looked while there.  More how i always believed god saw it.   My Father worked in the city of Dunkirk and Conawango Valley was a Long drive thru dangerous roads to work every morning before dark.  Especially during the Western New York Winters.

 

  Shortly after the blizzard of 1977 my mother and father decided it was time to move closer to work and we left the country and moved to Dunkirk.  The culture shock alone was enough to make it very difficult.   This Congregation was very different.  The women were shiny! They dressed as if they were peacocks.  Bright colored dresses,  perfectly cut short helmet hair, or long and swept up and solid as if they were going ballroom dancing.  The smiles on their faces even to a 6 year old were fake and cold.  I was a child yes but I learned really fast that anything that tries to dress up the visible is trying to make something Invisible.  This is something I learned even in the end of my story.  Painfully so,  and in a hail of heartbreak and loss.

  When one of the other Families in the congregation came to my home their daughter and i were in my bedroom getting acquainted.   She opened my closet and looked through shaking her head,  "Well we are gonna have to help you with this."  She went on to insult everything I had to wear.   Later when I was in her home I saw she had half a closet of things with tags still on it.  She even laughed about the fact she had things she still hadn't worn.

  My mother changed, she started making us dress in the Same way.   Spending more money on clothing and on appearance than we did before.    By the time I was in Middle school she was Working as well full time to help support our family.  to support not only our new home but the "lifestyle"  we had to appear to be living.  Appearance,  Is what became Important.   Despite talks from the podium about keeping your eye simple,  I felt like I was drowning in complication.  

 That word, “Podium”  or the other one they like to use,  “Platform”.  The more business like way they called what the Catholics refer to as “Palpate”  or  “Alter”  I believe.  It doesn't matter,  these are the things they emphasized and drilled into our heads, prided themselves on.   We were scolded or reprimanded for calling the hall “church”.  We were going to the “Hall” on Sunday,  not “church”  because the “church”  or False religion,  would be destroyed at Armageddon.  These were the things that made them “no part of the world”  separate from the wicked system of things.  The sugar coating on shit.  The setting up of the “Us vs Them” mentality.   What I meant by what I said in the prologue of this whole thing.  

 “Those evils that the others seemed happy to either accept,  ignore,  or grow completely blind and dumb to?”  

Or at least one of those things.

  I was roughly 13 and we were headed to that assembly My conversations with Helen and Randy already fertilizing the seeds of doubt My family and The Organization had sewn in me. This is where my memory as a whole seems to come back,   In Detail and living color. The name of the Location eludes me but I remember it was a Opera House Style theater. There was a Drama at this one made me for the first time tell my mother I didn't want to be a witness anymore.   The whole Drama was about a teenager wanting to go to college when they graduated High school but his parents urged him not to because it was Unnecessary association with the World (anyone not a Jehovah's Witness in good standing)  And they would not be able to help him in any way because it is not in harmony with God's will.   Something switched on in my mind, no way,  I want to teach!  

I told my mother the same day I didn't think i wanted to be a Jehovah's Witness anymore.  I was told in no uncertain terms I am a teen I don't know what I want yet and Until I am 18 I do as I am told.  They always like to throw in at the end  

"Remember you will suffer the consequences of your actions"  

 This is a true statement,  but the consequences for a Jehovah's Witness youth are far greater than some young people.   What my parents choose to ignore,  or at least disregard,    that as much a the consequences of the next few decisions I made over the years were mine to bear.  Some of my decisions were a consequence of their actions and they too are suffering for them.  I understand that and it has by 15 or 16 that I began learning the scope of the wake we ALL were creating.   How long those waves would take to dissipate, or not.     

 I spent the next year or so in my head and on paper.  So many questions,  but when I asked them the most I got in return were  "Do not question Jehovah's Organization,  To question Jehovah is dangerous."   you see how they did that?  Equating the Earthly Organization The Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society, to God.   Carefully  and intentionally making it hard for a Member to separate the two in their mind.    It was that very same summer we went to the assembly that, my mother informed me, that few of my "Friends" from the hall were getting baptized at next year's assembly. Ready for it?

  "Maybe you should think about it yourself they are all doing it together,  you don't want to get left behind and time is short Lilith, Armageddon is near.."     I sat there disgusted, did you not hear me?  I do not wish to be a WITNESS!   

  It shames me to say I did it anyway.  I was still scared of the consequences which I had no way to know yet what they would be.  Yeah,  there it is,  I really didn't wanna do it.  But,  only people I knew as “good”  only real support system,  so on so forth.  I think you get it.  It wasn't even Armageddon,  by this time my poetry and drawings,  so dark,  so sad,  so final.   Armageddon would have been welcome.  By now I figured myself dead anyway,  I was masturbating regularly,  smoking in school,  secretly wanted to fuck for real, and was dreaming of college.   My poetry reeked of it.  I recently found a lot of it.  At the end of this I will post some,   maybe one at the end of one of these once in awhile.   Why not hey?   Complete with age I believe I wrote it or thereabouts.  

  In my Junior year of high school, my mother made her own statement about consequences. She made a even more poignant statement about how she was feeling in her world.   The experience started as my writing  gave way to drawing and sketching my feelings as well...   I wanted more opportunity to put on paper random feelings or experience.  

 Sitting at the kitchen table with a sketch pad and pencil my mom came in and saw a pic of a heart I had made.   A swollen heart Tied with a rope so tightly that is was dripping blood and staining its constraints and the ground under it.   She put her finger to her chin and lower lip rubbing it slowly and gently because she had cold sores.  She got them when she was stressing or worried,  and she got them often.

  "I have an Idea for a picture you can draw,"  She thought for a moment, this I learned from her a good lesson.  think a bit before you speak.  Not that I always did or do.  "A woman torn between two men."

  I remember the feeling in my head as my mind wrapped around it and put it instantly to visible concept.  

"That is a good one I think."  she said and walked away with the laundry basket she had brought up stairs.

    It turned out to be a variation of the one I had drawn except the ropes were tied around each side of the heart,  tearing it in two almost all the way leaving it intact at the bottom tip only barely.  It wasn't long after that, that i saw that heart ripped in two in my mind.   People refer to moments like this  'The Point of No Return'    And this was that moment for me as far as The Organization was concerned.   It was my first lesson in real trust,  true friendship,  and the final exam on my parents fallibility.

  Before I continue I want you to remember who my father had proven himself to be before this moment in life, Cold, angry, and selfish.  A Man who had the emotional warmth of a wet mop left out in December.   I had watched him emotionally abuse us all, my mother included. Berating her and treating her like a Idiot in public.   Literally using the words  "Are you stupid" on her out loud in stores and parks and even at the Kingdom Hall.    He had no control over himself,  let alone his family and children.  He thought he did, but I think the next year or so would teach us both that the biggest consequence of your actions is a change in your perception.   All of us got a huge adjustment to our lens.

My Whole life my mother was the spiritual Titan of the family.  She tried very hard to instill in us what she believes to be the true religion, 'The Truth'.   She would tuck us in every night and listen as we said our prayers.  Talking with us as she got us down and kissing us good night.  She tried to have family bible studies as often as she could.  But she was on her own.  Most of the time my father kept his same 'Point A to B' attitude and there was no joy in them.  We hated them and she saw it.  So she did what she could.   Talked to us and kept us as close to the straight and narrow as she could. She tried to put joy into them.  

   My father was an elder at this time and he gave talks and had many a responsibility in the congregation.  Judicial Committees, public talks away at other congregations.  He rarely if EVER worked up his own talks.   My mother,  a woman who truly loved and believed what she thought was true.  A good Christian Wife,  lets her husband lead the household,  make the decisions,  and rarely questioned him or spoke ill of him at least in our presence.   She loved my father very much.  He completely took her for granted.

   I had to laugh to myself as a memory comes to mind.  My mother and I had gone to a wedding shower or something,  some good christian gathering of sisters for a wedding or baby arrival one early afternoon.  It was our chance to socialize,  My father hated having people over again people and children he had no control over.  Extra unneeded bull shit.   So we went and ended up being there for a bit longer than we thought it was six or seven at night before we got home and my father was obviously seething.    He was angry.   Eyes wide and filled with anger he looked up at my mother from the couch my little brother laying on his back as we all did as kids.  He was a teddy bear, when he was comfortable and in control.  

"I haven't eaten all day.   I've been waiting for dinner."  He was serious.  We had such a great time at the shower.   Games and fun and friends and food!  I looked at my mother and my jaw fell WIDE when Ii saw her.  She was ashamed!   She felt selfish!   I shouted  

"NO!"  

 

 I stormed out of the living room and went to the fridge grabbed mustard, Ham, cheese, and then the bread off the counter.  The whole way I was running thru my mind All my mother does for this family,    my father worked more than full time,  YES!   But my mother worked FULL time,  Came home Worked another full time job and not just what all the "Worldly" mothers do.  Add to that the preparing of his talks,  trying to give us kids a Peaceful lesson in God and "The Truth" ON TOP OF taking care of us kids.  WE mowed the lawn WE helped with the house, WE worked up our on talks as much on our own as we could once we were old enough to do so.   HOW DARE he make her feel bad for enjoying time with friends and family.   They watched me leave and argued until I returned.  I dropped all of it on his lap and said 

"Are your arms Broken?"

  Honestly I do not remember what happened after this really I don't remember a consequence. Because another bomb went off shortly there after that again altered my perception of the world around me.   My mother and Father have not been the same people to me since this time,  and never will be again,  the same is true of me.



Psychotic Reality - Age 17

Fuck it all
it always fucks me
living a life of hate
in a psychotic reality
where every turn is a mistake
and every face covered by a mask
hiding true thoughts
behind lies I despise
even I cannot forsake
the attempt to realize
why my life's a shit hole
of immeasurable size
like a dog digs its fleas
so my existence digs me
a flea on a dog's back
is what I have come to be
a black hole
a void
spinning in front of me
the vortex so alluring
the solution so easy to see
to get off this dogs back
I must let it dig at me
until one deadly stroke
eliminates completely.
or I could jump off,
take fate into my own hands
on the floor
where they can step on me.
then darkness
where quiet can be found.
where i will sleep quietly
no other parasites around.

Death to the reality
of living life happily
only a fool of social acceptance
in such a dream believes
I finally see
what they have been telling me
life is full of hate
and seething debauchery.
a churning cesspool of personalities
out to help themselves
and simply fuck you and me.

Cum Hither. You get me closer to God.

School became a chore for me,  Not because I was not able to do the work,  but because tho passing was important,  but delving into the world of knowledge outside The Organization was, As they would say, "Frowned Upon".  Now this did not mean that if ya went to college you would be disfellowshipped, or Shunned by your family or friends,  it meant that you would be less than good association.   Now in  looking back I see that it was more about the wrong kind of Knowledge.  The kind of Knowledge that might make you Question a Teaching or Doctrine that the Governing Body put forth as "food in due season".  And if you question The Governing Body or The Organization,  you were conditioned to believe you were questioning God.  And Questioning God was Blasphemous, THAT resulted in Disfellowshipping..   

  For you to completely Understand what that means let me paint a picture for you.   As you grow from infancy you become dependent on the people around you.  Your family, friends, and your life is wrapped up in the existence of this support system.  Within the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society,  you are taught these are the only people worthy of Salvation.   All others are "Bad association"  that spoils Useful Habits.  People who are not Witnesses are demonized for you,  anyone who is not at the hall regularly,  goes out in service,  or is at conventions is evil, and the "Air" of the worldly System of things.  These people will be done away with at Armageddon.   It does not matter if someone is your brother,  sister mother daughter son aunt or uncle.  If they are not a Witness we were instructed to "Quit Mixing with them".   If you at any time question The Organization  you are chastised for being a "Freethinker”  Something Ii once cringed at is now a compliment for me.

 The only literature that we are instructed to use is Publications from the Watchtower Bible and tract Society (From here on out WBTS)   If you are found to be reading any other material.  You are Counselled and if you refuse to stop doing independent Research you are Disfellowshipped and Marked and Apostate.  This is the worst Title ever given in the WBTS,  the very mention of it is the same as saying heretic or Heathen..   If you at any time commit any number of sins sanctioned by the  WBTS you are then Brought before a Judicial Committee of Elders..   

  Now to clarify what I mean by any Number of sins..  Here are just a few.    Masturbation,  drug use, Idolatry (this includes hero worship like a teen pining over a Rock star, or a  boy idolizing a Sports Star),  Apostasy, Adultery (this includes a wife who masturbates and is caught by her hubby and the Reverse),  theft,  Fornication,  Even if you give your wife oral pleasure..   You can be counselled and Disfellowshipped.  Smoking cigarettes, over drinking,  Basically the 7 deadly sins anything that is a sub sin and any kind of opposition to what the Watchtower taught.  For a non Jehovah’s Witness the consequences of some of these things only really affect them personally.   But if you are accused, (a witness to the Crime tells the elders)  you are brought up to a judicial committee, which I will shed more light on later.   For now all ya need to know is that is a group of 3 elders who call you into private.   Just you and them.  they talk to you and then counsel you and send you away so they can talk.  Those three brothers decide your fate because if you are brought forth for example as a smoker,  and they do not feel you are being sincere in your repentance,  they Disfellowship you.  This means that all of those people,  your family and friends and congregation of brothers and sisters are now to shun you.   you are instructed to not even make eye contact.  After all this could lead to a smile,  then a "hello" then a Conversation.   You are invisible to those who once cared for you.   It devastates families,  ruins Marriages and turned a persons once OVERLY Organized life to rubble.  They have nothing to rely on.  And as a newly Disfellowshipped one you are conditioned that you cannot even rely on yourself.   You are the devils child.  and worthy of nothing.  However,  if the brothers "Break" you, (yes this is a Real word used by them)  if you are humbled and beg forgiveness of them,  you may not suffer that fate.  Your life your future rides on these 3 uneducated and average men.

OK I got away from myself there I just wanted to establish the dire consequences of even the slightest wrongdoing.  So, to question the organization's ideals taking in Knowledge,  Was enough to mark you.  I was Urged by my parents every year to seek spiritual Knowledge.. The Meetings, field service and Assemblies were emphasized.  I was told only to strive to pass my classes to get out of the "Air of the world" in the public school System.  This my mother tried to speed up in my 6th year of school.  

  Now in her defense it was not the only reason.  I was different.  In school we are the oddballs.  I came home bruised or battered,  covered in some new weird substance.  the kids picked on me constantly and I was suffering as well emotionally.    My mother took me out and Home schooled me.   This left more time for meetings and field Service so I Pioneered when I wasn't doing school work.   It wasn't a BAD experience.    I did well and I passed my 6th through Calvert School home study course.  Mom set up our mud room like a classroom,  A chalkboard desk books and everything I needed to get the full classroom experience.  She forgot one vital element, other kids my age.  

  I became more introverted and could not even deal with people at the hall.   Mysterious Illnesses made it hard for me to go to the meetings but I went anyway.  I developed an allergy to perfumes.  The Brothers announced from the stage that they wanted to ask the sisters and brothers to stop wearing cologne so that I could attend the meetings.   Great now I was odd to the Only other people I had the opportunity to associate with.  The summer before my 7th year I begged my mom to send me back to school.  I saw what was happening to me and I missed my "worldly Friends"  though,  didn't say it to her that way.   Back to school I went!

I was determined to be liked in school.   I stopped Preaching to my peers and just hung out. Did my school work and actually cared about my grades.  I befriended the 2 or 3 people who later showed me the goodness where I was told there was only Evil.  In this time i tried smoking,  skipped school a couple times,  and generally started my Rebel without a cause stage.    I absorbed as much knowledge as I could from school and expanded what I let myself see in the people around me.  It was an awakening for me.  By 14 or 15 I was very interested in sexuality.  I would go to the library to read medical books and Romance novels.   Just to see what "sex" was all about.  this made me more aware of my body,  its reactions to the opposite sex and how my body could give me pleasure.   This woke in me more questions.   I remember the moment i realized sex was a good thing.  Regardless of how much it was Demonized by the WBTS.   

   I like any kid of that age was curious about my body.  although I had no idea how to give myself pleasure, trial and error seemed to be doing just fine.   Until one night error  turned into a explosion of correct!  I knew nothing about my body other than what felt good still afraid of what people said was sin and what my body was telling me was wonderful and screamed that there was more to be had.  

    I would usually fall asleep  exploring my genitals.   Before bed it relaxed me and I was desperately trying to find even a moment of peace,  when I can shut everything around me off.    This particular night Ii had Managed to sneak a Penthouse into my bedroom.  It was given to me by a friend at school.  I had been asking her questions about sex.  She was very open to me about her favorite sexual activity.

“I love it when he eats me,”  she said squirming in her chair and looking around making sure no one was close enough to hear  “his tongue feels almost like I am peeing myself”

 Intriguing!  I thought to myself.  As I was reading an article in the magazine,  There were some words I had never heard but I understood what they were doing.  He was pleasuring her orally and the descriptive quality was, to me at that time,  perfect.  My hands were where they should be if you are a person with,  what  have learned,  is a normal sense of sexuality.   simply sliding along my lips wiggling gently.    Those words were meant to incite and arouse,  and that is what they did.

  As pathetic a event as it is now to me because of experience and first hand Knowledge,  I remember how good  I felt.  I felt the electricity moved through me and I exploded.  It felt so amazing and my toes tingled.   I rolled over onto my side and panted.  I didn't even know what to call it.   I knew the word orgasm but I didn't know that that is what they meant.  I remember my inner monologue at the time.  "Oh my what happened?  Did I hurt myself?  It felt so good.  Was that a Orgasm?"   I laid there and reveled in the feelings I was having, warmth, tingling, release, and peace.  For that whole time nothing else around me existed.  needless to say the following months I got many comments on how I was going to bed so early.  And then the "spontaneous" talk my mom had with me on sexuality,  and Masturbation. I remember it I  can still smell the Pine scented air freshener in the car as we drove to the store,  My mother, sister and I.   

It was a scene out of a "How to talk to your kids about (insert issue here)"  After school special.  I do not even remember how the conversations started, I only remember my mental reaction, which incidentally, was not the same as my outward one.   My mother spoke for a while and then courageously told me that even she has had to struggle with it.  That my father had realized she would Masturbate and they went to the elders.   She had to learn to curb her fleshly desires.  My sister piped in and said  "well then I guess I had better stop that" 

Outwardly I expressed thanks for them sharing and then went silent in my mind saying "fuck you,  It's my body  God gave us our bodies, then I will do it!”   Nothing was ever mentioned again.  over the years my restraint in exploring this side of me weakened.   A single Grenade from my mother blew it away.