Knocking Me on My Ass

I have been given a little bit of feedback lately, and it reminds me that not all of my readers have read every post I have written – and I don't expect people to do that, either. Heck, I don't even do that (most posts I don't even edit), and I wrote the posts. Come to think of it, I probably read about 1/10th of my posts. Only when I am particularly proud of the post.

Girl Next Door, asked Thursday night/Friday morning about one of my statement, "when I was still a slut." And what did that mean.

For those who don't know, I am a married woman. I was married not too young (mid twenties), and me and hubbie started life on our own. We were sort of a fairy-tale couple, actually. Things just fit into place, we hardly argued (but the arguments were heated when they occurred, followed by the most wonderful, sloppy, make-up sex one can imagine). We had our share of problems – some financial problems, infertility problems, just our share of life's problems. Not too much to bitch about, really.

And then, my eyes strayed. Then my hands and lips, and then, well, you get the idea. And it wasn't because I did not love my hubbie; we just stopped working at our marriage. We were spent with some issues, especially the infertility issues. Hubbie started spending more time at work, and I spent more time fucking friends, strangers, and fellow church-members (well, the guys did not belong to my church). And, by the way, some Bible-thumpers are the kinkiest people I have ever knocked ankles with.

A reader who I will call "Coyote," remarked "even mistakes can have value." Screwing all of these guys, did indeed, have value. Our marriage was not perfect; it was failing, and I did not even know it. I didn't even know it when I was "having lunch" with all of these guys. And they were almost always married – because that made them safer.

I am, and I always have been, a religious person. I had to go to Church growing up, so I would think about the homilies, I would read the Bible when bored, whatever. And I would wonder about the rules, what God really wanted from me, and in some cases, even if God was real.

If I had one flaw (okay, I have twenty-three thousand flaws, but if you were thinking that, just back off and write in your own blog), it was that I was not very compassionate about sinners. "Rot in Hell, for all I care," was not something I would have said aloud (against the teachings of my Church), but something I felt within my bones. I could not understand the power of redemption (for Prata, redemption is "the act of delivering from sin or saving from evil", Princeton dictionary definition).

I did not understand redemption until I began forgiving myself – long after the husband I sometimes don't deserve forgave my sorry butt. Okay, I don't really think I don't deserve him, but he definitely didn't deserve getting to have to deal with all of my crap (the infidelity unlocked some secret doors, darned psyche).

Please don't get me wrong, I am not saying, "I am saved." Just that I have sinned in a huge way and through this sinning, I now am more compassionate with those who have also sinned. Personally, God, you could have knocked me on my ass (or off my horse) with a startling vision. That would have, in the long run, been less painful.