Could This Be Why Am I Unable To Love Myself?

          

  I really was normal at one time in my life, I think anyway, if one would call it normal. Up until now I had only remembered being attracted to women and never to a man. Deep within me the voices I've struggled to hush, continue to tell me how perverted I am. How un-natural and unseemly I think and behave, therefore I am. Today however, as the sadness and anger were pushing their way out into the open, I experienced a memory that had long ago hidden been away and in this memory I see the source of this rage against myself.
I was 12 years old. I loved my life. I lived outside of San Ildefonso, a very little village, way up in the mountains of Nuevo Leon, Mexico. With my sister, mother and father we lived in a school bus built into a home. My life here was the best I can ever remember life being. I loved my mule, Wera, she was white with a black cross on her shoulders, and a black lightning bolt down the front of her nose and , of course, the black tip of her tail. I had saved up birthday and christmas money my grandmas had sent me for 7 years, to finally buy her. I spent every spare minute with her I could. But Mondays and Thursdays were my favorite days. Those were water days. I would put Wera's saddle on and hook up the cart that carried 3 - 100 gallon barrels for fetching water. Wera and I would wind through the mountain trails for the 2 kilometers it took to get to San Ildefonso. Collecting water was an all day job and was my favorite because I could talk with a lot of people. You see, the town only had one water faucet in it's plaza, so everyone had to come haul water and take turns filling up. Because I came with large barrels, I would sit around and talk between turns. I had so many friends, but my favorite friend wasn't at the water pila, no my best friend was a boy. His name was Polo Contreras and we became friends because he tended his father's cattle between San Ildefonso and our house. He knew the days when I'd go for water so he would be by the path when Wera and I were on our way for water. I remember feeling so terribly guilty because I knew it was sin to be friends with a boy. But even with the guilt I couldn't stop the feeling inside me when I knew I would be seeing him. Usually, as The cart would come over the crest of the mountain, there would be Polo riding high on his bull, with a great big smile and a piece of sweet bread. I wasn't allowed to eat sweetbread but I couldn't resist his smiling eyes when he would hand it to me and say, "Carlita, eso te manda mi mami." He would ride beside me, on his bull, until I'd reach the bend right before the village, then he'd turn back to tending the cattle. I looked forward to water day both to see him and be around other people. One Saturday, Polo's sister, Manena, 13 years old, came visiting with Polo, to our house. She invited me and my sister, Collette also 13, to go for supper at their house. Dad and mom decided we could go. I was so excited. I would be able to just sit around and talk with Polo. When we got to their house, Manena and Collette got busy doing something and Polo and I went out to check on the new mommy cow and baby. Well, it was the best adventure I had ever had. The mommy cow started charging after me and I ran terrified towards the fence, obviously, Polo saw I wasn't going to make it and screaming at the top of his lungs, ran straight at the cow. She lowered her horns, (she had some big ones) and picked him up, throwing him into the air, and as he landed she turned to trample him, but he jumped up and threw himself on her head, wrapping his legs and arms around her horns and clung on for dear life. The cow stomped and snorted for a little before finally stopping. Polo slowly climbed off and we walked back to the house. After supper, Polo called his friends together and we all played tag. It was the most fun day I had ever experienced and I knew I was in love with Polo. The next morning, being Sunday, we walked to church and when I saw Polo walk up to the front of the church to play his guitar and sing, my heart did a pitter pat and I felt a warm feeling creep all the way through me. Then a wave of awful guilt swept over me when I realized that I had allowed friendship between me and a boy. By the time the altar call came, I was down on my knees at the altar, begging God to please purge my heart from such sin. I begged forgiveness of the ministry the stood in front of the congregation and confessed my sin so I could be purged. I felt a relief from the guilt and claimed forgiveness, but as I walked outside the church, Polo was standing right there with his friends and I looked away so I wouldn't be tempted, but felt in my heart the same pitter pat I had felt before. I began to feel such guile inside me that by the time Sunday evening service came, I confessed again how my heart was so deceitful as to claim forgiveness when in reality I was perverted. This time the ministry decided that it was necessary to drive this demon of lust and fleshly desires out of me. I remember now the vow I made to myself that day. I vowed never to like or be friends with a man. From that day forward, I only ever felt attraction with a woman, but that, of course, I kept hidden so no one would ever know just how horribly perverted I actually was. Within two weeks after that, my parents had packed up and we headed to Guatemala, far away from the dangers of me falling in love with Polo. They had no clue that the part of me that had the ability to fall in love, died that day. I swore I would never allow myself to love again.

Why did I not remember this till now? Oh, I remembered about Polo and all the fun we had had together, but I didn't remember the feelings I had for him. It was like those feelings died in me and have been dead since. For I have never had those feelings ever again.

So today, I have allowed these emotions to wash over me. Wave after wave keep flooding through my whole being. The feelings of warmth and joy I had felt for Polo and then the deep pain as these feelings were being ripped out of me. The loss of that innocent love.

Is this why I cannot love? Have I held myself in such a straight-jacket that I have not been able to feel for all these years? Is this why now I feel all these emotions rumbling through me at such a rate that It is almost paralyzing?

I am glad I have found this tool of shadow work. and even though it is painful I am finding the real me that has been hidden for ever so long. I am seeing my innocence in bits and pieces and one day I will Know it.

 

 



phoebe55 phoebe55
51-55, F
Nov 26, 2012