Since then, I haven’t slept with anyone for years.
I didn’t smoke because I liked it. I smoked to burn like a bonfire.
To burn. To end it all myself once and for all. And not have to wait for people to spoil what little innocence was left in me after years of bullying and abuse.
I didn’t drink because I liked it. I drank to forget all the pain that dwelled in me.
To anesthetize my body and soul. So that I wouldn’t have to take responsibility for my actions. To be able to free myself from my accusing self. To stop torturing myself and to stop feeling guilty for the evils of the world.
I didn’t sleep with a different person every weekend because I was young and wild. I slept with strangers because I didn’t want to be alone with myself. Because I wanted to abandon myself to the arms of another, like Robinson Crusoe being tossed by the sea to a desert island. To belong to others, not to belong to me, to belong to them.
I would sleep with anyone to stop being me. To make others responsible for my happiness, even for a few hours.
I slept with strangers because I desperately sought the love I lacked in the arms of anyone at any price, including that of my dignity.
But back then, I didn’t know that. I thought it was a thing of youth.
I was wrong.
After hitting rock bottom, I started a spiritual path that took me from Zen meditative practice to compulsive reading of sacred and self-help books to shamanic rites and everything you can imagine.
Always looking for answers, without ever finding them.
Meditation worked for a while
Thanks to meditating, I managed to reduce my alcohol consumption (although I was still drinking).
The meditative walks and the gradual reduction of nicotine doses made me smoke less (but I was still smoking).
Mindfulness made me a more sensible person in my personal relationships, but I was still quite promiscuous.
Let’s say I became a sustainable version of the wild young man I once was.
But deep down, I hadn’t accomplished shit. I was still drinking, smoking, and waking up in strangers’ beds on Sunday mornings with a hangover and a red face of shame.
Until I discovered a powerful Christian spiritual practice called the “Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.”
The spiritual practice that completely ruined my life.
The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises are structured in 4 weeks.
During that time, the practitioner does various contemplative meditations.
I was not a practicing Christian. I hadn’t been to church since I was 18 years old. And yet something in me changed when I did them.
In particular, one contemplation in which my spiritual guide suggested that I visualize my greatest sins and visualize the face of Jesus incarnate in the people I had harmed or let down.
I laughed because it seemed funny to me to put the typical image of Jesus in the position of the people I had sinned against in different ways and forms.
Seeing such disrespect on my part, the spiritual guide asked me, “Who is the person you love most in this world?” Instinctively, I answered my mother.
And the guide said to me, “Then, don’t substitute your victims for Jesus; instead, visualize your mother and you committing your worst sins on her.”
I did. And it wasn’t enjoyable.
I spent the night without sleeping a wink.
All my greatest sins started to come to my mind, and I imagined that I was committing those sins on my mother, and I started to vomit.
It was like purging inside. It was like pouring kh7 on a plate full of grease and watching it dissipate.
The following day, I had a horrible hangover, even though I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. And the most disturbing thing is that after going to the bathroom and washing my face, I looked in the mirror and saw my mother’s face reflected in horror.
At that moment, I had an epiphany, “My biggest victim was myself.” That’s why my mind substituted my reflection for my mother’s image.
When I finished my spiritual retreat, I went on with my life. But something had changed.
That contemplation acted repulsive, like when my mother used to rub chili peppers under my nails as a child so that I wouldn’t bite them.
My life changed 180 degrees,
- I stopped drinking.
- I stopped smoking.
- I stopped victimizing myself.
- I stopped sleeping with strangers.
My whole life changed little by little but without pause. It was a miracle, as if those exercises were taking out day after day all the pus that was inside the ugly pimple that my life had become.
I’ll tell you just one thing: I haven’t slept with anyone for years. And not for lack of opportunities, but because the right person hasn’t come along, and I’m no longer satisfied with the first stranger who smiles at me.
I have spent all these years dedicating myself to healing. To cleanse myself inside so I can receive what the universe wants to give me when I’m finally ready.
Those spiritual practices ruined my old life.
I lost my friends, job, social environment, and way of being and having fun. Everything. Because in all those places, I fell back into my old attitudes.
And you know what: I don’t regret it.
Because my life today, although lonely (very lonely), is peaceful and happy.
And I owe it all to that spiritual practice that changed everything and that I still do once a year (in January).
When you put the face of your mother or the person you love the most to the victims of your betrayals and sins, the blindfold falls off. You begin to see the true nature of your mistakes and sins, and then, you save yourself and change.
A virtual hug
AG
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