Something happened recently that kicked up old stuff. Old stuff that I somehow didn’t realize had cut me as deep and hard as it had. And that I somehow didn’t realize I hadn’t somehow worked through, with all the work I’ve done.
Long story short, when I was about 16 years old stories were told about me in the Church. Bad stories. I was accused of sinning in ways that not only I hadn’t done, but in my innocence, I couldn’t even have comprehended. And the stories were told to Rev. Moon – the Messiah.
So he declared that his children – who were my best friends – could only be around other children who were born into the Church. Other children who were born into marriages that he had arranged, performed, and “blessed.” Who were born, therefore, without Original Sin.
In other words, not me. He made this declaration to keep me away from his children.
I didn’t know, at the time, that stories had been told about me. I didn’t know that I was accused of being sinful and dirty. I only knew that I wasn’t allowed to be with my friends, and that things – and people – around me got weird.
It was only a few years ago that the immensity of that situation dawned on me. My Messiah – the Messiah – said I was bad. I already had a sense of being tainted and wrong. I already knew that I wasn’t enough, and that I was somehow inherently flawed. I already knew that I wasn’t quite lovable. And the Messiah – saying it without saying it – agreed.
In the movie Spotlight, about the priests who abused children, one of the victims explains that being abused by a priest is a double betrayal, because it is, in many ways, abuse by God. It messes with your understanding of god, and good and evil. In some ways, my Messiah declaring me undesirable had the same effect. I would never say it’s as traumatizing as abuse, but it was traumatizing. The person closest to our Heavenly Father – the most divine person on earth – knew I was bad.
I therefore must have been bad.
It was a mind bend. It certainly messed me up. And I somehow didn’t realize how huge it was until recently, and I didn’t realize how not over it I was until something in my life now blew up in some similar ways. People started telling stories and people started acting weird, and there I was, reeling from the Messiah saying I was bad.
I know now that that’s not the truth. I know that I’m not bad, and I know that any current situation will never be as traumatizing as things that happened when I was young. I know now that there isn’t a Messiah, and no one can declare me bad or wrong. I know now to breathe through the feelings and have compassion for the then me and the now me.
I know now that it cut to the core when the Messiah declared me wicked and unfit to be with his children. And I know now that nothing can cut me quite like that again.
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