The Garden of Good and Evil...

or
Camping with Jesus and Failing

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Preface:

So as I said I think I am ready to now share a story that just about no one knows. Sure it is an attempt at vulnerability and forgiveness. Because to be completely honest this story is a big one.

This is one of the pivotal stories in my life that lead me to who I am today. It is a story that makes me realize the very dark nature of myself and truly taught me the story of guilt. Despite it happening about 15 years ago it still is a story that bothers me and something I am not sure I have even really forgiven myself for.

So here comes the story and my own path of vulnerability and forgiveness begins...
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Before the story truly begins, let me start out by saying something... I am and always have been deeply religious and spiritual. I semi-blame/thank my parents for this, because they started the epic battle for my eternal soul while I was still in the womb. They fought over what religion I would be brought into and raised in and always made sure to inspire religious devotion in my life.

Another slightly important note is that I took my deep connection with God (or the divine if you will) very, very far. Especially when I was young and dealing with my sexuality, God became my safe haven. Religion was my protector and I dove so deeply into religion (as a possible way to avoid thinking about sexuality) that I became what is commonly known only as a bible thumper. The super religious type who condemns others and takes the written word of religions as more gospel than the meaning of them.

That is all important because this tale takes place when I was still fresh and young and in my last year of elementary school. The year itself was crazy. I had always been super quiet, actually many of my teachers would sometimes assume I was mute (I know a big surprise considering myself now), and a good child. I was terrified of sin and did what I could to be the model little child, but I guess it was this year that lead to a strange venture away from that fear into my dark moment.

You see, during that year I had befriended a girl who I semi-fell for and we both ended up writing very depressing love poetry (I was emo before emo was emo). I earned the approval from many of my classmates who I suppose were just as angsty as all kids and loved the poetry. While this wasn't really an issue (I mean who doesn't write emo poetry for fun at that age), my parents found it. They freaked out, had an intervention and basically told me to NEVER write another poem again regardless of whether it was depressing or not. I swear they even had their own suicide watch out for me and always asked me how I was feeling and all that stuff.

But again this is all just background (or perhaps me trying to justify what is to come in the story), for this story actually takes place the summer after my 6th grade year. I had been so involved in my church that I jumped for the chance to go to camp with my church.

Jesus camp (I forgot the real name of the excursion but that will do for now) was great. It was my first time away from my family and there was so much to do. I spent the week swimming in the lake, memorizing bible verses, taking part in religious games to earn my team points, and eventually spending some time in a hospital... the moment that snapped me.

You see... one day we all went on a big hike and on the way back we came by a big slope that was covered in hay, which served as the sled run during the winter. This slope was considered super safe because it was covered in hay and all the rocks were supposedly removed from it to make a nice safe sled run. Well our guides decided to egg all the people on and see who was a "man" and would run down the hill to flirt dangerously with gravity.

Not to be outdone (or to possibly give people a reason to doubt my "man" status and possibly my sexuality) I decided to be one of the courageous and believing that nothing bad could ever happen to someone at Jesus camp, I booked it down the hill. Now anyone who has run down a very steep slope knows what happens next... I took air. I flew through the air for what seemed like minutes and landed... with a thud.

Apparently I am incredibly lucky and found the sole surviving rock on the slope. I landed face down and split my eyelid open on it right before I passed out with a possible concussion. I woke up being carried by a camp counselor with a rubber glove filled with ice over my eye, almost completely unaware of what happened.

After a million bottles of cleaner and a dozen stitches, I ended up cleared but since my parents had been called to come see me in the hospital everyone decided it was best that I left camp instead of remaining the last 3 days. So I was taken back to the campsite to pack up my things and head back with my parents.

And here I snapped. I guess I did the typical thing and lashed out at God. Why didn't he catch me? How could he allow me to get injured (and most likely scared for life)? Why did I deserve all this after I dedicated my life to being good while others my age were being bad kids and getting away with it all?

So I lashed out. Lashed out... but at the wrong person. While these days I don't necessarily believe in the Devil the way he is often depicted, I will say that in that moment I was a boy possessed by the devil and darkness. I found myself filled with anger, greed, vengeance, hate. I still remain haunted by how I felt that day and how easily it slipped into me. And even moreso how I then acted out.

On the way back to my tepee I passed the pool and guided by the devil I let possess me an object caught my eye. Someone had taken off their calculator watch (so the rage back then) and put it in their shoe and I stole it. Downright stole it. No reason at all to have done it. I didn't even know who it really belong to. But for some reason I felt like it was owed to me. I was punishing God by stealing something at his camp.

I lied to everyone about it too. Said I found the watch in the street and claimed the poor abandoned watch as my own. I wore it for a while, but shortly after the guilt of the situation consumed me. I even became depressed over the guilt. It was horrid. As I mentioned before, I still struggle to this day trying to convince myself that I have forgiven myself for this event.

But there we go... a very intimate and secretive story that freaks me out to share. But oh well... that was kind of the whole point of this post. But this story is one in which I truly learned about my dark side and how easy it is to give into it. It also taught me a lot about good and evil and how we exist between the two, and gave me the proof I needed to believe in the divine beings that exist beyond humanity.